Two weeks later, when they were still no closer to getting their serial killer, Scully wondered
what she would have done without Krycek. Mulder was retreating further and further away from her.
They were all putting in fourteen, eighteen hour days, living on takeout and gallons of coffee.
Tempers were beginning to fray. There were frequent disagreements, arguments, and as always
Scully was the person supposed to keep them together, working as a team. The person they all
looked to, to keep her brilliant but maverick partner in line.
She was frequently tired, angry, and frustrated enough to scream. But when she came home so
exhausted she had to drag herself from the car, Alex was there. What really mattered were not the
dinners, the care he lavished on her comfort. Like the time he'd brought a Japanese masseuse who
was waiting for her, because the day before she'd complained about a stiff back. Not even the
times he seemed instinctively to know that she needed to be held. The times when she had to pour
out all the ugliness, the pain and terror she had seen all day.
What she came to treasure was the fact that he was *there.* That he listened and that he cared
for her. Mulder had many fine qualities but tenderness and concern for his partner were not chief
among them. But no, she was doing her partner a disservice, she knew. He was even deeper into
this case than she was, and unlike her, he had no one to take care of him. Scully almost smiled.
The truth was that neither was she a particularly tender or caring person. To her immense
surprise Alex Krycek was. Either that or he was a superb actor.
She wondered at times over the care he lavished on her. The change from the mysterious stranger
using her own body against her to the tender, considerate lover was too great to be able to
accept without questions. Finally she did what Dana Scully had always done; asked him outright.
Inevitably they were in bed. He was holding her, already half-asleep judging from the slow
relaxed breathing. His body lax, moulded against hers - if there was one single thing that
fascinated her about Krycek it was his seemingly endless need to be close. To touch her. She had
always thought him rather standoffish, and remembering Mulder's complaints, had expected him to
be the same with her. To keep his distance, to need the space. Instead she was the one in danger
of feeling claustrophobic as he wrapped himself around her bodily and mentally.
Suppressing a yawn, Scully murmured sleepily, "Some day you'll have to tell me why you're doing
this, Alex."
A drowsy drawl. "Do what?"
She snuggled into his shoulder. "Your best to turn into the lover of my dreams."
His eyes snapped open. If she'd looked up, she would have seen a startled, naked vulnerability.
There was also a brief shadow flying over his face, as if reminded of something he would much
rather not be. He asked rather bleakly, "You think that's what I'm doing?"
She yawned, burrowing deeper. "Isn't it? You're perfect, Alex, you never complain, never think of
anything but me and what I want." She murmured sleepily, "You listen patiently when I ramble on
and on about work. You give and give, and I give nothing in return."
He rolled over, leaning on his elbow, looking down into her face. "Nothing in return? Dana do you
have the faintest idea of just how much you've already given me? The difference you've made in my
life?"
There was a dangerous heat lightning his eyes from inside. Emotion intense enough to make her a
little uncomfortable. He bent his head and kissed her deeply. A slow, thorough, drugging, kiss.
"Dana, Dana, what you do to me." He brushed back a strand of red hair from her forehead. "You
really have no idea what a miracle you are, do you?"
"Me?" She was genuinely surprised. "I'm a very ordinary person."
A soft, incredulous laugh. "You ordinary? Like a nova is ordinary!" He sobered. "You remind me
that there is another world out there." He burrowed his face in her neck. "I've lived in shadows
and darkness so long dousha and you bring me light and life and laughter. Everything I'd
forgotten existed."
And listening to the quiet dark voice whispering of need and want, Scully dared to believe he was
telling the truth.
She even found herself, against all regulations, discussing the case with him and was surprised
by the shrewd, incisive comments he made. Although some of them were strangely skewed, and from
one or two casual observations, it became evident that he was brought up in a far more ruthless
school than the FBI. She even commented on it one night over dinner.
"Well, I did graduate from Quantico. And I was Mulder's partner, so I'm not a total greenhorn."
"Granted, but it's more than that," she gave him a long thoughtful look over her Peking duck,
"don't try and fool me, Alex, you've had a hell of a lot more experience at this than just
Quantico and your time as Mulder's partner, haven't you?"
He avoided her glance, forking up his fried noodles. "Yes and no."
"Meaning what exactly?"
He drank down some beer. "Let's just say that I've seen it from both sides, okay?"
Scully frowned, "What are you talking about?"
He sighed and put down his chopsticks, telling her levelly. "Dana, I've been *hunted* by the FBI,
remember? And trust me when you're on the run, you soon learn how to keep moving. To keep your
tracks covered. You also spend a lot of time thinking and wondering what the agents after you are
thinking and planning. Besides, in a way you're right, Quantico wasn't my first experience with,
umm, law enforcement of a kind. In Russia - " he broke off, "it doesn't matter." And that
shuttered, closed look she hated suddenly locked her out of his thoughts and mind.
Realising that she was once again running up against the invisible wall he kept around him,
Scully did not push. The more she learned about Alex Krycek the more questions she had. It was
strange, she had slept with him, she was beginning to care for him to a dangerous degree, yet she
felt as if she didn't know him at all, and for every little revelation about himself, the more
uncertain she felt.
Later that night she was reading some forensic notes, sitting on the floor by the sofa table,
bare feet buried in a deep velvety carpet. Mozart was playing softly in the background. To her
surprise, and faint embarrassment for stereotyping, she found that Krycek's tastes ran towards
the classics, with a preference for the melodic and whimsical; Mozart, Schubert and Liszt.
Alex was on the sofa, reading a book, glancing over at her once in a while. Sometimes they shared
a quiet smile, a murmured comment. Scully reflected more than once how lovely it was to be able
to simply be quiet together. Something very rare and restful she was forced to admit. Especially
to someone used to Mulder's constant, aggressive flow of thoughts, ideas, theories. His agile
mind jumping from tangent to tangent.
She was engrossed in a forensic lab report on victim number five's blood type when Alex put the
book aside.
"I have to talk to you."
She glanced up, "Shoot."
"I have to leave, Dana, I'll be back in a couple of weeks or so."
That caught her attention. She put down the report, heart suddenly beating a little faster. "Can
I ask where you're going?" Adding quickly, in case he thought she was being nosy. "Not that I'm
interested."
He shook his head, "No, you can't ask, I'm sorry." He rose and came over to where she was sitting
kneeling beside her. "But you know, this might not be a bad time for you to be alone." He tucked
a strand of hair back behind her ear, giving her cheek a small caress at the same time.
Unconsciously she leaned into his fingers, body relaxing, heartbeat slowly picking up speed.
"Why?" she asked.
"Why what?" he said distracted, supporting her body weight as they slowly sank to the floor.
"Why do think it's better for me to be alone?" She moaned faintly when his hand slid around her
gently stroking her back.
"Umm..." he rolled over on his back, pulling her with him so she was sprawled on top of him.
"Because I want more, much more than a few stolen nights," he ignored her slight stiffening.
"I want you to come home to me each night, to share more than my bed..." He reached up and
brought her head down for a long, slow, drugging kiss, and when he finally broke off, she was
squirming against him. "So you think about that while I'm gone. Think about this," his hand
worked itself down her body, knowing exactly where to linger, where to tease and where to stroke
until she was writhing mindless. No thought but his hand and mouth and body making her forget
everything but him, and what he made her feel and do....
Later that night, getting ready for bed, Scully was drying her hair in front of the mirror, and
reflecting over the weird normality of her situation. Rather like an episode of the old 'Twilight
Zone' tv show that Mulder swore was one of the true pinnacles of 20th century culture.
What, after all, could be more normal and common place than two adults sharing a bed, and
tenatively building a realtionship? Turning off the hair-dryer and shaking out her hair, she
thought dryly the only problem was that she was a FBI agent and he was wanted for murder, treason
and theft. A match made in heaven. What the hell was she doing here, Scully asked herself for the
millionth time, and for the millionth time not finding a good answer, when her thoughts were
abruptly interrupted by a crash from the bathroom and then muffled cursing.
Going across the bedroom she knocked on the door, "Everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine. Go away, Dana."
But everything was patently not fine, and ignoring the order, Scully opened the door.
Alex was on his knees, scrambling for the mug he used for brushing his teeth and which had fallen
on the floor.
Scully leaned against the door, and asked casually, "What are you doing down there, Krycek,
seeking your own natural level?"
"Funny, funny, Scully," he gave her a glare. "I knocked the thing over and it rolled behind the
toilet."
She knelt beside him and picked up the mug, putting it back by the washbasin. He was still on the
floor, head bent, knees drawn up, and giving in to impulse she stroked his hair, tangling her
fingers in the silky soft strands. "What's the matter, Alex?" she asked gently when he still
didn't look at her.
A mixture of anger and bitterness reflected in shadowed green eyes. "I can't even brush my teeth
properly. Every little thing, taking a shower, cooking dinner, driving a car, it's become a
problem. Dammit!" he looked away but not before she could see something very close to tears, "I
can't do anything!"
Scully had to swallow, feeling emotion prickling the corner of her eyes. Usually he dismissed the
loss of his arm so easily, she hadn't realized how much it must have affected him. Once again,
she thought later, underestimating him.
"You can do anything you want, Alex. And besides," a teasing look, "you still have all your, ah,
necessary parts..."
He hid his face in her neck, trying to laugh although it came out closer to a sob. "Yeah, if I
had to get something cut off, I guess it was lucky it was my arm. I wouldn't have been much use
to you otherwise."
"Actually I was referring to your brain," she murmured demurely.
This time his laugh was real. Using his one remaining arm to pull her close to him, twisting
around so they were side by side, leaning their backs against the bathtub. "That's my Scully, the
logical FBI agent," he put his arm around her shoulders.
She snuggled close feeling a strange pleasure at the easy allusion to being his. "Guilty as
charged."
He leaned his head against her breast, "I'm going to miss you, Dana. Damn, I wish I didn't have
to leave."
A gentle, soft caress, her fingers running through his hair, had him groaning in pleasure. "Do
you really?"
He raised his head kissing her gently. "I'm afraid so. Going to miss me, Scully?"
"In your dreams, Krycek," but her smile was tender and teasing. The kiss deep, and, not hesitant
to show it any longer, very hungry. * * *
 It was the middle of the night and Scully was sleeping peacefully by his side when the phone
woke him. Coming instantly awake, Alex was out of the bed in one smooth move, balancing on the
heels of his feet. Moving like a cat, he came up in a crouch, eyes scanning the room. Realizing
it was only the phone, and that he was at Hadley's Place, he relaxed fractionally taking the time
to give the sleeping woman in his bed a tender look, before he walked over and picked up the
phone, and bringing it to the living room to avoid disturbing her.
"Hello."
"Greetings, little one," Krycek went cold as ice.
"Colonel Rostov, what an unexpected... pleasure," despite himself the last word came out with
faint irony.
The answer was a booming laugh. "Ever the joker eh, commander."
"If you say so, colonel," Krycek said woodenly.
The bonhomie dropped like the mask it was. "We need to meet, tomorrow, the Ambassador Hotel,
suite 478, at two, don't be late." The phone started to buzz as the other caller disconnected.
Krycek automatically pressed the off button, slowly putting the phone down. He wanted to go back
to Dana, to take her in his arms, arm, he reminded himself with a grimace. Instead he crossed the
room and poured a big shot of whisky, coughing as the liquid burned down his throat and settled
like a small living coal in the pit of his stomach.
As always the sound of that particular voice brought back memories he'd prefer buried. He was a
free man. Well as free as any man playing a double, at times a triple game of betrayal. He was
independently wealthy after years of salting away money in numbered Swiss and Aruba off-shore
accounts. He had the woman of his dreams sleeping in his bed, he had....
Alex Krycek almost groaned aloud. He had shit! All the years, all the choices, all the
sacrifices, and he was still nothing more than a pawn in a game larger than him. And now for the
first time in far too long, he really had something to lose. Dammit! He *couldn't* fail now when
he was finally so close.
"Alex?" Scully came up behind him, putting a small slender hand on his shoulder fingers sliding
across damp, hot skin. "Where did you go? I woke up and you weren't there."
He pulled her around on to his lap, "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."
She reached up and smoothed the frown from his forehead, "You're looking troubled, anything you
want to talk about?"
He shook his head, "Not want, can't, Dana." He pulled her head down for a long deep kiss to stop
any further questions.
When she finally broke off, they were both gasping for air. She framed his face, looking deep
into his eyes.
"Alex, let me help."
He gave her a weary smile infinitely warmed by the faint concern in her eyes, the soft caress of
delicate slender hands. "Dana, Dana, what would I do without you?" he whispered leaning up and
capturing her lips in another long, soft drugging kiss. And although the woman in his arms smiled
as if it was a joke. Krycek knew it was nothing less than the truth. He kissed her again,
laughing against her mouth when she tried half-heartedly to keep him away.
Dreamily Scully thought this was what heaven was like, the sweetness of Alex's kisses, the steady
beat of his heart under her ear, when she rested her head on his chest. Later, when they made
love, she had the strangest feeling that tonight, he wanted something more from her than passion,
tonight, he wanted oblivion, there was something close to desperation as he loved her, something
in the beautiful face bent over her that she would remember for a long time to come... * * *
 "Sir," Jesus Christ, how many bastards did he have to call sir? Alex thought, submitting to the
hearty embrace, the kisses on both cheeks.
The thick-bodied, gray-haired man stood back, studying Krycek closely. "You look tired my dear
Alexei Sergevich."
*I am not your anything, you perverted bastard!* Alex thought in a flash of rage, but he was far
too wise to let any hint of what he was thinking or feeling cross his face.
Aloud he only said, "You look good too, Boris. So what was so urgent we had to meet like this?"
Steering him to the chair, and pouring a shot of vodka, Boris, laughed. "So impatient, Sasha;
life in America hasn't improved you." He poured himself another shot of vodka tossing it down,
"Nastravodje!"
Alex drank down his own vodka, feeling the fiery alcohol burn down his throat. "Nastravodje." He
replaced the glass on the table, "and now, as the Americans say, why don't you cut to the chase?"
Dropping down in a chair, Boris's face changed. "You are involved with a woman."
Krycek's stomach clenched. Shit, shit, shit!! Trying to calm his racing heart he said, "Yes, so?
It's private, Boris, nothing to do with the Fifth Directorate."
Boris steepled his fingers. "Now there you are wrong my friend, Elizabeth Berkley is very much
our business, especially since you are working for the Consortium on this."
Restraining an insane impulse to laugh, Krycek realized Boris was talking of the Consortium's
target, not Dana. Lenin's Ghost be thanked. Relaxing he said almost cheerfully, "True, but a man
has to live you know, and the Consortium pays well."
"Alexei we need access to the data before the Consortium does."
Krycek almost choked. "You want me to double-cross the Consortium?! If you want to get rid of me
that badly just say so and I'll shoot myself! It will save time and a hell of a lot of pain."
Boris chuckled. "Calm down little brother, we are not wanting you to break your cover. We will
simply provide you with an alternative set of data, you will give this to the Consortium. And if
they ever discover that it is faked, they will assume it was the good Doctor Berkley who fooled
you."
"Great," Krycek said sardonically, "as if that will make them hesitate in disposing of me." He
sighed knowing he had no choice, that he'd never had one. "Fine, give me the disk and I'll se
what I can do."
He rose, bringing the meeting to an end, but Boris remained seated. "Was there anything else?"
A long silence and a sudden leering look. "I thought we might get reacquainted, Sasha, it must be
lonely for you here, no one who, ah, understands you the way I do." He inspected the fingers of
one hand, "I have booked a room here for the night."
Krycek felt very cold. "I don't think so, Boris," he said calmly. And then he leaned forward,
eyes glittering. "I'll never be your toy again, got that? You find someone else to play your
little games with."
"You don't want to make me angry, my Alexei," Boris warned gently.
Krycek laughed shortly, "Could I? Look, *sir* I'm not one of your students, or your subordinates.
Nowadays I decide who and what I sleep with." He tried very hard to ignore the inner mocking
voice reminding him of the Smoking Man and Elizabeth Berkley.
Boris studied him for a moment, then shrugged. "Very well, I will find my amusements somewhere
else." He added casually, "by the way, father sends his regards."
Krycek went rigid. "I'm leaving!"
But behind him as he closed the door he heard the taunting laugh. "You can run little brother,
but you cannot hide forever..." * * *
 Elizabeth Berkley lived in a typical block of apartments suitable for young professionals. Airy,
clean, comfortable and lacking any kind of character or individuality. Krycek sat in his rented
car watching her leave the building to bring up the second load of groceries from the car parked
in front of the apartment building.
A pretty young woman, honey-blond hair shoulder length caught back by two green combs, she was
enough to make any man give her a second glance. Krycek sighed, leaning his arms against the
steering wheel. He had never felt more disgusted with an assignment. Still, it was a job, and it
had to be done. He got out, slamming the door a little harder than necessary to relieve a little
of his feelings and headed towards the target.
"Hey, that looks heavy, can I help you?" he gave her a charming boyish smile.
"Why, thank you," she half-turned, glancing at him idly and then abruptly swivelled back for a
second look, eyes widening, sliding to his missing arm, then jerking away and flushing slightly
when she realized he had caught her staring. But not before he had seen the compassion bordering
on pity softening the blue. Krycek set his jaw. But it had also told him what he needed to know
on the best approach to his assignment.
"Here, I'll take that," he deftly caught one of the grocery bags.
She gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks, it was a little too much." Chatting easily, she led their
way to the second floor, moving quickly, gracefully.
They stopped outside her door, and Krycek waited until she'd unlocked the door but not making any
move to enter. He was careful to keep a small space between them to avoid her feeling the least
bit crowded or threatened, and handed her the grocery bag.
"Here, you are." He started to move away, then suddenly turned back and gave her another boyish
rueful smile. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I'm Alex, Alex Ferguson, and I've just
moved in. The guy who leased me the place didn't tell me there were neighbours like you here or I
might have paid him more," his green eyes glimmered with lazy appreciation.
She smiled and actually blushed a little. "Are you flirting with me, Alex Ferguson?"
He cocked his head. "I could be, do you mind? Ms...?"
"Elizabeth, Elizabeth Berkley," she smiled, "and no, I don't mind, not at all." A sudden thought
struck her. "Look, I'm having a small party at my place tonight. Just some friends, and friends
of friends. Why don't you stop by?"
He grinned at her, warmly enough to chase a hint of colour onto her cheeks. Sticking his hands in
his pockets, he unconsciously posed against the wall. The well-honed muscles moved under the thin
white T-shirt he was wearing, and he noticed how her eyes followed the movements. Yes this would
definitely work. But oddly the thought brought him little satisfaction or pleasure.
"Thanks, I might do that."
When Krycek knocked on her door later that evening, he could hear the faint sounds of music and
loud cheerful chatter. The door opened and Elizabeth appeared. She had changed into a small
aquamarine armless dress that flattered her hair and brought out the blue in her eyes.
"Hi!" she exclaimed with a smile, "I wasn't sure you were going to show up."
He gave her a boyish smile, "I wasn't sure myself," he admitted candidly.
"Well now that you're here, why don't you come in and I'll introduce you to everyone." She took
his hand and pulled him into the room.
Her apartment was the bigger two bedroom unit, and he realized she must be pulling down quite a
salary to be able to afford a place like this. It had a large living room cum kitchen and two
smaller bedrooms off to each side of the fireplace. At the moment the room was filled with
people, mostly young, well-dressed professionals. Glancing around at their pleasant well-scrubbed
faces, the expensive clothes and casual sophisticated manner, Krycek had to hide a sudden bitter
smile. They were so innocent, so unaware of their own luck.
However, they were all very cheerful and friendly, and more than one woman was eyeing him with
something more than casual interest. Elizabeth was flitting around making sure everyone had
something to drink and stopping briefly at each group of people for a quick word and a smile.
Once something someone said made her laugh, throwing back her head, hair flying. Krycek sipped
his drink, watching her thoughtfully.
"She's quite something isn't she?" He looked up to see one of the guys, what was his name? Eric,
ah yes, that's right, Eric.
"Yes she is," he agreed politely.
"Brilliant mind, great body, and not a selfish bone in her," Eric said. "Did you know she spends
her Saturdays off as a volunteer for Greenpeace? And she's also working for Amnesty
International."
"You've known her long?"
"Since college, although she was always more dedicated." A quick rueful smile, "and more talented
to tell the truth. Which is why she's pulling down the big money and I'm pounding physics,
chemistry and biology into rebellious teenagers and living below the poverty line." He shrugged.
"I'm a science teacher at Walter Whitman High."
"Sounds interesting," Krycek said politely.
"It stinks," Eric said frankly. "But hell it's a living, and we can't all of us be geniuses like
Liz."
Elizabeth chose that moment to come back. "Hey Alex, are you talking to Eric?" she giggled,
sitting down on his lap. Krycek could feel the slight unsteadiness, and see the dilated pupils.
The lady was definitely very relaxed. He casually put an arm around her waist, steadying her.
"Right, Eric is telling me all your dirty little secrets," he said, reaching around her to grab a
handful of peanuts.
Listening to Elizabeth, *Liz*, and Eric bicker in the way only two good old friends can, Krycek
wondered what the hell he was doing here. He wanted to be in Washington, holding his beautiful
FBI agent. His body hardened just thinking of her short red hair, like a cloud of living fire
spread across his pillow. The way her blue eyes darkened when he brought her body alive with a
single touch. The way she absently played with her earring when she was deep in thought.
Tearing himself away from all thoughts of Dana Scully, Alex Krycek concentrated grimly on the
task at hand. By the end of the evening when he thought his face would break from so much
smiling, he had her exactly where he wanted. She was definitely *very* interested, and he had
made sure she knew he was as well. But without making the kind of move that would scare her off.
When he said good-bye, neither the first nor the last guest to leave, she followed him to the
door. Standing there, he took her hand and looked deep into her eyes.
"Look, I don't want to seem pushy, but are you seeing anyone?"
She shook her head, voice a little breathless. "No, my boyfriend and I broke up three months
ago."
He smiled into her eyes, "Are you going to be insulted if I tell you, good?"
Again she shook her head, "Not at all, actually I'm the one who broke it off, I, he..."
She broke off when he placed a gentle finger against her lips. "Shh, you don't have to explain
anything to me, Liz." He smiled at her blush. "I like the name. Elizabeth is too long and formal.
Elizabeth wears tailored suits and carries a briefcase. But Liz... Liz, will come with me
tomorrow for a walk along the beach and some hot dogs..."
She dropped her eyes, but the blush remained and she actually swayed a little closer. "I'd love
to, Alex."
"Good," he glanced around at the remaining guest, and then leaned closer whispering in her ear.
"I want to kiss you, Liz, but I don't want our first time to be with half your friends watching
us." A touch as soft as a butterfly's wing on her cheek, a last long look from warm green eyes,
and then he was gone but not before he had seen her stand watching him with wide amazed eyes, one
hand pressed to her cheek.
Gotcha! Krycek thought silently, allowing himself a single triumphant smile on the way to his
temporary home.
When he got inside, Alex permitted himself the indulgence of a whisky and a cigarette. Bringing
the cellphone out on the balcony, he dialed a number he had long ago memorized.
