Dana Scully sat in the interrogation room on a hard, wooden chair. It
was very uncomfortable sitting there, under the bright, white lights.
She could see faint red lines and splotches on the floor, which she
assumed were blood stains from the last ‘prisoner’. Why she was there
she knew. Someone had betrayed the Cause and sent Police to their
door. Everyone was rounded up and taken to the Camp. Only her and
Walter were kept from the Camp, to be shown off to the President on
television, in front of millions and millions of people. She was one
leader of the Cause, the others being Walter and Alex. Alex. Her head
shook as she thought of him. Most likely, he betrayed them, but it
wouldn’t have been his fault. Years of friendship to Alex Krycek
taught her a lot about that man: he was strong, he was determined, he
would never betray them and he had a weakness for Fox Mulder. And that
weakness cost her and the Cause everything.
But she did not blame him. The heart knows not who it will love. Jack
had taught her that, when she found out he had killed William Mulder
and taken up Christina as his own. When Christina was killed during
the Raid, she understood how deep love could run. Having never been
truly in love, she learned its meaning through Jack, who wept for days,
then fought on, like she would have wanted him to. She understood love
well enough not to blame Alex, but to pity him, for his heart chose the
wrong one. And one day, she hoped, even in the Camp, she would find a
love as good as Jack and Christina, who loved her as much as Alex loved
Mulder.
Running her hand through her cropped, red hair, she thought it amazing
that nobody had tortured her yet. The tan jumpsuit they had given her
hung loose on her small frame. Even the boots were too big for her
feet. She felt like a child, but knew better than to hang her head.
Always proud of herself and her Cause, Dana lifted her head up and
waited for the door to open.
Fox Mulder entered the room, triumphant. His mouth smiled and his
hazel eyes were bright. The suit he wore looked crisp and clean,
straight from the dry cleaners. Striding foreword, he loomed over
Dana, all six feet one inches over the petite five foot two sitting in
the chair.
“How do you like our accommodations?” It was like he was gloating.
“Let’s see, where should I start. The clothes are too big, the cells
are too small, it’s too cold and there isn’t enough food. Should I go
on?”
Mulder laughed. “Things will be a lot worse once you get to the Camp.”
He paused, to pull out a small tape recorder from his pocket. “You
know who turned you in, don’t you?”
“I have an idea.” Her blue eyes spoke volumes of hatred. It almost
made her want to spit at his feet.
“Alex Krycek,” Mulder stated, as if she didn’t already know. “He
betrayed you. Told us the entire story, from your precious Cause, to
your hideout, to all your names.” He leaned towards her, brandishing
the tape recorder. “Would you like to hear it? Every blubbering,
juicy detail?”
“No.” What did he do to Alex to make him talk? It must have been the
worst thing anyone could experience. Alex would have rather died than
betrayed the Cause, and betraying the Cause was his death sentence.
Her mind began to wonder if he was still alive. “What did you do to
him?”
“Nothing.” Mulder moved back defensively. “He confessed. Good for
the soul.”
“When will he be joining us?”
At that, Mulder laughed again. He stared down at the redhead. “Never.”
He paused, to watch her eyes grow wide. “We let him go. Decided it
would be more beneficial to let him live free while the rest of you go
to the Camp. And as an added bonus, so he will live a long and
fruitful life, I told him that if he dies before his time, I will send
all of you to Siberia.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Eyes squinted. “Of course I would. And you know what they do to
Americans in Siberia.”
Her mouth ran dry. But she couldn’t show weakness, not here, not in
front of him. A lump of phlegm was swallowed, and her eyes remained
calm.
“Yes. I see you do.” He stepped away from her, towards the door, but
didn’t leave. Instead, he backtracked, and said her name. “Dana.”
That left only one thing for her to say. “Fox.”
Hazel eyes were wild with anger. Using the back of his hand, he
slapped her across the cheek, hard. The blow knocked her off the
chair. It also split her lip, letting crimson blood stain her pink
lips.
“Don’t *ever* call me that again. I can make your time here a picnic,
before the Camp. Don’t test me. You won’t like the results.”
His voice was raised and his cheeks were flushed. She was enjoying his
little scene, no matter how much her face stung.
Slowly, she repositioned on the chair, staring at his defiantly. His
angry eyes turned cold, unable to portray any feelings. A shudder went
through her body.
“You are a bitch, you know that. A real fucking bitch. If it was up
to me, I’d kill you right now.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because you filthy whore, the President doesn’t want any of you
killed. He said the Camp would be good for you, change you, make you
think about your Cause. Maybe even correct you, let you back into
society.” He leaned in close to her. She could smell peppermint on
his breath. “But if it were up to me, you’d be swinging by your ankles
with a gash across your throat.”
He slapped her again, on the same side of her face, letting more blood
flow. White stars popped before her eyes as her head hit the floor.
Strength to fight gathered in her body. She rose and sat back down,
still staring with hatred at Mulder. This bastard was not going to
break *her*.
“So tough, Dana. Such a strong woman. Maybe I should have ventured to
break you instead of your poor, sweet, innocent little friend.”
‘You could never break me,’ she thought, but remained silent. Saying
anything to him would most likely get her a concussion, and she did not
want to begin vomiting in front of the entire American public.
Mulder stared at her. “Get up.”
She rose, standing as tall as she could, although he towered over her.
As quick as lightening, his fist buried in her stomach. She groaned
and doubled over, crossing her arms over the area and clutching her
sides. That gained her a kick to the face. A sharp crack and a warm,
liquid flow from her nose, alerted her that he broke the bone. It
hurt, and it made stinging tears form in her eyes, but she
blinked them back and refused to give in. Worse had happened to her in
the past. Compared to those times, this was tickle-torture.
“Look at you, Dana, you’re a mess.” He pushed her back into the chair.
“I’ll be right back with some tissues for your nose.”
She watched him leave the room. He probably wouldn’t be back until it
was time for her to get her fifteen minutes of fame. Using the only
thing she had to wipe off the blood, her jumpsuit, she carefully dabbed
at the broken nose and her swollen lip. Once the blood stopped
flowing, she leaned back in the chair and closed
her eyes. Soon, she would be in the Camp, and her life would be
officially over. ‘Or maybe,’ she thought, as black swarms began to
invade her brain, ‘my life will just begin.’
FIN
10/15/98