From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: Thu, 6 Jul 2000 22:17:53 -0500
Subject: \"Compromised\" (1/4) by Mostly Harmless
Source: direct

Reply To: Mostlyhrmles@yahoo.com


Title: "Compromised"
Author:  Mostly Harmless
Rating: PG-13
Classification: XA
Spoilers: Season 6 Finale, Season 7 "Amor Fati"
Keywords: Mulder /Scully Friendship
Description:  This is set during the "Amor Fati".  Scully 
discovers Skinner isn't really cured of the nanocytes...

                                  "Compromised"  Part 1 of 4
                                                 By Mostly Harmless

8:55 AM
Scully's apartment

Scully fumbled with her keys; it took her several tries to open 
her front door.  She felt like she hadn't slept in months and 
wanted to collapse in her doorway.  She closed the door and 
barely remembered to turn the dead bolt.  She unceremoniously 
dumped her purse on the table and stumbled towards her 
bedroom.  She shut her curtains against the incoming light of 
morning, stripped and uncharacteristically left the clothes where 
they lay.  

Scully thought she would be asleep as soon as her head hit the 
pillow, but she was wrong.  While her body relaxed, her mind 
whirled with things left undone.  She ought to call Mulder's 
mother and let her know he was going to live, but Scully was 
afraid to tell her anything.  She really needed to convince Mulder 
to give her a medical power of attorney, so that his mother could 
never again be in the position of making decisions about his life 
or death.  On second thought, Scully realized if his mother 
hadn't delivered him to Cancer man, he might well still be 
dying.  She tried not to dwell on her recurrent feelings of 
helplessness.  Scully really need to talk to Teena Mulder who 
had to know more than she let on.  Just because Mulder was 
apparently going to rejoin the land of the living didn't mean this 
couldn't reoccur.  That thought triggered another- of Skinner's 
close brush with death.  As she finally fell asleep, she saw again 
in her mind the assistant director telling her "I have been 
compromised."

Scully woke in the dark.  She had slept more than 12 hours 
undisturbed, the soundest sleep she had had since first seeing 
the rubbing of the alien craft.  Her first thought were of Skinner 
and she realized that in her sleep she had decided what to do.  

11:21 PM 
A.D. Skinner's apartment

Scully noticed from the street below that the light in Skinner's 
apartment was still on.  She watched for other watchers and 
found none.  She entered the building behind another couple, 
and took the stairs up to Skinner's floor.  She waited until the 
hallway was clear and knocked on his apartment door.

"Agent Scully?"  Skinner answered his door, obviously 
surprised to see her there.   He was looking older than she 
remembered and was obviously under a lot of stress.  He 
seemed to consider shutting the door in her face, and decided on 
the wiser course.  "Come in, quickly."  

She did.  "I am sure you have heard by now that I have found 
Agent Mulder."

Skinner cut her off abruptly.  "I don't want to hear it."  He 
gestured angrily.

"I know.  That is why I am here."

"There is nothing you can do, Agent Scully."

"I wouldn't bet on that, sir.  One thing.  There is just one thing I 
want from you, and I will be gone."

"What is that?"

She smiled, and pulled a syringe (still in its package), an empty 
vial, a piece of surgical tubing, a flask of alcohol, some cotton, a 
Band-Aid, and a pair of latex gloves out of her purse.  Skinner 
looked at her with some alarm.  "I've put two and two together. 
All I want is a vial of your blood.  And I promise I won't return 
until I can, " and her eyes raked up and down his partially-
clothed body with some appreciation of the aesthetics of his 
well-muscled body, "put you into, shall we say, a less-
compromising position."

Skinner looked deeply into her eyes, finding reassurance there.  
He was never quite sure where he stood with her.  She never 
really trusted him, and he hoped that she knew in spite of all that 
had passed between them, that he really cared about both her and 
Mulder.  He nodded, without saying anything.  

Scully drew the blood in silence, applied the Band-Aid and 
folded his arm upwards.  She turned to leave, her mission 
accomplished.  As she turned to let herself back out the door, 
she felt Skinner's hand on her shoulder.  She turned towards 
him, trying to read the expression on his face.  Their eyes met 
for a long moment, and he squeezed her shoulder.  She nodded 
and silently left his apartment, bushing a tear from her cheek as 
she stepped out into the brightly lit hall.  Skinner was left alone 
in his apartment with his thoughts.

1:00 AM
Quantico, VA

The lab was deserted- exactly as Agent Scully had planned.  She 
pulled her files on the previous analysis of Skinner's blood for 
comparison.  The current sample was virtually normal, very 
different from what she had seen when his illness was in its 
acute phase.  After carefully examining several slides made from 
his blood sample, she was able to locate only a few of the bodies 
which had apparently caused the problem.  Unlike the previous 
time, they were not replicating.

Scully frowned, thinking she had been wrong to abandon her 
earlier investigations, in spite of the A.D.'s directive.  Even if 
pursuing the identification of the suspect became impossible, 
there was no reason she couldn't have pursued the medical 
aspect, which they had not been specifically ordered to abandon.  
Besides, there weren't many people in the Bureau administration 
who, by looking at any of her data, could tell she wasn't 
working on a case to which she was actually assigned.  And of 
those who could...one of them might well be responsible.  

A closer look at the problem was in order.   She slipped into the 
room containing the scanning electron microscope.  She wasn't 
technically qualified within the Bureau to operate it, but had 
some fairly extensive experience in its use from a summer job in 
college.  What she found startled her.  It was not organic- it was 
mechanical- and well beyond the technology in published 
literature.  It was also, for the moment, inert.  

Scully printed out her results and recorded pictures of the 
device.  If there was any information available about this, she 
knew who could ferret it out!  And they owed her.  Big time.  
Paybacks are hell...6 AM wouldn't be too early, now would it?

6 AM 
Apartment of the Lone Gunmen

After identifying Agent Scully on the closed-circuit television 
security system, Frohike undid all seven locks on the front door.  
"Come in."  He ushered her in quickly, bolting the door behind 
her.  "What brings you here, Agent Scully?  Not that I mean to 
imply you are ever anything but welcome here.  Is it Mulder?  
Has there been any change?"

A strange look passed over Scully's face.  Frohike almost 
thought it was guilt, but it crossed her face so fleetingly, he 
couldn't be sure.  "Mulder?  No, not Mulder.  You've probably 
seen him more recently than I have.  I've been working on a 
different problem, but it is definitely connected to the conspiracy 
which caused Mulder's illness- and my cancer."

"I take it you think we can help you with this?"  Byers asked, 
grudgingly awake.  

"I think it is right up your alley." Scully replied.

"Something quick?  I was just headed for bed," commented 
Langley.

"Your sleep schedule is even weirder than mine has been lately," 
responded Scully.  "This will take some time, but I think you'll 
be intrigued.  Technology beyond what we are supposed to 
have...not that that surprises me any more."  

"What is it this time?  You and Mulder always bring us the most 
interesting things...unless, is it the artifact that caused Mulder's 
illness?" Frohike queried, his interest piqued.

"No, not Mulder's illness.  Skinner's.  Mulder's was caused by 
rubbings from the surface of an alien spacecraft."

"You're joking!" accused Frohike.

"She's been holding out on us!" exclaimed Langley.

"Yes, well, it was in Africa and now it is gone.  I don't want to 
think about that right now."

"Have you told Mulder?" asked Byers.

"He hasn't been in any kind of shape.  He needs rest, and you 
know he'd never get it if I admitted what I saw.  He'd be at the 
Ivory Coast trying to track it down faster than the speed of light.  
That's not what he needs right now.  What he needs is for us to 
figure out how to overcome the nanomachines being used to 
blackmail our boss into... into, I'm not sure what.   But it 
prevented him from helping Mulder when he really needed it.  
The best thing we can do is free him from this threat so we can 
track down whoever did this to him."

"Nanomachines?  That's science fiction," sneered Langley.  "If 
that were possible, my sources would have mentioned it."

Scully held out a vial which contained a small sample of the 
blood she had taken from Skinner.  "Here's my proof.  What we 
need to do first is figure out how to make them replicate.  We 
need to get enough of them for our experiments.  If they were 
bacteria, it would be easy enough to culture them..."

Sixteen hours later, Scully left the Lone Gunmen.  They hadn't 
taken the time to celebrate their breakthrough.  They had 
successfully 'cultured' the nanomachines.  By trial and error 
they had determined that they responded to certain frequencies of 
light; radio waves not in common use by the FCC.  They'd 
learned how to turn them on so they would begin to replicate, 
but they didn't know how to turn them off.  It was a start, and it 
gave Scully an idea on how to protect Skinner...if only he 
would agree to it.

8:30 AM
J. Edgar Hoover Bldg.

Scully clutched a triple-tall non-fat latte as she waited in A.D. 
Skinner's outer office.  She had arrived before Skinner's 
secretary, who was rather annoyed to find one of her least-
favorite agents pacing in the hallway outside.  People who 
violated regulations with impunity, and who, simply by 
appearing and looking distressed, could disrupt the carefully 
juggled schedules she arranged for the assistant director, made 
her job at least twice as difficult as it strictly needed to be.  And
she was supposed to smile and be nice.  And take the 
reprimands she got when they slipped by her into Skinner's 
inner sanctum.

She decided to make this one wait.  Exercising the little power 
she had bolstered the secretary's self-esteem.  She liked being in 
a position of authority over 'special' agents, even if she knew it 
was only temporary.  It should be a little easier this morning, 
however as Agent Scully's normally bright edge seemed 
unaccountably dulled.  Maybe not unaccountably, considering 
the other thorn-in-her-side Agent Mulder was hospitalized last 
she heard.  She didn't waste much pity on that one though, the 
gossip on the grapevine said he was going to be just 
fine...eventually.  The longer he was out of her hair the better.
One of her fondest daydreams was catching Agents Mulder and 
Scully in a compromising position, on company time, that 
would get them both dismissed from the Bureau (most likely) or 
at least transferred away from headquarters- the further the 
better.  She was absolutely *certain* something was going on 
between them, but couldn't prove it, though she kept a careful, 
but unauthorized, eye on security camera videos of the basement 
level.

Just looking at Agent Scully's condition this morning clearly 
indicated that her personal life was interfering with her 
professional one.  The assistant knew without a doubt that Agent 
Scully was not at the moment working on any official case, and 
hadn't been since Skinner revoked her authorization to continue 
to investigate the mysterious rubbings.  In her little notebook she 
kept just for a possible OPR review board, she made a notation, 
time, date, code number that would appear on the hallway video 
camera recording Agent Scully's near-inability to perform her 
functions on this workday morning.  AD Kersh would be 
pleased with this, when she finally told him after she had 
amassed enough evidence against both Mulder and Scully.  

Scully was definitely out of it.  She started suddenly, awakening 
from the slight doze she had fallen into while waiting to speak to 
Skinner.  Forty-five minutes had passed since she arrived, and 
her coffee had grown cold.  She finished it anyway, thinking 
that at least it contained lots of milk, so that counted as a meal, 
didn't it?  

Scully gave up, realizing Skinner's administrative assistant was 
stone-walling her.  It wasn't worth it, and she knew she didn't 
really have any final answers anyway.  She took out her 
notebook and wrote a quick, cryptic note to Skinner.

'Faraday cage-blocks radio transmission.  Won't stop once it is 
started, but can prevent start signal from reaching its 
destination."  She didn't sign it.  She obtained a manila envelope 
from the reluctant woman and scrawled Skinner's name across 
it, sealed it, then signed across the flap.  "See that he gets this 
promptly, please."  The woman gave her a patently false smile 
Scully didn't bother to return.  Scully, not at all convinced 
Skinner would get the message any time soon, stopped by her 
office long enough to send Skinner an Email alert that a message 
awaited him.  Let him deal with *that woman* if she delayed the 
message...After that, Scully considered going home, but 
decided she really ought to drop by the hospital to visit Mulder.  


10:30 AM
Georgetown University Hospital

Scully entered Mulder's hospital room bearing a small floral 
bouquet.  He was clearly asleep, rung out by the ordeal he had 
endured, head bandaged neatly.  Quietly so as not to wake him, 
she set down the vase on the table next to his bed.  She spent a 
few minutes reading his chart, but this took about 10 times 
longer than usual as her over-tired eyes kept blurring the words 
and numbers.  She gave up, satisfied he was continuing to 
improve.  She considered just leaving, but felt guilty from not 
having visited him since he'd first been admitted...how long 
ago?  She'd stayed through the first night with him, but doubted 
he had known she was there.  Their escape from his 
confinement had used up what little strength he had possessed.  

Torn between waking him up and leaving and staying, she stood 
by his side for several minutes, then finally pulled up a chair.  
She sat there in her exhausted state, mesmerized by his 
breathing, simply happy her partner was alive and the prognosis 
was for full recovery.  She wondered if he had heard her beg 
him to hold on, to come back to her; she wondered if he had 
been able to read her mind, and if so, how clearly.  She 
wondered if there would be any repercussions from that and 
desperately hoped there wouldn't be.  She was so tired...her 
weariness clearly making her maudlin.  She fought back tears, 
more of relief than anything else, grateful to have this time with 
him, grateful he wasn't aware of her reaction.  She took his 
hand that she knew so well into her own two smaller ones, 
feeling the warmth of the life within him.  She let the tears flow 
at last, knowing there was no one to see.  After the catharsis had 
passed, she pillowed her head on one arm on his bedside table, 
still clasping his hand loosely with her other one.  She fell asleep 
then, her body and mind desperate for a temporary oblivion.

Mulder awoke, before his eyes opened he knew he wasn't 
alone. All seemed right with the world.  Not yet aware she held 
his hand, he knew her scent and felt the warmth of her aura.  
Something inside him relaxed.  The last several times he'd 
awakened alone in a strange hospital room, terrified after what 
he had experienced, terrified also by how much her presence 
comforted him, terrified if she were to find out. Mulder had been 
still incredibly weak from his ordeal, having used the last of his 
strength during his escape.  He'd been unwilling to call her, to 
ask her to come to him, afraid she'd say no.

He had felt very cold, afraid and alone, not wanting to know 
what kept his partner at bay.  Skinner had visited him briefly, 
yesterday, he thought, but had been enigmatically silent.  Diana 
had come to visit also; he had recognized the sound of her 
footsteps approaching and cowardly pretended to be asleep 
while she was there.  He wasn't ready to face her yet.  The 
words of her confession to him, both spoken and unspoken, 
were seared into his brain.  He knew without a doubt that she 
loved him.  He'd doubted that for so long after she left him in 
order to further her career.  He had even doubted that she had 
ever loved him at all.  It was something of a panacea, knowing 
she really had loved him, knowing he hadn't been wrong after 
all.  It boosted his confidence and self-esteem, made him feel 
lovable once again; his fear he had been so completely wrong 
about someone so close to him had eaten slowly away at his 
soul.   Her love for him, however, was not as strong as he had 
once believed- not as strong as her drive to succeed.  He had 
always known she was ambitious; he had never realized how 
integral it was to her personality, and how coldly she could 
calculate her decisions.  He knew that Diana believed she was 
doing the right thing, believed the Cancer man's lies, knew she 
was trying to manipulate him into doing what she thought best.  
She wanted his full cooperation, but would settle for convincing 
him after the fact.  She truly believed the end justified the means. 
She loved him, she wanted him, and she wanted to convert him.  
It was uncertain whether in the end, if she needed to choose 
between her work with the syndicate and her love for Mulder, 
which she would choose.