"Scully," her crisp voice as always made him smile.
"Hello dousha."
"Alex!" some muffled sounds as she shifted the phone, and when she spoke again it was in a
whisper. "What are you doing calling me on this number?"
"Did you want me to phone you on the official FBI extension?"
"I don't want you to call me at all," she retorted, but he could hear the slight softening in her
voice.
"Your wish is my command, milady," he started to hang up.
"No! Alex, dammit! Don't hang up!"
"I thought that's what you wanted," he said innocently. Then smiled at her frustrated wordless
growl.
"Okay, you win," she finally said grudgingly. "How are you?"
"I'm fine, how are things at the FBI?"
She sighed heavily, some of the animation leaving her voice. "Getting worse. We thought the fact
that the killer suffers from multiple personality disorder would give us an edge, but so far
zilch! We've been through every hospital record there is. And we've had a couple of promising
leads but nothing that's panned out so far."
"How is Mulder taking it?"
A long silence, "He's getting worse. Soon he's going to start speaking in tongues I think. We've
got two more tapes and by now he probably knows every word by heart. Even Carstairs is walking on
eggshells around him. But the truth is he is the only one who has even the slightest chance of
nailing the bastard, and knowing that just drives him on." Another long pause, "I'm really afraid
for him, Alex."
"Don't, Dana, Mulder's tougher than you know," adding silently to himself, he's had to be. Aloud
he said. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm fine, but - "a silence and then very softly, "I miss you."
His heart almost skipped a beat. "It's mutual *douschenka*."
"Douschenka... what does that mean?"
He laughed softly, "'Little star', it's a Russian endearment, and it suits you perfectly."
"Oh, Alex," she groaned, "you know we're both completely mad. You're everything I am fighting
against. Corrupt as hell, a murderer, a paid *assassin* for God's sake! And just to make it
perfect you killed my partner's father and I know you know a hell of a lot more about Melissa
than you've told me. And ..." she breathed out softly, "and I can't sleep at night thinking of
you and your arms around me." Somehow the anonymity of the phone allowed her to tell him things
she could never have said face to face.
His voice grew a little rough. "Dana, beautiful Dana, what I wouldn't give to be there right now,
and hold you."
"So why aren't you?" she demanded. Need overwhelming prudence for the moment.
He said lightly, "I am asking myself the same thing right now, I -"
Scully said urgently, "Hang on a moment, Alex," there was a muffled sound as she covered the
phone with one hand, and then she came back and said quickly, "I have to hang up."
"I'll phone you later."
"I, no, don't, Alex, I mean, you don't know, I..." she sounded a little incoherent and Krycek
smiled rather cynically.
"I take it what you're trying to tell me is that you don't want Mulder to know who is phoning
you?"
A silence, and then quietly, "Do you blame me?"
He muttered a curse in Russian. "No, no I don't. All right, I'll phone you when I'm back in
Washington again. In the meantime, take care of yourself and Mulder."
"I will, thanks for calling, Alex," she disconnected before he could say anything else. * * *
 "Mulder? Mulder!" Scully shook his shoulder gently.
"Wh...what?" he opened one eye blearily. "Wha'cha doing here Scully?"
"It's quarter past seven in the morning Mulder, and you're sleeping on your desk."
Mulder slowly lifted his head where it had fallen on a stack of witness reports. Maltreated
joints protested as he reached behind his head and started massaging his neck.
"Ouch, I've got a crick," he complained.
"No wonder, I found you in here twisted like a pretzel." She glanced at the reports lying opened
and scattered across his desk. "Did you find anything you missed the last three thousand times
you read them?"
He stretched slowly, working at the stiffness. "Not so you'd notice it. Dammit, Scully, I know
it's in there, the key to the case, if I could only see it."
She sat down opposite him. "Talk to me, Mulder, that might help sort things out."
Crossing his long legs, he started to go through what they had so far. He spoke calmly,
logically, and once again she was reminded of the cold intelligence, almost genius that was
constantly at war with his emotions. Too many people saw only the kookiness, the theories he
enjoyed pushing in people's faces if only to see their reactions. They never noticed the cool,
detached watcher looking out from his eyes, gauging their reactions, relishing their responses.
"So what you're saying," she interrupted, "is that the killer is most likely someone of
independent financial means."
"It's the only explanation to the fact that he's managed to remain at large for so long. He has
to have an undisturbed place, and the way he's been running around the country, he's either a
thief, except we've checked and there have been no crimes that fit his pattern committed around
the place where the kidnappings are, or he's got money."
Scully frowned. "He also has access to private transportation, since no public transportation
pattern corresponds to the killings?"
Mulder stretched, joints popping. "Right, a car? Possible, but there are one or two things about
the time frame that makes me wonder if he may have a private plane."
"But why do you think he has political influence?"
He picked up the last slice of cold congealed pizza lying on his desk, and started wolfing it
down hungrily. "It's the only answer, Scully. Look, *someone* has to have put a lid on it.
Remember Sheriff Bowles little tale? I mean, *we* didn't even get called in until victim number
eleven. Which is nothing less than criminal considering that they had all the forensic evidence
tying him to at least nine other murders. And when I talked to Fred Verhulst, the governor's
chief of staff." She nodded, "all he would tell me was it was a favour to a valued supporter of
the governor. Then he clamed up completely, ergo political pull in some very high places."
Scully repressed a shudder at the sight of the cold pizza, absently playing with a pen. "You're
making sense, Mulder, too much for my comfort," she admitted. "Have you talked to Skinner about
this?"
"Yep, and he agrees, so he's digging very quietly, calling in some favours, seeing what he can
find."
Nervously toying with her earring, Scully asked, "Do you really think he'll find anything?"
A shrug, "There's nothing to lose."
"You're right, but still," she couldn't shake a small tension at the base of her shoulders.
"There is something about this whole setup I don't like, Mulder."
Swallowing the last of the pizza and washing it down with a lukewarm coke that had long ago lost
its fizz, Mulder rotated his shoulders. "Agreed. It stinks to high heaven." A thoughtful pause.
"Perhaps it's time for some more tape on the window."
"Mulder, he's dead."
Mulder cocked his head, "Do you really think so?"
"We saw his body, remember?" Scully repressed the wayward thought that the dead did not always
stay dead.
Mulder echoed her silent doubts, "Which doesn't mean he's not still out there somewhere." A
hollow laugh, "look at people like the Smoking Man and Krycek, they've got more than nine lives.
Every time you think they're dead, up they pop again."
Not wanting to think of the Smoking Man since that inevitably led her to the man who had once
worked for the old bastard, Scully changed the subject. "You suspect the Consortium may be behind
this? Isn't that a little far out, even for you?"
Mulder sat down again, pulling off his shoe and waving his toes. Absently she noticed the socks
had holes on them. Nicely matching the wrinkled shirt, stubble and pale skin.
"No, not after the kind of polite brush off we've got from the locals. That stinks of cover-ups
and who else has that kind of pull?"
"According to you and the Lone Gunmen, various secret organisations dominated by aliens and
dedicated to taking over the world." She said dryly. "Are you sure there is nothing in the
suspicion that the United Nations is secretly plotting to take over the US government and the
numbers on the new highway signs are really a code to help the UN troops?"
Mulder said seriously, "Well actually, Scully..."
She groaned, holding her hands before her ears, "I don't want to hear! It was a joke, Mulder!"
He chuckled, "Remind me sometime to tell you about Frohike's theory on the origins of the United
Nations and the role the Rockefellers played."
An almost smile, "I always *thought* Nelson Rockefeller looked like an alien..." She frowned,
"and please spare me from Frohike. He's been mailing me again." She gave him a sudden glare hot
enough to singe. "Which reminds me. I have a *big* bone to pick with you!"
"What are you talking about?" he gave her an ingenuous smile.
Scully snorted, "Don't try that innocent routine with me! Mulder did you, or did you not send
Frohike love poetry from *me*?!"
Mulder shook his head, clicking his tongue in disapproval. "You're sending Frohike poetry? Don't
you have any shame, Scully?"
She almost choked, "I'm going to get you for this, Mulder!"
"Really, Scully, leading the poor man on. Do you know how excited he got when you called him your
fearless knight, doing battle in the cyberworld?" Mulder's eyes danced.
Declining to answer, Scully just turned her back on him and pretended to be very busy. She tried
her best to ignore the smiling loon she had the terrible forturne to be partnered with. * * *
 The following week Krycek methodically put his plan in action and resolutely resisted the
temptation to phone or even think about Dana Scully. The first date he did nothing more than hold
Elizabeth's hand as they strolled along the beach at sunset. When she asked him about his arm, he
gave her a rueful smile.
"My own stupid fault. I was heading up a Disaster and Rescue team, and I wasn't supposed to do
anything but coordinate. But," he gave her a depreciating glance, "I don't want to sound like I'm
bragging or bore you."
She smiled, taking his hand, "I don't think you're bragging, or boring me. Please go on, Alex, it
sounds fascinating."
He hesitated, sadness clouding his eyes for a moment. "As I said I was just coordinating when I
heard a small child calling out, I just couldn't stand there listening to her call for help so
off I went. I found her buried under a couple of tons of cement and broken pipes and we were all
afraid of the gas leaks. So we wanted to get her out fast. I volunteered to go in after her," a
pensive self-mocking smile shaped his mouth, "old indestructible Alex to the rescue. We got her
out and then something must have shifted because suddenly my arm was ..." his voice drifted off,
and she squeezed his hand in sympathy.
"Did you get the child out alive?"
His face lit into a genuine smile, "Yup! And because she was an orphan, her entire family died in
the earthquake, we brought her back with us. They found her a really good home." He shook his
head, "you know, people call us heroes for doing what we do, but the real heroes are people like
her. After everything she's been through, she's such a great well-adjusted kid. She's pulling
straight A's in school, and she's on the Track and Field team." He laughed softly, a thread of
tenderness running through it, "the last time we met," he looked a little abashed at the
admission, "I kind of like to keep an eye on her y'know? She claimed she's going to marry me if I
can only wait for her to grow up."
Liz smiled, "I can understand why." She gave him a soft admiring glance. "You're quite a man,
Alex."
He smiled back at her. "And you're quite a woman, Elizabeth Berkley. Eric was filling me in about
you last night."
She laughed, brushing back a long strand of blonde hair blown forward by the wind. "Don't mind
Eric, he thinks I'm Mother Teresa and Albert Einstein all rolled into one."
"And aren't you?" he glanced down at her, eyes warm and amused.
She blushed a little, "Not by far." Earnestly, wanting him to understand she said, "I work with
computers all day. It's extremely interesting, but also dehumanizing. At times you forget that
what really matters in life is *people*. So when I finish working I want to remember that I am a
member of the human race."
He stopped, and turned towards her, taking both her hands in his. "Well, I agree with Eric, I
think you're one hell of a lady, Liz." Quietly, he added, "and I'd like very much to get to know
you better. Okay?"
A little breathlessly she stared into his eyes, "Very okay."
He didn't kiss her until their third date, letting her set the pace and never pushing for more
than she wanted to give. While at the same time making it very, very clear that he wanted her. It
was a game he had played with a thousand women, and men, before. Once or twice Krycek thought
cynically that despite what biologists and Christian fundamentalists believed, there was really
no difference in the seduction of a woman or a man.
By the end of the second week, when he was going slowly mad from missing Scully, Elizabeth was
eating out if his hand. She was not even able to hide her infatuation. But then he had
deliberately created exactly the kind of man she would fall in love with.
The first time he took her to bed she reacted with a kind of surprised gratitude that made him
wonder about her previous lovers. Ah well, he thought as she moaned and writhed against him, in
response to his skill, he could at least give her some pleasure before she had to die. And was
surprised by his own thought. It had never occurred to him before, Scully's corrupting influence
no doubt, he thought with a tiny secret smile as he bent over Elizabeth again...
Sitting in her living room, drinking a glass of wine after dinner, listening to James Galway play
hauntingly in the background, he slowly led her to talk about her work. She was flattered and
happy he seemed so interested in what she was doing. Krycek listened, asked the right question,
and each night after he got home he listened and transposed the tape from the voice activated
bugs he had installed in her apartment and on her phone. Slowly he was building up a good base.
Not only of what she knew, but of what kind of questions he had to ask her.
They had been sleeping together for a week, and she had started to talk of introducing him to her
family, when he finally decided that he had everything that was necessary. That night after she
had gone to sleep, he quietly left their bed, and returned with a gauze pad drenched with ether.
Pressing it to her nose and mouth for about fifteen seconds, she was soon unconscious. Putting
away the pad, he locked her hands behind her back with a pair of leather padded cuffs to avoid
any tear of the skin or marks. Then half-carrying her, half-dragging her to a chair, he injected
the sodium pentothal, waited for it to work, and then gently slapped her, to wake her up.
"Elizabeth?"
She stared at him blurrily, "Ye..yes..."
"What's your name?"
"Elizabeth Susan Berkley."
"Where do you work?"
"Sun Alliance R&D."
Krycek breathed out, pleased. "All right Elizabeth, let's talk about your work...."
It took more than three hours, but at the end he was reasonably sure he had everything she knew
or thought she knew. Then he had to wait until she started to come out of the daze induced by the
drug. He waited patiently until her eyes were clear and conscious again, and he was relatively
sure little of the drug he had used remained in her blood.
Shaking her aching head, Elizabeth tried to put her hands up to massage her neck but realized
they wouldn't move. Confused, she looked around, and realized Alex was standing with his back to
her, packing up a small black bag.
"Alex?" she asked uncertainly.
He turned around, "So you're awake. I'm sorry you had to regain consciousness. But I couldn't
risk traces of the drug being found in your blood."
"Drugs, blood, what are you talking about?" she started to sound a little afraid. "And why am I
tied up?"
He snapped the bag closed, and came over to her. "It's a long story, but suffice it to say that I
was sent to kill you, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."
Elizabeth stared at him with wide uncomprehending eyes. "You're going to kill me?"
He looked at her with an odd expression of regret. "I'm sorry, Liz, don't take it personally.
It's just a job."
She choked down an insane unbelieving burst of laughter. "You're going to *kill* me and you're
telling me not to take it personally?!"
He held up the syringe, tapping gently to push out the air bubble. "Trust me, Liz, I'm doing you
a favour. The others wouldn't have been as gentle, a couple of days in their hands and you would
have begged for death. This way you just go to sleep and never wake up again."
"What others? I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered. "If I'm going to die, you
can at least tell me *why*!"
He knelt by her side, lightly circling her arm and tracing the vein. "Sorry, this isn't like the
movies where the villain spends ten minutes explaining the plot and who the bad guys are, for the
heroine before killing her. Just to have the hero burst in at the last moment." He pressed a kiss
on her forehead, "I'm just about the closest thing you've got to a hero."
She shook her head, pleading, "How can you do this to me, Alex? Last night we were in bed
together. We *made love* and now you can just kill me without a second thought?"
He slid the needle into her vein and depressed the plunger. "No, Liz, we fucked. I've only ever
made love to one person in my life and she wasn't you."
Desperately she said, "If you let me go, I'll do anything you want. I won't tell anybody, I
*promise*!"
He said nothing, just watched silently as she raved against him, screamed and cursed. Called him
a bastard, a motherfucker, and later when she wept and pleaded and begged. He sat watching until
her eyes closed and her breathing became even and deep. When he was sure she was asleep, he
released her and carefully massaged away the faint marks from the cuffs.
Carrying her to the bedroom and swearing over the missing arm he placed her on the bed and
arranged the body just right. Then he returned to the living room where he connected the zipdrive
to her computer and started downloading everything on the hard drive. While the data was being
transferred he opened the small toolbox he carried with him. Going back to the bedroom and not
giving the sleeping figure on the bed a single glance he knelt and carefully unscrewed one of the
electrical sockets in her bedroom. Gently, gently he twisted one of the wires, and placed it
against one of the unprotected metal circuits. After several tries a small blue flame suddenly
jumped from the metal onto the thick carpet. A little judicious feeding and soon it was burning
briskly. Once he was sure it had taken hold properly and that the window was open to create a
good draft, Krycek returned to the living room. He unhooked the zipdrive, and silently left.
Just as he had calculated, on a quiet Wednesday morning when everyone was at work, it took almost
half an hour for the fire to be discovered. By that time Elizabeth's apartment was engulfed in
flames. When the firemen arrived, they were able to save most of the rest of the building,
although almost half of the apartments had water and smoke damage. There were only two deaths,
the young doctor Elizabeth Berkley and an old vagabond who had taken refugee in a storage area to
sleep off last night's drunken binge.
On the plane back to Washington, Krycek read the newspaper article reporting on the fire. The
writer noted that the fire had been ruled an accident after the police and fire department
investigators had determined that a faulty electrical outlet in Dr. Berkley's bedroom was the
cause. Krycek nodded in satisfaction of a job well done. The fire he'd set had served a dual
purpose of effectively wiping all traces of computer tampering, and burning Elizabeth's body
badly enough that any remaining traces of the sodium pentothal would go undetected.
Too bad about the vagrant. If he'd known the guy was sleeping in the attic, he would have gotten
the old man out. Folding the newspaper, Krycek frowned slightly. Not checking things like that
smelled of sloppiness. As he knew too well, it was the little details that often slipped you up.
He'd have to watch out.
He closed his eyes leaning back in the seat, letting his mind drift to more pleasant things....
to Dana. Alex smiled, a soft tender smile, seeing in his mind's eye those ridiculous suits she
was so fond of wearing. As if disguising her body could somehow make people forget she was a
woman. Remembered her habit of chewing her pencil when she was worried, her sly smile when she'd
made one of her bad jokes...
Alex Krycek fell asleep with a smile on his lips.
He arrived back in Washington late at night, and although he was sorely tempted to phone Scully,
he refrained. Either she was still at FBI headquarters where she definitely did not want him to
contact her. Or she was at home snatching a few hours of sleep. In which case, she was going to
kill him for disturbing her. So repressing the fierce craving for her, he undressed, leaving all
his clothes in a pile on the floor, crawled into bed and was asleep the same moment his head hit
the pillow.
The next morning Krycek sat outside on the small terrace adjoining the apartment. He watched the
children playing, eating breakfast, drinking coffee, and smiling in memory at Dana's reaction to
the first cup of coffee he had ever given her. He reached for his phone.
She answered after the second ring.
"Scully."
"Guess who?"
"Alex?!" There was no hiding either the surprise or the genuine happiness.
"None other, I'm back in DC. Come by tonight?"
A long soft sigh, "I, I shouldn't.... we're working around the clock here, but..." another long
pause. "You tempt me."
"Come on, dousha, all work and no play makes Dana a very unhappy little Fed."
She laughed softly, and the sound went through him like a knife. "You have a very twisted sense
of humour. Not to mention a shaky grasp of nursery rhymes." A sigh, "let me see what I can do.
I'll try and be by your place at eight.. and Alex - "
"Yes?"
"I've missed you."
"Not half as much as I've missed you, dousha."
When he hung up, he was smiling, whistling. Wandering inside to shower and shave, he started
planning their reunion. She especially loved BBQ chicken wings, and a dry white Mosel. A
disgusting combination, but then that was just about the only flaw in her he could think of... *
* *
 He waited for three hours before he realized she wasn't going to show up. With a sudden savage
gesture he swept the crystal glasses, the fine china from the table, watching it shatter at his
feet. The little bitch! He swore heatedly, feeling icy cold. Had he misjudged her that much? He
could have sworn that she felt something more than just lust. He knew she was not a woman who
could be held by her body's need alone. But Dana Scully also wasn't the kind of woman who could
go to bed casually without feelings.
Create a physical dependence and use it to conceive an emotional bond.
It was the first thing he had learned years ago. And wasn't that exactly what he had counted on
when he'd - Oh hell, Alex, admit the truth to yourself at least. Forced her into your bed and
raped her soul if not her body...
Alex Krycek sat up late that night with a bottle of vodka and his own dark thoughts.
He was still on the sofa, sleeping, the empty bottle on the floor when the sound of the ringing
bell woke him up. For a moment he wasn't sure where he was. But then memory, and the sight of the
broken glass on the floor made him recall too clearly last night. No one but Scully knew this
place, at least he sincerely hoped so. Sitting up and swearing over the bruises caused by the
prosthetic arm that he'd forgotten to take off in his drunken state last night, he staggered to
the door.
Scully walked in, geninune and unmistakable anticipation and happiness warming the blue of her
eyes . "Hello, Alex." She glanced around her, suddenly wrinkling her nose. "What happened here?"
Leaning against the wall, he tried a shrug, "I had a little accident."
Looking at the splinters of glass and china, the wine staining the floor, she lifted an eyebrow.
"Not so little."
He ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed, "Ah, well it doesn't matter," he mumbled.
One of the things he treasured most about Dana Scully was her sharp intelligence. She took in the
mess on the floor, the vodka bottle, his haggard appearance, and with a soft smile she walked
straight into his arms.
"Oh, Alex, I'm sorry! I did want to call you and explain why I couldn't come. But," a
half-teasing look, "I couldn't, since I still don't know your phone number."
He held her hard, the feel of her body against his, her arms around his waist, sending shivers of
pure joy through him. Alex closed his eyes and shook his head saying blankly. "I never thought
about that, I'll give you the number before you leave."
"Leave?" she raised an eyebrow, "I have no intention of leaving. Alex, hold me, hold me hard,"
she pleaded softly. For the first time since she entered he really looked at her. She was pale as
paper, and the fine skin was almost translucent with weariness. A terrible anguish darkened her
eyes and carved deep shadows around eyes and mouth. When she leaned against him, he could feel
the fine tremors running continually through her body. The desperate thinness of her bones. She
must have lost weight like crazy since he left.
"Dana? *Mylienkaya*" cursing the missing arm that prevented him from picking her up he had to
content himself with supporting her to the sofa. She sank down turned her head into his shoulder
and quietly started crying.
Listening to her tears, feeling the shaking of her shoulders under his caressing hand, Krycek
silently cursed Mulder, Skinner, the entire FBI and most of all himself for leaving at a time
when she so obviously needed him. Finally she calmed down a little, wiping her eyes on his shirt,
causing a chuckle. But at the same time he felt unbearably moved.
"Dammit! I *hate* falling apart like this! I've done nothing but snivel over you ever since this
case started," she mumbled.
"Shh...." he shifted so he was lying on the sofa, spooned around her soft, pliant body. "Nothing
can be that bad, tell me," he coaxed her gently.
Scully closed her eyes in anguish. "It's worse. Mulder is desperate and he's going crazy, Alex."
Krycek kissed her forehead feeling the, by now, all too familiar hurt deep inside. Mulder, always
Mulder... "Dana, he's a profiler, this is part of his work. He can handle it."
She shook her head. "No, this is different. This case has already brought to the surface all his
feelings for his sister. And something's happened that's made it even worse. Three days before
you phoned me, we got an urgent message that there had been another kidnapping matching the MO.
This time right on our doorstep, here in Washington."
