From: Donna McIntosh <dmcintoshtx@yahoo.com>
Date: Sat, 25 Nov 2006 19:33:00 -0800 (PST)
Subject: ENEMY, FRIEND, LOVER  by dmcintoshtx@yahoo.com
Source: direct

Title:  ENEMY, FRIEND, LOVER
Author:  dmcintoshtx@yahoo.com
Fandom:  X-FILES
Pairing:  Skinner/Krycek
Rating:  NC-17
Disclaimer:  These characters belong to Chris Carter. 
I make no money off of them.  I just like to take them
out and play with them now and then.
Summary:  An old enemy rescues Skinner.  Is he an
enemy?  A friend? Or a lover?

 
 ENEMY, FRIEND, LOVER


Awareness -- Dizzy, cold; pain in head, neck, leg. 
Can't move.  Arms, legs, tangled.  No! Not tangled;
tied. He was tied up!  Smell -- What was that smell? 
He must be in a gas station.  And urine?  Was that
urine?  Gas station restroom?
He struggled to open his eyes; heavy.  Dark.  Metalic
taste in mouth.  Drugs!  He'd been drugged!  A stab of
fear ripped through him.  He struggled to sit up but
could only manage a slightly propped up position on
one elbow and against the wall.  Noise!  Someone else
was in the room!  He tried to call out but couldn't. 
Something was across his mouth; tape. 
Someone was crying; someone else moaning.  He blinked
his eyes and tried to see. The room was large;
definitely not a gas station restroom.  One, two,
three, four others huddled on the floor in various
stages of consciousness. 
 
His vision cleared somewhat; adjusting to the dim
light.  Directly across from him, the one crying; it
was a woman.  Tied, like him; tape covering her mouth.
 Tears streamed down her cheeks; a look of terrified
resignation.  Her face twisted in pain; head and
shoulders thrust forward as much as her restraints
would allow.  A moan escaped her; head back against
the wall.  She's pregnant; very pregnant.  My God! 
She's in labor!
Another moan distracted him; off to the left; an old
man, 70's or 80's; a humming noise.  White haired,
frail looking; eyes closed.  He was having a seizure. 
Two men watching; tied up as well; they looked bad;
dehydrated; like they'd been there a day or two.
The humming stopped; the old man was still; eyes
closed.

His head thudded back against the wall behind him. 
Where was he?  What the hell was going on?  The AD in
him took over and he began to analyze the situation. 
The room was rectangular; approximately 20 X 15 feet,
totally featureless.  No furniture, no windows, one
large archway opening into a hall; floor, walls,
ceiling all a dull gray, metallic feeling; dim
yellowish light coming from behind recessed panels in
the ceiling 12 to 15 foot high; out of reach even if
he could stand up.
Footsteps!  Someone was coming! Two men appeared in
the doorway.  Fortyish; one in jeans and flannel
shirt; one slacks, white shirt, tie.  They walked
directly to the pregnant woman; loosened her ties;
helped her to stand and walked her out of the room.

Frustration and fear were building with each passing
moment.  The footsteps of the two men and the woman
faded into silence.  What now?  What next in this
terrifying nightmare?
Footsteps again; voices.  "Speak the words.  You must
learn to communicate as they do."
"It is not necessary.  I hear what they think."
"Your job is to become one of them.  You cannot become
one of them, be accepted as one of them, if you do not
speak."
Recognition!  He knew that voice!  Just as the two men
appeared, he was able to put a name to that voice. 
Krycek!  Alex rat-bastard Krycek!
As the two men entered the room, Krycek stopped dead
in his tracks.
"What is it?" the second man asked him. 
.  
Krycek's expression was blank.
"That one." He said, pointing at Skinner "and that
one," Pointing to the larger of the two remaining men
sitting quietly awaiting their fate.

"Two?  Why two?  There is only a need for one."
Krycek crossed the room and knelt beside Skinner,
undoing the links that held his bonds to a ring in the
wall.  His companion did the same with the other man
that had been pointed out.

A muffled groan escaped him as he tried, with
assistance, to stand.  A sharp pain lanced through his
right leg as it gave out and refused to hold his
weight.  Krycek caught him; putting a plastic arm
around Skinner's waist and a shoulder under his
armpit.  A quick glimpse at his leg showed a long tear
in his slacks, soaked through with blood.  A flash of
memory shot through him.  Two men waiting for him
behind his cabin, a struggle, blows exchanged, falling
against the wood pile, pain in his leg, a sting
against the side of his neck, then darkness.

The hall was as non-descript as the room had been;
narrow, dimly lit from the ceiling, gray, metallic
feeling from the sound of their steps. A short
distance down the hall, an opening into another room;
this one round with a small platform in the center;
some sort of control panel on one wall.

Krycek pushed Skinner toward the platform, helped him
up on it.
"What are you doing?" the second man asked, still
holding onto the man he had escorted into the room.
"As you said," Krycek answered, "we need only one
right now.  I'm letting this one go.  He belongs to my
host."
Krycek knelt down in front of the second bound man and
began to retch.  At first, just convulsive coughing,
then a slow dripping; black streams flowed from his
mouth, eyes, nose and ears.
Skinner watched in horror as the black liquid came
together into one puddle and moved steadily over to
and up the body of the terrified bound man.  He
struggled mightily but in seconds the Oilian had
entered his body and the fear was gone; replaced by
the same blank expression his former captor was
wearing.  The new host was untied and the two walked
from the room.

Krycek regained his composure and went to Skinner. 
"Just relax," he said, pulling the tape from Skinner's
mouth.  "I'll have you out of here in a minute."  He
stepped down from the platform and over to the control
panel.  He moved his fingers swiftly over the surface
then stepped back up beside Skinner.
"What the hell's going on here, Krycek?" he managed to
get out before the strange sensation of falling
overtook him; like being in an elevator going down,
down, way to fast.  He lost consciousness.