For so many years, he had wanted to believed she loved him and 
would come back to him.  He wanted her to know in her heart 
she had made a mistake leaving him behind, abandoning him 
because their work on the X-files was beginning to destroy her 
reputation.  The old proverb seemed particularly appropriate: be 
careful what you ask for, for you may receive it.  He had what 
he had wanted and found out it was no longer appealing at all.  
Seeing Diana so much more clearly now, he realized his desire 
for her had changed from love, which it had been, to wanting 
her to admit she had been wrong, to assuage the hurt that still lay 
within him from her abandonment.  Now he had the love of a 
woman who he no longer respected, was not his friend, but 
whom he still found physically attractive.  A woman who still 
knew very well how to please him and manipulate him.  A 
woman who would lead him where he had no intention of 
going, if he gave her the slightest opportunity.  It wasn't what 
he wanted at all.  Which was why he had cowardly pretended 
slumber; he knew also she could see through his ruse, but had 
chosen to take it at face value.  She understood him so well, and 
no doubt knew any face-to-face confrontation at this point would 
only bring her pain and sever what little was left between them.  
But Diana was nothing if not savvy, and she knew how to play 
the waiting game.  Mulder had no illusions she had done 
anything more than make a strategic retreat.  He sighed.  He 
didn't want to think about Diana...just wanted the whole 
problem to go away.  He would have to be very careful.  He 
didn't want to fall into her siren-like embrace that could be so 
difficult for him to resist...he avoided the thoughts of how she 
could make him feel when she was at her best.  

Mulder heard Scully stir and opened his eyes.  He was surprised 
to see her asleep, uncomfortably supporting herself on his bed-
side table, awkwardly covering his right hand with hers where it 
lay on the bed.  Scully...so different from what he had always 
thought he wanted.  So enigmatic, even when he'd been able to 
read her mind so briefly.  Too briefly, he thought.  She had been 
so focused on trying to save his life, trying to appeal to him to 
return, he'd been able to see nothing further of what she felt, 
what she wanted from him.  It was so much easier with Diana; 
she had always made it abundantly clear just exactly what she 
wanted from him.  But in time, Mulder had come to realize that 
Diana was not worth having, but he was starting to suspect that 
Dana Scully might be.  Once in awhile, for a brief instant, it 
would even seem possible, though it never seemed likely.  

Mulder sat up, and realized Scully must be deeply asleep.  She 
looked terribly, dark circles under her eyes, her face gaunt.  This 
tugged at the strings of his heart.  He started to pull his hand 
away from beneath hers, but in her sleep she gripped it tightly, 
not letting go.  He thought he heard a mumbled 'No!', but might 
have been imagining it.  He reached up and over, gathering his 
partner into his arms.  She didn't wake, and he arranged her 
head more comfortably on his bed.  He took the moment to 
examine her closely, and fell back to sleep stroking her soft red 
hair with one hand, the other still firmly in her small one.  

Scully awoke, not remembering putting her head down by 
Mulder's side.  She felt his hand, still on her cheek, and smiled.  
She gently squeezed the hand she still clutched but received no 
response.  She sat up very stiffly, gently placing Mulder's left 
hand back down.  She knew he must have awakened and known 
she was here.  She had accomplished her purpose; she thought 
Mulder seemed to be sleeping more easily, and there was a small 
smile on his face.  She herself felt much more rested than the, 
she glanced at her watch, nearly one hour nap could really 
account for.  Knowing she had to go, she didn't want to awaken 
him, but he seemed very deeply asleep.  Deeply enough asleep 
she felt she could take a risk.  Before leaving, she leaned over 
and placed a feather-light kiss on his lips. She left him, her heart 
feeling lighter than it had in a long time.  


4:50 PM
JEH Bldg.
AD Skinner's Office

Skinner checked his personal email -which wasn't routed 
through his secretary- rather later than usual.  When he saw 
Agent Scully's rather cryptic email, he immediately confronted 
his assistant demanding the envelope.  "Janice? Agent Scully left 
something for me?  I'd like it now, please."  His words were 
polite, but his tone was anything but.

"I put it in your in-box this morning, Sir" she replied sweetly.  
A fifteen minute search resulted; the envelope eventually 
appearing in Skinner's trash can, carefully slipped between two 
large pieces of junk mail.  Skinner said nothing, not able to 
prove it had never actually been inside his box, though he had 
his suspicions.  He read the note quickly, careful not to let her 
see what was written.  He'd become almost as paranoid as 
Mulder  since his 'illness'.

Faraday cage?  "Ask Agent Scully to come to here please."

"Now?" Jan asked, doubtfully.  She came back a moment later.  
"I'm afraid she isn't in the building; she doesn't seem to have 
been in since early this morning.  I saw her this morning when I 
delivered the sympathy cards to Agent Mulder from the 
department.  Maybe she is there.  Would you like me to try her 
cellular number?"  She knew Skinner was partisan, and didn't 
think he'd appreciate the picture she had taken of Scully cozily 
sleeping at Mulder's bed side on company time, but she believed 
Kersh would.  Nonetheless, she would continue to point out 
Scully's dereliction of duty.  She had double-checked.  Scully 
did not have an assigned case; there should be no reason for her 
not to be at work in the federal building.  "Unless you've sent 
her out of the area again?"  She knew Skinner had covered for 
Scully's unauthorized trips to New Mexico and Africa, and she 
had carefully documented the after-the-fact justifications.  She 
wanted to protect Skinner, and believed his misguided defense 
of his two black sheep agents would adversely affect both his 
career and her own.  If she could just get him off the hook, 
she'd turn in Mulder and Scully to OPR in a flash.  She hadn't 
figured out how, just yet, and she wasn't willing to let Walter 
take the fall.  Her boss figured rather more in her fantasies than 
he would be comfortable with, but she had planned a campaign 
to change that.  Skinner dismissed her peremptorily, and she 
mistook his irritation with her for irritation with Dana Scully.

After Janice had left, Skinner debated for awhile.  He picked up 
his phone to call Scully, then put it away.  On a hunch, he took a 
short trip to Scully's office.  He found a physics textbook lying 
prominently on her desk.  He checked the index, looked up 
'Faraday cage' and turned to the appropriate page.  The 
definition was highlighted, and as he had hoped, Scully had 
scrawled a more useful note to him in the margin.  He was 
grateful for her effort and insight, but was not about to live his 
life literally inside a metal cage.  He also couldn't see himself 
having enough warning of Krycek's intentions to escape into an 
elevator, van, or what have you.  It didn't seem likely to be 
useful, but you never knew.  The note, however, continued on 
to the next page.  Her next idea, although not a cure, seemed 
much more practical and...portable. He hope she and her 
enigmatic friends could make it work.  

He returned upstairs, stopping Janice as she was locking the 
door behind her.  He gripped her arm.  She gasped, though not 
in surprise as he guessed.  "Janice.  When Agent Scully comes 
to see me next, I want you to buzz me immediately- no matter 
what meeting I happen to be in.  Anything she gives to you for 
me, I want you to place directly into my hands-undisturbed- as 
fast as humanly possible.  Lives may be at stake.  Do you 
understand me?"  His countenance was redder than usual, and 
Jan realized just exactly how close she had come to bearing the 
full brunt of Skinner's temper.  Her eyes widened.  She said 
nothing, but the whites of her eyes gave her away.  He nodded.  
"Good."  He realized he had stepped a bit over the line, and 
backed down.  He released his grip, and patted her arm 
awkwardly.  "This is very important-to me personally.  I need 
your complete cooperation on this."  First the stick, then the 
carrot.  His voice dropped so it would have been audible to no 
one but her.  "The life Agent Scully saves just might be my 
own."

"Sir, are you...?"

"Not now, Janice.  This isn't the time or the place, but I 
appreciate your concern."  He straightened up, and was back to  
his usual professional self.  "Good night, Janice."
She left, unsure whether he had just placed a great deal of trust 
in her, or whether she had just been finessed by a master 
manipulator.  

6:00 PM
Lone Gunman's Apartment

Scully returned to the lair well-fed and somewhat rested.    
Frohike, at least, greeted her warmly.  "Come in, Agent Scully, 
come in!  I saw Agent Mulder this afternoon.  He said he was 
sorry to have missed you."

"I did stop by, I checked his charts, but didn't want to awaken 
him.  He'll probably be able to go home in a day or two.  I hope 
you didn't tell him anything about our work..."

"Why not?" asked Langley, belligerently.  He was the only one 
of the three still somewhat suspicious of Scully's true allegiance.  
He wasn't going to be taken in my her pretty face, graceful and 
petite form...he stopped those thoughts in their tracks!

"Because he'd have gotten up from his deathbed to come help 
us, you idiot," responded an impatient Frohike.  "Of course I 
didn't.  There's not much he could do to help us at this point, 
anyway.  Come, see what we've got so far.  Then Langley and I 
are going to turn it over to you and Byers, while we get our 
beauty sleep."  Scully bit her tongue on her almost automatic 
retort, but the mischievous look in her eyes and the almost, but 
not quite, suppressed smile gave her away.  "Out with it, 
Scully!"  She shook her head in denial.

"I know what you're thinking."  Frohike was secretly pleased to 
see the mirth on Scully's face.  It had been too long since she 
had been able to relax like this.

"Then I don't need to say it."

Frohike turned unaccountable serious, remembering a short 
exchange he and Mulder had shared at the hospital, which he 
wasn't about to share with anyone, least of all her.  "Don't be so 
sure about that.  Assuming someone knows what your are 
thinking or feeling is a very treacherous path to follow.   Don't 
go there, Scully."  His look bored straight into her skull until he 
was certain she had gotten the message.  Byers and Langley 
looked at each other, clueless about the Frohike's change in 
tone, but shrugged it off quickly as they showed Scully how far 
they had come.

6 AM  Assistant Director Walter Skinner's Apartment

Skinner awoke from a nightmare, blankets tossed off, sheet 
wrapped tightly around his legs.  His chest uncovered was damp 
with sweat.  Skinner's biceps bulged and his hands were 
clenched tightly around a pillow which, in his dream, had been 
Alex Krycek's neck.  He swore in frustration, it had been a 
good nightmare; though he himself had been doomed, he was 
taking his nemesis with him.  

He heard a knock on his door; an earlier one must have been 
what had awakened him.  He grabbed his gun from the bedside 
table after untangling his lower limbs from the sheets, and in one 
fluid motion got up, out of bed and to the door.  He wasn't 
surprised to see Agent Scully at his door, and he let her in 
quickly, the lights in his apartment still off.  
Uncharacteristically, she was carrying a briefcase.  

She set it down on the coffee table, turning on a lamp so Skinner 
could see what was inside the briefcase she opened.  She 
glanced up at him, and saw rivulets of sweat beading down his 
face, glistening off his pecs and his abs.  Unconsciously, she bit 
her lower lip in appreciation.  His face was intense, his brown 
eyes burning into her, and she began to feel unaccountably 
warm.  Uncomfortable, she looked down and picked up a 
manila envelope.

"Here's my preliminary report, Sir.  It describes in full technical 
detail how and why this device," she gestured at the box in the 
briefcase, "can save your life.  Essentially, it jams radio 
frequencies.  You'll be needing to recharge the batteries 
periodically, but it will be running continuously transmitting 
white noise on the radio frequency channel the nanocytes 
receive.  However, it is a low power transmitter, so it must be in 
the same room with you to be effective.  You are going to need 
to bring it everywhere with you."  She looked up at her boss 
sternly, "and I mean EVERYWHERE."

"Understood, Agent."  For once, he didn't brush off her 
concern.  He'd been living in fear of the horrid little things 
which had been implanted in his body for so long, he was happy 
to have a viable solution to his problem; happy he was at last 
going to be able to hunt down and destroy Alex Krycek.

"We put quite a bit of thought into the apparatus.  In addition to 
transmitting the jamming signal, it also receives the signal being 
jammed."

Skinner was suddenly becoming uncomfortable; he didn't like 
the sound of this.  "If it can receive the signal through the 
jamming it is creating, how can you be sure the nanocytes 
can't?"

"We're using a technique called digital signal processing.  Since 
we are creating the jamming frequencies, we can digitally 
remove them from the signal being received, and analyze the 
results looking for a transmission."

"You are sure this works?  You understand this?  Have you 
tested it?"

"It works; I understand how it works.  There is an explanation 
in the report, as I said earlier.  We tested it as extensively as we 
could in the time we had.  When it receives a signal, it 
automatically dials this pager."  Scully handed it to him.  "If you 
receive the code 666, it means that there has been a signal 
transmitted to your nanocytes.  The code 111 means your 
transmitter needs new batteries.  If you receive the code 666 and 
it is not possible to immediately identify and neutralize the threat,
I'd strongly recommend that you get yourself quickly into a 
faraday cage, like I mentioned earlier.  If Krycek catches on that 
his signal is being jammed, he could easily return with a more 
powerful transmitter which could overwhelm our electronic 
countermeasures; however, this should ensure that you get at 
least a little warning."

Skinner picked up the device carefully, cradling it as if it were 
made of spun glass.  "Is it working right now?"

Scully smiled.  "It is, indeed."

Skinner set it down gingerly into its case, thickly padded with 
closed-cell foam.  Skinner put his hand on her shoulder, 
squeezing hard.  "Thank you, Scully."  His voice was thick with 
exhaustion or emotion, she couldn't be sure which.

"There is more."  Skinner nodded abruptly for her to continue.  
"Right now, your nanocytes are set to reproduce only minimally; 
if the concentration of active machines drops below a certain 
amount, they begin reproducing until the concentration rises 
above that threshold.  That is why filtering your blood didn't 
work.  They reproduce unbelievably quickly; the fewer there 
were, the more quickly they reproduced.  We've been 
experimenting with transmitting signals.  We've found the 
command that turns them on to reproduce at a maximum rate.  
We haven't found a destruct code, however, we can turn off 
their reproductive ability entirely.  We'd like you to transmit that 
signal.  After that, complete filtration of your blood might 
eliminate the threat entirely; complete blood replacement would 
definitely eliminate it.  If you are unwilling to risk such medical 
procedures, which can have serious side effects, time itself will 
do the job, eventually."

"How quickly?"

"We really don't know yet.  As the nanocytes break down, they 
won't be replaced, but we don't have enough data yet to 
accurately say how long it will take.  If you'll consent to giving 
more blood samples, we can monitor for them and after a few 
days or weeks give you a better idea."  Skinner muttered 
something Scully couldn't comprehend.  "What was that, Sir?"

"Vampires; every doctor I have every met was a vampire; you all 
want my blood."