Her voice gained strength as she told Krycek about what had happened while he had been away... *
* *
 Glancing at her partner as they drove to the downtown police station, Scully admitted she was
getting very concerned. It was not just the shadows under the eyes, or the wrinkled suit looking
as if he'd been sleeping in it - which he probably had - but there was a growing desperation he
couldn't hide. A desperation caused by too many hours chasing a shadow. Too many reminders in the
grief of the families of the victims of what he had lost. Too much time spent listening to the
ravings of a madman. A monster who knew Fox Mulder much too well for comfort.
The family was waiting for them in a private interview room, and seeing them, Scully's heart
sank. There was the father, a tall, lean dark man. Partner in a prestigous lawfirm, she recalled
from the file. A man used to command, but now looking grey and old under his tan. He seemed
bewildered, still in shock, as he tried to comfort the wife crying quietly by his side. But what
draw both hers and Mulder's eyes like magnets was their son. Twelve years old, faded jeans,
sneakers, an oversized plaid shirt and a baseball cap. Dark eyes fastened on them with a
frightened intensity. Eyes that held no hope, just anger, fear and most of all guilt. Guilt for
being there, for not being able to protect his sister. Scully's stomach twisted. Damn, this was
the last thing she needed.
She held out her hand. "Mr. and Mrs. Tomlinson? I'm Special Agent Scully and this is Special
Agent Mulder. We are from the FBI task force. First of all let me express our deepest sympathy
for your loss and assure you that we are doing everything in our power to apprehend the
perpetrator."
Mrs. Tomlinson, who under other circumstances would have been a pretty, quietly attractive woman,
a typical 'soccer mom' could only sob helplessly. Her husband visibly pulled himself together,
patting her awkwardly on the shoulder.
"Thank you," he seemed dazed, "What would you like to know?"
Scully sat down and opened her file. "The more information on Melanie you can give us, the
better. Her habits, friends, if you have seen any strangers around the house lately? Any little
detail really."
Peter Tomlinson suddenly exploded like a small dark whirlwind. "Fuck you! Why aren't you doing
something?! Talking won't get Mellie back!" He was on his feet, the chair falling back with a
clatter on the floor before he slammed out of the room.
His father half-rose. "Peter!" he called after his son. He turned and gave the two agents a
helpless look. "I'm sorry, Peter has taken this very hard. He was supposed to watch Mellie, but
he forgot. He feels it's his fault she has been taken." And so did his parents from the looks of
it.
Mrs. Tomlinson whispered through the sobs. "Peter is very intelligent and sensitive, he's in the
advanced class." Scully wasn't sure what exactly that had to do with anything, but Mulder seemed
to. He rose smoothly.
"Excuse me, I'll go and talk to him. Scully you can handle this alone?" She nodded and he left.
When she had finished the interview with the two devastated parents, Scully once again expressed
her sympathy and assurance that they were doing everything in their power to catch the killer.
She felt like a complete hypocrite and emotionally wrung out by the time she went looking for her
partner.
Mulder was sitting in the corridor by the soda vending machines. The harsh overhead lights
accentuated each wrinkle and shadow, and the brown hair was once again standing straight up. He
and Peter Tomlinson were sitting side by side, not talking but there was no hostility. There
might even have been a kind of tenuous connection between man and boy.
She told Mulder it was time to leave and he stood up. "I'm coming." He gave Peter a level look.
"Don't forget what I told you. No promises, but you know that I'll do whatever I can." Mulder was
speaking to him man to man, or rather, Scully thought, brother to brother.
Peter looked solemn. "I understand." For a moment the composure broke, and he looked what he was,
a lonely, frightened boy. "I just wish he'd have taken me instead of Mellie. She's too small for
this."
Mulder's eyes wore an unfathomable look as they rested on the dark head for a moment. Then he
said very softly, "They always are." * * *
 Finishing her story, Scully dropped her head in her hands. "After that meeting, Mulder worked
for the next thirty six hours straight. When Carstairs tried to get him to slow down, get some
rest, Mulder just snapped! From what I understand he actually went for Carstairs, punched him
out." She tried to smile, "Mulder may be the fair-haired boy of the moment, but even to him there
are limits. By the time I arrived he was throwing files and chairs around until most of the BSU
jumped him and wrestled him to the ground."
Remembering too well just how volatile Fox Mulder could be, Krycek tried to comfort her. "They'll
cut him plenty of slack, Dana, knowing the kind of pressure he's been under."
She swallowed the tears. "It's not his superiors, or not just them, I'm worried about. Mulder
will never forgive himself if he fails, or me. When I was called I just administered a sedative,
and when he finally started to calm down he wouldn't let go of my hand. He clung to it like a
small boy. I spent the rest of the night by his side, watching him having nightmares."
"This morning he was still disoriented, dehydrated too, so we just got him to the nearest
hospital and had him admitted, although he fought us every step of the way, howling that without
him there would be more girls dead." She bit her lip, "and unfortunately that's the truth. He
really is the only one, all the forensic evidence have led nowhere, all the other profilers have
admitted defeat, he's the only one left, and it's killing him, Alex."
She started shaking. "I'm so afraid, so afraid that when this is over I won't have a partner.
That he'll be gone, like Bill Patterson, locked away somewhere inside the darkness of his own
mind." She abruptly twisted away from him, curling around herself, "I feel so helpless Alex, God
I don't know what to do! I *can't* lose him!"
"Hush," he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Don't think about it now," he tried to draw her
back to him, but she resisted, curling up.
"I can't lose him, Alex," she repeated softly. "I carry around enough guilt, God! If there was
just something I could *do*, somebody who could help me!" it was a cry straight from the heart.
Krycek stiffened. Surely she didn't suspect? No, he told himself he was just being extremely
paranoid. But as he set himself to gently cajoling her into his arms, she abruptly turned to him,
clutching him hard.
"Help me forget, Alex!" she begged. "For a few hours at least, let me forget."
He silenced her with hot, burning kisses. Hearing her soft moans, and watching the tension
leaving her as passion took it's place, as he loved her, Krycek knew there was literally nothing
he wouldn't do for the woman in his arms.
After she had finally gone to sleep, he looked down into her face the strain temporarily gone.
But even in her sleep she was frowning slightly, muttering a little. He smiled wryly to himself.
Not exactly how he'd planned their reunion, but he wasn't complaining. She was starting to trust,
to rely on him. Alex yawned, relaxing, as he pulled her against her, loving the way her slender
tiny body curved itself against his. No, he wasn't complaining.... * * *
 After Scully left the next morning, refreshed, a little more rested, but still with the haunted
look in her eyes, Alex knew what he had to do. But Lenin's Ghost, it was so hard to do the right
thing. For the first time he had the opportunity to be free, truly free, and he was going to
throw it away, for what? A man who would put a bullet through him if he ever got the chance.
Krycek saw him at some distance. He was sitting by the duckpond, placidly feeding the eager ducks
quacking at his feet. Restraining an impulse to call out and warn the animals that the bread was
probably laced with arsenic, he walked closer and sat down beside the man.
"Do you have it?"
Mutely Krycek handed over the zip disk and a small cassette. "It's all there."
"Good," the older man pulled up some more bread crumbs scattering them around. "Silly useless
animals, but feeding them is rather soothing."
"Yes, sir," he took a deep breath. "Sir, I want something else in return for the information."
The Smoking Man lifted an eyebrow. "More, Alex? That's a little greedy don't you think?"
Krycek breathed out, damn! "A trade sir."
The other man put the paper bag beside him and pulled up a package of cigarettes, lightning up.
"I am listening."
"James Morrison."
A slight pause, and a flash of something that might have been amusement or satisfaction. "Ahhh,
the case the FBI are pursuing so zealously."
Careful, Alex. "Yes, sir. It is Morrison, isn't it?"
A cloud of smoke rose between them. "Presumably, yes."
"You know where he is?"
Another cloud of smoke, a slight twist of desiccated lips. "What makes you think I do?"
Because you never let go, you black-hearted, lung-rotting bastard, Krycek thought darkly.
"Because he is, or was, one of your operatives and you don't like not knowing where they are." A
pause and then softly, "and because you owe his father."
"Very true, ah, *Krycek*." There was enough insinuation in the dry voice to turn him cold as ice.
"So..."
"Give me one reason for giving you the information."
Krycek's stomach muscles clenched, he had never had much hope, but still. A deep breath to steady
his voice, "As payment for Elizabeth Berkley."
A sudden glimmer of interest, "You are withdrawing your earlier, ah, request?"
Very evenly, "Yes, sir."
The Smoking Man picked up his paper bag again, scattering more bread. "You must be wary of your
weakness, Alex. A man like you cannot afford a woman like her."
Krycek didn't say anything, but silently he thought, and if I want advice from the devil, I'll
remember to come ask you. "That's my business, sir."
"Very well," the old man turned, a little stiffly and pulled up a slim file from the briefcase
beside him. "Here is his address, a doctor's report, diagnosing him as suffering from multiple
personality disorder. The doctor's report warning of his incipient violence and schizophrenia.
Surveillance photos. You'll find all the evidence you need inside his place."
Krycek took the file automatically. "You son of a bitch! You knew what I was going to ask for!"
A bone-dry chuckle, "Alex, Alex, you are so predictable. It is one of your ah, charms..." He
dropped the cigarette butt crushing it under his heel. "Do give Agents Mulder and Scully my
best."
Needing badly to get away, to breathe some fresh air, he turned to leave, when the soft voice
behind him said, gently, "I will see you soon, Alex Krycek."
Walking away rapidly, Krycek cursed himself and Dana Scully and most of all Fox Mulder. He was
caught and he knew it.
Only time would show the true cost of the file he was carrying. * * *
 That night when Scully arrived, the file was lying by her plate on the table. Picking it up, she
asked, "What is this?" Adding a little nervously, "not more material on Melissa?"
A quick twisted smile. "No, it's all the information you'll need to catch your serial killer." He
shook his head, stopping the questions before she could ask them. "No, don't ask, Dana. Just be
satisfied that if you go to that address you'll find your killer, *and* all the evidence you can
possible require to tie him to the murders."
"How did you get it?!" she still demanded, already rising. "Who gave it to you?"
"Does it matter?"
Hunting for her cellphone, Scully looked at him surprised. "Of course it matters. What am I going
to tell my superiors?"
Wryly, "If they ask, just tell them, you can't reveal your sources."
Dialing an obviously familiar number, Scully gave him a speaking glance. "Right, that will really
go down well with Skinner."
Pouring himself a glass of wine, Krycek said calmly, "Don't worry about Skinner, he's got his own
secrets, he won't dig too deeply."
"What are you talking about? No, never mind," she suddenly started talking into her phone.
"Mulder? Scully here, I just got the break we needed. That's right," she was smiling, glowing,
excited, and Krycek had to turn away from the sight.
By the time she had finished her call he had recovered, and was smiling at her excitement. "Do
you have time for a celebratory glass of wine before you leave?"
She shook her head, "I'm sorry, Alex, but I have to run." She picked up the file, and crossed to
him, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek. "Thank you!" Scully was halfway out the door, when she
suddenly turned and gave him a sharp look. "And when I get back we're going to have a very
detailed talk about where you got this!" * * *
 When Scully arrived at the abandoned warehouse by the river, tension was clawing inside. The
first thing she saw, after parking the car at a safe distance and walking the rest of the way,
was Mulder crouched around a corner, talking quietly into a small walkie-talkie. Scully crept up
beside him. "Is he in there?"
Mulder didn't turn his head. "As far as we can tell. Skinner and Carstairs are setting up the
SWAT team and the snipers."
She flattened herself against the wall. "Is Melanie Tomlinson there as well?"
His eyes never left the building. "We don't know. But as soon as they're in position, I'm going
in."
Scully pushed down her first impulse which was to tell him not to be an idiot. "Not a good idea,
Mulder, going off half-cocked. Are the negotiators here?"
"In the command center with Skinner and Carstairs."
"Any sign he knows we're coming?"
He shook his head once. "So far everything is calm."
After a short but heated conversation with Skinner, Mulder and Scully were among the agents
moving like dark shadows towards the warehouse. Gun at the ready, Scully thought with dry
amusement that not even AD Skinner was a match for a Mulder in full cry. A Mulder, she knew
instinctively, driven by the memory of a twelve year old boy with eyes that trusted him to bring
his sister back.
Mulder nodded to one of the other who moved in front of the door, and then Mulder raised his
voice. "FBI! Don't move!" The agent kicked in the door, covered by the others.
Bursting into the enormous room, everyone immediately spread out, although the darkness slowed
them down a little as their eyes adjusted.
Moving smoothly, Mulder nodded once, holding up two fingers then just one, pointing to the door
in the other end of the room. Scully hugged the wall, gun cocked and ready. There was no sound,
no acknowledgment that they weren't alone.
One of the agents found a switch, and suddenly they were bathed in light, leaving them all
blinking.
They were standing in an enormous completely bare room. There was nothing but a vast expanse of
cement and in one corner, looking profoundly out of place a small stove and a sink piled high
with dirty dishes. Against one wall was a long bench with a single office chair on wheels. Almost
the entire surface was taken up by computer monitors, scanners, faxes, video cameras, and things
Scully had no idea what they were. The only other thing was a small scrap of paper pinned to the
monitor. Walking over to examine it, she spied something lying beside the keyboard.
"Mulder, look at this!" Scully picked up a small dog-eared black and white snapshot.
"What is it?" He came over and froze. It didn't even need his choked whisper, "Sam," to know it
was Mulder and his long-lost sister. Curiously, Scully examined the photo over Mulder's shoulder.
The two children were laughing up at the camera. Samantha Mulder was on the swing being pushed by
a thin, tanned boy, his ears sticking straight out, hair tousled. He was smiling, and the eyes
were innocent, trusting, a far cry from the adult Mulder. She only got a brief glance at the
photo however before Mulder put it in his pocket, mouth thinned and angry.
Scully frowned. To coin a phrase, she had a bad feeling about this whole set-up. Nothing was
going as it was supposed to, and Dana Scully was a woman who liked order and clarity in her work,
and life. Sitting down in front of the monitor she started checking the files.
"Everything's coded, we need a hacker to crack this, Mulder."
"I'll call Frohike," Mulder said curtly. "Let's go!"
"Just a moment," Scully frowned. "Mulder, take a look at this." She held out the small scrap of
paper glued to the monitor. It contained nothing but a poem:
Yea, though I walk through the valley of death
I shall fear no evil
For the valleys are gone
And only death awaits
And I am the evil.The line *And I am the evil* had been underlined several times. "What do you
make of this?"
Mulder glanced at the poem. "I'll tell you later, right now our priority is finding Morrison.
Jacobsen!" he raised his voice slightly, "have you found anything?"
"Over here, sir!" They both turned at the sudden shout. Mulder crossed the room swiftly, Scully
slightly behind and to the left of him, covering his back.
Once again they were standing outside a door, and after a curt nod by Mulder, Jacobsen kicked it
open and they went in, guns at ready.
The sight that met them, had them all staring in mingled amazement and repugnance. An obese,
unshaven, filthy man was kneeling in the middle of another completely bare room. There was a camp
bed in one corner, a door in the opposite wall, and on a bare wall an enormous cross made of
scrap metal.
The man didn't look up, didn't seem aware he was no longer alone. He was grossly fat, but had
recently lost a lot of weight and his skin hung in grey grimy folds all around his body. He was
wearing nothing but a soiled netshirt and boxers. Even buried in fat and rolls of loose skin,
Scully experienced at sudden shiver down her back at the sight of a pair of colourless, almost
transparent eyes staring back at the FBI agents. They shone with an eerie ecstasy and exultation
cutting through her like a finely honed laser beam. From the restless mutters and sudden
fingering of guns, she was not the only one so affected.
Mulder, never afraid to walk where angels fear to tread walked up to him, gun cocked. "James
Morrison, I arrest you on charges of multiple counts of abduction, and murder. Do you understand
these charges?"
The man did not move, hands clasped in front of him, whispering, "Our Father who art in
heaven..." Tears streaming down his face, he blinked once, and his eyes regained some sanity.
"I never wanted to hurt anyone, but I can't stop him." He met Mulder's eyes in a long, intensely
private look. "I'm sorry, for everything." He looked confused and then his mouth pulled into a
horrible, cunning smile. "You took your time getting here. Hello FC," Mulder started and looked
at him sharply, "long time no see, I've heard a lot about you. Awww, didn't Mr. Mulder want his
little boy play to with the plebes?" Once again his face changed, and Scully found the sight very
disconcerting. It reminded her of nothing so much as a giant sponge wiping everything clean.
Leaving a blank slate for the next person to take possession.
Recovering from his momentary shock, Mulder yelled, "Where is Melanie Tomlinson?!" and started
shaking him violently.
Scully grabbed his arm and hauled him off, as two other FBI agents closed in on either side of
Morrison securing his arms.
"Stop it, Mulder!" she clung to his arm. "Let them do their job!" She tensed, cocking her head.
"Hush, listen!"
They could both hear the faint sounds coming from behind the closed door, and Mulder being taller
and faster outdistanced Scully with a hairsbreath as he tore the door open.
Inside the door was another, much smaller room. There were no windows, the only light being a
bare light-bulb giving off a cold harsh light. And crawled into one corner was a small dirty
girl. When she realized the door had opened she whimpered softly. In a pathetic gesture put up
her hands for protection.
"Shhh," Scully crouched down, holding out her hand. "Don't be afraid, Melanie, I'm a FBI agent
and we've come to take you home. My name is Scully and this is Mulder, my partner. You're safe
now."
Melanie stared at them with wide, panicked eyes, still whimpering soundlessly. As soon as Scully
moved closer she crawled away, hugging the wall.
Mulder gestured with his head, for her to get back. Scully pulled back, and Mulder remained where
he was, not moving closer.
Quietly he said, "Hi, Melanie, I'm Mulder. You know you're even prettier than your brother says."
She suddenly lifted her head, peering at him. "You know Peter?"
Mulder nodded, "Sure I do. We had a long talk just a couple of days ago."
She gazed at him distrustfully. "I don't think Peter would have talked to you."
Mulder smiled, "He told me a lot about you. That you hate peas, but like broccoli. That you wait
until your mommy has turned out the light and then you sneak over to his room so he can tell you
ghost stories." His smile widened. "He says you get so scared you refuse to leave, and he has to
wait until you are asleep and then carry you into your own room."
Melanie abruptly relaxed and tottered towards Mulder. She nearly fell over, but he caught her and
swept her up into his arms.
"Shh, baby, don't be scared, you're safe now," he whispered as she clung to him. Trailing them
outside, Scully thought that anyone who had ever accused Mulder of being cold, and obsessed only
with his quest for the truth, should have been there right now. Seen the expression on his face
as he gently cradled the small girl.
The two agents walked outside into the raw blustery night lit up by police cars and ambulances.
The stillness broken by a crackling of walkie-talkies and police radios.
When the paramedics came up to take Melanie, she clutched at his neck, burrowing her head into
his shoulder. He reached up with gentle hands, untangling her fingers.
"No, darling, you go with them, they're friends. They'll make sure you are okay." He gently
stroked her hair, and handing her over to the woman, pressed a quick kiss on her forehead. "Don't
be afraid, Mellie. Peter will be here soon, just as he promised."
"Peter is coming?"
Mulder's smile was sweet as honey. "He's coming. He's missed you, a lot."
Nestling into the arms of the female paramedic, Melanie grinned, showing one missing tooth. "He
calls me a pest, but he always lets me go with him if I want to." She added with the absolute
confidence of a child, "he always comes for me."
Mulder looked after two paramedics as they carried the little girl away. He turned to Scully, "I
really think tha - "
There was a sudden soft pop, and for a moment Scully thought it was just the backfire of a car.
But then she realized Mulder was turning and shouting something. Suddenly everyone moved in
slow-motion, as if mired in molasses. Even their voices slowed to an unintelligible growl. Scully
pivoted and watched helplessly as James Morrison opened his eyes wide, looking more surprised
than afraid, mouth sagging. The two FBI agents at his side grabbed for his arms.
"NO!" Mulder screamed and abruptly everything moved at its normal speed again as he sprinted
towards the man flung backwards by the force of the bullet, arms and legs in limp disarray.
Scully pulled her gun and ran towards the suddenly yelling and crouching FBI agents swarming
around the cars. Trying to spy where the bullet had come from, she realized that about thirty
other agents had the same idea, and holstered the gun. Skinner was bellowing orders, face dark
and dangerous.
"I want that son of a bitch!" He spied Scully. "How is Morrison?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Go check then!" he snapped and turned away to yell some more orders.
Scully returning saw in one glance that there was nothing to be done.
Kneeling by the dying man, Mulder hissed between clenched teeth, "I want the ass of whoever
fired!"
"It wasn't one of ours, Mulder. Skinner is deploying agents to check the roofs and windows, but I
doubt they'll catch him. Whoever it was, he'll have had a good head start."
She broke off as the man on the ground gasped once, softly and then his eyes rolled up and he
went limp. Mulder stood up, cursing bitterly. "Shit!"
Scully looked down at the dead man, feeling nothing but relief that it was over and anger that
James Morrison would escape earthly justice. "Come on, Mulder, he's dead. There is nothing gained
by staying here."

For a moment she thought he would refuse, but then with another curse, Mulder got to his feet and
without another glance at what had once been a man, walked away. She knew better than to follow.
She would give him the time he needed to compose himself, to realize on his own that there was
nothing else he could have done.
Half an hour later, Scully left the command center after talking to AD Skinner who was almost as
angry as Mulder, and Eliott Carstairs who told them both bluntly that he didn't give a damn, but
was just relieved they'd gotten their man.
Scully had to push her way through the quickly gathering crowd, and she shook her head in faint
disgust. The ghoulish curiosity of people never ceased to amaze her. The body of James Morrison
had been packed up and shipped out for examination. But people were still pointing to the spot
where he had died, and told newcomers of what had happened. Feeling tired and faintly depressed,
the inevitable reaction to the earlier tension, Scully just wanted to find Mulder and go home.
There were uniforms everywhere, thankfully keeping the curious onlookers back, red and blue
sirens blinking. Finishing her briefing of the sergeant in charge, Scully looked around for her
partner. Finally she spotted him, huddled under a blanket, and sitting on the lowest step of an
ambulance. Alone even in the midst of a crowd.
Scully walked over to him. Coming closer she could see the tiny shivers still rippling through
him, the teeth he clenched to keep from chattering.
"Here," she thrust a mug under Mulder's nose.
He took it automatically, drawing in the warm rich steam curling up. "What is this?"
"Soup, chicken vegetable I think. One of the paramedics gave it to me," Scully told him, sitting
down beside him on the step.
He tried a pale attempt at smiling. "What happened to the traditional whisky?"
"Alcohol is contraindicated in cases of shock," she said crisply.
"I'm not in shock!" he snapped.
"I never said you were," she replied calmly.
"And don't humor me, I'm not a child," he muttered. She gave him look that said he was being an
ungrateful idiot and he had the grace to look faintly sheepish.
And then Scully continued to look pointedly at the mug until he took a sip, and then another. As
the warmth slide down his throat, she saw the moment when, less frozen, blankess was replaced by
memory.
He curled his fingers around the cup, drawing comfort from the heat. "He knew me, Scully."
