Here's the last in the DEMONS WITHIN series. It's undergone a couple of changes in the last few days, but I think it ends the series well. After this, SOLITARY starts (chronologically speaking), and GIFT FROM AHAB comes hot on its heels. AHAB will be revised and reposted sometime in early December. Disclaimer in DEMONS WITHIN: Prologue Send comments to LisdXPhile@aol.com Flames taken in their spirit, constructive criticism begged for. ***************** DEMONS WITHIN V: Needles and Tears Prologue There is an ancient story. No one knows where it came from--China, Ireland, Scandinavia. It has been adopted by cultures throughout the world, giving its message to kings and presidents. There once was a power-hungry leader who kept his secrets well, manipulated his enemies with finesse. He wanted a secret, wanted it so badly that it eclipsed every other consideration in his realm. The enemy who had that secret was aware of the leader's desire, and fought to keep the secret hidden. The leader, confident in his evil, inflitrated the enemy's ranks, hiding his informants so well, that he was sure of his success. But the leader had been short-sighted. Truth often outweighs evil, and the leader's spies were convinced of the truth. Their betrayal was not known by the leader, who sat in his castle, confident of victory. The enemy's attack was swift and sure, and the leader fell, never realising that his own confidence had been his downfall. The story's moral is clear--but can be heard only by those who have the strength to listen to the truth. Many leaders have fallen, refusing to learn the lessons of this story--betrayal to the truth is always a danger for the evil. Truth, while more difficult, is often more alluring. ******** Act One Washington Post December 13, 1995 MAN FOUND DEAD IN MEMORIAL PARK A man, identified by the police only as a "federal agent," was found this morning by the Jefferson Memorial, shot execution-style in the back of the skull. The police theorise that he was killed in retaliation for numerous recent high-profile drug busts, however, no group has taken responsibilty for the murder. 9:53 pm Washington D.C. Jamie Barrons folded up the paper smugly. Things were going well. One down, four to go. He wondered briefly what his superiors would think of his taking these independent actions. It didn't really matter. He knew what needed to be done, and he knew that his superiors would never give him permission to do it. So he took it himself. It would get the goals accomplished. And if he was caught, his superiors would be safely distanced from him. At least his *real* superiors. Those who *thought* they were his superiors would be crucified right along with him. The phone rang, and he lifted it gingerly, expecting--and getting--a light, non-accented female voice. "Nice job with Garrity." "Thanks," he said evenly. "You can handle the others?" "Of course." "Good," she let the silence hang for a moment, then, enigmatically. "Have you spoken to your little agent Scully today?" He was puzzled. "No. Why?" "You should probably go to Georgetown Medical and see her. She needs 'friends' just now." He looked at the phone in surprise as she hung up. 10:00 pm Georgetown Medical The doors slammed open, jarring his already frayed nerves. She was breathing now, but it was shallow, painful. He could almost hear it whistling through her lungs as they wheeled her along. "Sir," a young nurse said, taking his arm with uncommon strength. "Sir, I need you to answer a few questions for us... Sir?" He could hear the doctors in the next room. "What do we have?" "Caucasian female, aged 31. Anoxia and tachycard." "All right, let's get her on the table... 1... 2... 3..." "Pulse at 145." "She's going thready on us!" "Sir!" The nurse dragged him back from the edge of the doorway. "Sir, please, if I can just get you to come with me. We need some information from you." Her urgent tone finally got through to him, and he followed her numbly through a labyrinth of gurneys to a quiet desk. He answered her questions in monotone, his hands wrapping themselves around each other in fear. One thought ran through his head endlessly: 12:32 pm He hadn't thought to call anyone. The nurse had called her mother, who sat beside her now, talking quietly to her weakened daughter. Margaret had assumed he had called Mulder. He hadn't thought to do anything. Scully had a hard time lying there, talking to her mother. She tried not to look at her--tried not to hear the panic, only slightly abated, tried not to see the sorrow in her mother's eyes. She was too weak to reassure her, too tired to tell her that everything