"I assure you, Sir, I have only your best interest at heart."  She 
looked a little hurt, not surprisingly since she had been working 
so hard on this for him, and his apparent ingratitude stung a bit, 
though she knew it was supposed to be a joke.

"I know you do, Agent Scully.  I appreciate everything you have 
been doing for me.  The results, quite frankly, are better than I 
had hoped for."

Scully nodded, turning around to leave.  She looked over her 
shoulder.  "Most of the credit for this has to go to Frohike, 
Byers and Langley.  I couldn't have done it without them.  
They've been working on this non-stop since I dropped the 
problem in their laps.  I'll be back in a minute.  I've got the other
transmitter in the car; it would be best to get this done sooner 
rather than later."

Skinner nodded and let her out the door.  Scully returned 
quickly.  She worked in silence, set up the transmitter, then 
activated it without any ceremony.  Skinner didn't know it was 
over until she started packing up.  "That's it?  All there was to 
it?"

Scully smiled.  "All but the blood test.  I'm going to need to 
confirm this actually worked."  Skinner grimaced and held out 
his arm.  Scully worked professionally, and the procedure was 
over quickly and caused very little pain.  Scully put a Band-Aid 
over the bit of cotton gauze and was finished.  She put the vial 
of blood away carefully.

"Scully?  Why don't you just leave that transmitter here with me; 
that way, if I get reinfected I can just fix the problem without 
bothering you."

Scully looked up at Skinner, her eyes flashing.  "I don't think 
so.  We are going to need to keep this carefully monitored using 
blood samples so I can make sure that things are progressing as 
they should be.  If you get reinfected, there is no guarantee that 
they well be operating on the same frequencies, and I need to 
know sooner rather than later.  Frankly, not getting me involved 
sooner might have gotten you killed.  Sir," she added as an 
after-thought.  

Skinner took his rebuke stoically.  "I did what I thought best, 
Agent Scully.  I couldn't risk involving you and Agent Mulder 
any further.  Besides, if Krycek managed to oversee what 
you've been doing, I'm certain he could nullify its effects.  I had 
to wait on this."

"You'd still be waiting on it, Sir, if you hadn't made that 
comment to me about being compromised.  If you didn't trust 
me to do this job, then you should have sought out someone else 
to take care of the little problem of an FBI Assistant Director 
being blackmailed."

"Scully, it is not that I don't trust you..."

She looked at him disbelievingly, but said nothing.

He tried again.  "There was too much potential danger involved 
in it, and I was...am under explicit orders not to try anything of 
this nature."

Scully shook her head.  "I don't honestly see how there could be 
more danger in it for you than there was already, or for me, 
given that my boss had been...turned."

"Scully, I would never have acted against you or Agent Mulder.  
There is no way Krycek could have convinced me to do that."

"Putting you in a position not to help us has virtually the same 
effect, Sir."

"Agent Scully, I apologize.  I was wrong not to come to you 
sooner, if not immediately after I was threatened."

"If you continue to act as if you can handle everything by 
yourself, you're going to get yourself killed.  And I, I...would 
hate to see that," she added softly, turning away from him, so 
she didn't see the smile that just barely cracked the corner of his 
mouth.

"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black, Scully?"   She felt a 
hand on her shoulder and turned around.  Her boss pulled her 
into a rough embrace.  "Thank you, Dana.  You have no idea 
what it means to me, to have this weight lifted off my shoulders.  
I'm sorry, I should have come to you sooner."  He released her, 
and they both stood uncomfortably for a moment.

She smiled briefly.  "But that doesn't mean that if you had it to 
do over again that you'd do it any differently, does it?"

He laughed.  "Probably not, Agent Scully.  Probably not.  It 
may be too late for this old dog to learn new tricks."

"You're not so old.  And you're already learning."  Skinner let 
her have the last word.  She gathered up her equipment and left 
his apartment.  



                                     "Compromised" Part 2 of 4
                                                 By Mostly Harmless

Scully drove back to her apartment.  She parked outside, but 
didn't immediately get out of her car.  She was exhausted; she 
had been working very long hours, no doubt that accounted for 
the emotional state she was in.  She tried not to think about 
what 
had just happened.  For a moment, just one brief moment, 
Walter Skinner had let her inside his seemingly impenetrable 
emotional shield, then he had promptly ejected her.  During the 
last few days she had recognized her powerful attraction to him, 
and realized he would be a man worth having.  But though she 
cared for him, she didn't love him, and her life was complicated 
enough already.  She thought about him lingeringly for a 
minute, then deliberately set it aside.  It was not to be.  He 
would never allow it to happen and she lacked the emotional 
strength and energy to go where she wasn't wanted.  She felt 
sorry for him briefly; he had been so alone since Sharon had 
left 
him, but the emotional distance he kept seemed to be his choice, 
and she would respect that.  Needing something she wouldn't 
find from Skinner, she turned the key in the ignition and drove 
for the hospital.


Scully arrived before visiting hours, but, on the strength of the 
connections she had made over the years at the hospital, was 
allowed in to see her partner.  Unlike Mulder, Scully left in her 
wake people who remembered her fondly, people who were 
willing to go the extra distance for her because she had gone the 
extra mile for them.  Her people skills were one of the many 
ways she and Mulder complemented each other.  Mulder could 
talk to the crackpots, the ones no one else, herself included, 
would take seriously or believe.  This enabled him to hear the 
full story, learn facts no one else would ever have been told.  
Scully's skills lay with the 'normal' people, who were 
immediately turned off by the very nature of the paranormal 
investigations.  She empathized with their points of view, and 
understood how best to handle such delicate situations to 
maximize their cooperation.  Between the two of them, Mulder 
and Scully could get information out of just about anyone.  It 
was just one of the aspects that made their teamwork so 
successful.  

Mulder wasn't awake yet.  Scully sat down by his bedside, 
thinking about communication.  So recently, she had been 
afraid he would, at best, never be able to speak again, at worst 
slowly slip away, beyond the powers of her medical arts.  She 
had heard that Mulder had been lucid briefly, long enough to 
demonstrate the psychic powers which were killing him.  He'd 
been able to read minds, even the 'mind' of a computer.  She 
wondered if he had read her mind when she visited, and if so, 
what he had learned there, and whether he would ever mention 
it to her.  All she really remembered thinking about was him, 
wanting to persuade him to hold on until she could find the cure 
she despaired of ever finding.  In the end, she had failed him, 
really, hadn't found the cure, hadn't even resolved the X-file, 
had let the alien ship disappear undocumented.  She doubted he 
would take her to task over that, doubted he would even 
mention it unless she did.  

Mulder never really mentioned her shortcomings...except for 
her failure to believe, her unwillingness to accept his 
paranormal explanations immediately.  It was something of a 
game between them, and while his complaints sometimes 
contained a stinging bite of truth, she took them they way he 
intended.  Scully almost wished he would criticize her more 
often; over the years she had developed excellent reflexive 
defenses against put-downs.   In a twisted way, she felt as if 
she were being taken more seriously, was more a part of the 
team, when she was being harshly criticized.  She hated people 
making excuses for her or overlooking her errors, as if nothing 
better could be expected of her.  She wanted to be held to the 
highest standards, and knowing that Mulder didn't hold her to 
them was disconcerting at best, and sometimes made her feel 
unworthy.  Her partner was acknowledged, grudgingly, to be 
one of the most brilliant people in the FBI.  She felt sometimes 
as if she were trailing along on his coat-tails, there to bear 
witness to his triumphs, and lend an occasional hand, more of a 
side-kick than a partner.  She'd saved his life a few times, had 
some medical skills he found useful, and stuck by him when no 
one else would.  She knew he valued her, but felt his emotional 
ties to her blinded his judgment; he gave her far more credit 
than she deserved. 

Scully wanted her partner to believe she could have been able to 
cure him, to rescue him without assistance, to solve the X-file, 
to prove conclusively the genetic link between the aliens and 
humans.  She wanted to believe it, herself.  She wanted to 
believe she had failed because she had fallen short, hadn't 
worked hard enough, had been too emotional because she was 
too close to the case.  She didn't want to believe she had failed 
because she simply wasn't good enough, yet she knew that to 
be the simple truth.  Some truths weren't meant for her to 
know...because they were beyond her comprehension.  And 
Mulder, Mulder would be of little help.  He would excuse her 
failure at best; more likely wouldn't consider it a failure at all.  
He wanted to protect her; she had known that for a long time.  
It made her feel weak, and more determined to prove herself.  It 
didn't help that he constantly was asking her how she was.  He 
would rarely accept her answer of 'I'm fine.'  He seemed not 
only to expect, but actually desire that she display her weakness 
rather than overcome it.  She knew he meant well, appreciated 
his caring, and usually felt better after she had cried on his 
shoulder, but hated the way it made her feel 
afterwards...ashamed.

Mulder awoke to see Scully staring off into space, her face a 
tight mask of inexpression.  It hurt him to see her like this, 
knowing she didn't trust him enough to reveal her inner self.   
She was so strong, so self-reliant.  He wondered again why 
she stuck with him, when she had lost and had given up so 
much for him.  He felt a little unworthy of her devotion; heaven 
knows he rarely gave her half the credit she deserved.  He 
knew he took her for granted, and rarely thanked her often 
enough for what she had done for him, both personally and 
professionally.  He knew without a doubt if it weren't for her 
presence in his life, he would most likely be lying in a cold, 
unmarked grave.  At best he would be sitting alone in his 
basement office spinning his wheels in the same circles, getting 
so caught up in his own clever ideas he never actually looked 
objectively enough to find the truth.  Of course, he probably 
would have been kicked out of the Bureau by now; he knew 
himself well enough to know he'd probably be living on the 
streets, panhandling, his money split between paying to see 
'Live Girls' and buying booze.  He snorted at this pessimistic 
view of where his obsessive, addictive behavior would lead 
him, and the noise caught Scully's attention.

For a moment she looked at him almost sadly.  His body was 
wasted from the many days of improper food and no exercise.  
He'd lost weight and muscle tone, but she doubted the 
irrepressible Mulder could be confined to a bed much longer.  
She smiled slightly.

"What are you thinking?"  Mulder asked, his voice cracking, 
not yet back to normal.

Scully shook her head slightly.  She handed him a cup of room-
temperature water and helped him to drink.  "How are you 
feeling?"

"I'm feeling like I want to know how you are feeling."

Scully barely smiled.  "Nothing important."

"It is to me, Scully."  She took his hand, half to distract him, 
half to reassure him that she was fine.  

"I was thinking it won't be long before you are on your feet 
again, Mulder, and wondering how exactly I'm going to 
convince you to follow medical advice for once in your life."

He smiled.  "No, before that.  While I was asleep.  What were 
you thinking?"

"You aren't usually this persistent.  I was just worrying, I 
guess.  Nothing important."

"Scully, you aren't evading me that easily, not this time.  I have 
you at a disadvantage."

"You do?"  Scully scanned down his bed-ridden body, which 
still had various tubes attached to it.

"I do.  I'm a patient in need.  You are a doctor.  It's in your 
bloodstream to try and make me feel better."

Scully laughed, more naturally this time.  "Okay, you win.  I 
was thinking about how close I came to losing my partner this 
time, and that I didn't like feeling so helpless.  I can't imagine 
that surprises you at all."

"Not really.  But you didn't lose me Scully, and if it weren't for 
you, I wouldn't be here at all.  I'm here.  Now."  He squeezed 
her hand to emphasize his continued presence among the living.  
"And I'm getting better.  I'll be back to work with you in no 
time."

"Well, obviously I've blown it as a doctor; I came here to make 
you feel better and here you are making me feel better.  I'd 
better go; I see the nurse coming with your medication."
She didn't see Janice lurking in the hall with a telephoto 
camera. 

Scully didn't give him an option, didn't give him time to 
protest. She squeezed his hand.  When he didn't smile, she 
caressed the side of his face.

Snap.  Janice took a photograph.

He smiled up at her reassuringly.  Scully bent over and kissed 
him on the forehead, and his eyes closed.

Snap.

Mulder whispered.  "Scully.  Making you feel better makes me 
feel better than anything else."  When his eyes opened, Scully 
was already gone.  He doubted she had heard what he said, and 
knew he had to make time to tell her what she meant to him 
sometime soon.  If he didn't he might lose her forever.  He'd 
make certain he told her the next time he saw her privately, no 
matter what; it was that important.  More important than 
anything he could think of.  The nurse came in to check on him, 
and her ministrations distracted him from thoughts of his 
enigmatic partner.

But Scully had heard him; it was one of the reasons she split 
out of there so quickly.  She couldn't handle it.  In a flash, she 
was out in the hall, her heart pounding.  She was both excited 
and scared by his declaration, and hadn't wanted to hear if he 
had anything to add.  She wasn't ready to handle it, and this 
close to a near-death experience, wasn't prepared to fully 
believe it, either.  

Scully emerged from Mulder's hospital room so quickly, Janice 
had no chance to conceal her presence.  Scully noticed the 
camera and the guilty look on the face of Skinner's secretary, 
and began to put two and two together.  

Scully acknowledged Janice's presence with a tight smile.  
Janice returned it, measure for measure.  They parted, Scully 
finally aware she had an adversary to be reckoned with.  


Janice wasn't completely happy with the evidence she had been 
gathering against her two targets.  Fortunately, she knew how 
easily evidence could be...manipulated.  She began to think 
about what she wanted to do, and how to do it subtly enough 
that even an expert would have difficulty finding the changes.  
She dropped her film into a guaranteed overnight developer, 
selecting 4" x 6" glossy prints.  Hopefully, the photos would 
lend themselves to slight changes...a kiss on the forehead 
turned into a kiss on the lips, for instance.  As she began 
thinking about what she wanted to see, her plans became more 
and more elaborate.  She forgot the cardinal rule: KISS.  'Keep 
it simple, stupid!'  She began to make plans to let herself into 
Mulder's still-vacant apartment, so she could photograph the 
setting she desired from many possible angles and different 
lightings.  She stopped to pick up a dozen roles of film on her 
way into work.  She didn't honestly feel as if she were about to 
fabricate evidence; Janice simply wanted evidence of the 
misconduct she was certain existed, but that she would have 
difficulty proving.  

When Janice returned to the J. Edgar Hoover building, she 
noted that Agent Scully was nowhere to be found.  In fact, 
upon checking, she found that the agent had missed a 
committee meeting without even calling in her excuse.  Janice 
noted that one in red ink, underlining it twice.  It was an honor 
to be appointed to a committee, one apparently wasted on Dana 
Scully.  

Scully awoke at noon, having gone home to bed at about 8 AM.  
She wasn't even fully aware what day it was.  She dragged 
herself out of bed and into the shower.  If she couldn't be 
rested, she could at least be clean.  Hopefully, no major crises 
would arise, and tonight she could finally get back onto 
something resembling a normal schedule.

That afternoon, Scully went to Quantico to set up her long term 
blood tests to monitor the concentration of potentially active 
nanocytes in Skinner's blood.  She worked out a protocol to be 
followed, which included activating the ones in her sample to 
see what percentage would actively reproduce on command.  
She did many baseline runs, on both of her recent samples, to 
get an idea of the statistical variations she could expect. 