She nodded. "I know. What he called you, 'FC,' does it mean anything to you?"
"Fox cub, a stupid nickname I haven't heard in...." his voice trailed away, "it must be twenty,
twenty five years."
"Where does it come from?"
He shrugged, the blanket sliding down his back. "When I was a kid, I was a scout." He gave her a
dry look at the sudden quirk of her lips. "It's true, I've even got the badges to prove it." His
smile died away. "We were a bunch of guys in the same pack. We'd go camping in the woods, lie for
hours watching the birds, deer, drink beer we'd persuaded some older brother to buy for us. Spend
nights around the campfire talking. Stuff like that. We were cub scouts, my name is Fox, hence
Fox Cub, FC."
"So he knew you from back then?"
Mulder rubbed his face. "I don't know. He obviously remembered me, but I have no recollection of
him."
"At least this explains why he addressed his tapes to you personally, and how he knew about
Samantha."
His eyes darkened. "Maybe. But you know we're left with more questions than answers. Who he
really is, was. I don't remember any James Morrison. Why he fixated on me, why he tortured and
killed."
Drawing the blanket back up in a practiced unconsciously tender gesture, Scully said calmly. "All
that can wait until tomorrow. Right now you need to go home, go to bed and sleep. The nightmare
is over, Mulder. He won't ever kill again."
She let her hand lightly rest on his shoulder. "Don't forget the most important thing; that
Melanie Tomlinson is safe." She nodded towards another ambulance where Melanie was sitting,
wrapped like Mulder in a blanket and being fussed over by two paramedics. As they watched a car
drove up and Mr., Mrs., and Peter Tomlinson burst out. The parents immediately surrounded the
little girl, hugging her and crying.
Peter just stood by the car and watched his family. A small still figure. There was no smile on
his face, dark eyes enigmatic. He suddenly turned his head and uncannily he seemed to zero in on
where Mulder was sitting. His head came up, and for a moment he and Mulder just looked at each
other. Then a smile, like the sunrise dawned, changing his face completely. He made a thumbs up,
mouthing, 'thank you.' Melanie suddenly realized he was there, and pulling away from her mother's
arms, she ran over to him, yelling his name.
Scully and Mulder watched as he braced his body, catching her as she hurled herself at him, and
small grubby thin arms securely around his neck, he swung her around and around, while she clung
to him like a linchpin. Even from the distance they could hear her childish treble. "I knew you
were coming, Peter, you said you were, and you did!"
Her big brother didn't answer in words. But the look on his face when she kissed his cheek, would
remain with both agents for a long time.
Mulder abruptly put down his mug. "You're right, Scully, let's go home."
She smiled quietly, giving his hand a small quick touch as they made their way to the car.
Driving to his apartment slowly, Scully gave him an assessing glance. He looked like hell, eyes
closed, the stubble beginning to show. But there was a smile on his lips, and he slumped in the
seat, relaxed. Parking by the curb, waiting for him to get out, she reached across and took her
partner's hand. "Sleep in tomorrow, Mulder, you've earned it."
He yawned widely. "I feel like I could sleep for twenty four hours. But when I finally surface
again you and I are going to talk about how the hell you knew who Morrison was."
Her stomach muscles tightened. Sooner or later she would have to deal with this. And typical Dana
Scully she chose now. "Mulder?"
He was halfway out the car, turning his head to glance back at her. "What?"
She looked at him steadily. "Do you trust me?"
He looked surprised. "You know I do."
"No, I mean really trust me."
The gravity of her question finally penetrated and he sank back in the passenger's seat again.
"With my life."
She held out her hand and waited until he took it. "Then, please trust me that I can't tell you
where I got the information from. Not yet. Please, Mulder?"
He hesitated, and then squeezed her hand, quipping weakly. "Careful, Scully, or you'll end up
like me."
She smiled. In relief and unbearable guilt. Once again she had the proof, if any were needed that
Fox Mulder who trusted no one had blind faith in her. "You mean putting tape on my windows,
holding meetings in underground garages? What a delightful prospect."
Scully never realized that Mulder had stopped just by his entrance, watching her drive away. A
cool, calculating look in hazel eyes as her car disappeared down the street. * * *
 Excerpt from the final report filed on James Morrison:
".... the capture and unfortunate death of James Morrison has left us with more questions than
answers. An extensive search has revealed no clues as to his real identity. It seems certain that
'James Morrison' was an alias, but who provided him with the necessary papers and documentation
remains a mystery.
A background check reveal that James Morrison did not work, did not receive social security, and
did not have any bank accounts, apart from a current checking account. Regular payments, in cash,
were made to that account which was then used to pay for his credit card and other expenses. A
search of FBI, CIA and Interpol databases did not match any known fingerprints. Electronic
experts value the equipment found at the scene in excess of $250,000. There has also been
confirmation that Morrison did in fact own a small private plane, and blood samples found inside
the plane confirms Agent Mulder's suspicion that it was used to transport the victims. Nor,
despite extensive investigation, is it possible to determine exactly how Morrison, if he acted
alone as is assumed, was able to operate freely and seemingly undisturbed by the authorities for
an extended time period. Special Agent Mulder is convinced that Morrison enjoyed the protection
of unknown people of political influence and power. However, there does not exist at this point
any evidence supporting Agent Mulder's claims.
Philip Carlowitz, a renowned psychiatrist has admitted that last January he began treating James
Morrison for supposed MPD. The FBI have subpoenaed his records, and hopefully they will shed some
light on Morrison's sickness and his background. Dr. Carlowitz has indicated that the patient
remained reluctant to speak of his family, despite the doctor's repeated attempts to do so. Dr.
Carlowitz has also stated during interviews with this agent that it is his personal opinion that
James Morrison's sickness was rooted in a childhood trauma rather than a chemical imbalance of
the brain. According to Dr. Carlowitz, James Morrison abruptly broke off his treatment two months
after first being referred in response to the doctor's questions about his family and background.
The doctor signing the referral to Dr. Carlowitz is another mystery, as no doctor of that name is
registered with the AMA.
An autopsy was done of the body and revealed an unknown chemical in the blood. Several samples
have been sent off to university laboratories, but so far an exact identification of the
substance has proved impossible. Professor Dawson at MIT is speculating that the chemical may
induce, and I stress, may, a state of euphoria, not dissimilar to that of 'uppers.' Whether this
had anything to do with the abduction of the victims is unknown.
Whether James Morrison suffered from MPD or not is still debatable. Indeed medical science
remains divided on the question of whether MPD is a genuine illness or not. However, it is the
opinion of this agent that James Morrison did in fact suffer from schizophrenia. Whether it was
just one of his personalities that was schizophrenic, as Agent Mulder believes, or if the
schizophrenia made him simulate the symptoms of Multiple Personality Disorder, cannot at this
time be determined. Nor is it likely that we will ever know the reason he abducted and killed the
girls. Without any further information on his childhood and identity it seems unlikely that we
will ever know. As to Morrison's death, it has been determined that the bullet killing him was
not of a make or caliber used by the FBI or the SWAT team. The identity of the killer of James
Morrison remains unknown.
Morrison's connection to Special Agent Mulder also remains unexplained. Agent Mulder cannot
recollect anyone matching the description of Morrison, nor can he explain why Morrison was in
possession of a photograph of Agent Mulder and his sister. The poem has been identified as
written by Stan Platke, a Specialist Four Rifleman in the Fourth Infantry Division, who served in
Vietnam. A search of the armed forces fingerprint records show no match for either a 'James
Morrison,' or another alias.
Special Agent Mulder is still pursuing the case, but at this point and without any new supporting
evidence, it is questionable if there will ever be a satisfactory explanation to the question
marks surrounding the motives, background and death of James Morrison."
Submitted by Special Agent Dana Scully. * * *
 While Scully waved goodbye to Mulder, a meeting was taking place on the other side of town.
The place was, as always, almost too inconspicuous. A modern office building like a million
others. There was no sign outside the plain door, no hint that inside some of the most powerful
men on earth were waiting for him.
The Smoking Man watched them all carefully but not even a master manipulator like himself could
read anything on their calm, still faces. Seated around a table their shadows fell across the
polished oak surface. And standing by the walls were silent watchful men. Young men in peak
physical condition there to protect and serve, and if necessary give their lives for the old men
who were their masters. The members of the Consortium had everything, everything but trust in
their fellow members.
He sat down at the head of the table. It was the place of honour, the place of a chairman and
leader. It was also the place of an accused facing a tribunal for final judgment.
"The Morrison situation is becoming troublesome," one of them broke the silence. His crisp
cultivated voice called up images of five o'clock tea on well cut lawns. Of cricket and a world
once great but now in decline.
The Smoking Man lit a cigarette, inhaling the smoke and coughing lightly. "It is being dealt with
even as we speak."
"How?" Sharply from another of the men. Tall and distinguished with a shock of white hair he
retained the indefinable rigidity that a soldier never quite loses. It is the legacy of too many
parades, too much time spent at attention.
"The FBI are closing in on Morrison's hideout." He waited for the room to grow quiet once again
before he continued speaking, calmly. "However, there is no need for concern, I have assigned one
of my best men to make sure he is not taken alive."
A stocky black man said quietly, "I warned you all months ago that Morrison had crossed the
line." He leaned back in the chair, steepling his broad blunt-fingered hands.
Exhaling another cloud of smoke, the man who had worn a thousand different names and identities,
but who in the here and now was known as Spender, watched the tendrils whisper up through the
still air. "And I told you then I had the situation under control."
A quick braying laugh startled them all. It came from a man with the appearance of a retired
accountant. Short and thin, he looked as if he could not hurt a fly. Until you looked into his
eyes. Cold, calm, empty eyes. The eyes of a madman or a killer. "Under control? We have a serial
killer on the loose who kills and tortures little girls," his lip curled, "you all know how
emotional the public get about things like that. So we have the vice-president going on national
TV vowing to catch the killer. We have the FBI and most of the national media focusing in on a
man who can be traced back directly to the Consortium. I would not call that 'under control.'" He
smiled again thinly , as he and the Smoking Man exchanged an icy look of mutual hatred.
The first man spoke again. "How did the Morrison situation get out of control in the first
place?"
The Cigarette Smoking Man inhaled and coughed. "As you all know Th... ah, Morrison was discovered
at a young age to have a latent psychic ability. He was able, as yet we do not know how, to
subdue his own personality and allow himself to become nothing more than a vessel for whoever
took over his body. During that time he had access to all the memories and knowledge of the
subject in question. After further training by our allies, he has been of much use to the
Consortium." The old man absently crushed out his cigarette. "However, two months ago there was a
slight, ah, miscalculation."
"You mean you made a mistake," an old man, who looked frail enough that a puff of strong wind
would carry him off said coldly. "I have warned you before of your arrogance."
The Smoking Man gave him a long cool look, "As you said. I made a mistake. Two months ago it was
discovered that another of our agents was less than stable mentally. He was also selling
Consortium secrets. I had the matter dealt with, but I needed to know the extent of the damage. I
assigned Morrison to discover the truth." He paused to light another cigarette. "Something went
wrong. The transference was permanent. Dalton took over Morrison's body and psyche. Two weeks
later Morrison disappeared. When we finally caught up with him again he had already begun to
kill."
A tall slender man leaned forward slightly. His white hair caught the lamplight as he asked. "Why
did you not immediately dispose of Morrison?"
For the first time the Smoking Man hesitated almost imperceptibly. "At the time I still hoped to
discover a way of erasing Dalton's personality from Morrison. However," he half-shrugged,
"somehow the two psyches have begun to merge. Our own people believe that is what has pushed,
Morrison or Dalton, over the edge. There are still brief moments when Morrison is in control, but
they are becoming increasingly rare."
He contemplated the glowing tip of his cigarette. "In actuality this created an added
complication. As a child Morrison knew Fox Mulder," he waited for the murmurs to die down before
continuing, "and once when he was in control he sent a personal appeal to Agent Mulder." Spender
paused before admitting levelly, "Certainly Morrison should have been dealt with when his
instability first became apparent. I take full responsibility for that blunder. However, the
attempt had to be made to salvage him. He was very useful to the Consortium."
A soft bark came from the soldier. "And you owed his father, Spender! You protected the son
because of the father," malicious insinuation coloured his tone, "and not only Morrison, eh? So
now we have the fucking FBI closing in on our problem. They must not be allowed to get him
alive!"
A few of the men moved uncomfortably in their chairs and one of them murmured censoriously,
"Really, there is no need to be vulgar."
The only reply was a shrug. "Forgive me, you are correct. However, I think this calls for both
strong language and action. As soon as you realized Morrison was incurable, why didn't you kill
him?"
The Smoking Man fought down a soft cough. There was no hint of emotion in either his voice or
face. "I told you, I still hoped that we could salvage something at least from this unfortunate
situation. Mental instability as such did not invalidate Morrison's usefulness." He paused, "I
also believed that we had successfully cleaned up behind him. I hoped that sooner or later he
would begin working for us again... And as long as we continued to monitor the situation closely
and avoided any undue attention," he raised an eyebrow, smiling coldly, "no real harm done eh?"
"I still say you should have killed him, if not when he went rogue, then at least as soon as the
FBI began taking an interest."
Spender shook his head, "No, Cahill unfortunately is right. It became too dangerous. Not only the
FBI but the media was following this with very close interest. We had to give them someone or
they would have continued digging." He did not need to add that so would Fox Mulder.
A man sitting at the back said in the crisp cultured accent that belongs to the dusty classrooms
of an Ivy League university, "Then you should have simply framed someone else for Morrison's
crimes. It didn't matter who." A brief wintry smile crossed his face, "Why not your former
protégé Alex Krycek? You yourself have said he can no longer be trusted."
A long thoughtful look, "If necessary I would have done so. However, I dislike waste, and for now
Krycek remains useful."
The tall man sitting at the other end of the table frowned slightly. There was no overt
indication that he was the leader, and yet subtly, the power and the burden of leadership rested
on his thin, stooping shoulders. "Very well, for now we will allow you to deal with the
situation. As long..." he paused, "as it is resolved and swiftly. We do not tolerate failure,
remember that."
Rising, Spender looked at the old men. His peers, his friends, his allies and his enemies.
Expressionless he said, "I know."
He walked out the door. * * *
 Scully came back to Hadley Place again, filthy, wrinkled, exhausted and... incandescent, was
probably the best word to describe her.
Krycek watched her with a wry smile. Had he ever felt as deeply as Dana Scully? Cared as much?
She was only a few years younger than he, but at times he felt a hundred years older. Had he ever
had her zest, her optimism, her delight in life? Even now, even after everything she had seen,
after her own abduction, nearly dying, she was still an optimist. But watching her, twirl around
the room, laughing, talking excitedly. the desperation smoothed from her face, the tension
released from her shoulders, Alex knew with an inner peace, that he had done the right thing this
morning. Whatever it may cost him in the future.
Scully did not go to work the next morning, allowing herself the luxury of calling in sick.
Instead she and Krycek spent the day in bed, making love, talking desultorily, simply enjoying
the relief from strain.
The following weeks saw their relationship begin to stabilize, and normalize, if that was the
right word for it. For some reason the old smoking bastard hadn't called to collect his debt so
Krycek was left relatively free. Which meant more and more time spent with Scully. Gradually she
had even moved some of her things, a toothbrush, a few blouses and skirts to his place, and he
was seriously considering signing a long-term lease on the place, the first home he had had in...
actually it was the first home, period.
Despite his apprehension, she never asked how he had gotten the information that led to
Morrison's capture and death. Perhaps she was as wary of knowing as he was of telling. There were
still areas they avoided, subjects they did not bring up, chief among them Melissa Scully. Krycek
tried, and failed, to forget the unmarked envelope that had appeared in the post box he
maintained downtown, with more photos of Melissa, a videotape, a medical report.
There were other tensions however, that inevitably intruded into their world. And try as he
might, Alex Krycek was not always able to escape from his past, or the 'other' life as he
silently called it. But he tried his best to push them away, even if it meant walking a very
slippery tightrope indeed. * * *
 Scully parked her car and got out locking the door. She breathed in deeply of the fresh, crisp
autumn air. It was one of those glorious summer-into-autumn days when all the colors appear
deeper and more vivid. Turning her face into the sun, she realized, rather surprised, that she
was happy. For the first time in far too long both her personal and her private life was moving
along smoothly.
The conclusion of the Morrison case had allowed her and Mulder to return to the X-Files. They
were currently investigating a man who claimed he could speak to his vegetables. Or, at least
that was his explanation for the exceptionally large and fine tomatoes, cucumbers and apples that
won blue ribbons in competition after competition. His next-door neighbor however had filed a
complaint alleging witchcraft. And when a polite officer visiting her the first time explained
that was not a crime, she accused him of stealing her chickens, as well as her favourite goat
Frida. And of using Frida as the main component in a Friday night black sabbath.
Even Mulder, Scully unconsciously smiled as she headed towards Hadley Place, was having problems
finding any connection to the supernatural, while his partner had never believed there were any
traces to be found. However, since their investigation involved driving around the Maryland
countryside comparing vegetables - and having delightful lunches in quiet, tucked away
restaurants - for once, Scully didn't mind Mulder's increasingly desperate attempts to prove it
an X-File.
Of course, things had not exactly gone his way. Especially not when Frida had returned yesterday,
although so far not talking of her experiences, supernatural or not. But seemingly none the worse
for her absence. Keeping an absolutely straight face, Scully had suggested they contact an animal
hypnotist who allegedly could 'channel' animals so they could find out what had happened to
Frida. Mulder had given her a glare hot enough to singe. But later, she had caught him furtively
looking through the telephone book. She had given him an incredulous look, and he had grinned and
pointed out it was her idea after all.
Still, she found she couldn't stay exasperated with Mulder for long. Not while she knew that when
she returned home at night, Alex was waiting for her. For now she had given up trying to analyze
their complex and tangled relationship. It was enough that he was there and that so far he'd
given no indication of leaving. Actually, he was talking of them renting a cabin in the mountains
for some skiing and fishing. She still wasn't sure she was ready for the kind of comitment that
indicated, but at least it meant he wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.
She was still a way off from the entrance, and momentarily hidden by one of the trees that were
the delight of the children living at Hadley Place, when she suddenly spied Alex coming through
the door. He was frowning slightly, the long arms of the leather jacket effectively hiding his
prosthetic. From the determined way he moved, she realized that wherever he was going, it was
important.
She opened her mouth to call out to him. But some instinct closed her mouth before a sound
emerged. Smoothly, unhurriedly she followed him as he hailed a cab. Stepping into the street,
Scully was grateful for the luck that had another empty cab follow on the heels of the other.
Waving it down and getting in, Scully did something she'd always wanted to. Feeling silly but at
the same time fighting down a mischievous grin, she flashed her FBI identification.
"FBI, follow that cab!" she ordered.
The driver, a middle-aged black man, stared at her in the rearview mirror for a moment, but then
obviously deciding she was genuine, he just shrugged and did as ordered.
Scully sat in the back-seat torn between embarrassment for following him and a growing
apprehension. Once again she realized just how little she knew of Alex Krycek. While he certainly
seemed to have plenty of money, she had no idea where it came from. Nor, apart from his enigmatic
comment the night when they first met, had she ever managed to pin him down on what he did for a
living or even what he did when she was working. Whenever she tried to ask him, he would distract
her with a kiss or a quiet joke. And his obvious reluctance to answer meant that she had more or
less given up probing.
Ten minutes later, the cab in front of her slowed down and came to a stop outside nothing more
sinister than a cheerful green and gold sign announcing 'Justin's.'
"What is that place?" Scully asked her driver as she took out money to pay him.
"Just a bookshop," he replied, counting out the change.
Scully waited until Alex had gone inside before getting out.
She stood in the street once again undecided whether she should just leave before she embarrassed
herself. However, she hesitated only briefly before opening the door. Curiosity, both
professional and personal proved stronger than any lingering fear of looking like a jealous fool.
Inside the air was redolent of coffee, hot donuts, and the sharp, dusty smell of newsprint and
uncreased paper. Scully quickly spied Krycek. He was sitting at one of the small tables adjoining
the book shelves. An untouched cup of coffee was in front of him. He was frowning, obviously deep
in dark thoughts. He did not look up as the door opened with a soft jangle of the bell.
Somehow she doubted he'd stopped by just for a coffee and a read.
Careful not to take the chance that he would see her she quickly turned her back and walked over
to the counter where she could keep a discreet eye on him without being seen. Perhaps ten minutes
later Krycek abruptly stiffened. If she hadn't been looking for it, she would have missed his
small shift in position. Pretending to chose between blueberry cheesecake and a chocolate muffin,
Scully positioned herself so she could see Alex in the reflection of the mirror behind the
counter.
The man entering was tall and heavy. He wore a long black wool coat. With his back to her, she
was unable to see his face clearly. However, what she could see gave the impression of heft and
power. He was definitely bulky but not fat. Krycek stood up as he approached. Scully watched as
the two men embraced briefly, the stranger kissing both cheeks of the lean, dark man, greeting
him. Anger and something else briefly flashed in green eyes. To her it was obvious that Alex did
not appreciate the familiarity of the other man although he didn't protest verbally or flinch
away from the touch. The two men did not sit down again, instead they walked up the stairs to
where the bookshelves were.
Following them, Scully tried to look nonchalant as she strolled along the shelves until she saw
the top of a gray head.
Luckily the way the shelves were built, Scully could hear without being seen, and for once her
short stature was a plus rather than minus. Pretending to be absorbed by a book - 'How To Build a
Ship in A Bottle in Six Easy Steps' - she strained to listen. They were speaking in soft,
rapid.... Russian! Scully swore silently. One day she really must brush up on her linguistic
skills. However, after about five minutes of conversation, during which she managed to pick up
the words; FBI... Boris.... lublich... Mulder... father... Alex exhaled once in anger. His voice
all of a sudden sounded much louder and she realized he must have moved so he was standing almost
opposite where she was on the other side of the shelf. Instinctively she crouched down even
further, even though she knew he could have no idea she was listening.
Speaking in English as if the change in language would create a barrier between him and the other
man, Krycek said grimly. "I am not doing it, Boris. I told you once, no more hive ops!"
Frustrated he took out a book opening it, and pretending to look through the contents. The stiff
pages rustled as he turned them. "These aren't the old days, we're in the US, not in Siberia, and
you're not..." he hesitated briefly, "father."
'Boris' voice softened and he too must have moved because the next time he spoke Scully almost
jumped out of her skin. He sounded as if he was right beside her. He spoke excellent if accented
English. "I know that Alexei. But it is father who has sent me. You have been gone for too long
from us. He has given his permission for you to return home. No more Consortium, no more running
and hiding. You can take your rightful place."
Krycek swallowed once, and when he replied his voice was so controlled as to be completely
expressionless. "It's too late Boris, it's been too late for years, you know why I can't, I
won't, go back. Besides," he had himself under control once again. "I am rather enjoying the ah,
'decadent west,'" the irony was obvious.
Boris laughed heartily. "So am I little brother, so am I! But do not let yourself be corrupted by
their practices." There was a subtle warning in the quiet words. "They are not your kind, and
they never will be."