would be all right. She wondered where Mulder was, but was too exhausted to ask. "The doctor said they'll have the blood test results back soon, Dana," her mother was saying quietly, her hand forever running through her daughter's hair. She was so tired, wondering if she'd spend the rest of her life rushing to the hospital, unsure of her daughter's condition. The nurse who had called her had been very professional. She had said only that her daughter had been admitted to the hospital and was in guarded condition. The doctor had been more flip when she arrived. "We're not sure what happened, Mrs. Scully," she said blandly. "She's weak, but she should be all right. We'll know more when we get her blood tests back." Margaret started wondering where Fox was at about one-thirty. He would never have let anything keep him away, Margaret was sure. She slipped quietly away from her now-sleeping daughter and found Michael standing outside, a cold cup of coffee in his hand. 1:38 am "Scully!" The cry, low, depserate, and painful woke Fox Mulder, and it took him a very few minutes to realise that he had been the one to make it. He sat up quietly in his darkened apartment, running a hand through his sweaty hair, and trying to puzzle out this new nightmare. Scully had been... laid out on a table, pain clear on her face, blood at her wrists and ankles where the ropes bit in. Her features were screwed up in a grimace of pain and hatred. He shuddered as he remembered the dream-feel of that hatred of him washing over him in waves. He stood, determined to get a glass of water and try to get back to sleep. He would puzzle it out in the morning. He didn't know where it had come from, but it didn't feel... premonitory. It was past-dreaming, not future. He jumped slightly as his phone rang. Probably Scully. She had an uncanny knack of calling him just as he woke from his nightmares. He smiled to himself. The thought immediately made him shudder. "Hi, Scully," he said, keeping it light. "Keeping tabs on me?" "Fox?" He stiffened at her mother's voice. "What is it, Mrs. Scully?" 8:53 am New York City The Englishman pressed the disconnect button, his face impassive. "Our friend's 'experiment' seems to be failing." The faces around him closed in anger. 9:15 am "Sir, I'm not sure what happened," the younger man said quietly, wringing his hands in fear. "The innoculations were going as scheduled. It should have gone exactly according to plan." The older man blew smoke in his face. "Then why didn't it?" Somewhere in him, a fear had begun to build. He had been so sure of his victory this time. They'd kill him if he didn't clean this up quickly. "Kill her." The man before stood still in shock. "What?" "Kill her!" A touch of his fear crept into his voice, and he damned himself for it. "She's too much of a liability now. Kill her and get it over with." "But what about Skinner, he--" The smoking man regained his equilibrium, sucking thoughtfully on his cancer stick. "Skinner is being taken care of, Milharn," he said confidently, watching the man jump as he used his real name. "You take care of Scully." He watched the man nod with a nervous swallow. "Don't back out on us, Milharn," he said, his voice low and threatening. "You could never run far enough to get away." Milharn nodded again, and hastily quit the room. The smoking man sat quietly, contemplating. He was a chess player by nature--plotting things out turns and turns in advance. Somehow, something had gotten away from him in this game. It was supposed to have been checkmate in three. Now, the opponent's queen had somehow gotten behind him, and his king was threatened. And he was fast running out of pawns. ************** Here's Part Two. I hope those of you who already guessed what happened will enjoy watching it play out anyway. It's kind of fun to get people writing and saying "If you're doing what i think you're doing, way to go!" Anyway, Act Three to come either tonight or tomorrow. Sit tight. ******************** DEMONS WITHIN V: Needles and Tears Act Two 10:45 am Jamie Barrons stuck his head in the door, a little wary. He was greeted by Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and a woman who looked enough like Scully to be her mother. "Hi, Jamie," Scully said, hopelessly subdued. Barrons approached the bed, smiling easily at Mulder, who greeted him with unexpected distrust. He'd have to begin explaining things quickly. He couldn't have Mulder against him. He needed the older agent. "So what's going on, Scully?" he asked gently. She smiled tiredly. "Beats me. They've taken half my blood, and they still can't figure it out." She