In spite of her best intentions, Scully realized belatedly that it 
was already 11 PM.  There simply weren't enough hours in the 
day.  She also realized she had made a mistake- she hadn't 
warned Skinner that she would be sending the activation 
signal...if he happened to be at Quantico and the jamming 
signal didn't work, it could have been disastrous.  

At first, she didn't worry about it; the chances were so slim that 
anything had happened.  Gradually, the worry gnawed at her.  
She didn't want to wake the AD, but...If she could be certain 
he'd call her if he relapsed, she wouldn't have been so 
concerned, but that was one thing she couldn't trust him to do.
She also couldn't trust the phone lines; she decided to bite the 
bullet and drop by his apartment at night yet again.



Janice happened to be driving out to the store to pick up milk 
and orange juice for the morning, which she had forgotten 
earlier, her route coincidentally taking her past Walter Skinner's 
apartment.  She usually drove by slowly hoping to see his 
muscled frame silhouetted against the light in his apartment.  
She'd taken a number of spectacular photographs with her 
telephoto lens. Once she'd managed to get up onto the rooftop 
of a neighboring building, and though she had had to spend the 
entire night there, it had been worth it. She only wished she had 
brought more film designed for the low light levels.  She 
particularly appreciated his habit of walking out onto his 
balcony in various states of undress- though that would have to 
stop once he became hers.  She wasn't willing to share even the 
view of him with casual passers-by.

Before reaching Skinner's apartment building, she glanced up 
and saw, unmistakably, Agent Scully speeding on past at nearly 
midnight.  Janice decided to follow her- and it turned out, it 
didn't take her out of her way at all.  In fact, she was deeply 
disturbed to see Scully park in Janice's usual spot and head 
towards Skinner's apartment.

Scully didn't notice the tail she'd picked up only a few blocks 
before.  She parked and went in, too tired to make her usually 
paranoid check of her surroundings.  She was a little nervous 
this time, but told herself what she was doing was in Skinner's 
best interest.  

Skinner, hearing the knock on his door, wasn't surprised to see 
Agent Scully in the hall.  Everyone else used the doorbell.  "To 
what do I owe the honor of your visit tonight?"

Scully smiled slightly.  "Health check."  She brought out a 
syringe, and Skinner dutifully rolled up his sleeve.  She had 
him sit down, placing his left forearm against the table. She 
pulled out a piece of surgical tubing to tourniquet the arm, 
palpated his arm to find the best vein, and proceeded to sterilize 
the chosen location.  "You didn't happen to go to Quantico this 
afternoon, did you Sir?"

"No, I didn't, Agent.  Why?"

"I've been continuing my analysis there, which requires 
transmitting the activation signal to the nanocytes."

He grunted.  "Don't you trust the jammer?"

Scully shrugged. "I do, but I'm bearing Murphy's Law firmly 
in mind.  If anything can go wrong, it will.  And I do not" she 
said quite firmly, "wish to take any chances with your life."

Skinner shook his head, not quite believing the devotion he 
heard in the voice of the woman he knew didn't even trust him 
completely.  "These experiments will be on-going?"

"Yes."

"Then I will make it a point to notify you if I will be going to 
Quantico, so we can avoid any...accidents."

Scully finished the blood draw, removed the tourniquet, and 
placed a Band-Aid over the puncture mark.  "Then we 
understand each other."

Skinner, still seated, looked up at her intently.  "I'm not sure I 
understand you at all."

Scully laughed, brushing it off.  She went to his bathroom to 
dispose of the syringe, and was surprised to find him waiting 
for her as she emerged, two cups of coffee in hand.  Skinner 
gestured her out onto the balcony.  It was cool and breezy so 
Scully wrapped both her hands around her mug to capture the 
escaping heat.  "Thank you."

"I should be the one thanking you, Agent Scully.  I believe 
what you are doing goes well above and beyond the call of 
duty.  I realize you and I have had many...miscommunications 
over the years, and I want you to know how much I value your 
efforts...and your...friendship."  She was shivering slightly, 
and Skinner slipped his arm around her shoulders, holding her 
close to the radiating furnace that was his body.  She didn't pull 
away, but didn't lean into the embrace, either.  

Scully looked away over the balcony.  How was it she could be 
so close not to one man, but two, and yet still lack that 
indefinable something called being in love?  She wondered if 
she should spend the night with this man, if having sex could 
make up for the companionship she was missing in her life.  If 
Skinner had been anything to her but her boss, she would have 
given in to her impulses.  If she could have been certain there 
would be nothing beyond one glorious night together, she 
would have thrown caution to the wind anyway, would have 
committed what she believed in her heart to be a sin, would 
have let herself find comfort here.  But she couldn't be sure of 
that, couldn't be sure it wouldn't affect their relationship, that 
she wouldn't wind up hurting him...couldn't be sure Mulder 
would never find out.  And so, after several long minutes, she 
pulled away from the offer that had only been implicit, never 
explicit.  

Scully saw sadness, resignation and, yes, relief in his eyes as 
she stepped back.  "Thanks for the coffee."

"Anytime."  The word held a multitude of meanings.  

Scully smiled, picked up her bag and left.  

Janice watched from below, dumbfounded.  Walter 
and...Scully?  He was interested in that...that...vixen?  The ice 
queen herself?  Janice was absolutely flabbergasted, and she 
couldn't comprehend why Scully left.  He'd had his arm 
around her for heaven's sake!  How could she walk away from 
him?  How could Scully so callously reject the man Janice 
yearned for?  Perhaps she could find a way to comfort him on 
the rebound.  Her hatred for Scully, who had hurt her Walter, 
who had had the temerity to even approach him, who had 
seduced him away from her, grew without bounds.  

JEH Building, 11:30 AM

"Janice?"  Skinner stuck his head out the door that connected 
his inner office to the outer one.  "Could you ring Agent Scully 
and arrange for her to see me sometime this afternoon?"

"Of course, Sir."  Janice beamed her most patently false smile, 
and Skinner wondered what was up.  "How long will you be 
needing her for?"

"No more than half an hour, perhaps less."

Janice made a note to herself.  "Regarding?"

Skinner paused, frowning slightly.  "She'll know.  Thank 
you."  He retreated into the inner sanctum.

A few minutes later, Janice rang him.  "It appears, Sir, that 
Agent Scully can't make the time to talk with you this 
afternoon."  Skinner took the phone away from his ear and 
simply stared at the receiver.  After a moment, he hung it up, 
not even acknowledging his secretary's comment.  

He picked it up again, his fingers jamming down onto the 
keypad.  "Scully," she responded, her voice sounded 
distracted.

"Where are you, Agent Scully?"

"I'm at Quantico, Sir, preparing to do an autopsy."

"An autopsy?  Who died?"  Skinner really didn't like being out 
of the loop, especially when one of his agents was flying solo.

"Not one of my cases, Sir, just returning a favor for a favor."

Skinner could only imagine what favors Scully had needed to 
call in order to expedite her research into his nanocyte 
infestation.  Perhaps it was for something else entirely; she was 
well known as one of the best pathologists around, and 
Quantico had been unhappy to lose her services when she 
elected to become a field operative.  "Is that why you are too 
busy to meet with me?"

"Excuse me?"

"Did my secretary just try to call and arrange an appointment for 
this afternoon?"

"This afternoon?  No; for tomorrow afternoon, 2:15. Is there a 
problem with that?  Has something come up?"

"No, no, nothing like that.  Just a miscommunication, I think.  
Sorry to disturb you."

"No problem, Sir."  Scully stared down at the phone; Skinner 
never arranged his own appointments.  She wondered what, 
exactly, Janice's problem could be.  

Skinner summoned his assistant peremptorily into his presence.  
"Miss Weston," he began, and she shrank back.  He never 
called her that!  It was Jan, or at the very least, Janice! "We 
seem to be having a breakdown in our communications.  Are 
you unhappy working for me?  I'm sure I could arrange a 
transfer if it would suit you better."

"No...no, Sir!" she stammered.  

He nodded once.  "Then why, exactly, is it that I am having 
such trouble communicating with Agent Scully through you?"

"I assure you, I am doing my best to facilitate..."

"Spare me the excuses.  Just don't give me cause to have this 
conversation with you again.  Dismissed."  He watched her flee 
from his commanding presence, and wondered if he had been 
too harsh.  Normally, she was a perfectly adequate, even 
gifted, assistant.  He wondered what had come over her, what 
exactly had occurred between Scully and Janice.  Women.  
He'd never understand them.  He was already beginning to 
chafe at being so dependent on Scully's work for his life.  For 
his freedom.  It was time to take matters into his own hands.  It 
was time to track down Alex Krycek.

Georgetown University Hospital
8 PM

Scully arrived not long before visiting hours ended.  She 
recognized Mulder's voice from down the hall, arguing with his 
doctor.  Scully stood in the doorway of his hospital room, a 
smile playing across her lips, watching him argue heatedly 
about his condition and when he would be allowed to go home.  
The doctor was keeping his calm fairly well under the 
circumstances, doubtlessly wondering if his patient would faint 
or send himself into convulsions.  

Scully watched the interplay with amusement, glad for once that 
her partner was arguing with someone else.  Finally, he noticed 
her.  "Scully! "   Mulder looked expectant, as if he thought 
she'd come into the argument on his side, lend credence to his 
strident logic. The doctor looked grateful for the distraction.

Scully put her hands on her hips.  "Mulder, there is no point in 
arguing with Dr. Taylor.  Everyone in this room knows you 
can check yourself out, against medical advice.  What you can't 
do is convince this man," she pointed at Taylor, "that is a good 
idea.  You've got his medical opinion, which isn't going to 
change.  You can shop around for a second-opinion until you 
find one you like, but you're not going to convince the good 
doctor that you are right.  You've got his advice, now choose.  
Follow it or not, but don't try to badger him into changing it!"

Mulder deflated slightly.  "What's your opinion, Scully?"

Scully shook her head.  "I'm not playing that game today, 
Mulder.  I got you into this hospital, now it's their problem to 
convince you to stay."  Scully stepped out of the doorway so 
that Dr. Taylor could slink past her.  She moved towards him,  
secretly glad to see him more like his feisty self.  He captured 
her hand as soon as it came within reach, his eyes looking up at 
her imploringly.  

"I just want to go home, sleep in my own bed.  I'm tired of 
being in hospitals, tired of the medical procedures, the tests."

Scully picked up his chart, examining it carefully.  "They want 
you in the hospital for at least another 12 hours under 
observation.  They've got some strong justifications for it."

"Observation?  Not treatment?"

"That's right.  The medication's aren't anything you couldn't 
self-administer, and the IV doesn't seem to be necessary any 
more.  There is, however, a definite possibility of relapse; 
you're not out of danger yet, according to your test results."

"Monitored?"  He looked downcast.  He turned away, not 
wanting to ask what he hoped she'd volunteer.

Scully sighed and gave in.  "If you put it that way."

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to."  As she helped him get out of bed and 
dressed, she felt better about his decision.  He was stronger 
than she thought, allowing her assistance,  not requiring it.  

In fact, he was enjoying it.  He enjoyed the feel of her firm, 
sure hands disconnecting the IV, supporting him and helping 
him dress.  She arranged for his dismissal, and settled him into 
the required wheelchair for the trip to the hospital's door.  She 
took him home.  

Uncharacteristically, Mulder didn't fuss or fret at all.  In fact, 
he was feeling just well enough to enjoy her attention.  She 
made quite a production about taking care of him, from setting 
him comfortably in bed, to doing the necessary grocery 
shopping and preparing him a simple meal.  Everything was 
organized and efficient, and seemed to take about twice the 
effort about and three times the time that was strictly necessary.  
He smiled when he realized that she was enjoying taking care of 
him.  

Indeed, it wasn't really until she had Mulder safely ensconced 
in his own bed that she truly believed that everything was going 
to be fine.  She didn't want him to know how relieved she was.  
She was trying to cover her emotions with activity, trying not to 
break down now that it was over.  Her heart ached, and she 
wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms and cry herself 
out, to fall sleep listening to his heart beat rhythmically and 
strongly.  Nothing in the world was more important to her at 
the moment than the fate of this man.  She couldn't even 
castigate herself for her weakness.  She was so tired, her 
emotional strength was at its lowest ebb.  

Scully administered his medication, put the inside of her wrist 
to his forehead to check his temperature, and quietly turned out 
the light.  She wished him good night as she closed the door, 
most of the way but not completely.  She stood outside for a 
long moment, peering through the crack, until he caught her at 
it.  She retreated to his couch, pulling out a blanket.  She 
wasn't going anywhere tonight when he might need her.  
Besides, she was too tired to drive.  

Scully waited in the silence of his apartment, exhausted but 
keyed up and unable to sleep.  At last, she heard the soft sound 
of his snores, and tip-toed back into his room.  She knew the 
medication held him deeply under, and he wouldn't be likely to 
awaken.  She lay down by his side, pressing her cheek against 
his back until she could hear the lub-dub of his heart, and she 
sank into sleep.  

Scully awoke to sunlight streaming in the window.  In the 
night, her traitorous arm had stolen around him, and her head 
had pillowed itself on his chest.  Fortunately, he still slept.  
After a long, luxurious moment spent simply absorbing his 
presence, she sat up, smoothing the covers until all traces of her 
illicit presence were erased.  He would never know.

Except he did.  In the night, he had been comforted by her 
presence, watching her sleep had been a treat he rarely had the 
chance to indulge in.  Feeling her arm wrap around him like a 
lover's was something to be treasured.  Lulled by the drugs, 
he'd been able to stay awake only moments, and his last 
thought had been how much he would enjoy waking up next to 
her.  

When he awoke, of course, she was gone, with no sign she 
had ever been at his side.  He wondered if he had dreamed it all; 
unlikely as his dreams were rarely comfortable ones.  Whatever 
was going on inside her skull, she wasn't going to admit it to 
him.  If only they had awakened together.  If only.  If only it 
were true.  Realistically, he knew she had been exhausted; she 
had probably come in to check on him and unwittingly fallen 
asleep.  The data just weren't adequate to support the 
interpretation he wanted to make of how she felt towards him.  
He was going to have to do something soon.  Something to let 
her know how much she meant to him; something that would 
keep her by his side, but not be so intense he'd frighten her 
away.  Something that gave without demanding anything in 
return, that offered without asking.  He hoped he'd be able to 
find the words to describe her constant presence in his life.  
That was it!  She was his constant, his touchstone to reality.  
He'd have to remember that, when the opportunity presented 
itself.  

Janice, meanwhile, slept outside in the car.  She would be able 
to testify under oath that Scully had spent the night at Mulder's 
apartment, that they had shared the same bed.  With her 
binoculars, from a vantage point in a neighboring building, 
she'd been able to see Scully slip into his bed.  She didn't think 
the photos would come out well, though.  Some enhancement 
might be necessary...



