Fractured Fairy Tale


Title: Fractured Fairy Tale
Author: ML
First posted 8/12/02

Distribution: Enigmatic Dr., always; Ephemeral, Gossamer, or if you’ve archived me before, yes; if you haven’t, please just let me know and leave headers, email addy, etc. attached. Thanks!
Spoilers: FTF, though I do use knowledge gained since the movie to flesh out some motivations here.
Rating: PG
Classification: Vignette
Keywords: CSM POV

Disclaimer: These characters aren’t mine. They mostly belong to the actors who portrayed them, but Chris Carter created them, and Ten Thirteen and FOX own the rights. I mean no infringement, and I’m not making any profit from them.

Further disclaimer: CSM’s opinions are his own. Whether they are reality or not, I leave to you.

Summary: Sometimes even heroes need a helping hand.

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Fractured Fairy Tale
by ML

C.G.B. Spender watched as the glass coffin was loaded onto the transport, the inevitable cigarette dangling from his lip. Sleeping Beauty, he thought whimsically. Or Snow White. She looked very pure and untouchable in her cold sleep. Waiting for a prince who might or might not make it in time.

This was not what he’d planned for her. Why would he engineer her recovery from cancer, only to see her suffer an even worse fate less than a year later? She was just as important now as she was then. Only someone truly short-sighted would say differently. But then, he was often the only one with a clear vision of what was to be.

He was pretty sure this wasn’t what Strughold had in mind, either. He couldn’t have known about the bee. It was a fortuitous happenstance. He’d staked his own survival on turning happenstance to his advantage, time and again.

Even Spender couldn’t have known that Scully would play right into his hands. He’d had her followed since she and Mulder had returned from Texas. His original plan had been simple — that was usually the best kind — an apparent car-jacking, a snatch outside her apartment building late at night. He knew the best chance to get her was while she was separated from Mulder. She went to her OPR hearing alone. Mulder went off in search of Kurtzweil.

Spender had been notified as soon as Scully’s hearing was done; he could have given the order to pick her up at any time. She was distracted and less cautious than usual. A snatch at a stoplight would have been easy. But he let his curiosity get the better of him. He wanted to see what her first move would be. He had a bet with himself.

As he predicted, Scully went straight to Mulder. He owed himself a pack of Morleys.

Spender didn’t know what transpired inside Mulder’s apartment, though he could guess at part of it. Tearful recriminations, impassioned declarations of need. Nothing he hadn’t seen or heard before. Still, it was a pity that they hadn’t yet replaced the surveillance equipment; if the two finally succumbed to their obvious attraction to each other, he wanted to be a witness to it. He preferred vicarious living. Much better to stay emotionally detached.

The phone tap was still in place, however, so they were ready when Mulder’s 911 call came through. It was as easy as kiss your hand.

He looked down at Scully’s serene face. The fairy tale analogy struck him again. He could be the prince who awakened her from her slumber…

But he wouldn’t allow himself that pleasure. It was one thing to fantasize, quite another to let such an impulsive gesture ruin his carefully laid plans. Not when he could get someone else to take the risks.

The cargo bay doors shut. He lit another cigarette and took out his phone.

“Yes?” The deep, cultured voice of the Englishman answered almost immediately. He was somewhere over the Atlantic, headed toward the States. Strughold had given him an assignment, too.

Spender felt a brief flash of envy for this man’s life, even for his voice. What sacrifices had he made along the way? He had his beautiful home, his family. He’d given his money and influence, but he’d been more than willing to let others do the dirty work. Others like Spender. Not this time, however.

Strughold had told the Englishman to kill Kurtzweil as a way to remind him of the obligation he had to the Consortium. However, Strughold was no fool, either. He’d already contacted Spender about the elimination of the Englishman, whose conscience was starting to be a problem.

But not before he, Spender, put another piece in play that suited his own agenda.

Now he told the Englishman, “Agent Scully has been taken care of.”

“Where is she?” The Englishman’s voice betrayed none of the anger he’d shown at the meeting.

“She’s on her way to Antarctica,” he said. The Englishman knew what that meant, but he asked anyway.

“Is she…?” he asked.

“She’s infected,” Spender said. “A bee, we think.”

There was a long silence. The smoking man could almost hear the Englishman’s thoughts. He made another bet with himself.

“Does Strughold know?” The Englishman asked.

“Of course,” Spender said. “But I thought you should know. It might help if you encounter any…difficulties.”

“Thank you for telling me,” the Englishman said finally, and he rang off.

Spender smiled as he lit another cigarette. Another calculated gamble on his part. Mulder would move heaven and earth to save Dana Scully, he counted on that. All Mulder needed was a little rudimentary information, and perhaps some of the solution Spender had with him now. He patted his breast pocket.

He couldn’t be absolutely sure the Englishman would give Mulder the vaccine, though telling Mulder where Dana Scully was without giving him the possible cure merely signed her death warrant, and his.

Of course, there was always the possibility that this could end badly. Spender considered spiriting Scully away and using his own vial of the vaccine, once again effecting a miracle cure. But this time, he’d be certain she knew who her benefactor was.

Would she express her gratitude, or curse him? Would it be worth forfeiting his position — possibly his life — to gamble on her thanks?

He’d not let the smile of a woman persuade him for many, many years. He seldom let any emotion get in the way of his plans, not since he was very young.

The flight to Antarctica was long, and Spender had ample time to turn over every outcome in his mind.

There was the outside chance that the vaccine wouldn’t work as expected. That was part of his defense, should everything go to hell. That he’d set this whole elaborate rescue up as a test. Though if it did fail, the possibility also existed that he wouldn’t be around to justify what he did. None of them would be.