smiled apologetically at her mother, noticing Jamie's glance in that direction. "Jamie Barrons, this is my mother, Margaret. Mom, Jamie Barrons, one of the newest and brightest of the FBI." "And one of the most pompous, as I'm sure Mulder will tell you when I leave," Jamie said wryly, shaking her hand with grace. He turned to Scully. "So where's your boyfriend?" She blushed fiercely. "Michael has to get some work done sometime," she said, a little shyly. "He can't just hang around here all day." "What about you?" Jamie said, turning to Mulder. "Don't you have work to do?" Mulder met his gaze with ice. "Actually," Barrons said, keeping his voice light. "I was hoping to find you here. Can I have a minute?" He gestured to the door. "Sure," Mulder said coolly. He turned to Scully. "Be back ina minute." Barrons turned just as the door closed. "All right, Mulder," he said quietly. "Just give me two minutes." Mulder nodded calmly. He didn't trust the slick young man before him, didn't think he was likely to get the truth, even if he asked for it, but he wanted to know what he would say. What kind of web could he weave? "They've been planning this for months." "Who?" Barrons frowned at the forced obtuseness. "Mulder, you know exactly who I mean. They've been trying to get back at you since New Mexico--well, *he* has, anyway." Mulder's blood ran a little colder. He knew who the young man meant, but he asked the question anyway. "Who?" Barrons smiled coldly. "Cancer Man." "What does this have to do with Scully?" "You're not naive enough to think that they were finished with her, do you?" He didn't have to draw him a picture, did he? "They've entered phase two. Only it isn't going as they'd planned." Mulder's paranoia tickled his brain, and his voice became hard. "Just how do you know all of this, Barrons? And what's your connection to it all?" "Skinner has set up... backups... for himself," Barrons said carefully. "I'm one of them. He picked me because... because he knew I was sent in to spy on *him.*" Mulder didn't move. "You work for Cancer Man?" His voice was just this side of murderous. "He thinks I do," Barrons said quickly, ready to protect himself. "I was 'recruited' right out of Quantico. He saw an ambitious, less than scrupulous agent who'd do anything he could to get to the top." "And what did you see?" Mulder asked, intrigued despite himself. Barrons shrugged. "I saw a scared old man, trying to hold on to what little power he had, whose strings were being pulled by forces he didn't even know were there." Mulder let that sink in a moment, worried by the ring of truth he fancied he heard in the words. "How did Skinner find out about you?" "How did you find out about Scully?" Mulder was incredulous. "You *told* him?" "Of course." Barrons took a minute to find the words. "Skinner saw what 'Cancer Man' didn't--I need things to work. I need the justice system to work. The only way to do that is to understand their game--and play it better than they do." He looked his age suddenly. "Skinner's been a real help." They stood in silence for a few moments. "What are they doing to her?" Mulder asked, his voice suddenly very small. "Some kind of genetic test," Barrons said quietly. "She's been getting regular innoculations--or oral--I'm not sure which. I'm not privy to that side of things." Mulder's anger grew. They weren't going to get to her again--not if he could help it. "Who's been giving it to her?" Barrons shook his head ruefully. "Jesus, Mulder, if I knew that, the guy would have been dead long ago." He didn't tell Mulder about the list--couldn't. Mulder would go after them, and they'd know someone leaked. He had his own life to think about, after all. He sighed deeply. "All I can tell you is that they started about two weeks ago, and they expected to see changes long before now--and not this kind of change either." "What do you mean?" "I don't know, Mulder," he snapped irritably. "I just know that they weren't expecting her to die." Mulder paled at that. "How much of this does Skinner know?" "Very little," Barrons admitted. "It's difficult for us to meet somewhere where they can't listen in." "They could listen in here, Barrons," Mulder reminded him. "They could," the young man agreed levelly. "So why risk it?" Barrons's eyes flashed with young anger. "Because it's gone too far. They almost killed Skinner--and Scully, for that matter. They've got spies everywhere. I won't play anymore. If they kill me, they kill me, but I won't *play!