It was only a few minutes after Mulder awakened that Scully, 
having heard him stir, tapped on the door and entered his 
bedroom.  Nothing seemed different about her expression, as if 
she hadn't, after all, spent the entire night before beside him.  
He seriously started to wonder if it had all been a dream 
induced by his medication.  If she'd really slept beside him, 
even believing him unaware of it, wouldn't he be able to tell?  
Wouldn't something be different? 

Mulder didn't realize how intently he'd been staring at her, and 
she jumped to the immediate conclusion that something was 
wrong.  "Mulder?  How are you feeling?"  Instantly, she 
assumed her doctor persona, and though he attempted to fend 
off her ministrations, he was thwarted.  In the end, it was 
simplest to give in gracefully, let his bandages be changed and 
answer her questions.  Finally, she stepped back, apparently 
satisfied he was going to live.  When he started to get out of 
bed she stopped him gruffly.  "Today you spend in bed."

Mulder knew he must be going to survive when he realized his 
mind had come up with all sorts of interesting connotations...  
"The bathroom.  I was just going to the bathroom."  She 
immediately moved to assist him, and he brushed her off.  He 
was starting to resent her intrusion into his privacy.  When he 
returned, he forgave all, as she appeared in his doorway 
bearing him his breakfast in bed.  He could get to like the 
service.  It smelled delicious...except something was obviously 
missing.  "Coffee?" he asked, plaintively.

Scully shook her head.  "Orange juice.  Build your immune 
system.  Coffee is both a diuretic and a stimulant, neither of 
which is appropriate."  Mulder's grudge started to return, and it 
must have shown.  

"Okay, but it's going to be decaf."

"I don't have any," he crowed triumphantly.

"You do now.  I did the grocery shopping yesterday.  You owe 
me one, Mulder, in the interest of your continued health, I even 
cleaned out the refrigerator...most of the things I threw out had 
definitely been there since well before you became 
incapacitated.  I was debating whether I was going to have to 
dispose some of it as biohazardous waste.  Seriously, Mulder, 
your lunch is in the fridge, and dinner only needs to be 
microwaved.  I left the instructions on the kitchen counter."

"You're leaving."  It was a statement, not a question.

She nodded.  "Some of us have work to do.  Not you; you're 
not cleared for work for at least another five days."  It was 
more likely three if he bounced back as quickly as usual, but if 
she told him that he'd go in today.  She knew with luck, she'd 
convince him to stay out for two.

"Five days."

Scully nodded.  "We almost lost you, Mulder, and if you don't 
want to be hospitalized again very soon, for once you'll listen 
to me."  Her voice wasn't soft, as he wished it would be, and 
he didn't like the use of 'we' instead of 'I'.  Scully placed his 
cell phone next to his bed.  "If you need anything call."

"Are you coming back later?"

Scully hesitated.  "If you need me to, I'll be here.  I'll call you 
later."

"I always need you, Scully."  This definitely didn't have the 
desired effect, as she rolled her eyes at him on her way out.

Mulder looked down at his breakfast, appetite diminished.  It 
just didn't seem as palatable anymore.  He stuck his fork into 
the scrambled eggs and forced them into his mouth anyway.  
After a bite or two more, he pushed the plate aside and got up to 
take a shower.



             "Compromised" Part 3 of 4
                             By Mostly Harmless

Scully was stepping out of the elevator as Diana Fowley entered 
the front door of Mulder's apartment building.  Their eyes 
instantly locked.  After a moment of mutual surprise, they 
shared an unbidden thought, 'What does he see in her, 
anyway?'  Diana was distinctly unhappy to see Scully 
emerging, jumping to the obvious conclusion they had spent the 
night together.  Scully was no happier to see the woman she 
trusted least in the entire world headed up to Mulder's 
apartment, where he lay...vulnerable.  Yet she couldn't think of 
anything to do or say that would in any way improve upon her 
tactical position.  

Mulder wouldn't welcome her interference in his personal life; 
they had had that out before, and she had lost decisively.  She 
didn't understand how her relationship with Mulder could be so 
rock-solid on so many fronts, and yet be so tenuous when 
Diana Fowley entered the picture.  She was suddenly extremely 
glad she had awakened before Mulder had, that he hadn't 
witnessed her moment of unwelcome weakness.  

Scully and Fowley turned away simultaneously, each believing 
she had lost the silent contest.  Diana believed she had played 
her cards wrong, and cursed her timing...she might have just 
lost the last chance she had to reclaim the man she desired, but 
wasn't going to give Scully the satisfaction of knowing that.  
Scully, on the other hand, truly believed that Diana Fowley had 
a way of mesmerizing her partner...rather like a female praying 
mantis seducing her mate while preparing to eat it afterwards, 
all the while the male going to its possible doom, knowing its 
chances of survival weren't good but unable to resist the 
pheromonal spell cast about him.  The smile this metaphor 
brought to her lips was real, and Agent Fowley completely 
misinterpreted it as an expression of triumph.  No one spoke 
until Dana was at the front door, and the elevator doors were 
closing on Fowley.  

Scully looked her straight in the eye and said, "Thank you," 
forced by her own nature to acknowledge the other's assistance 
in Mulder's rescue.

Agent Fowley misinterpreted the remark as condescending 
sarcasm.  A death-mark on her head for having betrayed her 
allegiance to CGB Spender in order to save Fox Mulder, she 
went to her grave believing the worst of Dana Scully.  

Mulder decided the first thing he needed was a good, long 
shower.  Scully, however, had anticipated him.  A pink-and-
purple flowery shower cap was hanging where he couldn't 
possibly miss it...of course, he needed to keep the bandages on 
his head dry. He looked in the mirror, deciding that it looked 
better on him than it would on Scully; they just weren't her 
colors.  Mulder stood in the shower, water coursing down over 
his body, steam rising to obscure the bathroom mirror. The 
water was as hot as he could make it, hot enough to clear his 
sinuses.  It was good to be home again, for everything to be 
normal again.  He had despaired of ever being able to do 
something as simple as shave himself, and was able to take 
pleasure in the small, daily tasks such as shaving that used to 
seem a nuisance, but now symbolized his freedom from the 
paralysis.  

He looked down at himself; he'd lost some flesh, particularly in 
his upper body, the muscle tone wasn't what it had once been, 
but he flexed his biceps and decided he was still in much better 
shape than many of the men his age.  His stomach was flat, his 
thighs and calves defined from playing basketball and jogging 
so often.  He considered going for a run; he'd been looking 
forward to that since he'd first awakened in the hospital.  He 
was still feeling weak and easily tired, far too rapidly 
exhausted.  He thought for a moment he heard something, 
possibly Scully returning.  He smiled, knowing she'd let 
herself in.  Maybe if she came back, it would be a good time to 
talk...

Almost, Fowley turned around and went straight back 
downstairs; she almost lost her nerve.  She dithered at his door, 
trying to decide if she should knock, if she really wanted 
confirmation that it was over between them forever.  Finally, 
she screwed up her courage and knocked tentatively.  No 
answer.  She knocked again.  She pounded harder.  There was 
no answer.  She turned, brushing away an angry tear.  Scully 
must have phoned him and warned him she was coming.  
Precisely twenty-four hours later, Diana Fowley was found 
murdered outside her apartment.  It wasn't a coincidence.  Alex 
Krycek had her under surveillance.  Her exchange with Scully 
he'd understood and the timing suited his ironic, macabre sense 
of humor.

Mulder was disappointed to find Scully had not returned after 
all.  The disappointment, combined with the exertion of taking a 
shower was enough to send him straight back to bed and to 
sleep.  He didn't sleep as well as he had with Scully beside 
him, and hoped to sleep until she called.  When he awoke at 
noon, stomach grumbling, it was to silence.  He looked over at 
the now room-temperature eggs in disgust and carried the 
majority of the breakfast she carefully prepared for him and 
dumped it into the garbage can.  She never had made him the 
decaf, he reflected, knowing it would only have gotten cold.  
He wondered if she knew that, too.  



Janice was at the drug store near her office during her lunch 
break, picking up photographs and purchasing film when she 
met the most interesting man.  He accidentally brushed against 
her as she was leaving the developing counter.  Somewhat to 
her surprise, he apologized.

"I'm sorry, miss..."  He stood, eyes widening, open-mouthed 
and a silly grin crossed his face.  "Wow."  He looked down at 
his shoes, embarrassed, his pale complexion tingeing red.  
"Excuse me.  It is just that...that..."  His guileless dark eyes 
looked up into hers.  He started again.  "Hi.  I'm Al."

"Nice to meet you, Al."  She was a little worried by his odd 
behavior and she moved past him towards the door.  She had 
almost reached it before he responded.

"Wait!"  his voice traveled after her.  "Please wait.  I can't let 
you walk out of my life like this."

"I'm not in your life."  She looked back over her shoulder.  He 
was a handsome man, noticeable younger than Skinner, with a 
leaner build but tall and athletic.  He was clean-cut, clean-
shaven and wore stylish casual clothing.  He was wearing an 
endearing, boyish grin, oddly attractive on a man his age.  She 
stopped, and he walked towards her eagerly.

"I know that!  It's just...I just...well, it feels like I was just 
struck by lightening.  I just met the most beautiful girl in the 
world, and I don't even know your name!  I guess you must be 
married, though, the best ones always seem to be already 
taken."  

He sounded so honest, looked so all-American and Janice felt 
extremely flattered.  "I'm Jan, and I'm single," she answered, 
shyly.  She allowed him to shake her hand.  She felt his hand 
trembling just a bit, his palm slightly sweaty.  He held her hand 
as long as he reasonably could, but no longer.

"I don't suppose I could talk you into meeting me for coffee, 
could I?"

"I don't know..."

"I promise you, I won't hassle you.  Just coffee, a public place, 
you can bring a friend if you're worried.  I just want to have a 
chance to talk with you...let you get to know me.  There's 
something about you..."  He bit his lower lip, looking at her 
through dark, lowered lashes.  

Janice gave in, in spite of her better sense.  This man was oddly 
compelling, and she liked the way she felt when he looked at 
her.  She wasn't scared at all...just excited and slightly 
aroused.  "Okay...say, Starbuck's?  Eight o'clock?"

"The one around the corner?"  She nodded.  "Great. Uh, well, 
I'd better get back to work."  She smiled as she left the store, 
knowing his eyes were following her all the way to her car.  
She'd never expected this...the day was really looking brighter.

Krycek did, indeed, watch her all the way to her car, smiling.  
Women could be sooooo easy to manipulate...

Janice walked into Starbuck's.  Al was easy to spot, sitting 
nervously by a table, awaiting her appearance.  She had timed it 
just right, ten after eight, late enough she wasn't appearing 
over-eager, late enough he'd be worried whether or not she was 
going to show, early enough he hadn't given up all hope yet.  
He waved her over, standing up, pulling out a chair for her to 
sit down.  "Thanks for coming.  What can I get you?"

Excellent.  He was planning on paying.  "Double tall skinny 
latte, please."

He smiled.  "I'll be right back."  

Janice watched him as he stood in line.  His jeans were just 
tight enough to show a little definition, and he definitely had a 
nice butt.  His polo shirt was neatly tucked in but, to her 
disappointment, was so loose it left everything to the 
imagination.  After watching him for a bit, she turned to watch 
other women watch him.  The woman at the counter seemed to 
give him an extra-bright smile, and a number of other women 
discretely but obviously checked him out.  She sat up a little 
straighter.  He wasn't here with them, he was here with her.  A 
self-satisfied smile appeared on her lips.  She had always 
enjoyed having something that other people wanted.  
Somehow, that made what she possessed seem even more 
valuable, worth holding onto.  

Al returned with two identical drinks, and hadn't forgotten 
napkins.  The start of their conversation was a little awkward, 
but after a few minutes, they started to feel comfortable with 
each other.  Al seemed to hang on her every word.  His 
response made her feel powerful, and she found herself talking 
a great deal more about herself than she would normally have 
told anyone she'd just met.  He seemed genuinely interested, a 
real point in her favor.

Jan noticed he grew a little bit wary when she mentioned that 
she worked for the FBI.  "The FBI.  Wow.  I would never 
have guessed.  That must be something else."

She nodded, failing to mention her actual title was 
administrative assistant, not agent.  She decided to play it for all 
it was worth.  "It is indeed.  It can be quite exciting sometimes, 
and even... a little bit dangerous."

Janice was surprised when Al seemed a bit intimidated.  "I'm 
sorry, Jan, I realize that most people working for the FBI must 
be good people, but the only contact my family has had with 
them was bad.  Very, very bad."

Instantly, Janice became solicitous.  "I'm sorry to hear that ; do 
you want to talk about it?  I doubt there is anything I could do 
to make it right, but I'd like to try."

Krycek concealed a smile.  He had her exactly where he wanted 
her.  Now, if he had just read her correctly, all he had to do 
was dangle the bait and let her bite.  If he reeled her in carefully 
enough, she'd never know she'd even been caught until she 
landed in the boat gasping for breath.  "I'm afraid there is no 
way to make it right."  He spoke harshly, and Janice responded 
to the tone she'd only ever really heard before from Walter 
Skinner.  She responded the same way to the masculine 
authority in his voice, the harshness concealing pain, as she 
would have to the Assistant Director.

Krycek saw her response and knew he had gotten it spot-on.  
He wondered if Skinner had any idea how so many women 
reacted to him, and doubted it.  With Skinner, it was so 
unstudied, so natural...he drew women to him like moths to a 
candle flame...and the moths usually got luckier than the 
women did.  It was amazing how voice could be used as a tool.  
Krycek was quickly learning how to use it to best effect, and 
wondered if he ought to take voice lessons from an acting 
coach.  Clearly, there was something to this...

Janice interpreted his pause as a silence built of pain.  She 
reached out her hand to cover his, and gave a little squeeze.  
"Nothing you can do can bring my cousin back from the dead."
Intentionally, he had made his tone icy, and he wondered if that 
had been the right choice.

Janice shook her head, her eyes starting become unnaturally 
moist.  "I'm sorry, Al, I didn't know."

He looked away for a long moment.  When he looked back, he 
was more composed.  "It's not your fault.  I can't blame the 
entire FBI for the doings of one man.  If he'd just done what 
any normal, sane person would have done, John would still be 
alive.  It's him I blame.  If I ever meet Fox Mulder alone in a 
dark alley..."  Krycek ground he teeth, silently adding that he 
would shoot first or run like hell...

"Mulder!  Oh dear.  In the FBI, we are not at all like that.  He's 
a bad egg, that one, a rotten egg who takes good people down 
with him.  If I have any say in it, and I think I will, he'll be out 
of the FBI for good..."

"I don't suppose there is any way I could help you achieve that 
worthwhile goal; if I could tell my Aunt that, at least, he had 
started to get what was coming to him, that he no longer had the 
protection of the government behind him...maybe she could 
start to heal.  Maybe we could build a civil case against him, 
maybe we could begin to find justice..."