"What is 'my kind,' Boris?" Krycek asked softly.
"We are, Alexei," the other man switched to Russian again speaking rapidly.
Krycek, however, continued to speak in English. "Do you think I give a flying fuck about the
other Directors after Tunguska?" he demanded.
"You should, Alexei. After your betrayal there, you should tread very lightly. Do you know how
hard father had to fight for your survival?"
Krycek laughed softly, bitterly, "What, you mean that he still has use for me?" He added in
irritation. "And stop calling him father!"
"You judge him too harshly."
"And you?" Still in that soft bitter voice.
There was a silence. "I have never disobeyed the Directorate. You know why we cannot allow the
Consortium to do what they are planning."
"I know," Krycek replied dry sarcasm deepening his voice. "The survival of Homo Sapiens is at
stake, or at least the survival of certain carefully selected individuals. And we must make sure
it is *our* selection not theirs."
"Do you disagree, Alexei? You know they cannot be trusted. Don't you remember how they
double-crossed us after the Dallas affair. We trained and provided their scapegoats. We had a
deal and they reneged on it!"
"Boris that was in 1963," Alex sighed almost wearily. "I was not even born then and you were a
child at the time."
"True, but father was very much involved." A certain quiet amusement colored Rostov's voice as he
added, "and this has always been a family affair. For us, and for them. What is it they say? 'The
sins of the father...'"
Krycek suddenly laughed although there was little humor in the sound. "And how many generations
will it be until father's sins, and ours, will be expunged? Five, ten, twenty?"
"Stop it, Alexei! This cynical pose has never impressed me!" Suddenly Boris shifted to Russian
again, but this time he spoke with a much harder edge, issuing commands. And when Krycek replied
it was in a subdued mood.
"I understand, sir. I'll kill for you, you know that. But no more hive ops!" A long pause, and
then in an almost-whisper, "please."
There was an obvious hesitation before the other man said reluctantly. "Very well, I will respect
your wishes for now Alexei, but it would be a shame not use your skill. You were very good."
"I was the best," Krycek said flatly.
Boris burst into a hearty laugh. "Ah Alexei! I have missed you, little one."
"Don't call me that!" In sudden cold fury. "I told you, colonel, never call me that again!"
"As you wish, commander," was the affable reply. "I will contact you again when appropriate. In
the meantime...." a pause and then he added with evident salaciousness, "enjoy your little
redheaded FBI agent. I have always been told that red hair means a hotheaded temper, I only hope
she is as hot in bed. But then you always had a weakness for kittens with claws."
This time it was Krycek who turned to Russian as the two men started to move away. And from the
tone, he was not too pleased with Boris' knowledge.
Scully sagged against the bookcase. Thoughts whirling it took her a few minutes to compose
herself. My God, the more she learned about Alex the worse it became. What was the Directorate?
And what the hell was a 'hive op'? She knew she could never ask Alex, but perhaps Mulder would
know. * * *
 The phone rang and Scully picked it up without taking her eyes off the computer screen. "Scully
here." But when she heard the voice on the other end of the line a sudden smile softened her face
and she leaned back in her chair. "Emma! How are you? I haven't heard from you in ages!" She
listened for a minute and then laughed softly, "and the same to you 'ducky.'"
She laughed again, but at the same time shook her head, "We've already had this discussion,
remember? I'm perfectly happy where I am. Besides, the FBI may not pay a fortune but it sure
beats a Welsh university. And I don't think I could take the cut-throat world of academia in any
case." The smile lingered on her lips. "All right, I promise to think it over, but to be honest I
can't think of anything that would make me change my mind.... Yes, I agree, oh, and give my best
to Richard!"
Scully hung up, still smiling. She glanced over to where Mulder had looked up from where he'd
been reading a newsletter, feet on the desk. "Who was that?" he asked.
"An old university friend. Emma Ralson, she's the Provost at Swansea University in Wales. She
wants me to teach forensic pathology there. It's kind of a standing offer. Emma phones me once or
twice a year and tries to convince me to give the rest of my life to Science." Scully's voice
easily dropped the inverted quotation marks around Science.
"You're not thinking of accepting are you?" Mulder raised an eyebrow.
Scully shook her head. "You heard me didn't you? But Emma could give you a lesson in stubborness,
Mulder, she just won't take no for an answer."
"Oh, all right." He lost interest and returned to his newsletter. She wasn't sure what it was,
and from what she could see of its tawdry, blurred print and the lurid pictures didn't really
want to know. However, Emma's phone call had broken her concentration, and instead of turning
back to the computer again, she gnawed at her bottom lip for a moment undecided. But then she
asked, "Mulder, you've got a minute?"
He put the newsletter down, "Sure, what is it, Scully?"
She pivoted her chair so she was facing him. "Have you ever heard of a 'hive op'?"
He thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Nothing comes to mind, unless you're talking about
the mutated killer bees we worked on."
She frowned, "From the context, I think not."
"What context would that be?" he suddenly perked up, giving her an sharp look. Ever since the
Morrison case she had noticed that he had been far more interested in her questions and comments.
A nice change from the way he used to completely ignore her. The realization that she too had
secrets, sources he knew nothing about had surprised him and she was faintly amused by the new
respect she could see in his eyes. However, it was not something she wanted to encourage right
now. So she looked at her partner with a calm censure.
"None of your business, Mulder. Oh no," a shake of the head forestalled all the questions she
knew were just waiting to burst out of him. "I'm not going to say another word, and that's
final." And by now Mulder knew his partner well enough to know that when she was wearing that
particular obstinate expression, there was nothing more to get out of her.
A week later, Mulder came into the FBI cafeteria where Scully was sitting at at a window table by
herself. She was perusing a autopsy report and absently eating some spaghetti Napolitana.
Studying the crime scene photograph of a disembowelled body, guts trailing on the floor, she
forked up some more long white strands of pasta. The fact that her plate closely resembled the
photo didn't trouble her. It hadn't bothered her since her first year in med school, when she'd
sworn off all pasta for a whole year.
Mulder sat down opposite her. "Hey, Scully, I talked to some friends, and they told me some
pretty interesting things about what a 'hive op' is."
Scully immediately stopped eating, putting down her report. "Tell me."
He glanced at the spaghetti, "You going to finish that?"
She sighed in resignation, pushing the plate across to him, "Go ahead."
He started wolfing the spaghetti, and between swallows told her. "Essentially a hive op is what
we, that is the Company, aka CIA, call a honey pot."
Scully frowned, "You've lost me."
"Well, basically a honey pot is an operation where an enemy agent, either a male or a female
agent, acquires information by seducing and creating a sexual relation with the target," he
grinned. "Sorry about the phrasing, put it down to the source. You think I'm paranoid? The
Company guys all act as if they've got state secrets in their briefcase. In any case," he
continued, "the Mossad and the KGB apparently used to specialise in honey pots, but, and here is
the interesting part, GRU decided to be different and code named it hive op instead. Although it
means the same thing."
Picking up the apple on her tray and biting into it, Scully frowned. "GRU being?"
"Sort of the secret KGB, army intelligence. The *real* spooks in the old S of U. The rumour is,
at least according to my man over at Langley, that they've set up their own shop after the fall
of communism. However, and here it gets *really* interesting, and it cost me a very expensive
dinner with a bottle of first class burgundy," he paused expectantly.
Scully narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm not interested in your culinary expenses, Mulder. What is
so interesting?"
"For years Daniel Kadowski, that's the guy I was talking to, says there have been some very quiet
rumours floating around the intelligence community that there was something even *more* secret
buried deep inside the GRU. A kind of Fifth Column or Directorate. An organization that sounds
very similar to what we've called the Consortium here... So spill, Scully, where did you hear
that name?"
She sighed in feigned disgust, to hide her suddenly beating heart. "Mulder whatever you're
working on it always comes back to the same thing. Does the word 'obsessed', mean anything to
you? I read or heard the phrase somewhere and I wondered. It may even have been on one of those
cop shows I watch when I'm too tired to turn off the TV."
He gave her a long thoughtful look, "You're holding out on me, Scully."
"So I am," she said equably. "But don't sulk, Mulder, I'm not the only one doing that to his
partner, you know."
"I don't sulk!" he glared at her until she laughed and unwillingly he joined in. "Okay, I won't
push, but you know if you need me, I'll be here."
"I know," she gave him a look of mute gratitude.
After Mulder had gone, and she was finally alone, Scully finally let the mask drop. Oh God, no,
it couldn't be true! What she and Alex had could *not* be a hive op. What had she told him, she
thought frantically, and mentally reviewed their conversations. To her relief she decided that
she had told him nothing that could be construed as information. Besides, she realized once she
had calmed down a little, what kind of information could she have that he didn't have access to
while he was a FBI agent himself? Or that the Consortium couldn't get far easier than through
her.
Furthermore, wasn't it Alex who had actually helped *her* solve the case? Unless... No, no, stop
being paranoid, Dana, she told herself, James Morrison was guilty as hell, all the evidence
pointed to him... unless that evidence had been carefully doctored. But what about the
independent doctors that had examined him, and not only declared that he was guilty but that he
was really suffering from multiple personality disorder? Worst case scenario was that Alex knew a
hell of a lot more about Morrison than he was telling, but did she not already suspect that?
Wasn't that why she hadn't asked where he got Morrison's file from? Why she had never asked about
the time he went out and returned late, with a shuttered, empty look in his eyes, and blood
staining the arm of his leather jacket. Because she simply *did not want to know.*
The relief of one fear only made worse the memory of his voice. 'I was the best...' that kept
running through her mind. To think of Alex casually seducing and using men and women, hurt more
than she wanted to admit. But why should she be surprised? Wasn't that exactly what he'd done to
Mulder? Used sex to confuse and distract? To create a dependency that still haunted Mulder even
after everything Krycek had done.
Once again doubts over his motives started to gnaw at Scully. Again and again she returned to the
question of what Krycek really wanted with her, what lay behind his seeming tenderness and
caring. It couldn't be information; a subtle revenge against Mulder? But wasn't fixation of the
enemy Mulder's weakness, rather than Krycek's?
Scully dropped her head in her hands. If this went on much longer she was going to go mad. For
the sake of her own sanity she *had* to believe that Krycek really felt something beyond a casual
lust. No man could spend so much time, effort and, hell, money on a person he didn't care for to
some degree, right? Right! Scully resolved not to think of this any longer, she was, she thought
with a wry irony, getting very good at it. Mulder may be determined to know the truth at any
cost. But Scully decided that there were some truths she could well do without. * * *
 If Dana Scully worried and fretted, Alex Krycek was content living in the present. He had
learned a long time ago two very important lessons. Not to plan too much for the future, since it
could be snatched away at any moment. And to grasp the brief moments of pleasure and peace you
had since you never knew if it was your last. He knew that sooner or later the bubble would
burst, but unlike Scully he did not consider the consequences. If someone had asked him, Krycek
would have said that what they had was worth whatever price he would have to pay. But he may have
been influenced more than he realized by Scully's tension, as he watched her pack to go off with
Mulder on another X-File case.
"I have to go, Alex, you know why." Scully said patiently, standing in their bedroom and neatly
folding a white blouse.
He was leaning against the doorframe watching her pack. "No, I don't frankly. Can't Mulder go to
California without you to hold his hand?"
"Alex, we're partners, and this is a case, so I'm going with him." She slammed the suitcase shut.
"I know what you are, but come *on* how can you take it seriously? A woman claiming she is
carrying an alien baby, fathered by Elvis?"
"Who said I was taking it seriously? And it wasn't Elvis, it was Buddy Holly. And she never said
it was actually him, just someone who sang like him." A smile turned the corners of her mouth up.
"Besides, Alex, I'm not the person to talk to about alien abductions." She sobered abruptly. "And
you forget, there's already been three break-ins the police think are linked to, err, Buddy
Holly. "
"That's different, Dana, for one thing -" he broke off. "And you're changing the subject. Look, I
understand when you have to go away on genuine business, but really, you're flying across the
country because of some stolen stereos and one missing double bed? This case belongs to the
National Enquirer not the FBI, not even the X-Files!"
She grinned, picking up her suitcase and carrying it to the door. Thinking that she had laughed
and smiled more since she met Alex Krycek than ever before in her life.
"Maybe, although you never know, some of our most interesting cases have started out just as
crackpot," and then relenting at his look, "although you may be right this time." She dropped the
suitcase and walked over to him, putting her arms around his waist.
"Please, Alex, let's not waste our last night together arguing."
He sighed, pulling her close. "All right, I won't nag, but I'm going to miss you like hell."
In one of the gestures that never failed to bring his heart into his throat, she reached up and
slid her fingers along his nose and mouth in a gentle caress.
"Good, then you won't be tempted to disappear while I'm gone." It was only by joking about it
that she could bring up her deepest fear, that one day he would tire of the game he was playing
with her and simply leave. That one day she would knock on the door and there would be no answer.
That she would stand in an empty apartment and know that he was gone forever.
"Dana, believe me, nothing would ever make me leave," he said, abruptly serious. "I know there
are a lot of things we have to talk about, things keeping us apart, but I really believe we could
make a go of this."
Scully pressed a finger against his lips. "Shh, don't, Alex, don't spoil it."
He kissed her fingers in response, but there was a small hurt deep inside his eyes at her obvious
reluctance to talk about the future or their relationship.
Waiting for her to precede him into the restaurant later that evening, Krycek smiled, remembered
their argument over dating.
He came out of the bathroom toweling his hair two days after the end of the Morrison case. "Where
do you want to go tonight, Dana?"
Scully glanced up from her book. "Go where?"
He came over to the sofa and leaned down kissing the top of her head. "Dinner. Where do you want
to go?"
She put down her book, looking suddenly a little alarmed. "I thought we'd eat in."
He dropped into the sofa, stretching out his legs. "Of course we can, but I thought it could be
rather fun to go out. Take in a show, dinner. You know a date?"
She stared at him in horror. "A date?!"
"Yes. A socially accepted form of intercourse between two adults. His eyes laughed at her. "A
date."
She fiddled with the book. "Alex, we can't go out. The very thought!" she couldn't continue.
He sobered. "Why not? Ashamed of me Special Agent Scully?" He still smiled but there was just a
tiny edge to his voice.
She took a deep breath. "Alex, let me remind you of some things here. One," she held up her
finger. "You're wanted by the FBI. You're a *criminal* wanted in connection with murder,
kidnapping and the loss of nationally sensitive material. Do I have to say DAT tape to you?" She
held up one more finger. "Secondly, I am a FBI agent. If anyone even knew I was here I would not
only lose my job, but I would be prosecuted for collusion. It's my duty to turn you into the
authorities."
He smiled a little oddly. "So why don't you, dousha?"
She snorted, "I don't know. It's certainly not for your winning personality." She put a hand on
his knee. "Alex, what you and I have, I don't want to risk it. Can't you understand that?"
His eyes softened. "I understand. But you should remember some things as well. First of all, the
only two people who are interested in my capture are Mulder and perhaps Skinner. Trust me, if you
ask any other agent or department they don't even know my name. Haven't you ever wondered over
that Dana? As you say, I'm wanted for some pretty serious crimes, and yet no one at the FBI
except for Mulder or Skinner have ever shown the least bit of interest. Doesn't that tell you
anything?"
"Alex, I am not listening to this!" she told him. "If you're going to tell me that everyone at
the FBI is either corrupt or drones I really don't want to know."
He laughed. "For heaven's sake, dousha, you're starting to sound as melodramatic as Mulder. No,
I'm not saying anything of the kind. Just to point out that perhaps, Mulder and Skinner, and even
you, my heart, are off on a track nobody else is interested in. I am hardly on the Top Ten Most
Wanted list. Trust me, I've lived and worked in Washington for years and no one has ever bothered
me. But if you like we'll keep far away from the kind of places where you might run into to
anyone from your," he smiled, "daytime world. Agreed?"
He leaned forward and kissed her. "I understand your fears, dousha, I really do. I want to take
you out. I want to tell the world that this woman is with me!" he grinned a little twistedly at
her expression of pure dismay. "But I won't. Word of honour."
In the end they had reached a compromise, they did go out, but only to smaller, intimate
restaurants and nowhere public like the opera or the theater, although movies were allowed, and
they discovered they shared a childish love of old British comedies. If she had been asked,
Scully would have admitted to never being able to imagine the sight of *Alex Krycek* convulsed
with laughter over an old Monty Python film. They would go to a small, rather rundown cinema
specialising in older British movies, buy some popcorn, sit beside each other in the darkness,
holding hands, sharing their popcorn, necking. Doing all the silly teenage things that none of
them had ever done when they were actual teenagers.
Since it was their last evening and they had never run into anyone even remotely connected with
what Krycek persisted in calling her 'day-time life' he had persuaded her into a slightly larger,
better class of restaurant.
Sitting at the table, eating, chatting desultorily of the film they'd watched last night, the
weather, Krycek suddenly said. "Can I ask you something, Dana?"
"What, Alex?" how easily the name flowed from her lips now. When had he ceased to be Krycek, the
rat-bastard, Scully held back a smile remembering Mulder's favourite curse, and had become simply
Alex? The cool analytical part of her mind persisted in wondering if that was how she dealt with
the dilemma of sleeping with the enemy. By dividing him into two people, Krycek the traitor she
loathed and Alex the man she... she *cared* for, nothing else, she told herself firmly.
"How do you always keep so cool, so calm?"
She picked up her glass of wine, "What do you mean?"
"Well," he hesitated. "Not only are you the only person who has *ever* managed to form a working
partnership with 'Spooky' Mulder. And I have to tell you that working with Mulder was enough to
drive me crazy with his conspiracy theories and his crackpot habits. But you have one hell of a
rep at FBI and out at Quantico."
Her lips trembled into a smile, "Dana 'ice queen' Scully you mean?" And suddenly she realized
that the old nickname no longer had the power to hurt.
"I wasn't going to mention it, but yes."
She started to cut into her Dover Sole. Each cut of the knife, neat and precise, she said, "I got
used early to being the 'good' girl, the clever, sensible one, who always brought home good
grades. Who never got into trouble. Who," she smiled wryly, "you could always rely on. Who wasn't
going to treat you to emotional outbursts. Besides with two older brothers, I learned early to be
tough. Even today I just continue being responsible, taking care of people while keeping them a
little distant. I guess it's an old habit since I spent a large part of my youth taking care of,
of... Melissa." She stumbled over the word, and suddenly she wouldn't meet his eyes.
He cursed silently, continuing swiftly, "Yeah, but that doesn't explain how you manage to be so
unruffled. Not much seems to make you angry or upset. Not Wendigo, not Apocalyptical cults
cloning children to create a superrace, not liver-eating mutants."
He added thoughtfully, "Unless it's to do with Mulder of course. He's your one weakness. Hell,
even when you cried on my shoulder, it was all because of Mulder. But no matter what weird shit
he drags you along on, you always come out on top."
Scully gave him a narrow-eyed look, "And may I ask how you know so much about my work?"
Alex started to butter a roll a little clumsily, muttering over the stiffness of his artificial
arm. "That's a really stupid question, Dana. I would have thought by now that *some* of Mulder's
paranoia would rub off on you. Remember the Consortium? The shadowy all-powerful organization
which supposedly knows *everything* and of which I am a prominent member."
"Or a drone," Scully murmured.
He gave her a speaking glance. "I'm an upwardly mobile person. From blue collar to management.
The American dream in fact."
"Except you're not American, are you?"
"I wasn't born here, if that's what you mean," he said carefully. "And I'm not sure I'd die for
it. But I've lived in this country for a long time and it's as much my home as anywhere else."
"You know when Mulder came back from Russia he told me a wild story about you being a high
ranking KGB officer."
Krycek snorted in disgust. "Not KGB, definitely not KGB, those guys are real clowns. We never
could understand how they gained their reputation."
"And by 'we' you mean exactly?" She kept her voice casual, but her heart beat suddenly fast,
wondering if he would tell her the truth.
"The people I work, worked, for," he said, giving her a look that told her he wasn't going to say
another word on the subject. "If you're going to California I want you to keep a careful ear to
the earthquake advice. Remember, if the ground starts to shake, the logical thing is to run
*from* the epicenter, not to it. Don't let Mulder's insatiable curiousity get you into trouble."
Following his lead and changing the subject, she didn't persist, giving him an impish smile. "No
problem, unless Mulder decides the earthquakes are caused by a Consortium project."
Alex rolled his eyes. "That sounds exactly like something he *would* do."
Later that evening as they stepped out of the restaurant, Scully was still giggling over a
comment he whispered in her ear as they walked hand in hand to where his car was parked. Alex
opened the door for her, but as she got in, he said something that made her turn around. She
laughed up into his face, and he pinned her to the car, bending her slender body against the car
for a long passionate kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer
ignoring the wolf whistles of the teenagers passing by.
Neither saw the man in the car across the road, the man staring at them with dark burning eyes
and gripping the steering wheel hard enough to crush it... * * *
 One arm loosely around her waist, breathing in the light, fresh flowery scent of her hair, Alex
half-closed his eyes, experiencing a deep contentment. Scully was curled up against him, their
legs tangled. She was leaning her head on his shoulder. One small white hand idly traced patterns
along his bare arm. There was a deep, comfortable silence, and then Krycek murmured. "Ever since
I first saw you, I've imagined you, us, like this."
She twisted her head, glancing up at him. "You mean ever since Mulder introduced us?"
He shook his head, "No, actually since Quantico."
She lifted an eyebrow. "Did we meet there?"
A soft chuckle. "You don't remember? Shame on you, love," he rubbed his cheek against her hair.
"You were there to hold a lecture on new forensic techniques on crime scenes. I was one of about
seventy eager FBI trainees. You walked in together with the Director. So tiny, red hair blazing,
you were wearing it longer back then. You looked like a china doll, and then you started to
lecture and just impressed the hell out of us all. Clear, incisive, making us all pretty sick
with your crime scene and autopsy pictures." He bent his head, pressing a kiss behind her ear, "I
remember thinking it was unfair for one woman to be so beautiful *and* intelligent."
She dug an elbow into his stomach. "Don't be, sexist Alex." But she was smiling softly. "So why
didn't you introduce yourself?"
"Are you kidding? I was in my second month of training, a real rookie, and there you were in the
company of all the academy dignitaries. The Director was hanging on your every word." A wry
amusement, "and seemed damned eager to hang on to something else as well. I didn't want to make a
total fool out of myself, so I just sort of skulked around until you all went off to dinner, and
then I went back to my room and mooned."
"I don't believe a word," she told him roundly. "You shy? Come on, Alex!"
He nipped at her ear, enjoying her shiver. "Sure I'm shy, Dana. But I was going to gather my
courage and ask you out the next day. Except you'd already left, so," he half-shrugged, "the next
time you saw me, you hated me."
"I didn't exactly hate you," she said slowly.
He gave her a disbelieving look. "Dana, you loathed the sight of me."
"What I hated was seeing you together with Mulder." Very softly she said, "Mulder and I, we
belong together."
He muttered something under his breath, "I know you do. I realized that a long time ago." He
tilted her head and kissed her gently. "I can't say it makes me happy, but yeah I know, you and
Mulder are linked always."