*" 11:15 am DC General Skinner was bored. His head hurt too much to read--much too much to watch television--and his leg hurt like Hell, period. May had said she'd come over for lunch, his daughter had promised to be by for dinner, and he felt piteously dependent on other people for his own amusement. And he was worried. Barrons had been by to see him yesterday, and the young man looked a little dangerous. Skinner trusted him--probably more than he should have, but... But there was something in the boy that reminded him of hiimself--reminded him of Mulder, too. A drive for what was right. Unfortuantely, he was never sure if Jamie understood what right really was. The kid was hot-headed--but calculating. A very dangerous combination. Skinner sighed. He'd just have to trust the kid to keep his cool. It wasn't like he could do anything to stop hiim, not in his condition. And his condition was bothering him more than he liked to consider. He'd been toying with the idea that his accident was anything but. He knew Barrons thought so. They had tried to kill him. He was none too happy about that. Maybe he'd do something about it. He picked up the phone, dialing an unlisted number that he had committed to memory. "Hello, Eric? It's FBI Assistant Director Skinner." 12:15 pm Carson couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that Barrons would have turned against them. He couldn't believe Barrons even knew that *he* was one of *us.* "Dumb move, Carson," Barrons said quietly, his young voice not doing justice to the ferocity of his eyes. "You couldn't have thought we'd leave him unprotected." "I *thought* you were on our side," Carson said coldly, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. Barrons was going to kill him. "I know you did," Barrons replied, bringing his gun up to the side of Carson's head. "Sorry." The gunshot went unheard in a deserted warehouse. ************* Sorry, a lot of blood these days, huh. Well, get your raincoats, because there's more to come! Lisdy ****************** DEMONS WITHIN V: Needles and Tears Act Three 1:45 pm The fax had no phone number on it, no clue to help him identify the real sender. It was short, comprising a very few points of information, but it was long enough for him to get the idea. The tag at the end made him choke on his cigarette: "Don't think you've got it all wrapped up. I'm not the only one who knows where to find the information. --Skinner." He ground out the cancer stick in annoyance. Damnit! They were supposed to have taken care of him! He was supposed to be dead. He dialed a number committed to memory. "I want you in my office. *Now.*" 2:32 pm Barrons was panting by the time he entered the office in the pentagon. The smoking man was pacing. It almost made the young man smile to see him so discomfitted. Barrons just hoped he didn't know that he was double-crossing him. "What happened this morning?" Cancer Man wanted to know. Barrons succeeded in looking chagrined--a little fear thrown in for good measure. "I don't know, sir. I went over to check the condition of Agent Scully. He was supposed to be taken care of before I returned." "Where's Carson?" "I can't find him, sir." Barrons tried to look concerned. "Sir, I'm afraid we've been compromised." He laid the groundwork for the coup. "Maybe someone's turned on us." Cancer Man watched the boy before him. It was a good thing they had got to him straight out of Quantico. He, at least, was trustworthy. The others...? "Do you want me to take care of Skinner myself, sir?" Barrons sounded pitifully eager to do it. Cancer Man looked at the fax on his desk. It was a risk that could get him killed now. "No. No, leave Skinner for the time being." "What about Scully?" the young man asked. He needed to know who was going after her. All the better if it was supposed to be him. Cancer Man blew smoke out. "I may need you later," he said thoughtfully. "Milharn seems to be getting too attached." "I'm here to help, sir," Barrons said, as ingratiatingly as possible. 4:54 pm Richard Milharn was running scared. He could hear the man's words reverberating in his head: "You could never run far enough to get away." Maybe he was right. Maybe Milharn would be hunted down before he got out of town. But he couldn't kill her. He hadn't thought he'd get so attached--hadn't thought they'd ever tell him to kill her in the first place. He was just supposed to get her the pills--her coffee, her wine, anything. He was supposed to get them into her, and then observe the changes. He wasn't a killer. That much he knew. And he certainly couldn't kill *her.