Janice had no idea she had been caught, lured in by a master.  
By the end of the night, she had brought him back to her 
apartment, shown him her photographs, her amateurish 
attempts to alter them to suit her purpose, and told him 
everything she knew or suspected about Fox Mulder, Dana 
Scully, and Walter Skinner.  He left her bed in the pre-dawn 
hours after murmuring an excuse about going to work, thinking 
that now he had acquired a new tool, a new lover, it was time to 
dispatch the old one.  Besides, it would help to convince 
Spender his was still on the side of the syndicate...mostly.  
Spender was bright enough to know Alex Krycek had his own 
agenda, and they both knew that when their self-interests 
diverged, one of them would die.  Each was fully confident 
that, when the time came, it would be the other.  

Krycek left Jan's apartment, a hunter on the prowl.  Diana 
Fowley never stood a chance.  Krycek cared enough for her 
still to make certain she died quickly, cleanly, and without 
knowing she had been betrayed by her erstwhile lover.  



Janice felt abandoned when she awoke the next morning.  She 
knew Al had to go to work; he'd warned her before drifting off 
to sleep, exhausted.  The stamina the man had!!!  Exactly what 
she had dreamed of with Walter...she wondered if that dream 
would ever come true.  She wanted them both, wanted to 
possess them both...wanted them to fight over her.  She'd 
always loved the Medieval tales where knight fought to the 
death for the love of a lady, and had always dreamed of being 
said lady.  She had one of them firmly in hand, but needed to 
continue her quest to capture the heart of the other.  

She sat bolt upright in bed.  Being late to work wasn't the way 
to start.  She stared at her clock- she had neglected to set the 
alarm before going to sleep.  She was already late!  She rushed 
to the shower and dressed in record time.  The traffic was 
against her, which turned out to be a good thing.  A series of 
accidents had shut down major roads leading in to work, and 
she had a built-in excuse...

Skinner himself was late to work, arriving only a few minutes 
before Janice...just long enough to be irritated by her absence.  
Usually he was in quite early, but since Scully had brought the 
briefcase to him, he found himself able to sleep so much more 
easily he actually had to set an alarm clock again.  With the 
Sword of Damocles no longer hanging over his head, he felt ten 
years younger.  He was even starting to think more clearly.

Skinner began assembling evidence of the blackmail attempt.  
He'd always been careful what information he gave out...the 
only things he had been unable to protect were the X-files, 
Mulder and Scully.  He'd been forced to give them virtually 
everything he had, especially recently, which was why he had 
warned Scully off.  He couldn't believe she hadn't taken him at 
his word, that she still tried to give him information he had no 
choice but to reveal.  On the other hand, perhaps it said 
something about her belief in him.  However misguidedly, she 
believed that when the chips fell, he'd come out on their side.  
Perhaps he would have, at that; if there had been any concrete 
way he could have helped Mulder, he would have.  In a way he 
had; he'd never revealed the results of Kritchgau's tests to the 
syndicate. 

At last freed from the omnipresent threat, he began to see how 
he could use the situation to his advantage.  They believed him 
still compromised.   He began to use the pipeline to disseminate 
information he wanted them to have...and documented 
everything.  If he played things just right, perhaps he could 
bring down the entire plot...and not even need Mulder's help to 
do it.  His hatred for the traitors within his own government 
was growing, and far exceeded anything he had ever felt as a 
young man fighting the Viet Cong.  This time, someone would 
be made to pay...

After initiating his own initial attempt at a 'sting' operation, he 
sat down to digest Agent Scully's technical report on the 
nanocytes.  Though the details at first eluded him, careful 
rereading of the well-written document, and judicious use of 
textbooks, enlightened him considerably.  He began to 
understand just how far beyond human technology these 
nanocytes really were...and began to consider Mulder's aliens a 
more and more likely source of origin.  

He was in the midst of his analysis when his phone rang, 
bringing him the news of Agent Fowley's murder earlier that 
morning.  Skinner considered having Janice ask Scully to come 
see him, then decided to handle it in person.  Some tiny part of 
him wondered if she'd had anything to do with it.  He knew 
she had figured out Fowley's connections to CGB Spender, 
she might know of the connection to Krycek, and Skinner 
worried Scully might have been pushed over the edge if she had 
found a direct link between Fowley and what happened to 
Mulder.  He needed to see her reaction to the news for himself.  

Skinner was careless in his concern over the implications of 
Fowley's death.  He'd left Scully's report visible on his desk, 
where Janice found it and carefully photocopied it before 
returning it.  This looked to be some very interesting reading...



Janice read through the report, understanding perhaps one 
paragraph in 10.  She wadded up her copy of the report and 
tossed it into the trash can. It wasn't going to do her any good 
in any case.  It enlightened her; she now realized Scully had 
been working very hard to try and save Skinner's life, which 
was probably why Skinner cut her so much slack.  At least she 
understood and could forgive Skinner's motivation now, 
though her opinion of him lessened slightly.  She wanted a man 
of action, and if he'd taken no steps against whomever had 
threatened his life, she wasn't sure he was the man she thought 
he was.  At any rate, the document was not going to be of any 
use in her campaign to sideline Mulder and Scully. Realizing 
the copy shouldn't exist, she fished it out again and ran it 
through the paper-shredder.

Janice met Al again for an early lunch.  He was anxiously 
awaiting any updates.  She really hadn't learned anything useful 
yet, except that Agent Fowley had been murdered.  In her own 
mind, she tried to put together a scenario which involved Scully 
murdering the woman out of jealousy, but just couldn't justify 
it.  She talked with Al, trying to convince him that maybe it 
would be worth planting evidence, but he wasn't interested.  In 
fact, he seemed to steer the conversation as far from the topic as 
possible.

Al continue to pump her for useful information.  Finally, she 
broke down and told him about Scully's report.  His reaction 
was not at all what she expected when she informed him she 
had destroyed the useless copy.  

"You IDIOT!"

"Excuse me!"  Janice's eyes flashed.  How dare he?  "Don't 
you dare take that tone of voice with me.  I'm leaving."

Al grabbed her arm roughly.  "Indeed you are not!  What you 
are going to do is get me a copy of that report!"

"Let go.  I will not help you any more unless you treat me with 
the respect I deserve."  

Janice didn't notice the ironic gleam in his eyes as he 
responded, "Of course I will.  I'm sorry Jan, it is just I have 
invested so much in this idea of finally getting justice for my 
cousin's death."

She snatched her arm away from him, rubbing it, knowing she 
was going to have a bruise.  She backed away from him warily.  
She watched him turn his face away from her.  After a moment, 
she realized his body was wracked with sobs.  She moved 
towards him and put an arm around his broad shoulders.  "Why 
do I have to hurt everyone I love?" he moaned.

"Love?" she asked, tentatively.

He turned towards her, tears streaming down his face.  He 
reached up and brushed a lock of hair away from her face, 
revealing her shining eyes.  "Love," he repeated tentatively.  
His finger tips brushed lightly down her cheek, then traced the 
line of her jaw until reaching her chin.  He raised her chin 
upwards a bit, and ever so slowly bent down to kiss her, his 
lips just lightly brushing hers.  "I'm so sorry, Jan."  He kissed 
her again, a little more deeply this time before pulling away 
from her.  "I'm no good for you.  I'd better go."

He turned to leave, but she restrained him.  "No, don't go.  
Please stay.  It's okay, I'm okay.  Oh, God, please don't go."

He turned to her and kissed her more passionately than before.  
"I love you, Jan," he murmured into her hair as she clung 
against him.  She didn't see his sardonic smile.  This was fun!  
She was putty in his hands.   By the time she returned to work  
she had renewed her commitment to his cause.  She hadn't 
understood or remembered enough of the report to be of any 
use to him, but he had her convinced to take whatever risks 
were necessary to secure him another copy.  

Indeed, Janice broke into every file cabinet in Skinner's office 
while he was out dealing was another crisis, searching in vain 
for the report he carried with him in his briefcase alongside the 
actual jamming device.  She went back that night, searching 
everywhere again, but had to call Al from the office and admit 
failure.  He didn't come to her that night, and she cried herself 
to sleep, head pillowed on her desk at work, returned yet again 
to search for the document.  She had failed the man she loved, 
and he wouldn't forgive her quickly.  Fortunately for Krycek, 
he hadn't been counting on her success.

Krycek knew he needed that report- or the information 
contained within it.  He didn't count on receiving anything 
productive from the pathetic secretary, whose use to him had 
probably ended when she revealed the existence of the report 
she had stupidly destroyed.  He immediately began to make his 
own plans.  

Skinner obviously knew what was in it, but doubtless was 
prepared for Krycek...probably even looked forward to the 
confrontation.  Krycek doubted Mulder's technical knowledge 
was sufficient for his purposes, if Scully had even discussed 
her project with him.  Krycek wondered if she had, but figured 
she had left her partner ignorant in the hopes he could be kept 
out of everything until he recovered completely.  Logically, 
Scully must become Krycek's target.  He was wary of her, and 
had been ever since she shot her own partner intentionally.  
She'd do what she believed was right, no matter the 
consequences.  That made her powerful, and extremely 
dangerous to him.  Nonetheless, he'd have to take the 
calculated risk...find her when she was vulnerable and make 
his move.  He guessed her guard would be lowest when she 
was leaving Mulder's apartment; her thoughts would likely be 
on him and his recovery, not on potential danger to herself.  He 
set up monitoring devices, both audio and visual, in the 
corridor outside Mulder's apartment.  He'd be warned she 
entered, so he could be in place when she left.  

Krycek was surprised when his preparations paid off almost 
immediately, in fact while he was still testing out his reception.  
He watched with glee the entire emotional scene taking place in 
the hallway of all places, taking mental notes.  Mulder was a 
master; Krycek never thought Scully had it in her to be 
so...romantic.  His mind boggled at the thought.  

Mulder had managed to brush aside the fact of Diana's death, 
which ought, even now, to bother him greatly, unless he were 
nearly as good an actor as Krycek.  Mulder turned the focus of 
the encounter from Scully worrying about his reaction to his 
comforting her and washing her guilt away with his tenderness.   
Scully became putty in his hands.   Krycek smiled as he  
observed Mulder's  handiwork.

 Krycek watched the way Mulder made eye contact with Scully, 
the way he held her, the way he touched her face, how he lifted 
her chin so she had to make eye contact with him, the tone of 
voice he used, the sincerity he conveyed as he told his partner 
how much she meant to him.  What Krycek had with Janice at 
lunch paled in comparison.  The air practically sizzled with 
emotional electricity and unresolved sexual tension.  The words 
'touchstone' and 'constant' were engraved in his memory; he 
was certain he'd be able to find an appropriate use for them.  
He had little doubt Mulder had planned out in advance what he 
wanted to say and was intentionally binding Scully more 
closely to him.  Without ever saying 'I love you', Mulder 
managed to convince Scully that she was the most important 
thing in his universe- and yet manage to maintain a certain 
physical distance between them; to bring her close, but not risk 
frightening her away.  If it had been Krycek, Scully would 
have been inside and seduced so fast her head would have 
spun.  He didn't understand why Mulder didn't want what he 
clearly could have had, though he felt Mulder had succeeded in 
his primary objective of building Scully's emotional ties to him.  
What Krycek didn't see, because it wouldn't have happened to 
him if their places had been reversed, was Scully's profound 
effect on Mulder.  



         "Compromised" Part 4 of 4
                    By Mostly Harmless


Mulder, in fact, left the encounter with the strength to face his 
delayed reaction the news of Diana's death, and his recollection 
of her love, her betrayal and her redemption.  He needed to face 
that alone, to come to terms with it, buoyed by the strength of 
Scully's regard.  Scully understood, as Krycek never could, 
that Mulder needed to be alone, that her remaining would only 
strain the bond between them as Mulder struggled with the 
knowledge of all that had happened.  She also knew that, this 
time, if Mulder really needed her, he would call her or seek her 
out.  Like Mulder, she had accomplished conveying what she 
had intended to convey, and parted feeling more certain than 
ever that their paths lay entwined together.

Nonetheless, the entire exchange had been enlightening to 
Krycek, and perfectly set up Scully's emotional state so he 
could take full advantage of it.  Krycek wondered how sincere 
Mulder had really been, and decided it didn't really matter; he 
was certain he could fake equal sincerity as needed.  

As soon as Scully reached the street, Krycek was behind her, a 
gun pointed firmly at the small of her back under the cover of 
his coat.  "Don't turn around, just keep walking...and keep 
smiling."

Scully was jarred abruptly from her contemplation of her 
relationship with Mulder.  Her mind had been on her partner, 
how unexpectedly well he had take the news of Diana's 
murder, how much it had touched her heart that through his 
pain he had reached out to comfort her.  Clearly he felt some 
guilt of his own something about choosing another path...with 
Diana?   She desperately wanted to know the details, to know 
what had happened and how she fit into the picture. There were 
strong emotional resonances between them and she wondered 
how they would develop.  

Scully hadn't been concentrating on where she was or what 
was going on around her because she had been too 
overwhelmed by her emotions to be paying proper attention.  
The unmistakable feel of a gun barrel pushed into her lower 
back quickly showed her the error of her ways.  Her first 
conscious thought was that it for precisely this sort of reason 
that the FBI prohibited its agents from romantic attachments to 
their partners.  This sort of slip-up was a very real danger.  At 
least in this case, it could only get her killed, innocents were not 
in danger and Mulder was safely inside.  Once again, sentiment 
had been her downfall.  She resolved, if she survived this, not 
to let it happen ever again.

Sentiment gone, Scully's brain began to work once again.  She 
did precisely as she was told as she bided her time, waiting for 
an opportunity to turn the tables on her abductor.  Krycek 
followed her to her car, where he cuffed her wrists together 
behind her back.  He drove her to a secluded place he knew 
where they wouldn't be interrupted.  He asked her about the 
report, but wasn't surprised when she didn't answer.  He knew 
she would need some persuasion, and was, in fact, rather 
looking forward to it.  

The rope he had left there, however, had disappeared, and he 
had to search for something to bind her with.  He forced her to 
the ground, instructing her not to move.  It only took him a 
minute to find what he was looking for, but that was one 
moment too long.  In that moment, Scully had brought her 
cuffed hands underneath her bottom and drawn her legs 
through her arms.  Flexibility has its uses...

Krycek bent down to pick up a roll of duct tape he'd left behind 
earlier, now half-gone and not where he had left it.  As he stood 
back up and turned, Scully's foot connected a glancing blow to 
his head.  He staggered, she kicked again, knocking the gun 
from his hand.  He moved against her, she dodged, then dove 
for  the gun.  Her hands still cuffed, she had difficulty 
retrieving it.  Krycek used the time to put distance between 
them.  He knew the area much better than she did.  She tried to 
follow, but was slowed considerably by the ankle she twisted 
while diving for the gun.  She only managed one shot at him, 
through heavy brush at the extreme limit of the range of his 9 
mm automatic.  She was too smart too shoot at any target she 
couldn't see, and the thick underbrush and rocky, hilly terrain 
made sighting him very difficult.  She was able to see him only 
briefly , when he was turned sideways to her, presenting the 
least target.  She hit him where his left arm covered his vital 
organs or he would have died then and there.  