If Mulder didn’t have the vaccine, Spender knew he could administer it himself, but it would be so much better if Mulder did it. Still, he believed in hedging his bets. If necessary, he’d find a way for Mulder to “accidentally” stumble on the vaccine.

Mulder was still the best hope for stopping colonization, if anyone could. He’d survived so much, and he had the integrity as well as the intelligence and drive to do it.

He’d considered others, at the times when Mulder had seemed too intractable, too self-absorbed, but there were only two others that he had enough influence or ability to manipulate, and then only so far.

His only legitimate son was still a cipher. Rather than embracing his childhood traumas as Mulder had, he’d chosen to ignore them. He certainly had integrity, but he had no imagination; he was a plodder. And he rejected anything paranormal without discussion or investigation, despite the carefully planned “recovered memories” his mother insisted on. He might be useful, but he would never be a hero.

Krycek was unpredictable and not easily manipulated. His motivations were different than Mulder’s. There was no telling what or who he’d do. There was no discernible pattern to his actions. Most of the time they seemed self-serving, but he played such a deep game that it was impossible to tell.

At one time, Spender thought he’d make a suitable successor, but he wasn’t to be controlled or persuaded by any of the usual inducements, and he wasn’t fazed much by threats, either. It didn’t seem to be money that motivated him; certainly it wasn’t patriotism for either of his countries. Appealing to his sense of self-preservation was usually the best route, but that only went so far. The things that had happened to him seemed to make him feel he was invincible.

Mulder — now, he had his gullibilities and his vulnerabilities. Sometimes it was almost too easy to manipulate him. They’d discovered early on that putting his partner as risk was a sure- fire way to get him to cooperate, but only up to a point. She was not content to be rescued or to stand passively by and let him destroy himself. She was both his weakness and his strength.

Eliminating Dana Scully entirely might cause Mulder to self- destruct, but that wasn’t a certainty. Leave a man with nothing to lose and he might take anyone or anything down with him. No, it was better to keep them both around. Not all the members of the Consortium agreed with that, but so far it was enough to ensure their survival. And even if no one else thought so, Spender’s vision of the future was at once more far-reaching and more self-serving than theirs. He’d endeavor to keep both Mulder and Scully alive as long as it suited his purposes.

Halfway through the flight, he learned of the Englishman’s death. He didn’t need to be told that Mulder would be heading for Antarctica within 24 hours.

x-x-x-x

There was no hiding in the vast whiteness of the snowfield. Even without his information on Mulder’s whereabouts, he’d have seen the Sno-Cat where no Sno-Cat should be.

He waited for Mulder’s arrival. He would find it very easy to breach their security. Spender made sure that only the minimum precautions were in place. They were only a handful of men, anyway; the place ran itself, with just the few to monitor the controls.

The lax security became a non-issue when Mulder was discovered inside the facility. Spender made sure he was the first to announce his awareness of Mulder’s presence. He watched his progress but kept the men from going after him.

He gave Mulder points for finding Scully so quickly; he’d left what clues he could out in the open, but in such a vast space they’d be easy to overlook. He’d thought of ways to leave a trail leading to her, and ways for him to “discover” the vaccine if need be. He stayed in the control room, looking over the shoulders of the technicians, waiting to see if Scully’s knight in shining armor needed a spare lance.

When the alarms went off, he said, “Mulder has the vaccine,” in just the right tone of wondering disbelief. Anyone who survived could attest to his surprise.

The instinct for self-preservation was strong, and when he asserted that Mulder would never survive the meltdown, no one questioned him. It was every man for himself at that point.

They passed Mulder’s Sno-Cat on the way out and Spender made his driver stop. “Just need to make sure,” he said. He checked the gas gauge and switched over to the auxiliary tank. They had enough gas to get to civilization, providing they escaped. He found a loose piece of wiring on the floor and stuck it in his pocket. He showed his driver. “They won’t be going anywhere,” he said.

Now it was all up to Mulder and Scully to save themselves. He’d done everything he could, and the rest of the Consortium would blame the Englishman. It was always convenient to have someone dead to pin the blame on.

He’d convince Strughold and the rest that this was for the best. They’d re-set the colonization clock; he’d bought them more time to perfect the vaccine. He was a damned hero.

Too bad Mulder would never know the full extent of the assistance he’d been given. Or that Scully would never know that he’d saved her life, twice. No, Mulder would get all the credit. He, Spender, was destined always to be the man behind the curtain, pulling the levers and hiding his skills behind a cloud of smoke.

Someday he’d reveal his true self and garner the admiration and gratitude he deserved. He’d bet himself a pack of Morleys on that.

end.

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Author’s notes: I’ve always thought of Spender as a megalomaniac (and some may say, “duh”), and after his “death” (in Redux II), I really think he went `round the bend.

His motivations have always been murky, but I’ve always seen his interest in Dana Scully as more than paternal (even before En Ami). I felt even if he aided Mulder because Mulder was his son, he also did it because of Scully. Maybe more for her than for Mulder. I know I’m not the first to intimate that CSM might be Krycek’s father, too, which makes for a very twisted “My Three Sons” dynamic.

Some of the events in FTF seemed awfully coincidental, so I thought about CSM being a bit of a “fairy godfather” in Antarctica. I’ve read a lot of great stories about just how M & S managed to escape, but I’ve never seen one where CSM may have given some assistance for his own self-serving reasons. If this is old ground, forgive me for treading it again. Thanks for reading!

8/12/02