* He sat against the wall, knees in his chest. What would she think? Why would he care? She wasn't the first woman they had sicced him on. She was just the first one he'd fallen in love with. He *couldn't* kill her. 5:31 pm "Do you know a guy named Milharn?" Barrons asked quietly. Mulder shook his head. "Why?" "He's the one Cancer Man's been using to get to Scully." Barrons took out a file, handed it over. He sipped quietly at his coffee, trying to scan the whole hospital cafeteria at once. The danger was getting closer, and he was both exhilarated and frightened by it. "He's ex-military," he continued, not noticing how Mulder's face had changed. "I couldn't get a picture of him." Mulder stood nervously, and Barrons followed him out of the room. "What's going on?" "It's Wiebold," Mulder said coldly, damning himself for not seeing it before, for not going with his first instinct weeks ago. "Milharn is Wiebold." 5:34 pm "Mike, hi." Scully was still tired, but she was feeling better. Whatever bug she had caught seemed to be dying off. She would try to get them to let her out tomorrow. Then she could get on with things. "Hi, Dana." He sounded nervous, and his shoulders were bowed. "Is something wrong?" "Yes, Dana," he said painfully, knowing that what he had to say would kill both of them. But he just couldn't lie to her anymore. He was tired of playing. He just wanted to go home. "Dana," he said carefully, "I--" "Don't move, Wiebold." Scully's eyes swung up to find her partner, eyes as cold as stone, his Glock trained on Mike's head. ************* DEMONS WITHIN V: Needles and Tears Act Four "Mulder!" she cried, standing shakily to stand next to Michael, who stood, shoulders bowed. "What are you doing?" Mulder just stared coldly at Wiebold. "Step away from him, Scully." She did, but only slightly, as Barrons patted him down, extracting a knife and gun from his clothing. He held the knife in two careful fingers, brandishing it before Wiebold's face. "Just what were you going to do with this, Milharn?" Richard Milharn stood apalled, staring at Barrons. "But... you're one of us." Barrons shook his head with that same mock-sorrowful look he had given Carson. "I'm afraid not. Of course," he said quietly, "You'll never be able to let your employer know that." Something in the frightened man snapped. He stared between the two men before him, men who had learned his secret. He felt the woman next to him--confused, seeking an answer, any answer from him. Whether it was a misdirected self-preservation or a desperate deathwish, they would never know. He bolted. Scully could see it happening. She grabbed weakly at Mulder's gun arm, but all it did was re-direct the shot, catching Michael full in the stomach. "No!" She fell to the ground next to him, scarcely noticing as Barrons dashed from the room, gesturing that he would get a medical team. She sat silently above Wiebold, staring down at him, painfully baffled. "I'm sorry, Dana," he said quietly, his breath barely clearing his lips. "I'm sorry. I didn't think they'd..." To their credit, the medical team did try to save him, but the damage was too severe. Mulder watched them carefully, damning the whole situation. Scully sat silent, eyes on the floor, her knees tucked up under her, where the team had pushed her back out of the way. Barrons had disappeared. Mulder ran a tired hand through his hair, and his eyes focused on his partner. "Scully?" he asked quietly, crouching beside her. "Come on, Scully, get back into bed." Not a flutter. He wrapped her robe around her, concerned, watching her hands, whiter than the terry cloth, as they shook. He put his hands on her arms, trying to urge her into action. "Come on, Scully." Scully sat still, wondering what had happened. He had... loved her--she guessed. What had caused this? Why was it happening. Her voice, when it came, was so clear that he knew she hadn't cried. "What is going on, Mulder?" He tightened his grip slightly, trying to pull her up with him. "He was a plant, Scully," he said quietly. "They set him up years ago in the Bureau, as an operative, and they set him on you." She looked up at him, incredulous. "Why?" He looked into her eyes, and tried to tell her the truth, but too many things went through his mind to stop him: the months without her, the pain of her return, the anguish in her eyes when she woke--fear of remembering and not remembering... the chip... He couldn't. It would do no good. She was in enough pain. "I don't know, Scully," he told her sadly. "Please, get back in bed." She allowed him to help her--not willing, just subdued. "How did you know?" "I didn't" he said, swinging her legs gently onto the bed. "Barrons did." Her eyes were clearing, he saw, that defense mechanism of hers shutting her off again. "How did *he* know." Mulder gave her another sad smile as he sat down next to her bed. "That's a long story." 