The sound of gunfire immediately attracted attention, and the 
park police were on top of her faster than she could believe.  It 
was difficult to convince one of the officers to retrieve her 
purse- containing her FBI shield, gun and cellular phone- from 
her car.  They wanted to haul her downtown and sort 
everything out down there.  It took her the rest of the afternoon 
to escape from the mass of bureaucratic red tape the little 
incident had created.  She did manage to initiate a manhunt for 
Krycek rather quickly, but he was long gone, disappeared like a 
weasel into the underbrush.  As soon as she had her cell phone, 
she called Skinner immediately.  Forewarned, Skinner prepared 
to bring the battle to Krycek, and mobilized his forces 
accordingly.  He also detailed an agent to unobtrusively check 
on Mulder's whereabouts and conditions.  He did not need that 
particular wildcard entering the picture, particularly as 
uninformed as he was at this point.  


Skinner spent all the rest of the afternoon, the evening and well 
into the night trying to locate Alex Krycek.  At last, deciding to 
look into the files for any information on previous hangouts he 
believed Krycek too smart to reuse, he returned to his office at 
about three in the morning.  There, he found Janice, head down 
on her desk.

Instantly, he knew she must have been murdered.  He closed 
his eyes, preparing himself to deal with the fact of her death.  
Janice had worked for him for several years; he had always 
liked her, but had been feeling increasingly uncomfortable 
around her since his divorce.  She seemed a bit too interested in 
him, and not quite interested enough in her work.  Nonetheless, 
she was a good person and hadn't deserved this fate.  He had to 
make certain; perhaps she yet clung feebly to life.  

He approached her desk from behind, unable to find any 
evidence of foul play.  Poison, perhaps?  He placed his fingers 
on her neck, running them down, searching for a pulse in her 
carotid artery.  He found it!

Janice, awakening to the man of her dreams running his fingers 
down her neck, leaped to the natural conclusion.  She turned to 
find him positively beaming, and she stood up and buried 
herself in his powerful arms.  Surprised and relieved she was 
still alive, Skinner returned the embrace.  It wasn't until she 
looked up and kissed him full on the lips that he backed off 
suddenly.  He stammered, retreated into his part of the office 
and slammed the door, his heart hammering.  A few minutes 
later, there was a tiny tap on the door between them he felt 
compelled to answer.  His wondered if his face were still 
reddened, but didn't ask.

Janice was all professional.  "May I help you with something, 
Sir?"

Skinner had pulled out a file on Alex Krycek and it lay open on 
his desk.  "No thank you, Janice.  You've done quite enough 
for one day.  I've found the file I was searching for."

She looked down a moment, embarrassed, then over to his 
desk.  Even upside down across the room, she could easily 
identify the photo of Al.  

Skinner heard her gasp.  She went over blindly to the desk, 
looking down at the file detailing all the possible charges 
against her lover.  She broke down in tears, Skinner finally 
having to put an arm around her.  By dawn, he had the full 
story out of her.  He knew everything she knew about 'Al', her 
plot against Mulder and Scully, and the report she'd mentioned 
to Krycek.  He had guessed about her feelings for him, but 
chose not to bring up that particular subject, and she didn't 
volunteer any information.

She was deeply upset and shocked.  "I guess I will have to 
resign," she gulped.  Skinner almost accepted her resignation 
then and there, but something held him back.

"We will discuss that tomorrow.  Go home, get some sleep.  
Take the day off. I'll want you to bring the rest of your 
photographs, negatives and other 'evidence' you've collected.  
And for now, don't worry, Jan.  You've been used by a master 
manipulator, who has fooled us all on occasion."  He didn't 
admit how much he wanted to see her photographs...he was 
curious himself about Mulder and Scully's relationship, and 
wanted to know what might have come into the hands of their 
enemies.  

Janice nodded.  He squeezed her arm and she left.  Skinner 
began making his preparations for his showdown with Krycek.  
He planned to go alone; he didn't want backup.  Perhaps if 
Mulder had been completely recovered...but he didn't want to 
bring one partner without the other, however much they 
deserved to be in on the end.  

The confrontation occurred in the apartment Krycek had rented, 
not long after dawn.  Skinner and Krycek saw each other 
through the window, and Skinner watched his enemy hold up 
the control device and twist a knob.  Immediately, his warning 
pager activated.  That much at least had worked, and so far 
Skinner felt no adverse affects.  His faith rested on Scully's 
work now, and he couldn't imagine himself in better hands.  

Confidently, he approached Krycek's lair.  He hadn't bothered 
to make an escape; he wanted this meeting as much as Skinner 
did.  In fact, the door to his apartment was over.  Krycek stood 
behind a large plate of bullet-proof glass, wore a bullet-proof 
vest, and held his replacement gun at the ready.  With his free 
hand, he motioned Skinner inside.  Skinner kicked the door 
shut behind him, not wanting any interruptions.  His gun was 
leveled at Krycek's head.

"I see you are unaffected by the nanocytes.  How did you do 
it?"

"I bet you would like to know."

"Indeed, that is the entire reason I infected you in the first 
place."  Skinner hoped this conversation was being accurately 
recorded by the wire he wore.

"Right."

"It is true that I rarely do things for just one reason.  In this 
case, furthering the syndicate's aims was in the interest of the 
rebels."

"The rebels."

"The alien rebels, who are trying to forestall an invasion.  The 
ones fighting the good fight."

"And you are one of the rebels."

"Indeed; I'm a double agent, though I fear that identity has 
been...compromised."

Skinner snorted at his choice of words.  "Is there anyone you 
haven't double-crossed?"

Krycek just smiled.  "The syndicate wanted you under their 
thumb again; you'd been useful until you turned against 
Spender.  This way, I've been able to selectively edit what they 
get, while the rebels get the information unaltered...by me at 
least.  I've had my doubts about how much your self-interest 
has made you betray the government.  Although, thinking about 
it,  your information on Mulder and Scully and their doings has 
proved to be accurate enough.  My primary motivation, 
however, was developing a cure for the nanocytes.  The pose a 
serious threat to the rebels.  Between humans, they can only be 
transferred intentionally.  In the aliens, they can be transmitted 
by casual physical contact.  So, we need a cure.  And you have 
been kind enough to find one for us."

"You expect me to believe that?"

Krycek nodded.  "Why not?  The motivations are simple 
enough to understand.  We lack the technology, time and, 
frankly, brain-power to counter this threat.  Infecting you 
seemed quite likely to produce a cure...though I have been quite 
disappointed by how long it has taken Agent Scully to develop 
it."

"Blame that on me.  It's been about a week since I let her start 
work on the project.  I tied her hands last spring."

Krycek looked impressed with himself.  "Really?  I intimidated 
you that much?"

Skinner didn't answer.

"Now, if you will please had me a copy of Scully's report, I 
shall see it gets to the right people."

"You really expect me to just hand it over to you?"

Krycek looked surprised.  He was certain he had set the 
situation up flawlessly.  "Yes."

"And why should I trust you?"

"You don't have to.  You already have the cure.  Realistically, 
the only hope we have is to throw in with the Rebels.  If the 
syndicate and its allies win, we're all dead soon enough.  With 
the rebels, we at least have a chance."

Skinner shook his head.  "I can't believe you expect me to fall 
for this."

"Over there, to your right, is a complete sequencing of the DNA 
in the black oil.  Give it to Agent Scully.  I'm sure she will find 
a use for it.  Consider it...payment in advance for her time."  
Skinner glanced over at the piles of printouts underneath a Zip-
disk. "Think it over.  You'll know where to find me."

Warily, Skinner picked up the pile.  His hand on the doorknob, 
he turned back.  "And Krycek?"

"Yes?"

"Keep your hands of my secretary," he growled.

"Jan?"  Skinner glared at him.  "Oh, all right.  I expect you'll 
tell her everything anyway."  Skinner smiled tightly.

Skinner left, and as he was about to close the door added, 
"And, while you're at it, keep away from Scully."

Krycek laughed hollowly.  "No worries there; if she hadn't hit 
my artificial arm, I'd probably be dead right now.  I'm planning 
on staying far away from her.  She's too dangerous."

Skinner simply smiled, much more naturally this time.  He 
went home to bed, debating what exactly he was going to 
decide and whether or not to confer with anyone about it.  At 
any rate, he felt like letting Krycek wait...and, hopefully, 
squirm a little.


Thursday, a full day after Skinner's early-morning 
confrontation with Krycek, was Fox Mulder's first full day 
back at work.  Scully had sent him home the day before at 
noon, letting him know in no uncertain terms that she was 
going to enforce taking time off in the interest of his health.  In 
an odd way, he welcomed her insistence on being reasonable.  
He really wasn't ready to resume his previous lifestyle just yet, 
and this prevented him from having to admit it.  He also figured 
this to be one of Scully's little tests for him.  If he didn't fight 
her hard enough, she knew he really wasn't ready to go back to 
work.  How, exactly, they had fallen into this particular 
dysfunctional relationship he wasn't quite certain, but it worked 
for them.  They both knew the rules of the game, and they both 
played by them, as circumstances allowed.  Mulder wondered 
briefly what he would do if Scully ever stopped trying to 
overprotect him, and shook his head, laughing softly.  It was 
about as likely as his ceasing to overprotect her.  He wouldn't 
want it any other way.

"Mulder?  Care to let me in on the joke?"  Trust Scully to sense 
his change in mood and investigate it.  

Mulder was about to answer; he might even have answered 
honestly, even he couldn't have said for certain, when AD 
Skinner knocked on their partially open door and walked in.

Both Scully and Mulder gave him their undivided attention as 
usual.  Skinner never ventured into their basement stronghold 
without a very good reason, not that they always learned what 
brought their enigmatic boss into their sanctuary.  

"Agents."  He nodded to them cordially, a good sign.  They 
both relaxed a bit.  "Welcome back, Agent Mulder.  It is good 
to see you back to work."

"Thank you, Sir," Mulder responded, surprised when Skinner 
took his hand and shook it strongly.    Skinner then turned to 
Scully, seeming to engage her in a wordless conversation that 
intrigued Mulder immensely.  It ended in a slight shake of 
Scully's head and an acknowledging nod of Skinner's.  
Obviously something had happened between them in his 
absence, and Mulder felt he was not going to like it.  Any time 
Scully elected to keep something secret from him, it was 
invariably bad news.  

"Are you two free this evening?"  Skinner watched Scully and 
Mulder exchange a quizzical look, a small shrug, a nod.

"Yes, Sir," Scully replied for them both.

"I'd like you to join me for a little while, if you'd be so kind.  
I'd like to debrief you on the results of a case, but a 
more...informal... setting would be appropriate."

Mulder looked at Scully, but her attention was on Skinner, not 
him.  "Of course, Sir," Mulder responded, definitely feeling out 
of the loop.   Scully and Skinner proceeded to discuss the best 
time and place, settling on 7:30 at a coffeehouse near 
Georgetown they both knew and he didn't, but was easy to 
find.  After Skinner left, Mulder tried to worm further 
information out of Scully, but was totally unsuccessful.  She 
wouldn't budge, and insisted on leaving shortly thereafter to go 
home for dinner.  He tried to persuade her to join him, but 
failed miserably.

Mulder, Scully and Skinner converged on the coffeehouse at 
precisely 7:25, all reaching the door simultaneously from 
different directions, though Mulder J-walked across the street to 
get there.

The coffeehouse was quiet that evening.  The atmosphere was 
relaxed, and Mulder was glad he'd changed from his suit before 
coming down.  It was dimly lit, the stage spotlighting a young 
singer-songwriter, Lily Wilson.  She looked like a college 
student, wearing jeans, and playing guitar.  She had long blond 
hair, an earnest face and a stunningly beautiful voice.  She was 
playing her heart out to a nearly empty room.

Mulder and Scully claimed a comfortable corner table not far 
from the stage while Skinner went for drinks.  Everyone felt a 
little uncomfortable; this was the first time any of them could 
remember that they had socialized together outside of work.  

Skinner returned and distributed the coffee.  They simply 
sipped for awhile in silence until Skinner decided to inform 
them why he'd brought them together.  He started by stating the 
obvious.  "You are probably wondering why I asked you 
here."  When neither of them bothered to respond, he 
continued.  "Primarily, I brought you here to thank you both 
for your help; particularly you, Scully, for all you've done for 
me recently.  I can't acknowledge this officially, for obvious 
reasons, but I want you to know I appreciate what you've 
done.  Mulder, I imagine that you are wondering what the heck 
I'm talking about.  To explain, I'm going to have to backtrack 
to last spring...when I was almost killed by a mysterious 
ailment."  

Mulder listened with rapt attention to Skinner's story, the full 
one this time.  Obviously, much of this was not news to Scully, 
who played a prominent part in the drama.  However, even she 
was surprised as Skinner described his confrontation with Alex 
Krycek.  

Skinner concluded in a manner that shook Mulder to his core.  
"I still don't know if I did the right thing letting Krycek go.  It's
not too late; I could hunt him down again, arrest him...or resort 
to more...drastic...measures.  I haven't given him your report 
yet, Scully, and I'd like your opinions on what you think I 
should do.

Skinner sat back and watched the two agents he trusted most, 
and, if he were to admit it, respected and like the most, 
although they tended to cause him the most trouble.  Both of 
them visibly controlled themselves from blurting something 
out, most likely something that could precipitate violent action.  
Their eyes met, and Skinner knew that a great deal passed 
between them unsaid.  He knew they both had strong 
grievances against Krycek, and he was quite interested to hear 
their responses.

It was arguable which one had cause to hate Krycek the most, 
though Skinner believed Mulder had the edge.  Though Scully 
blamed Krycek for Melissa's death, Mulder was deadly certain 
Krycek had murdered his father...and had definitely been 
involved in Scully's abduction.  Mulder would never forgive 
that- not when it had resulted in such tremendous trauma for his 
partner, in her cancer, and in her sterility.  Oddly, Scully 
seemed not to blame Krycek as much as Mulder did, perhaps 
because some part of Mulder still blamed himself.    

Mulder's eyes appeared locked on Scully's.  His left hand 
gripped his coffee mug very hard, while his right hand clenched 
and unclenched around a napkin that became tightly wadded 
into a little ball. The veins bulged in his neck, and his eyes 
flashed angrily.  Scully appeared as calm, cool and collected as 
ice, and Mulder's hot fury seemed to break as a wave against a 
rocky shore, the energy dissipating quickly.  Scully never 
flinched.  After a very long moment, Mulder closed his eyes; he 
nodded without opening them.  Nothing was said for a very 
long moment.  

Skinner watched Scully's left hand steal across to cover 
Mulder's right one.  He opened his eyes, and Skinner watched 
Scully read Mulder's eyes for the truth that lay within.  
Mulder's lips pursed, and he nodded tightly once.  Scully 
squeezed his hand once and withdrew it, smiling slightly 
herself.  Idly, Skinner wondered what would happen if he 
asked each person for a transcript of their silent conversation.  
They seemed to communicate between themselves almost better 
without words than with them.  