She closed her eyes, lulled by the warmth and the closeness. "And he hates you with a holy
passion."
"He'll get over it," Krycek murmured, warm firm lips scattering kisses along her jaw.
She gave him an incredulous look. "Alex, I hate to burst your bubble, but you shot his father,
remember? That's not something you 'get over.'"
He sighed, "If I'd known taking out the old bastard would cause this much problem, I'd have let
Luis have him."
"You mean, Luis Cardinale?"
"The one and only." Krycek was betrayed by the flickering fire, the woman in his arms, into a
rare lowering of his guard as he spoke of things better left alone. Pensively he said, "Luis and
I used to be the enforcers of the Smoking Man." A peculiar wry smile, "of course Luis always
enjoyed the killing more than me."
Disturbed by the easy references to the man forensics said had killed her sister, Scully frowned,
"You knew him well?"
Another odd half-smile. "As well as anyone ever knew Luis. He was a psychopathic son of a bitch,
and I'm not sorry he's dead." He suddenly seemed to recollect himself, adding, "so let's not talk
about him."
But Scully's interest had been caught and she sat up. "No, I want to talk about him. Alex, how
deeply involved with the Consortium are you? What's an enforcer?"
He didn't look at her, staring into the fire, the flickering flames giving the illusion of a
haunting pain deep in his eyes. "Dana, trust me you don't want to know, and I really don't want
to talk about it."
She gently traced the contours of his face, "It can't be that bad..."
His mouth smiled, but the shadows in his eyes remained. "It was worse. I doubt even Mulder's
fertile imagination would be enough to grasp the whole truth. Dana, love, I've survived for
longer than I want to remember, by doing whatever was required at the time." He spoke without
overt emotion. But there was something in his calm voice that made her heart ache.
"Like sleeping with Mulder?" The comment was out before she could help it.
He lifted an eyebrow, "Are you by any chance jealous?"
She started to tell him how ridiculous that was, and then suddenly stopped. "Maybe," she admitted
cautiously.
He laughed, a soft, warm sound. "There is no competition, trust me, dousha..." he pulled her
against him again, hugging her tightly. "Mulder was -" he broke off.
"He was what?"
"The truth? An infernal nuisance!" Krycek shook his head. "He's so damned intense, fucking him
was always hard work. He just wouldn't relax and enjoy. It always had to be a big drama. Besides,
have you ever tried sleeping in his bed? It's enough to destroy anyone's back. *And* he's like a
pea on a hot brick when he's sleeping, always tossing and turning. I was just about ready to
throw him out of bed if he didn't stop bumping into me!"
He added softly, "I infinitely prefer a small curved bundle fitting perfectly in my arms,
cuddling against me."
Although she shared his smile, she still looked a little doubtful, and he asked in obvious
amusement. "Dana, how can anyone be so insecure as to be jealous of *Mulder*?"
She tried to shrug. "Well, I keep falling over his ex-girlfriends and lovers every once in a
while. They all seem, so, so *obsessed* with him still, and even you have to admit he's an
enormously attractive man."
Krycek yawned, "If you go for the pale, intense type. Not my cup of tea though, as they say in
England. Frankly I was damned glad when the assignment was over. Mulder can be a good friend, but
he's a lousy lay."
Never in a million years would Scully admit to the secret relief that flooded her at Alex's
casual dismissal.
But then he added, "Actually if anyone has cause to be jealous it's me."
"What are you talking about?"
"Oh come on, Dana, everyone, and I mean everyone at the FBI, hell, inside the Consortium as well,
know that it's Mulder and Scully, Scully and Mulder. The two of you are practically joined at the
hip."
She felt suddenly alarmed. "Wait a minute, you mean they talk about us at the, the, Consortium?!"
He looked amused. "What do you think we do all day? Sit around planning the takeover of the
world? Cackling madly and twirling our black mustaches? We're as human as you are," he paused,
then added meditatively, "well, most of us, in any case. You spend long nights on surveillance,
sure you gossip, and you and Mulder were a favourite topic."
"You *are* joking, I hope!"
He shook his head. "Nope, I once won fifty bucks off Olaf, he's the proverbial computer nerd at
the Consortium. He was sure the two of you were doing the horizontal tango." He grinned at the
look on her face. "His words not mine, blame a deprived childhood. But I was sure you weren't,
and after we'd bugged Mulder's place and got confirmation, he paid up. What's wrong, Dana?"
She sat straight upright. "You bugged Mulder's apartment?!"
He seemed faintly surprised by the question. "Well sure we did, it's been bugged for years.
Occasionally he finds them, and then we have to go in and do it again. A damned nuisance it can
be too..." he added absently.
"No, I mean *you* bugged it? You personally?"
"The last time yeah, it was, me, Luis and Olaf." He chuckled softly, "Luis was grumbling the
whole time about it being beneath him, and Olaf kept telling both of us, we were moving up in the
world. Killers are a dime a dozen, but good survelliance experts can write their own ticket. He's
probably right too."
There was a very dangerous edge to her voice, "And what about my place?"
Alex looked suddenly alarmed by her reaction. "As far as I know it isn't, but hell, with the
Consortium who knows? It's been a while since I was in the loop, so it's possible I guess. If I
were you, I'd presume it was."
"This place?"
He shook his head, "Nope, one of the few advantages of Consortium membership. I know what to look
for, and trust me, this place is clean."
She relaxed slightly, cuddling into his arms again. "This is getting worse every time I look
around," she mumbled. "What have I gotten myself into?"
He kissed her neck. "It wasn't as if you had much choice at the beginning. You can always tell
yourself and Mulder that I forced you."
Something inside Scully hurt at his easy assumption of guilt. As if he actually expected her to
deny him, and what they had together. "I would never do that, Alex," she said quietly.
His grip tightened fractionally hearing the fervor of her voice. "Don't worry about it, Dana. I'm
used to being the bad guy." A wry smile. "Hell, I *am* the bad guy, and don't you forget it,
dousha."
"Don't talk about yourself like that, Alex," she said, and trying to find a way of changing the
topic added gloomily. "Mulder even dresses much better than I, do you wonder that I'm insecure?"
"Umm, now there you do have a point. Once this case is over, you should take some of that sick
leave you've accumulated and we'll go to Europe. We'll get you a whole new wardrobe in Paris and
Milan..." His eyes narrowed sweeping over her. "You just trust me, and I promise you won't be
disappointed."
"Alex, I'm a FBI agent, ergo I am not exactly rolling in worldly goods," she pointed out, firmly
pushing away the temptation. "Between my hospital bills, although insurance has taken care of
most, and my monthly expenses I don't have enough to buy a ticket to Europe, much less go
shopping."
He picked up one slender white hand, pressing light kisses to each fingertip. "No, but I do and
more. It will be my treat, and I have connections in high fashion, you needn't worry I'll
bankrupt myself or you."
"You?" she gave him a dubious look. "The original sewer rat? I thought you were born in jeans and
tattered leather jacket."
He started laughing helplessly. "You never cease to delight me! I like jeans and my leather
jacket yes, it gives me anonymity and the right kind of seedy character that's easy to overlook.
But I'm not always dressed like a third-rate hit man."
Raising herself slightly, putting one hand on his chest, Scully grinned down at him, letting her
eyes slowly wander over his body. "There is nothing third-rate about you, Alex. But I have to
admit I like you even better *without* your jacket and jeans...."
He lay on the sofa, completely relaxed, laughing up at her with his beautiful green eyes. "I have
created a monster."
Eyes narrowed, she pinched her lower lip thoughtfully, straddling his hips. "And I'm thinking of
some suitable punishments for you right now, my dear Krycek..."
He whispered, "I'm shaking in my boots."
"You don't have any boots on, Alex," she pointed out primly, then slowly slid down along him,
loving the instinctive reaction of his body, the small moan he couldn't hold back, or the way his
legs spread until she rested in their cradle... * * *
 Scully later thought that she should have realized something was wrong the moment she stepped
into the office. But she was still thinking about Alex and last night. The shared laughter and
hours they spent curled up together on the sofa listening to music and simply talking. She never
even noticed the danger signs until it was too late.
"Good morning, Mulder," she said cheerfully. "Ready to leave?"
He didn't answer at first and then, coldly. "The trip has been canceled." A pause, "did you have
a good time last night?"
Her head lifted, hearing the hostility. "Thank you, yes," she said calmly, wondering why he was
in a bad mood. "And how was yours?"
"Not so good, but then I didn't spend my evening fucking like a rabbit, with a killer."
Scully turned white as paper. "Oh my God," she whispered, sinking down on the nearest chair, legs
suddenly unable to carry her weight.
Mulder's face twisted. "Praying, Scully? after last night you must have used up just about every
prayer there is in the Good Book."
"Mulder, I can explain," she said helplessly.
"Explain what, Scully? That you're screwing *Alex Krycek*?!"
"I, no, it's not like that."
He leaned forward, eyes cold as ice. "Then tell me exactly how it is, Scully. You tell me that
what I saw last night wasn't you and Krycek coming out of a restaurant, hand in hand, *kissing*!"
he spat the word at her, "on the street. Tell me that you didn't get in his car and go to
whatever back-street hotel that rent rooms by the hour to fuck your brains out!"
Scully shook like a leaf. There was a terrible fear and despair in her wide eyes knowing she was
helpless to prevent her deepest nightmare. What she had feared more than anything. "Mulder,
please let me explain," she begged.
But he wasn't listening, "Damn you, Scully! Damn you! I *trusted* you!" and in the man's rage she
heard the echo of the desolate, forlorn boy who had lost everything that ever mattered to him,
above all, the ability to trust.
Reacting to the hurt, she instinctively reached out to him, holding out her hands pleading. He
shook them off as if they were poisonous.
"No! Listen to me, Mulder, when Krycek first came to me he had evidence that Melissa was alive!"
That stopped him for a moment, "Your sister?"
She nodded quickly, words tumbling out. "He sent me a photo with her holding a newspaper only two
weeks old. I knew it was impossible, but still I had to *know* do you understand?"
He relaxed fractionally. "Yes, yes I do. What did he want with you? Why didn't he come to me?"
How like Mulder. He always assumed that everyone was as obsessed and focused on him, as he was on
them. She remembered Alex's casual dismissal of her partner, and knew she could never tell Mulder
that. Scully bit her lip, a slight flush rising her face. "He, he, wanted me, Mulder, in return
for the photo and information."
"I don't understand." And he really didn't she realized.
She gave him a twisted smile. "It was a simple bargain, my body for information about my sister."
"Krycek wanted to sleep with *you*?!"
Even in the middle of the tragedy she knew was the inevitable outcome, she still almost laughed
at the expression on his face. "Amazing isn't it? You can imagine my shock. But I would have
given anything, *anything*, Mulder, to find out about Melissa!"
He badly wanted to believe her, torn between suspicion and hope. "So what about last night? That
didn't look like a blackmailer and his victim, that looked like," he flung the words at her, "two
lovers!" And despite the anger his eyes pleaded for an explanation he could accept.
It would be so easy to say what Mulder wanted, *begged* to hear. No, Scully thought in sudden
resolution. She wouldn't deny Alex, she owed him that much. She looked at her partner steadily.
"It was. It changed, Mulder. Somewhere along the way, I, we, it became far more than, what we
were. We," she made a helpless little gesture, "I don't know what I feel for Alex, but it's not
hatred, not any more."
He stared at her for one stunned moment and then rage descended, flooded him. She watched in a
stunned fascination as the arm lifted. Pupils dilated as his arm swung, but she made no attempt
to protect herself.
The palm of his hand connected with enough force to rock her back on her feet. She felt the
sudden blinding pain of the blow reverberate through body and soul. Felt the skin break, and the
sudden warmth of blood trickling down the side of her face. Still she said nothing, just kept
looking at him, with enormous disbelieving eyes, as slowly she put up one shaking hand to touch
the wetness, fingers coming away washed in red.
Scully rose, moving like a sleepwalker whispering numbly, "I'm sorry, Mulder."
She left the white, sickened man behind, ignoring the shocked glances and whispers of those
around her as she walked out of the building.
Without even knowing how it happened, Scully found herself driving to Hadley Place, every
movement slow and careful as she negotiated the traffic, reactions on autopilot. She never
remembered how she got to the apartment, but suddenly she found herself standing outside the
door. With a final supreme effort she pressed the button. She had even forgotten she carried a
key in her purse.
She waited, shaking badly, leaning against the wall. Finally when she had given up hope he was
there, the door opened and Alex was there. He stared at her, taking in at one look the white
face, glazed numb eyes, and the bruise beginning to darken and swell.
"What the hell!" he examined the bruise with shaking fingers. "Dana, what happened?"
"Mulder found out about us," she said tonelessly. "He saw us coming from the restaurant last
night." Her eyes were blank and shocked. "He was so angry, I've never seen him so angry with
*me*."
"Come here, dousha," Alex pulled her inside and gently removed her coat, talking to her as you do
a small child. Steering her to the couch, he poured a large brandy, and forcing it into her hand.
"Here, drink down this, yes Dana, drink, now!"
At least the brandy brought a bit of colour back into her cheeks, and a hint of life into her
eyes. Alex meanwhile poured himself a vodka and tossed it down, trying to restrain his immediate
impulse which was to tear off and pound Mulder into ground beef. He had never before experienced
this raw, primitive anger. He was ready to go down to FBI HQ and beat Mulder into a pulp. But
even more than anger, the overwhelming emotion he felt was guilt. If it wasn't for him, this
would never have happened. He knelt by her side, gently taking her hand. "Dousha?"
Still she said nothing and then suddenly she whimpered softly, and the eyes lost some of their
blankness. "Alex, he hurt me, Mulder hurt me. He hates me." She didn't sound like Dana Scully,
FBI agent. She sounded like a hurt child, and nothing could have told him clearer of the shock
she was in.
"Oh darling," he had to swallow painfully. Kneeling by her side, he gently covered her hand with
his. He had known of the rage Fox Mulder carried within him. Hell, he thought with a mirthless
twist of the mouth, he'd been on the receiving end of it often enough. Mulder had hurt him, and
enjoyed doing it. Still, Krycek had never thought he would ever touch Dana. And in his heart he
knew that only one thing could have caused that level of rage, that violence in Mulder; seeing
Scully with Alex Krycek. The Madonna and the Devil. Christ, what had he done to her?
Softly he said, "No, no, he doesn't hate you. He's very angry right now, but he'll get over it, I
promise."
She shook badly. "You didn't see his face, Alex, it's over. Oh God!" She hid her face in her
hands, "what am I going to do?"
It was not a question, but he answered it in any case. "You're going to stay here with me, and
we're going to work this out together." At first she seemed ready to argue, but then with a weary
sigh she suddenly surrendered, body going limp and unresisting.
She didn't shed a tear, eyes still blank and empty as he put her to bed, spooning himself around
her shivering body, whispering soft words of love and comfort in Russian. As always it seemed to
soothe her. Finally she fell asleep, lulled by his warm, dark voice, telling her in the
beautiful, cursed language which separated them, of his passion, of her beauty, of the joy of
being with her. * * *
 When Krycek woke in the cold grey dawn, the bed beside him was empty. And he knew on some deep
instinctive level, even before he saw the small note on the pillow beside him, that she was gone.
Alex,
Thank you for last night, I wish that I could stay with you, but
we both know that's impossible. It was a beautiful dream we had,
but it's over and we are both awake now. To pretend otherwise will
only bring both of us more pain. I owed Mulder at least my loyalty
and I betrayed him, that's the simple truth. I will not say what we
had wasn't worth it. You made me feel things I had never dreamed of,
and you made me laugh. For that you have my eternal gratitude.
But this is harsh reality and the reality is that we are enemies,
that we can never be anything but.
Dana
He had read somewhere that you could feel actual physical pain when your heart broke. At the time
he had laughed with Luis over the absurdity that any kind of mental anguish was worse, than
actual physical pain. But compared to the searing agony burning through him now, as he slowly
crumpled her note in his left hand, the pain of having his arm cut off was as nothing. * * *
 A week later Scully faced AD Skinner steadily, eyes locked somewhere beyond his shoulder.
Skinner was leafing through the papers. "You are sure, Scully, this is what you want?"

"Yes, sir," she said very evenly. "The present situation makes it imperative that Special Agent
Mulder and I separate. I have decided to take up a standing offer to lecture. I have just
received confirmation of my appointment to the University of Swansea, where I will teach medical
forensic practices."
"I see..." Skinner looked down at the transfer request, "and what does Mulder have to say about
this?"
She still wouldn't look at him. "Special Agent Mulder fully understands and supports my transfer,
sir." The truth being that she had not seen Mulder since that morning, nor did she want to. He
had made no attempt to contact her, and once when he saw her at a distance coming out of the
Ladies restroom, he checked abruptly and then rapidly turned around and walked away, leaving her
shaking and stunned. Feeling even more terrible and ridiculously worried that he had lost so much
weight and looked like he hadn't slept at all since their confrontation.
Skinner sighed, knowing all too well the gossip that had made the rounds of FBI. He had even
talked, if that was the term for it, with a pale, stubbornly silent Mulder. "I am not going to
ask what makes the two of you suddenly decide to separate, not that you'll tell me the truth
either of you, even if I did." He picked up the pen and signed the paper, handing it to her.
"Well, good luck, Scully, I hope you won't have cause to regret your decision, I know we'll all
miss you."
She took the signed document, shaking his outstretched hand, never more grateful that he didn't
push, didn't ask all the questions she knew were burning on his lips. A good boss, Walter
Skinner, and a better man, and had the circumstances been different she might have felt tempted
to confide in him. Had it been anything but this.

But AD Skinner would never understand about Alex Krycek, so she just said, "Thank you, sir," and
smartly left before he had the time to ask any more questions.
Walking out the building for the last time, Scully felt numb. She knew she was supposed to feel
something. But at the moment everything inside her was dead and black. She moved as if encased in
a fine translucent bubble separating her from reality. Even as she arranged the sub-letting of
her apartment, packed her suitcase, reassured her family, it was not really happening to her, but
to some other woman. She saw her mother's concern and a part of her wanted to comfort the older
woman, so she heard her own voice mouth the right platitudes, but somehow it still didn't touch
her.
Only once did she come close to cracking. The telephone rang while she was packing, and when the
answering machine cut in, she heard a familiar, soft drawling voice. "Dana? Dousha, listen to me.
Whatever's happened we can work it out, I'll speak to Mulder. I'm begging you, don't let him
destroy what we have!" A short pause, "*Boch ti moy!* I hate talking to these machines. Please,
Dana, phone me, night or day."
With fingers that actually trembled, Scully ran over to the machine, pressing the rewind and then
erase buttons. Finally picking up the phone, pulling it from the cord and hurling it against the
wall.
After that she just sat, back against the wall, legs pulled up, resting her head on her knees,
arms around her legs, rocking back and forth. It was killing her, she whimpered softly, emotions
threatening to tear her mind apart. She was in agony over the two men she loved, the men who
hated each other. Mulder, her partner, friend, her other half. She owed him everything, including
her life again and again. He had stood by her when everyone else had given up, he had been there
when she was sick, in pain, despairing. Just thinking of the anguish she must have caused him by
her actions had her moan in guilt and torment.
But how could she ever have imagined that Alex Krycek would touch her heart? Alex, who had stolen
into her life like the thief he was, but had stayed to become so much more. Alex with his dark,
twisted past. Alex with his face and body so like an angel's that even the loss of an arm could
not spoil its perfection. Alex Krycek with green eyes that had seen too much. Eyes that had
stared into hell and seen in her his saviour. Beautiful, haunted, Alex who made her body and soul
melt.
Dana Katherine Scully who had never run from anything or anybody in her life, who had fearlessly
faced everything in her life, knew she was running, and she didn't care. * * *
 "Don't worry, Mom," Scully smiled at her mother, shifting her hand luggage from one hand to
another. "I'll call as soon as I arrive in Swansea. I'm not going to the end of the world you
know. You will come over this summer and we can travel around Europe together. How does Paris in
June sound?"
"Nice," her mother said a little distracted. But then she continued a little plaintively, "I
still don't understand, Dana, why you have to go to Wales. Even if you don't want to work at the
FBI any longer there are so many good universities and hospitals at home."
"Mom, you know that this was a really good opportunity for me," Scully said patiently, then
added, "and just think how nice it will be for you not to have to worry about me. The closest
thing to danger I will be in over there is if the students don't like the grades I give them."
"I know, darling," her mother suddenly hugged her, "but I still don't *understand.*"
"What is there to understand?" Scully remained very patient, submitting to the hug. "I told you
that Mulder and I decided to take a break. We're still friends, nothing has happened, all right?"
The older woman looked at her red-haired daughter, seeing the strain in the tense lines of her
face, the shadows under her eyes, and not believing a word, she said, "Yes, dear. Of course."
Dana was so like her father at times, Margaret Scully thought with a sigh, so determined to keep
everything to herself, never admitting anything was wrong. "I," then she suddenly noticed a
dark-haired man standing at little behind them, and watching them with intense green eyes. "Dana,
darling, do you know the man behind us? He has spent the last five minutes staring at you."
Scully didn't have to turn around to know who it was. "Excuse me, Mother," she said in a
controlled voice. She left her mother behind and walked to where Krycek was standing, arms
crossed.
"I don't want you here, Alex," she said bluntly.
"I rather figured that out on my own after my fifteenth phone message went unanswered," he said
quietly, eyes devouring her.
"Please, Alex, don't make it worse," she tried to keep control. "Leave it be. I can't be torn
between you and Mulder any longer. If you two want to rip each other to pieces, go ahead, but I'm
getting out!"
"Dana, this isn't about Mulder. This is about you and I. Do you have any idea what you are
throwing away?"
Scully suddenly hated him for not understanding. "Alex, you have completely wrecked my life. My
partner hates me, I've resigned from a job I love. I'm leaving my family and moving to another
continent, and all because of you." She faced him steadily. "What have you ever given me in
return?" A bitter smile. "Yes, you do things to my body I never thought possible, but are you
telling me that sex, however great even comes near to compensate the rest? Then you're a fool,
Krycek."
He opened his mouth, then closed it with a snap. "I never meant for this to happen, dousha." A
profound sadness darkened and shadowed emerald eyes. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"It is." And then some demon, a gnawing bitter thing she hadn't even been aware of until now made
her add, "and as for the sex, I'm not fool enough to believe that it meant anything to you. I
remember what Mulder told me, he was your assignment, wasn't he? He told me just how *expert* how
skilled you were," she spat the words at him. "How many other men and women have you seduced,
Alex? I know what a hive op is!"
He turned white, the look in his eyes that of a mortally wounded animal.
And still she couldn't stop the vicious, hurtful words spilling out. "How can I ever believe that
screwing me," she was being deliberately vulgar, "meant anything to you? How could I ever trust
something at which you are so obviously an expert? 'I was the best'" she mimicked savagely. "How
can you stand there and tell me that fucking means anything to you?!"
Still pale as a ghost, all of a sudden something dark and dangerous sparkled in his eyes. She
almost took a step back. Some of the fear must have shown because abruptly he relaxed, shoulders
slumping.