5:48 pm Barrons went straight to the pentagon, suitably frightened as he entered the office. "Milharn's dead, sir." The man stood quietly. "What happened?" Barrons looked even more scared. "Mulder found out about him--I don't know how. He was waiting for him at the hospital." The man smoked and paced, and occassionally stabbed Barrons with his glare. After a time, he seemed to calm himself. "What about Scully?" Barrons shrugged uncomfortably. "She seems to be getting better. The doctors can't figure out what's wrong. They think it might be a virus of some kind." The smoking man smiled. "Of some kind." He blew out a long plume of smoke. Time to cut his losses. "Leave her." Barrons hid his surprise perfectly. "Sir? Are you sure that's wise?" It was too late now. If they got to her again... If Mulder even suspected that they were behind her illness... Or Skinner... The man damned them all. He'd have to answer to the syndicate, no matter the outcome. He hoped he could tell them that the situation was contained. "Go back," the man said, gesturing to the door. "Be suitably worried--whatever." He speared Barrons, who backed off expertly. "Just keep your eyes open. Skinner likes you. He'll let something slip eventually." "Yes, sir," Barrons said, all but bowing himself out of the room. He saved his smile until he was well on his way to DC General. Skinner had already let so much slip. Things Cancer Man would never know--not until it was too late. *************** ===================================================================== ====== From: lisdxphile@aol.com (LisdXPhile) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: DEMONS WITHIN V: Needles and Tears 5/5 Date: 6 Nov 1995 09:14:43 -0500 *************** DEMONS WITHIN V: Needles and Tears Act Five: Epilogue The virus that Dana Scully had contracted was never identified. She recovered, responding well to anti-viral agents. She was in the hospital a total of five days. Walter Skinner remained at DC General until two days before Christmas. No more attempts were made on his life. Jamie Barrons sat back, watched the phone, and read the papers. Gary Detmold, federal agent under AD Skinner, died of a heartattack two days after Milharn was fatally wounded. Jill Freund, also an agent under Skinner, was killed by a drunk driver three days before Christmas. And Jamie Barrons smiled. He waited, the night of the car accident, for the phone call. He needed them now. They were his acceptance from above--they let him know he was doing the right thing. He raised the phone to his ear with a very young grin. "Barrons." "That's four, Jamie," she said, admiration in her voice. "Five," he corrected. She laughed low, a particularly wonderful sound. "You'll take credit for Mulder's shot?" He chuckled in return. "What do you want me to do now?" "Wait," she said simply. "We'll call you when we need you again." In an office in the pentagon, a lovely woman, younger than her years, sipped quietly at her tea, leaning back slightly in her chair. She had played another successful turn in this never ending game of chess. She hadn't even lost a pawn. And her favourite pawn was nearing the far end of the board. She smiled lightly, thinking about Barrons. He'd be a good knight for her--a replacement for the one she had lost when they closed the X-Files down. She thought of "Deep Throat," and grinned at his theatricality. She was ready to wait out the syndicate's next move. She was in the perfect position. "Check, you bastards." END ************ A few self indulgent notes: This whole series grew out of the HELLBLAZER X-Over, Silk Cuts and Myrrh, but it has its roots in something that I think Chris Carter portrayed beautifully in the first season of the X-Files. Their lives are like a chess game, but no one really knows who's moving the pieces. The title of the series refers to any number of things: the actual infernal demon which jumped from person to person, Mulder's jealousy, Scully's anger and nightmares and guilt, and, mostly, to the people like Jamie Barrons and Mike Wiebold, who insinuated themselves so well into other people's lives for the purpose of manipulating them. Jamie Barrons will often be in the background of my future stories, and perhaps the woman at the pentagon will make her occassional apperance. Until they show up, though, look for the rewrite of AHAB, which will try to tie this in a little better. Thanks for all your comments on my work, guys! I love writing for a group who's so responsive--positive even in criticism! See you in the Ether, Lisdy