At last, Mulder turned to Skinner and spoke, his voice edged 
with repressed emotion.  "As much as I hate to say it, Sir, you 
probably did the right thing.  I hate the idea that Alex Krycek 
still walks the streets a free man, and I don't use the word hate 
lightly.  However, the prudent thing to do at this point is to give 
him Scully's reports.  I realize that may jeopardize your safety, 
Sir, since he may be able to bypass Scully's safeguards and 
activate the nanocytes again.  However, in this case, it may be 
that the more people who know the cure, the more impotent the 
weapon becomes.  Removing one more tool from the 
syndicate's arsenal is definitely a good thing.  While it may not 
exactly be true in this case that the enemy of our enemy is our 
friend, the syndicate and its allies are clearly more dangerous.  
Ultimately, Earth has no chance if they win, and I don't think 
any of us want to compromise ourselves enough to join them.  
Our best chance lies with the Rebels.  If they succeed, Earth 
might have a chance, and that chance will only be better if we 
have aided their struggle.  While  I don't believe Krycek is 
constitutionally capable of telling the truth, there is definitely 
evidence he is working for more than just the syndicate.  Most 
likely he works only for himself; but at this point his interests 
seem to lie with the Rebels."

Skinner nodded slowly.  He hadn't expected this, precisely, but 
he wasn't surprised.  His respect for his subordinates, and their 
ability to rise above their baser motivations, only increased.  
Mulder had always seen the truth more clearly than most 
people, and if Scully agreed with him on this...he wouldn't bet 
against them.  Not now.

"Actually, Sir, if you delay giving the report to Krycek for 
about a week, it should be perfectly safe to do so, unless you 
become reinfected, and you may be safe even then."

Skinner turned to her, all his attention focused on the small 
woman before him.  There was a lump in his throat, and he 
could barely ask, "Really?"

Scully smiled, one of the few truly happy smiles Skinner had 
ever seen from her.  So often, her life seemed at best bitter-
sweet.  "Yes.  Your latest blood test shows that we've finally 
succeeded in jump-starting your immune system.  Your 
leukocytes are now identifying the nanocytes as invaders and 
are dealing with them accordingly.  You may develop a slight 
fever as your body fights them off, but I expect that otherwise 
you will feel very well, indeed.  Since the nanocytes are no 
longer reproducing even at maintenance levels, I estimate that 
they should be completely removed from your system in three 
or four days.  A week should give you an ample safety margin.  
Of course, daily blood samples would still be a good idea."

Skinner smiled broadly, the most open smile either Agent had 
ever received from him.  He even refrained from his usual 
'vampire' comment.  Impulsively, he reached out and cupped 
one of Dana's hands in both of his.  "What you have done..."

"Is no more than you would have done for either of us, if our 
places were reversed. It is, in fact, no more than my job."

Skinner shook his head in denial.  "It is so much more than 
that, Agent Scully.  You have no idea how much it means to me 
that I'm finally free."

Scully responded wryly, "I think I'm beginning to understand."  
Skinner realized he was gripping her hand so tightly it was 
probably painful, and released it with a self-conscious laugh 
and gentle pat.  Scully withdrew her hand under the table and 
surreptitiously rubbed it with her other one.  She fooled neither 
man.  

Skinner tried to find a graceful way to end this conversation that 
verged on becoming unpleasantly emotional; his eyes were 
misting treacherously, and he felt any one, or all three, of them 
might break down if this went only much longer.  "Thank you, 
my friends."  He raised his coffee mug in a toast.   "To 
Success!"  Mugs clinked, and his words were echoed, the 
emotional tension dissipating.  

They sat back, relaxing a bit into a mood more appropriate to 
the setting.  Mulder began asking about what else had happened 
during his illness, and Skinner was able to think of several 
amusing anecdotes to relate.  Gradually, conversation died 
down, their attention drawn more and more to the talented 
singer on the stage.  

Lily Wilson began a song none of them recognized, but that 
caught and echoed emotional chords within all three, if for 
different reasons.  Her beautiful voice carried by the chords of 
an acoustic guitar went straight through their eyes and 
illuminated the dark depths of their souls.  The universal truths 
being spoken held special meaning for each of them.  

"Built a wall surrounding your soul.
Built it up so well nobody knows
You are unaffected, so hard to read,
Never expected to be free..." 

Mulder was looking at Scully, who looked to Skinner, whose 
eyes were closed, and whose thoughts drawn inwards. 

"I have driven through your storm to the end and,
It's crumbling down, it's falling down, 
What a beautiful sound when it falls all around,
So let the madness fade with the night,
This indecision vanish in the light
Take a chance and just don't ask what it's for..."

Skinner was looking at Scully, who looked at Mulder, whose 
eyes were closed, and whose thoughts drawn inwards.

"It's too late to give you back what you lost
It's too late to give you back what you love
It's too late to give you back what you lost
It's too soon to change, too soon to change..."

Skinner was looking at Mulder, who looked at Scully, whose 
eyes were closed, and whose thoughts drawn inwards.  

The hauntingly beautiful song ended, its words echoing inside 
three skulls.  The three most affected by song didn't join in the 
applause; in their own way their silence was a tribute to its 
merit.  

Skinner closed his eyes.  He wondered if it really were too 
soon to change, or rather, if it were too late.  He opened his 
eyes and saw Mulder and Scully looking deeply into each 
others' eyes, but sensed their wordless communication was 
failing them.  They seemed oblivious to his presence, and he 
was surprised they didn't reach for each other, at least to join 
hands.  Scully looked away first and Skinner saw hurt quickly 
masked in Mulder's eyes.  Skinner wondered if it really were 
for the best.  He'd wondered for some time, unofficially of 
course, if they were lovers.  After this exchange, he decided 
that they were not.  A deeply romantic part of him he didn't 
even have the slightest clue existed twinged for the pain he 
sensed in both of his friends.  Skinner decided the best thing he 
could do was let this little tete-a-tete break up.  There was too 
much caring, too much loss, too much pain, and yes, too much 
love between the three of them for comfort.  

"Again, thank you, my friends.  Unfortunately, I have some 
work to do, and morning seems to come too soon these days."  
Mulder and Scully stood up as Skinner rose to depart.  He 
gripped Mulder's hand firmly in both of his, trying to say what 
he felt without words.  He offered his hand to Scully, who 
rejected it and embraced him instead.  It was over before he 
knew it or could react.  Impetuously, she reached up and kissed 
his cheek.  Skinner knew he was grinning like an idiot, and 
heard Mulder laughing at him.  He exited the coffeehouse as 
rapidly as he could without attracting too much attention, trying 
to escape while he still had his composure.

Skinner turned back.  "I almost forgot!"  He reached for an 
envelope he had stashed in an inside pocket of his jacket.  He 
handed it to Mulder, who opened it cautiously.  Inside was the 
Zip-disk Krycek had given to Skinner.  "Take it for what it's 
worth, considering the source."  Scully nodded; she hoped her 
previous work would enable the truth contained in the files 
from any falsehoods.  Also in the envelope were Skinner's 
favorite edited photos- though he'd kept the unedited ones of 
Scully with him on his balcony for himself.  He still hadn't 
decided what precisely to do about the photographer.

The photos ranged in quality, the most lurid also being the most 
obviously faked.   Some, they all knew, hadn't been faked at 
all.  They stared at each other in horror.  "Be careful, Agents.  
Remember, some people want to believe..."

Skinner made his escape swiftly, wanting to escape any 
protestations of innocence- or revelations of guilt.  Mulder and 
Scully stood together watching the precipitous departure of the 
Assistant Director, both still somewhat horrified.  Mulder's 
large hand found Scully's small one, reassuring her that 
everything would be fine.  After a moment, she looked up at 
him.

"Too soon to change?" he asked, softly.

She closed her eyes and nodded.  He squeezed her hand gently 
and let her go.  She smiled up at him sadly, wanting to reach 
out to him, but not wanting to face the likely consequences of 
such an action.   "Good night, my friend."

"Good night, Scully."  He watched her retreating form.  He 
was never certain if she heard his half-whispered, "I'll wait.  
As long as I have to, my friend.  My love."




She awoke from a restless sleep disturbed by the report of 
thunder from a lightening bolt which struck close by, too close 
for comfort.  She lay awake thinking of him, of the man she 
had been dreaming of, the man she loved.  She wished she had 
the courage to go to him.  A long moment later, she heard a 
sound, much like knocking at her door.  It wasn't until heard it 
repeat that she realized it really was.  

She grabbed her robe and walked to her apartment door, just in 
time to see a forlorn figure walking softly away...a figure she 
knew as well as her own.  "Wait!" she called, and he stopped 
retreating and turned around to face her.  

He looked completely bedraggled, not dressed for the weather 
outside, though the storm seemed to suit his mood.  He also 
looked as handsome as she had ever seen him, and there was 
something in his eyes.  Something had changed; something was 
gone, the barrier that had been between them seemed to be 
crumbling down before her very eyes as he tentatively 
approached her.

She pulled him inside.  He seemed uncharacteristically unsure 
of himself.  "I'm sorry to wake you."

"I'm glad you came.  I was just thinking of you...wishing I had 
the courage to go to you."

"You were?" he asked, hope filling his eyes.  

She smiled in answer, and moved into his wet embrace.  Her 
heat filled him where he had been chilled to the bone, but after a 
long moment he forced himself away from her.  He could tell 
that he had hurt her.  

"Wait...before this goes any further.  I've got something to get 
off my chest."  

That wasn't what she wanted; she wanted to be in his arms and 
never leave, but she knew him better than to argue, or to force 
an intimacy.

"You have stood by me for so many years; and I have hurt you 
so many times.  I have tried to protect you, and you have only 
been hurt over and over.  I am so sorry, so very sorry.  There 
is so much I've never told you...I've told you much, too much 
it often seems, but for every word I've said, there have been 
three I've withheld.  I've let you close when it suited me, but 
every time you tried to get too close, I've pushed you away.  It 
hurt you, but it hurt me as well.  My work has been so 
important to me, but it has also been a shield...shielding my 
heart and my soul from you.  There is a dark place inside 
me...a place filled with anger, with hate, with despair...and 
even with the desire to lash out against others in my pain.  I've 
tried to protect you from that, from me.  I know deep inside I 
don't deserve you...and for years I've been afraid you would 
discover that...would find me out...would abandon me to the 
loneliness the evil within me deserves.  Somehow, it seemed 
easier to choose the loneliness myself, than to reach for 
happiness and fail.  I have been a fool, I have kept things from 
you, I have hurt you, and I am so very sorry.  Words fail me. 
You deserve to know that the problem is not in you, it lies 
within me.  As well as you know me, there is more within 
which you should never have to face.  You deserve someone 
whole, someone who loves you and would be trying to put 
your happiness first.  I have selfishly tried to keep you close, 
but not as close as you desire."

He paused for a long moment and looked at her as she tried to 
digest what he had said, and anticipate where this was all 
leading.  This confession, this baring of his soul was so 
unexpected, it was too much for her to absorb instantly.  At last 
he continued.

"I'm leaving now.  I just needed to let you know I'm not the 
man you thought I was.  I've tried to be the man you deserve, 
but I have failed miserably and only brought you pain.  I 
wanted you to know that my intentions were selfish; I wanted 
you so badly, I couldn't let you get so close to me you would 
see at last into my heart and be repelled.  I hadn't the courage to 
tell you, and I've taken some of the best years of your life, 
which could have been spent with a man you deserve, who 
could have given you the warmth, comfort and family you 
desired. I don't expect you to forgive me; I have no way to 
atone, but believe me, I am sorry.  An apology seems so 
insubstantial, but it is all I have to give you."

There were tears in his eyes, streaming down his face.  Tears 
for her pain, for having failed her.  Abruptly, he turned to the 
door, planning a quick escape.

"Wait!  You owe me."  He turned, unable to deny the justness 
of her claim.  "You owe me the truth."  He nodded unwillingly.  
"Do. You. Love. Me?"

He stared at her in disbelief.  He almost couldn't choke out the 
words.  "More than you will ever know.  More than I can ever 
express.  In my own twisted soul, I love you with all my heart 
and with every fiber in my being.   It is so hard to admit that I 
could treat someone I love so badly."

She smiled at him.  "It hasn't all been bad.  You are focusing 
on all the negative things that have happened between us, and 
are forgetting how much richness you have brought into my 
life.  You have no idea what it means to me to hear those three 
words.  I have doubted for so long, despaired of ever hearing 
them again.  You are wrong, so very wrong.  I do know you, 
better than you can know.  I have seen your dark side...and 
I've also seen that, when you let me, I can take some of the 
pain away."

He nodded.  "You have, indeed.  I've never told you how 
much you have helped me...how much the smallest touch of 
your hand at the right time has meant to me, knowing I don't 
deserve it, but that you give it to me freely.  I don't think I 
could ever have made it this far without you."

"I love you.  Don't you dare leave me for my own good!  I'm 
not a saint or an angel to be worshipped from afar.  I'm a 
human being, with faults and a dark side of my own.  Not all of 
our troubles have been your fault.   I have seen you, all of you, 
more than you thought you revealed...and I love you, all of 
you.  Give me a chance to love you.  Love is a gift, and must 
be freely given.  It cannot be earned.  I give you my love freely; 
all that remains is to see if you have the courage to receive it."

He was weeping openly at this point.  She went to him, as she 
had been longing to do. He held her for a long time, his face 
buried in the sweet smell of her hair.  They cried together, for 
themselves, for each other, for all that had been and for all that 
could yet be.  "I don't deserve you."

"Then I guess you will have to try that much harder to please 
me."  Her eyes indicated the bedroom.  He swept her off her 
feet and into his arms.  He carried her to her bed and they 
became caught up in a passion without words.  

Walter Skinner awoke the next morning, quite late for work, 
and grinned.  He looked down at Sharon smiling in her sleep 
beside him and didn't care if he ever returned to the FBI.  It 
was about time for him to attend to the important things in life.  
He lay back down beside her, letting himself believe it might be 
real, that she might love him in spite of everything, and gave 
thanks to whatever Power had allowed him to reach this day, to 
finally start to make right his life, which had been twisted since 
he had first set foot in Viet Nam.  He knew the road ahead 
would be rocky, that he might even lose Sharon in the end.  But 
he was granted a second chance, possibly a third if he counted 
honestly, and he meant to make the most of it.  He would never 
be the man he wished to be if he didn't start, here and now, to 
love this woman the way she deserved.  Succeed or fail, he 
knew he would never regret the attempt; somehow, looking at 
the love in her eyes last night, the acceptance she had given 
him, he didn't think he'd fail if he gave it a real chance.  He 
thought briefly of Dana Scully, who had given him the freedom 
to become his own man again and hoped that some day she 
would receive the love and happiness she so richly deserved.  
Then Sharon opened her eyes, and he saw her love for him 
shining through. All thought of anything else fled, and he 
proceeded to convince Sharon Skinner that he could be the 
husband she had always believed he could be.

The End