"I can't, Dana. I guess," it was his turn to smile bitterly. "You just have to trust me."
She laughed, a harsh, acrid sound, and spun away without another word. Turning her back on him,
she walked rapidly back to her mother who had been watching them with anxious eyes.
Alex stared after her not making another sound, and only Mrs. Scully saw the naked anguish on the
beautiful face trained on the woman leaving him. And though nothing could ever make her go
against her daughter, she wondered how Dana could reject the kind of love and devotion that
showed so starkly on the young man's face before he too turned and walked away, shoulders
hunched. * * *
 Mulder had finally fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion on the couch, the TV still flickering.
But not even a repeat of the immortal classic, "The Monsters of the Black Lagoon Return" dated
1936 was enough to keep his interest. Not much did since Scully had gone. Cursing his eidetic
memory he replayed in an endless loop their last confrontation, the shock, and hurt in eyes that
had never looked at him with anything but trust and friendship.
He woke abruptly and unpleasantly when something cold and hard nudged him hard in the side, and
he batted at it irritated, muttering, still half-asleep. And then a soft sibilant whisper snapped
his eyes open, tensing every muscle in his body.
"Wake up, Mulder!"
Very carefully he lifted his head. "Who the hell are you?"
"Don't be more stupid than you've already been," was the crisp reply. "Sit up, slowly, and keep
your hands where I can see them..." The small lamp by the sofa was turned on, and in its light
Mulder saw Alex Krycek perched on the armrest of the chair, dressed in ubiquitous black leather,
and holding a very professional-looking gun in his left hand.
Somehow it was no surprise to see him there. Deep inside he'd known that sooner or later Krycek
would come.
"Nice outfit, did you have to look for the right gun to accessorize it?" Mulder asked
sardonically, sitting up gingerly and swinging his feet to the floor, holding his hands well in
sight as ordered.
"You know, one day that mouth of yours will get you in serious trouble," Krycek said almost
pleasantly. His tone in stark variance with the coldness of his eyes.
There was a short pause as the two men stared at each other, and then suddenly, Krycek moved like
lightning, using the butt of his gun to hit Mulder hard enough to snap the other man's head back
with a crack, and with a muffled curse Mulder felt something wet and warm start running down the
side of his face.
He swore heatedly touching the wound. "What the hell was that for?!" he demanded angrily.
A smile of immense satisfaction spread across Krycek's face as he watched Mulder try and staunch
the bleeding. "That was for ever laying a hand on the woman I love. Trust me you deserve much
worse, but for some reason Dana really cares for you, you piece of shit," he hissed.
Mulder swallowed harshly. "Fuck you, Krycek!" he spat. He finally managed to stop the bleeding
using a soiled paper napkin from a takeout pizza place that he found wadded up on the floor by
the sofa. "I don't know what the hell you've done with her, you bastard, but I know Scully too
well to believe she'd ever *touch* you without being sick!"
Krycek looked at him strangely for a moment. Anger drained away and was replaced with an emotion
Mulder hadn't thought the bastard capable of; love, bordering on worship. A sensuous smile slowly
shaped the younger darker man's mouth.
"Yes, you would think that, wouldn't you," Krycek said very softly, distantly. "but fortunately
for me she's more generous than either you or I." He breathed out, but then collected himself
again and motioned for Mulder to sit back."Look, I didn't come here tonight to fight with you, or
kill you for that matter, but to talk."
A muscle flexed in Mulder's cheek. "Talk about what, you son of a bitch?! How you killed my
father and Scully's sister? How you made sure Duane Berry kidnapped her. The months she spent as
a guinea pig for sick, sadistic medical experiments?!"
Keeping a tight rein on his temper, Krycek said tautly "I did *not* kill Melissa Scully," he took
a deep breath. "And I came here to talk about the woman we both love," a small pause, "not to
bring up old conflicts."
Mulder stared at him hard, but could see nothing in Krycek but an almost desperate honesty when
the words suddenly hit him. "You, you *love* her?" A croak of pure unadulterated incredulity.
Krycek gave him a cold, disgusted look, "Why the surprise, Mulder, isn't she worth loving?"
"Uh, I, of course she is," Mulder mumbled, suddenly feeling like the ground had shifted beneath
his feet. "But, I, uh..." he suddenly faltered not able to suppress the memory of Alex Krycek....
Krycek laughed shortly realising the cause of the other man's sudden hesitation. "You thought I
was carrying a torch for you? Grow up, Mulder, and get it through your head, I love her, I *want*
Dana. You," his lip curled, "you were work."
"Damn you, Krycek!" Mulder was half-way up from the sofa, before the soft clicking sound of the
gun being cocked and trained steadily on him, brought him back to his senses. Sinking down in the
sofa again, he crossed his arms sullenly, determined not to give the smug bastard facing him any
more satisfaction.
There was another silence, broken finally by Krycek. "I only came, Mulder, because you and I need
to reach some sort of accommodation."
Mulder glared at him, "Fine, give me your gun, turn yourself in and I'll see you get a fair
trial," and a speedy hanging, his glower promised.
Krycek chuckled softly, "Thanks but no thanks. Besides, I'd never get to stand trial, and we both
know it." He paused, and when he spoke again his tone had altered. "Look, I mean it Mulder, Dana
is gone, and I know you're hurting over it, as am I." He added softly, "I do love her you know,
more than I ever thought I could."
Mulder remained skeptical, still not convinced. "I doubt you've ever loved anyone, including your
own mother, you cold-hearted son of a bitch."
The shaft went wide as Krycek smiled quickly and shook his head. "You'd be wrong then. True I
never knew her, but that didn't stop me from loving her." He shifted position. "But I did not
come here to talk about my sordid family affairs. Mulder, I do know Dana and yes I love her. But
thanks to you, she's left both of us." It was his turn to nail the FBI agent with a glower.
"Because of your unreasonable, narrow-minded attitude she's gone."
"Who the hell are you calling narrow-minded?! You *assassinated* my father, you blackhearted
treacherous snake!"
"And don't tell me you hadn't dreamed of doing exactly the same. But if it will make you feel any
better, please feel free to shoot *my* father," Alex said calmly.
Mulder snorted, "Ah shit, this is getting surreal, I don't know who your father is, remember?
Actually I don't know anything about you except that you're a traitorous, backstabbing, piece of
slime."
"And I love you too," was the dry reply. "Now that you've got that off your chest, how about
working with me? You *do* want her back don't you Mulder?"
"Yeah, yeah I want her back, you're right. I need Scully, without her I'm incomplete," Mulder
mumbled, the words dragged from him.
"So am I," Alex told him softly. "But you know the reason she left was because she got caught
between the two of us, and staying was tearing her to pieces."
Mulder shook his head, "I still don't understand," he muttered, "you and *Scully*?"
An enigmatic smile, "Hard to believe isn't it? Trust me, I was just as shocked as you."
Giving him a long thoughtful look, Mulder began to regain his equilibrium. "Which makes your
behaviour even stranger. If you loved her like you say you did, then how could you sell her to
the Consortium?"
Alex hesitated, lowering his gun, and Mulder was stunned by the sudden pain in green, haunted
eyes. "There isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret what I did. But you have to understand,
when I saw Dana, I..." he paused, "the truth is that I panicked."
"Panicked?" Mulder was surprised.
"Yeah, panicked. Look, put it this way, by the time I entered Quantico I was one of their top
agents."
"Whose top agent?"
Krycek almost smiled, "None of your business. As I was saying, my cover was deep, and good. I
really did graduate you know, it was easier than any of the other alternatives. Then the next
thing I knew I was assigned to partner, 'Spooky' Mulder," a sudden glimmer of white in a quick
smile of remembrance. "Actually I was pretty pissed off that after all that time and effort
they'd assign me to the 'most unwanted man in FBI.'"
Mulder glared at him sourly, knowing too well his own reputation. "And was it the Consortium that
ordered you to seduce me as well?"
A very amused look, "There wasn't much seduction involved. As I recall, you were the one jumping
my bones." He sighed, "though I'll admit that was no doubt one reason I was assigned to you. They
knew your reputation, and decided I would probably appeal to you..." he paused, then added
quietly, "but what they hadn't taken into account was *my* reaction to Dana Scully."
Fleetingly Mulder wondered who the 'they' were that Krycek kept referring to. The Consortium?
Most likely, although for some reason he doubted it.
The gun was lowered even more. "The first time I saw her, my God! I couldn't believe my eyes. She
really knocked me for a loop! And not only was she beautiful enough to turn my guts to water, she
had the brain and courage to match..." another long pause, "and she hated my guts because of you.
Which didn't exactly make me think kindly of you."
"You really love Scully?" Mulder asked quietly, some of the fire dying.
"I must, or I am certifiably insane," Krycek replied just as quietly. "I've risked not only life,
but soul for her." He smiled softly, lovingly, "and I would again." Carefully he placed the gun
beside him, offering Mulder a mute sign of trust. "And after I'd given up any hope of anything
but her hatred and unwilling compliance, she showed me what a classy, incredible woman she is."
He gave Mulder a swift glance. "How much did she tell you about us?"
Mulder shrugged, "Not much." Grudgingly, "not that I gave her much chance, I was in shock, and I,
well, I..." his voice trailed away and he looked away avoiding Krycek's accusing eyes.
"You hit her," Alex finished grimly, "and just so you know, the next time you lay a hand on her,
I'll kill you."
A long tense, strained silence, and then Mulder said wearily, "You won't have to. I'll kill
myself rather than do it ever again. But when I saw the two of you together, I just saw red,
literally red." His voice turned cold as ice, "I saw my father's body and the red pool of blood
he was lying in. Damn you Krycek! Damn your rotten soul to hell!"
Krycek said quietly, "Mulder, I did what I had to, your father was in it up to his neck. He
corrupted everything he ever touched. The Consortium wasn't always what it is today, when it all
began they - " he broke off and shook his head, "never mind. Look, I know Dana loves you, and
that she's way too loyal to ever leave you behind and be happy. I'm not going to pretend that
makes me exactly jump for joy since all you've ever managed to do is to put her life in danger
and make her miserable."
"I wasn't the one who had her abducted *or* blackmailed her into sleeping with me," Mulder
hissed.
Alex winced, pushing a hand through his hair. "So she did tell you that? I wasn't sure you'd
heard or understood. I did it yes Mulder, and you can't call me anything I haven't already called
myself, but," a pause, "I really thought that was the only way I could get her." He added softly,
more to himself than anyone else. "Old habits die hard. It was the only thing I was sure I could
have of her."
"You have a very strange way of loving someone," Mulder taunted.
Krycek actually smiled a little twistedly at that, "I'm a strange kind of guy."
"Which doesn't exactly comes as a surprise," Mulder muttered.
"You know much as I like sitting here exchanging cheap insults with you, there is something more
important to consider."
"Scully."
"Right, Dana."
"Scully, her name's Scully."
"Dana, she also has a first name. I'm not the only one who's weird. She's your partner, you've
held her when she cried, you've fucking saved her life! And you still call her Scully," mimicking
Mulder's drawl. "God you make me sick at times!"
Icily. "As you said, it's mutual, Krycek."
A level look. "So now we know we're we stand, you hate my guts and I can't exactly say I like you
either, but I plan on being around for a long time to come, Mulder. Like it or not I'm a part of
Dana's life."
"I don't like," Mulder retorted angrily, suppressing the thought that hate was just one of the
things he felt for the man sitting in front of him.
"You prefer being alone, getting piss drunk?" a contemptuous glance at the empty whisky bottle by
the sofa, the stack of dirty pizza cartoons, "feeling sorry for yourself. Or do you want your
partner back?"
Mulder glared at him, "What I want is Scully as my partner and you gone from our lives until I
see you stand trial for the murder of my father, selling nationally classified material, and the
no doubt hundred of crimes you've comitted that I know nothing about."
"Oh grow up, Mulder!" with the first hint of impatience. "If it hadn't been me, it would have
been someone else. Your father was dead, and he knew it."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine by me. Let's talk about Dana, and how we find a solution the three of us can live with."
Mulder wanted to refuse, but he knew deep down that Krycek was right, damn him. Scully was gone,
and it was his fault. "So what are you suggesting? Some male bonding?" he didn't try and hide the
sarcasm.
Krycek had the affront to laugh, "I think we've had enough male bonding to last us for a while,
Mulder." He started to remove his jacket, moving a little awkwardly when he pulled it over his
right arm and the prosthetic revealing the black shirt he was wearing underneath. "Actually, if
you could just accept that I'm a part of Dana's life, that would be enough."
"Doesn't seem as if I have much choice does it?"
Krycek said calmly. "Of course you do. Dana loves, *respects* you enough that if you ever gave
her a choice between you and me, then she'd chose you." Mulder's eyes lit up. "Not because she
loves you more than me, but because you stand for everything else she has been taught is right
and admirable. Me," he said very softly, ruefully, "she wants against her own better judgment. As
she's said a number of times already, I'm everything she despises and dislikes. But I can make
her happy Mulder. And if you force her to chose between us, we'll all three end up losers."
"Aren't you overestimating your own importance a little, Krycek?"
Alex shook his head, "I don't think so." He gave Mulder a steady look. "The question is really,
do you love Dana more than you hate me for," he hesitated feeling no need to bring up all his
alleged crimes, personal and professional. "For being who I am."
Mulder swallowed. Leave it to the bastard to put it on the line bluntly. "I don't know," he
admitted finally. "I'd give just about anything to have Scully back. But I can't forget or
forgive the kind of misery you've caused me and my family."
Krycek sighed, "Perhaps this will help you make up your mind. The only person who could have told
you about why your sister was taken and by whom, was your father."
Mulder froze. "You're lying."
"If you like." Krycek said wearily. "Look I don't know why she was taken, your sister I mean. All
I heard were some whispers from time to time that it was to keep your father in line, that's
all." A wry smile. "And if that doesn't persuade you... just think how convenient it will be for
you to have an ally inside the Consortium when you're trying to ferret out the truth."
Mulder rubbed his eyes, "Are you trying to bribe me, you son of a bitch?"
A half-smile, "Would it work?"
Mulder sighed, feeling tired and grumpy, "I don't know, it shouldn't but," his shoulders slumped.
"Dammit, Alex, why did you do it?"
Krycek gave him a long thoughtful look. "Because that's what I was ordered to do, and trust me,
with my kind of boss you obey orders or you die. It's not exactly like you and Skinner arguing,
these people play for keeps."
"The Cigarette Smoking Man?"
"Among others," a soft amused chuckle. "And I wouldn't call him that to his face. He doesn't like
the nickname."
"I'll remember it the next time I see him," Mulder said sarcastically. "So now what, Krycek?"
"Now we get Dana back."
Mulder's face softened. "That's the one thing we do agree on, you son of a bitch. And then you
and I are going to sit down and have a *long* talk about some things like my sister and father
and Melissa Scully, and the Consortium."
"We'll see," was the only reply.
 

 * * *
 "That was a very interesting lecture Doctor Scully," the polite young man said, stopping by the
desk where she was organizing some of her notes. Scully looked up and smiled absently at the
earnest young face in front of him.
"Thank you, ah, Richard?"
"I was especially fascinated by the example you brought up with the missing link you and your
partner discovered in, New Jersey wasn't it?"
Scully sighed, she had fearlessly faced Consortium agents, oily aliens and liver-eating mutants.
But at times the sea of enthusiastic students stumped her. They were all so fresh, well-scrubbed,
and damned *ebullient* they just exhausted her. Looking across at her student she had to stifle
another sigh, feeling a hundred years old.
Dredging up a polite tone, she answered, "That's correct. However, to explain in detail would
take hours, if not days," and hurrying on before he had time to suggest anything, "and even if
you have the time, I don't I'm afraid. I've got several papers to correct." Pointedly she picked
up her pen again, waiting until he took the hint and reluctantly wandered off.
Finally escaping from the university grounds, after another lecture, and even more students,
Scully on an impulse changed her mind and drove past the small house the university had provided
for her use, turning onto the highway leading away from the city. Less than twenty minutes later
she turned into a level grassy slope beside the road where the roaring waves threw themselves
unceasingly against the rocky cliffs of the Welsh coast.
Scully got out and locked the door, then started walking along the coastline, breathing in the
sharp, braising salty winds that tore at her clothes and rumpled her hair. Finally she stopped
where the coast bent outwards sharply, a big boulder, the remains of the ice age possibly,
balanced precariously at the edge of the cliff.
Dana Scully looked out over the sea, the wind in her eyes causing tears - and then again perhaps
not. Almost three weeks and still she was no nearer to healing, no nearer to finding the peace
she craved. Three weeks of nights spent tossing and turning; three weeks of waking up soaked in
sweat from nightmares of accusing eyes and bleeding bodies. Sometimes it was Mulder fixing her
with a cold anger that terrified her, while Alex bled and died across her feet. Then at other
times it was Alex staring at her with black sightless eyes from which all humanity had gone,
while Mulder lay on the floor dying slowly and in agony.
*God, the God I prayed to in my undoubting days of girlhood, help me find peace*, she whispered
into the wind....
No matter how much she tried she couldn't escape the last memory of Alex. The stunned, hurt look
in his eyes when she hurled her accusations at him. Had he not given her evidence in a thousand
different ways of his.... concern during the time they had been together? She still wouldn't give
the emotion the name her mind whispered. But she had hated him at that moment. Hated him for the
past that rose between them. Hated him for being what he was.
She had hated because she dared not love.
Scully stiffled a curse, why did it always come back to that? She *couldn't* love Alex Krycek. A
spasm of pain and confusion clutched at her heart, and she could feel the sudden ache whisper
through her limbs. She had slept alone for all of her life. So why did her bed suddenly feel so
empty? In the weeks they had shared a bed, Alex had accustomed her body to the feel and touch of
his. Now she would wake up at night and automatically stretch out her hand for him. And when her
fingers slid over nothing but smooth chilly sheets, her body would contract in loss and pain.
The day was blustery and cold, and she was quite alone. Leaning against the boulder. Scully was
so deep in thoughts she never heard the light footsteps muffled by the roar of the sea, behind
her.
"Hello, Dana," the soft voice froze her, and then she whirled around, eyes widening in shock and
a sudden fierce happiness.
"Alex?" a stunned whisper.
He came towards her, wearing faded blue jeans, and as always the black leather jacket. Flowing
across the ground with the cat-like grace that was Alex Krycek's own.
He halted just before her, smiling down into her eyes. "Sorry I couldn't come before but I needed
to sort some things out first," he said very gently.
She closed her eyes, voice reflecting the anguish that was tearing her apart. "You shouldn't have
come at all, Alex. All you being here means is more pain for both of us."
Krycek tried to smile. Just because he had expected her words didn't mean they didn't hurt. "Well
I knew you wouldn't come after me. Mohammed and the mountain you know...." Slowly he reached out
and, tenderly, delicately brushed a strand of short red hair from her face, sensitive finger-tips
stroking the soft skin in a small caress that made her shudder. "Why shouldn't I have come? Don't
you care for me at all, Dana?"
She turned away, stuffing her hands in her coat-pockets to stop them from reaching out for him.
"You know I do," she admitted quietly, she had never lied to him before, she wouldn't start now.
"But there is just too much holding us apart. Melissa, my abduction..." a long pause, and a
haunted whisper, "Mulder."
He was quiet for a moment and then said almost tentatively. "You named Mulder last, but he's the
real problem, isn't he?"
She stared out over the foam-crested waves roaring against the gray rocks far below them. "You
know he is," her voice almost broke, fighting back tears. "He's my partner, my friend, my... my
love, and he hates you."
She bit her lip until it bled, taking an obscure comfort in the tiny pain. "There is just much
too between us for it ever to work, go away Alex, I don't want you here." And knew she had just
broken her promise. She could lie to him but not to herself and her heart had leaped with a wild
joy at his presence.
"I don't believe you." A warm breath at her neck made her shiver and tense every muscle of her
body to resist leaning back into the body standing close enough that she could feel the heat
radiating from it.
"I love you, Dana," he said quietly.
Oh God, Dana Scully breathed out in a shudder that tore at her body and heart, how could anything
hurt so much? "Don't, Alex, *please*, it won't change anything," she pleaded softly.
"You're wrong, darling," his voice was very strained, and if she had turned around she would have
seen the paleness of his face. "That's what took so long. I've talked to Mulder, and he..."
She spun around, "You've talked to Mulder?! How is he, what did he do, what - "
Alex held up his hand, stopping the outpouring of questions, and Scully smiled for the first
time. "I'm sorry, but you talked to Mulder and, "a sudden hopeful glimmer. "You are still both
alive?"
"Alive and unbruised, more or less. Which may be because this time I was holding the gun," he
told her wryly. "Mulder is one of the most stubborn and cantankerous men it's ever been my
misfortune to meet, but he's not completely unreasonable."
"I, I don't understand?"
He half-shrugged. "If we're ever going to have a chance Dana, I needed to reach some sort of
accommodation with Mulder. Something we could all three of us live with."
She frowned. "Why do I feel a little left out suddenly? I'm not some prize to be fought over!"
Alex chuckled softly. "I only wish." He sobered again. "I didn't mean that the way it came out.
Dana, I know why you left, you said as much in your letter. By sleeping with me, you felt like
you betrayed Mulder didn't you?"
She looked away. "I know it doesn't make much sense. I mean Mulder and I, our relationship is
not, not sexual. But yes, both Mulder and I knew I had." A soft, sad smile lingered in her eyes.
"Mulder will much easier forgive you shooting him, than if you betray his trust. He doesn't trust
easily, but me..."
"'... he would trust with his life.' I know, you told me once." He said quietly. And then he took
a deep breath. "I came here despite what you told me at the airport, because I know we can be
together." Then added very softly, "I have to believe that. But I also know it will work only if
you can be with me without feeling that you've betrayed Mulder."
She listened, filled with a sudden wild hope, heart beating hard. "You're saying Mulder has
accepted us?"
Alex nodded. "As I said we had a little chat." He held out his hand and slowly she put hers in
it. He pulled her close and put his hands on her shoulders, looking down into her face.
"Mulder loves you and you love him. It's no use either of us denying it. I've accepted that."
Jealousy and sadness tinged with pain clouded his eyes before he looked away. "Or at least, I'm
going to have to," he qualified. "But the fact is that you and Mulder are partners, and not time
or distance will change that."
"The only two who can ever break your partnership is you or Mulder." He kissed her forehead, "so
I can either have you, with him attatched, or nothing at all, and I've always been a realist.
Which is not to say that what I really want is for you to forget everything about Fox Mulder and
the FBI and run away with me to the Seychelles or Bora Bora."
A real smile softened her face. "Alex can you really see me as a beach bunny with nothing to do
but sip drinks and bask in the sun all day long?"
Alex cocked his head, a warm teasing look in green eyes, murmuring, "Vividly, my heart." Then he
sobered and continued. "Look, I know nothing I or anyone can do will ever threaten or break your
bond. Though God knows they've tried." He looked down at her with a strange light in his eyes.
"Rather ironic isn't it, that after all the time and trouble the Consortium went to, to break the
two of you up, I did it without meaning to or even wanting."
Scully said softly. "I've never thought of it that way."
A sudden bitterness, "One more black mark against me. The only thing I seem to cause you is more
hurt."
She suddenly frowned and brought up her hands to frame his face. "No! Stop it, Alex. I am not
some helpless damsel in distress. I am Mulder's partner, yes. With emphasis on *partner.* I have
hurt him terribly, and I admit that when I realized just how much I ran. But I am responsible for
all my own actions. I could have broken it off with you Alex. I could have asked Mulder for help
the first time you came to me with information about Melissa. It was *my* choice not to. Mine and
nobody else's. Do you understand?"
He laughed softly. "I understand. I've said it before and I'll say it again. There is no one like
you, Dana. So much spirit and beauty and fire in such a very small package." Alex kissed her
nose, but then abruptly his laughter died.
"He misses you, Dana," he said quietly. "So much it's tearing him apart. I think he's finally
realized that without you, it doesn't much matter what the truth is out there..."
She couldn't hide the sudden sheen of tears, or the pleasure that flooded her soul. "He misses
me?" she whispered, eyes pleading for it to be the truth.
He laughed softly in quiet amusement, "Dana, he's ready to crawl on his knees and beg you to come
back to him. He knows that without you he's incomplete. Even when you were gone he wasn't this
miserable. He always had the hope of getting you back." A wry smile reminded her of Mulder's
tenacity that could border on lunacy at times. "You know he's the kind of man who will never give
up. This time though, he's realized it was he who drove you away."
"Not entirely," Scully murmured knowing it would hurt but forced by honesty to say it.
Alex breathed out. "No, not entirely on his own," he said evenly. "I know that if you'd never met
me," carefully leashing his own pain, "if I had never come between the two of you. Then perhaps
one day Mulder would have seen what everyone else knows."
"And that is?"
"That he's hopelessly in love with you. Almost as much as you love him. But Dana," he said
quietly, "I am here, and I won't go away." A rather twisted smile, "I'm not that much of a
altruist. And I honestly believe that I can make you far happier than he ever could."
His grip on her shoulders tightened a little as he continued urgently. "He's too cold. Too driven
and obsessed to ever see you for what you are. Mulder's first love will always be his quest for
the truth, and for his sister. I, on the other hand, have no quests, no great convictions. A man
like Mulder. You can admire and respect him. But God help you from loving him! He'll break your
heart and not even notice."
He murmured softly, "I will love you like he never could. I'll make you feel safe and cherished,
and always put you first."
"Oh God, Alex," she said quietly, unbearably tempted and miserable. "Don't do this to me."
"Dana," something his voice made her look up sharply.
"Yes?"
"Do you love me? You've never said."
She spun suddenly away, looking out over the sea. Did she love him? She had spent so much of the
past months avoiding exactly that question.
"How can I love you?" she finally asked painfully with her back to him. "You stand for everything
I hate, everything I was taught to despise and loathe. You're a murderer, a hired killer for
money. You're a traitor, you killed Mulder's father. How *can* I love you?"
He breathed in harshly, "What are you telling me?"
She turned and raised her eyes to look at him steadily. A breath of silence, and then, very
quietly she told him the truth she had only this moment accepted. She almost smiled at how easily
the words came, after the weeks of anguish and self-torment.
"I'm saying that I should hate you, but I don't. God help me, but I love you. I love you, Alex
Krycek." Her eyes filled with tears, "and may the Lord have mercy on my soul." She took one step
forward and then she was in his arms, her own clutching him fiercely rediscovering the familiar
planes and curves of his body. His arms around her, the artificial prosthesis digging into her
back. He was whispering soft endearments, in Russian she assumed since she didn't understand
anything but the intent. Finally, Alex pulled away a little, and to her astonishment, she saw the
silvery tracks of tears on his face. Wondering, she reached up and traced them with her
fingertips.
"You're crying, Alex..." her voice soft and breathless.
He tried to smile through the tears. "Blame it on my Russian heritage. You know how emotional we
Slavs are. Not like you cold Anglo-Saxons."
She pulled his head down, and kissed the moisture from his skin, tasting the faint saltiness on
the tip of her tongue. "Don't apologize, Alex, I like it."
He kissed her again and again, laughing at her murmured protests. Hands and mouth almost clumsy
in their eagerness, and for some reason that touched her unbearably. "I love you, Dana Katherine
Scully. Love you. Love you..." punctuating each sentence with another kiss. "Promise you'll never
leave me again."
A faint shadow crossed her face, and suddenly she lost a little of her happiness. "I want to,
Alex, I do, but..."
"No buts," he interrupted firmly. "We're together and that's all that matters."
She nodded, wanting to believe him. "For now." She leaned her head against his chest wondering
how it was possible to feel so happy when only moments before she'd been so miserable. She must
have spoken aloud, because she could feel a sudden rumbling as he laughed quietly.
"I'd tell you, except I'd be afraid of sounding conceited," a blinding smile lit his face. His
eyes when she looked at him were the colour of sunlight reflecting through a forest in spring;
all shades of gold and green light.
She laughed, reaching up to kiss him. "You're a fool, Alex Krycek." Scully leaned into his arms
feeling them close around her, and she suddenly shivered realising what an idiot she had been,
how easily she could have lost everything. Burrowing into his body, she asked, "Alex, why did you
come? After," she stumbled a little over the words, "what I said at the airport I never thought
I'd see you again."
He smiled rather strangely. "You still don't understand do you, Dana? That day when I told you
about Melissa. When I told you to go, it really was your only chance." His voice was very calm,
almost cold. "I always thought the only thing I could have was your hatred and your body, and
even that was better than nothing. That you love me remains a miracle I can't comprehend. But
even if you hated me, Dana, I would still want you. I would *take* what I couldn't have
voluntarily."
He said almost harshly. "Do you understand what I'm saying? I'm not like Mulder, or you. I
haven't had the luxury of choice, or ethics. I've killed and whored and lied to survive. And for
the first time in my life I want something more than survival. There is literally nothing I
wouldn't do for you or to keep you with me."
She suddenly trembled, beginning to grasp the true depth of his feelings. "Alex, you scare me,"
she whispered. "I, no, don't. I don't want you to feel like that."
He kissed her gently. "Dear heart, I did not tell you to make you afraid." A reckless smile
slashed across his face. "I told you so that you will never doubt my feelings, my love for you.
Love? Bah! what a pale word for what I feel for you! And that you love me back? Do you know how
that makes me feel, my heart?"
She couldn't help smiling, infected by his joy, the laughter that sparkled like the finest
champagne.
But then he sobered. "Much as I hate it, we have to talk. There are some things I need you to
understand."
"Sounds ominous," she said lightly to hide the sudden stab of apprehension. "You don't by any
chance have a wife and three children hidden away in Russia?"
He smiled although his eyes remained somber. "No wife, no kids, no one I love except for you,
forever. He hesitated a little, then folded his legs and sat down, leaning against the boulder.
"Come here," he took her hand and pulled her down with him. They sat in silence for a long time
with his arms wrapped around her, as she leaned her head back against his chest, and then he
started speaking quietly.
"Do you remember the first night at Hadley Place?"
"I remember," she said softly. "That's when it all started to change, wasn't it."
He pressed a kiss into her hair breathing in the sweet, heady scent of her. A delicate fragrance
he would know blindfolded. "That morning was the first time I ever made love, Dana." He stilled
her instinctive movement. "Not the first time I had sex, the first time I made love." He was
quiet for a moment. "I've been blessed, or cursed, with the kind of face that appeals to women
and men. I've used that, traded on it, hence the hive ops. Sex has been a tool in my arsenal of
weapons." Another pause, "I've used it to blackmail, I've sold it, at times had it forced from
me, at times used it to force secrets from my enemies, I've been raped, I've raped."
A deep breath, and then he continued with a little difficulty, "I was, I am, an expert in what is
euphemistically called, the arts of love, or to put it in plain English, fucking. I can be the
lover of your dreams, pull orgasm after orgasm from you, make you beg for more."
Scully was suddenly reminded of the night they had made their bargain. The words that had made no
sense then. "That's what you meant wasn't it, Alex? That first night, when you said you could at
least give me this in return."
He looked away. "Yes. I knew you hated me. God knows I gave you reason enough. But I always
thought that at least I could give you pleasure. For a long time I thought it was the only thing
that you would accept from me. But there were times, Dana, when our bargain sickened me!" He
continued harshly. "The hive ops have always left me cold as ice. It's never meant more to me
than shaking someone's hand and I've killed so-called lovers without a qualm or a second
thought."
"Don't, Alex," Scully murmured gently, giving his arm a little squeeze. "It doesn't matter,
love."
He buried his face in her hair, swallowing heavily. "We have to get it out into the open, and
then we'll never talk about it ever again, I promise. I never realized you knew about the hive
ops." A bitter smile, "I guess I was hoping that you never would. But since you do I want you to
understand that what you and I had, had nothing to do with, with, that."
His arm tightened around her. "I need you to understand just how different you are. What you mean
to me. I've wanted you for a long time, Dana. Forever I sometimes think...." A momentary smile
lightened his voice. "Every time I saw you walk past me in the FBI corridors, my heart would skip
a beat."
He suddenly laughed softly. "I'd spend hours, days, thinking of the way you scrunch your nose
when you're thinking. The way your hair keeps falling across your face when you type. I'd see you
sitting in the cafeteria talking with your friends. Someone would say something that you thought
funny and you'd tilt your head and smile. The blue of your eyes would darken and flash. And I'd
think, if she would only look at me like that. There are a million little things I could tell you
about. Actually I can't remember a time when I didn't love you. When I didn't want you enough to
kill."
He shifted slightly on the ground, his voice changed, grew harsher. "But of course you never saw
me. And if you did, you despised me because I was Mulder's partner. Your eyes would go all icy
and hard whenever you looked at me." Bitterly. "And all that time I would have died for you.
Killed for just a single word, a smile. The only person you ever smiled at was Mulder." He tried
to laugh, "I wanted to shoot Mulder, and you for being so fucking blind."
"Alex, my love, I never knew." she said softly. She felt awed and humbled by the calm ruthless
exposition of his emotions. Dana Scully knew she had never, would never be loved as this dark,
intense, man loved her. She wanted to deny her own blindness, but was unable to. She had in truth
not even noticed Alex Krycek as anything but Mulder's appendage. Their mutual pain and
frustration at being separated had dominated her thoughts to the exclusion of everything else.
Including the young, too-handsome new partner she had instinctively and jealously known shared
more than Mulder's cases.
A poem by Walter Scott whispered through her mind. 'Oh what a tangled web we weave/When first we
practice to deceive...'
Then he spoke again, interrupting her train of thoughts. "That was more than obvious. All you
ever saw was Mulder and his damn X-Files. You know I did warn the Consortium that you and Mulder
would always be a team no matter how much they tried to separate the two of you. Even if they
closed the X-Files and had both of you re-assigned, you would still be a partnership."
A pause, and then he said very carefully, "I'm not going to pretend that I didn't know what Duane
Berry was after. Or that I didn't kill him on purpose. If you are ever going to trust me enough
to build something on, then you deserve the truth. I knew that they meant to abduct you, Dana.
But by that time I hated you even more than I loved you. I hated you for not loving me, for
loving Mulder instead of me. I even hated Mulder for being the man you loved."
There was a pause before he admitted wearily, "And in a twisted kind of way once you were gone I
could grieve for you like Mulder did. Hell I even thought that if I could get you back you'd be
so grateful that maybe you'd start looking at me the way you looked at him," a dry self-mocking
irony coloured his voice. "Instead of viewing me as though I was a particularly nasty bug you'd
found in your food."
Again he stilled her movement, putting a finger across her lips. "You have to believe me love,
that once you were taken I didn't know where they kept you or what they did to you. At the time
there was a power-struggle inside the Consortium. And well, let's just say that things were very
chaotic for a while. My boss momentarily lost power, and with him, so did I. So I had no way of
tracking you down. If I could I would have. I swear, Dana!"
"Shh," she whispered, "I believe you, Alex."
His eyes were a deep haunted emerald. "You're far more generous and forgiving than I deserve, and
God do I love you for it!" He took a deep breath. "And then you came back, but dying, and
everything went rapidly downhill from there. Mulder discovered my Consortium ties and he did not
take the knowledge, the betrayal he would call it, well..."
And then he added with a strange bitterness. "Nor did AD Skinner. For a while I was starting to
feel like a punching bag between the two of them. So the only option was to clear out, after umm,
'persuading' my boss to give Skinner the antidote you needed." He chuckled softly. "I wouldn't
tell Skinner this, but his big sacrifice, his deal with the devil was unnecessary. Although it
provided the Smoking Man with a lot of delectation. He found it highly amusing that not only I,
but AD Skinner were prepared to barter our souls to the devil for your sake, not to mention
Mulder's desperation. He *really* enjoyed that."
Scully shook her head, "I don't think I want to know this. I thought it was Mulder who saved me?"
"Is that what he told you?"
"Not exactly," she admitted, "and things are still a little hazy, but I just assumed it was
Mulder."
A snort, "How typical, for the first time in my life I do a noble unselfish thing and another man
gets the credit. Shows you how dangerous it is to be good," he said lightly.
Scully turned around so she could look into his eyes. "But being good has its compensations as
well," she told him solemnly. "For example, if you had not been at least partly good, I wouldn't
be here with you now."
He leaned forward and kissed her gently, "True, okay, from now on you can call me the White
Knight." But then his smile died rapidly. "Dana, I didn't pull the trigger, that was Luis
Cardinale, but I *was* there." He ignored her sudden stiffening. "No, *listen* love. I went with
Cardinale because I thought we were kidnapping you. Frankly the thought of you alone with Luis
scared the hell out of me!" He hesitated briefly and then admitted a little sheepishly. "I also
had a *very* private fantasy that after we'd taken you, and Cardinale had frightened you out of
your wits. And trust me he would have, the guy was a total psycho, then you'd turn to me, and
finally see me as a person." He paused, "Have you ever heard of the Stockholm Syndrome?"
Scully gave him a speaking look. "Believe me Alex, if I had been kidnapped by two Consortium
goons, I would *not* have been too kindly disposed towards you." She thought for a moment, "if I
remember correctly, the Stockholm syndrome means that because the hostages are forced to rely on
their captors for everything, food, security and even their lives, that creates an emotional
dependency and makes them form a bond with their kidnapper."
"Right, and well that's what I kind of counted on. That you'd turn to me as the lesser of two
evils, and I'd at least have a chance to show you that I'm not a completely bad guy." His mouth
twisted bitterly, "but then you didn't show up, and Melissa did instead and Luis just shot her
before I had a chance to stop him. I nearly killed him then and there, but hell, I figured by
then it was too late, and whether I killed Cardinale or not didn't matter. You'd hate me for just
being there, and I'm a survivor, Dana, I've lived through shit you have no idea of. Besides," he
smiled grimly. "if I was right and our masters didn't approve of his act, killing him clean would
have been a mercy."
He hesitated briefly and then said softly. "When I gave you that folder, I really thought that
was the end. That Melissa was dead. But," he looked away from her. "Since then, I've, I've come
into some more material. It may be a lie, a complete fabrication, it may be the truth." he didn't
want to remember exactly how or why it had dropped into his hand. "And, I don't know. I just
*don't know,* Dana. But I swear, I'll never stop digging until I find the truth, one way or
another."
"Alex," she touched his face with shaking fingers, hurting not only for herself and poor Missy,
but the man who was holding her as if he was afraid she would disappear and leave him once again.
"I know you will." A strange smile lit her eyes as she gently turned his face so she could look
deep into his eyes. And quietly, she gave him the ultimate gift. "I trust you, Alex."
"Thank you," he whispered, stunned. That after everything he had done, everything he had said,
she could tell him this. In some ways it was even greater than having her love. Dana Scully did
not trust any easier than her partner, and she had an even stronger sense of right and wrong,
good and evil. He only hoped, prayed, that she would never know the truth about him. That he
would never see the trust and love replaced with disgust and hatred once again.
She nodded, consumed by the intensity of his eyes. "I do believe in you," she said a little
sadly. "But Alex, God, I wish you weren't what you are."
"What I was, Dana. I can't change the past, but at least I have some control over the future." He
pushed away the memory of the Smoking Man and the deal he had made. "I can't promise you that
I'll always be able to tell you what I'm doing or why. You're going to have to trust me, and,"
his eyes fell, "there are still things I can't avoid. People I can't walk away from." There was
bitterness, and a kind of weary acceptance, when he said. "Once they get their hooks into you,
you're never completely free."
"I am not going to pretend it's not going to be hard," Scully said evenly. "Nor that it may tear
us apart at some point, there are things I just *can't* accept Alex. I couldn't, and still be
me," her tone pleaded for understanding.
He hugged her, his body conveying everything he couldn't put into words. "I know, my love, but
for now, let's not think of the future, please?"
"It's a deal," she murmured, nestling into his arms, closing her eyes, feeling safe and warm and
very, very happy.
Their quiet contentment was abruptly broken by brisk steps and an impatient, irritated voice.
"That's more than enough time, Krycek."
Alex looked up and swore, more in resignation than anger, "I thought we'd agree you would stay in
the car, Mulder."
Arms crossed, glowering at both of them, Mulder retorted, "How was I to know you wouldn't just
toss her over the side of the cliff?"
Alex's grip around Scully tightened fractionally, but his voice remained even and pleasant.
"Don't be an ass. I told you I needed some time alone with Dana, and you agreed, remember?"
Hunkering down beside them, Mulder took off his sunglasses, folding them and putting them in his
breast-pocket. "I know what we agreed, Krycek."
Scully gently freed herself from her lover's arms. At the first sight of Mulder she had gone
tense as a bowstring. The fear and love written on her face had Alex swallowing something bitter
as dust and turning away from the sight.
"Are you still angry with me, Mulder?" A breathless whisper ripe with hope and longing.
He turned his head, and she almost gasped at the expression. "How could I be angry with anyone
but myself?" he said simply. "I miss you, Scully, you're my other half."
Her eyes filled with tears. "I, I love you, Mulder." And then Scully did what before her
abduction and illness would have been unthinkable. She threw herself into his arms. "I'm sorry,
I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she whispered into his shirt, holding him tightly.
Mulder stroked her hair murmuring soothingly. Both his arms were around her, and over her bent
head Krycek's and Mulder's eyes met. Triumph turned hazel into gold as Mulder silently told the
dark man watching them, 'see, she is mine. She will always be mine.' And Krycek's wry smile
acknowledged the victory.
Finally Scully pulled herself together. "I'm sorry," she muttered, patting her pockets hunting
for a handkerchief only to have two of them stuck under her nose. Taking Alex's she blew her
nose, and tucked her hair back.
"Right, that's enough soppiness. Mulder, if you ever touch me again I'll shoot you *again*, and
this time I'll chose a better place, got it?"
Mulder laughed, "Yes, ma'am!"
"Good, just so that's clear." She pulled him into another hug, "I'm sorry for hurting you, I
always hoped that you wouldn't find out, but I never meant to betray you, you know that."
He hugged her back. "I know, Scully, and when I had time to think a little, I realized who's
fault it was."
Very gently she said, "Mulder, it wasn't anybody's *fault* any more than you and Phoebe Green was
anybody's fault. It just happened, all right?"
"No it's not all right," Mulder said angrily. "Phoebe may have been the most manipulative bitch
alive, but at least she didn't kill any member of my family."
"Mulder, please try and understand," Scully took his arm and pulled him a little from where
Krycek was standing. He leaned nonchalantly against the boulder, face blank, eyes bored. No doubt
Mulder thought it meant Krycek was a cold bastard, but she knew him well enough now to see the
faint lines of tension, the way his hand clenched behind his back. When had she become as good at
reading Alex as she was at Mulder? She decided to pursue that question later, for now it was more
important to reach some sort of tenuous peace between the two men in her life.
"Mulder, listen to me. If you still want me, I am your partner. I will *always* be your partner
no matter what happens. I am *not* going to stop suddenly just because I love Alex. Nor am I
going to turn into some featherbrained idiot. I am, I will always be Dana Scully."
She reached up and brushed back his hair in a tender, sisterly gesture. "I'll always be there to
back you up, all right?" she smiled. "As well as debunk your theories on mutant cockroaches, mad
alien scientists and werewolves. The only person prepared to stand you trailing sunflower seeds
all over her desk. And accept the Victoria's Secrets catalogue, you pretended *I* sent for. And
don't you dare deny it was you..." She took his hand, feeling the implicit support in the strong,
gentle grasp. "Please, Mulder, for my sake, can you let it go?"
She had never him asked for anything. She had risked her life again and again to follow him on
his quest. He sighed deeply, muttering something beneath his breath, and then he suddenly swept
her into a bearhug. "Scully, I could almost wish you'd fallen in love with that lunatic with a
talking tattoo. With just about anybody but Alex Krycek, and I'm not going to promise not to
complain from time to time. Or tell you that you can't do a hell of a lot better. But for what
it's worth, I believe the son of a bitch when he claims that he loves you." He shook his head, "I
still can't believe it, Scully. You and Krycek, the mind boggles..."
Krycek came forward, gliding up behind Scully, sliding his arm around her waist. In a loving,
completely natural gesture, Dana leaned back into his body, as Alex looked at her with open
adoration in his eyes. "Why? Haven't you ever heard of the old adage, 'opposites attract?'"
Mulder glared at him over her head. "And there are no more opposites than you and Dana."
"True, which is why I love her," Krycek replied. He dropped a kiss on her hair, looked at Mulder
and quoted softly, "'Would she could make of me a saint/Or I of her a sinner.'"
"James Congreve, " Mulder said calmly. "Is that what you're hoping? That Scully is going to be
your redemption?"
"I love her, man." There was no challenge, no mockery, just a simple statement of fact.
Mulder looked at his partner. "Are you sure?"
She gave him a blinding smile, and he sighed a little sadly. "Very well, then." He gave Krycek a
dark look. "You better treat her good or you'll regret it."
"You're making me shake in my boots," Alex said dryly, but pulled Scully into his arms at the
same time. "You'll come to see, Mulder, I'd rather cut off my other arm than hurt her."
Watching the two men she loved more than anything in the world, Dana Scully's heart contracted in
joy and sorrow. Alex smiled at her, lacing his fingers around hers, pulling her close. As always
he touched her. There was a deep-seated need in him to feel her against him, as if to reassure
himself that she was there, that she was real, and that she was his.
God how she loved him. Against all conventional wisdom, against reason. Then Mulder gesturing and
arguing, turned to her for support. Mulder her partner, her best friend. Seeing the two men
debate she suddenly felt a funny little stab deep in her heart. She had so much, so why did her
throat constrict at the thought of what she could never have?
They walked towards the car together, Alex with his arm around Dana's shoulders, head bent to
listen to her, for once completely unwary and happy. Scully was talking to him, but once in a
while her eyes slid across to Mulder, giving him a wistful, bitter-sweet, half-yearning look.
Mulder was listening, interjecting an acid comment now and again, trying to needle Krycek, and
when he thought no one was looking his eyes rested on the dark man, with a savage bitter hunger.
THE END