He was cold, so cold; something was hitting his face;
someone pulling on him.
"C'mon, Skinner, wake up.  I can't carry you."  Krycek
was tugging him into a sitting position.
"What happened?"  He tried to make sense of where he
was; what was happening.  He was wet; rain was hitting
his face with a sting. He was untied now.   Krycek got
him to his feet, once again supporting his right side.
"Where are we?  How'd we get here?"  Skinner asked in
disbelief.
"Some farmer's field, I guess."  Krycek answered
leading him toward a fence-line.  "We've got to find
shelter before we freeze to death."

The going was rough; the field riddled with deep ruts,
wet, slippery, half frozen and now being covered with
a light dusting of snow.  They stumbled as far as an
old wooden fence and stopped to rest.
"We can't stay here long.  We have to keep going." 
Krycek said and knelt to look at Skinner's leg.  He
tore open the slacks below the wound and examined it. 
He pulled out his knife and cut the bottom of the
slacks off, then into strips.  He tied the strips
together then around the wound.  "That will have to do
for now," he said standing up.  "How long did they
have you?  That cut doesn't look fresh."
"I don't know," Skinner answered truthfully.  "By the
way my muscles feel, at least a day or two; could be
more."  He massaged his shoulders and arms.  "Who the
hell are they and how did we get here -- wherever here
is?"  He had more questions than strength to ask them.

"Later" Krycek answered looking around.  "I think I
hear a car or truck."  He pointed off to the left,
just beyond the fence line.  "Must be a road over
there."
They climbed through the fence and made their way
across another field, through some trees and there
they found the road.

"I need to rest."  Skinner stopped and went to the
ground.
"We can't stop here."  Krycek was insistent.  
"C'mon," he pulled at Skinner.  "There's bound to be
something up ahead."
"Why?"  Skinner was exhausted.  He hurt all over, he
was cold and wet and he needed some answers.  "Why
that way and not the other direction?"   He pointed in
the opposite direction that Krycek was heading.
"What do you know about all this that you're not
telling me, Krycek?"
Krycek shook his head.  "I don't have all the answers,
Skinner.  I just know they always leave me off within
a few miles of civilization."  He got Skinner to his
feet again.  "I don't know how I know which direction
to go; I just do."
"You've been taken before?"
"Yes.  Now please, please walk.  I'm freezing my balls
off here."

They lumbered on in silence, pausing only a few times
while Krycek doubled up in another spasm of retching,
a few black spots against the slowly whitening
pavement.
"Look!  Up ahead.  A building" Krycek gasped, "Looks
like an old gas station." He said, helping Skinner
who, now that shelter was near, had managed a
quickened pace.

"It's deserted."  Skinner said; hope for a quick
rescue dying in his voice.
"Yeah, but at least we can get out of the weather for
a while."  Krycek broke the glass in the front door,
reached in and turned the knob and helped Skinner
inside.  The place was completely empty and had been
for years; nothing but cobwebs. 

Skinner eased himself down on the floor leaning back
against the counter.  A thorough search through the
place showed no evidence of anyone being there in a
long time.

"Look Skinner, there's only one way to get you out of
here.  I have to go on by myself."
A moment of panic sliced through Skinner and for the
first time he realized just how vulnerable he was.  He
was hurt and alone out in the middle of
God-knows-where.  He was un-armed, could not walk
another step.  He was hungry, thirsty and his leg was
throbbing in a way that told him his injury was more
than just a cut; it was infected.

"Krycek....please..."  What do you say to an enemy who
holds your life in his hands?  How do you beg for your
life?  It was a thought that had never entered his
mind before but he wasn't ready to die yet.  Not here.
 Not yet.  Not with so many questions still
un-answered.

Krycek knelt in front of him; eye to eye.  "I will
come back for you, Walter.  You have my word.  I know
my word doesn't mean much to you but right now it's
all I have to offer."  He took a deep breath and
stood.  "I'm a fast runner.  I'll make it into town
and be back with a car before dark."
"I can..."  Skinner tried to get up.
"No you can't!  You'll just slow me down.  It'll be
faster this way."
Skinner slumped back to the floor.
"I promise you, I will come right back as soon as I
can.  I won't leave you here."

Walter squeezed his eyes shut and when he opened them,
Krycek was gone.  He could hear the thump, thump,
thump of Krycek's footsteps; then finally silence.
Silence had never really bothered him before.  He'd
never given it much thought; but now it was
everything; all around him like a blanket of despair.

Would Krycek come back; or would he leave him here to
die in the cold?  Would he even make it into town
himself?  He looked pretty bad; thinner than Skinner
remembered.  He'd been vomiting so he'd be dehydrated;
weak.  How far was town anyway?  And how could he know
he was going in the right direction?  Would he help
him to escape those people only to let him die here?
Nothing made sense.  Thoughts were skittering back and
forth across his mind, like fireflies on a summer's
night.  Summer; hmmmm; would he ever be warm again? 
He
drifted off to sleep or unconsciousness; either way,
didn't matter.

Sometime later, he woke with a start.  A noise!  He
heard a noise.  A horn honking; then it stopped; must
be a dream.  His head ached and his leg throbbed. 
Then he heard it; another noise; thump, thump, thump,
thump.
The door opened and in came a rush of freezing cold
air.
"Skinner?  You still with me?"  Krycek knelt beside
him and held something warm to his mouth.  "Drink." He
ordered.
Cocoa.  Warm cocoa.  His grandmother used to fix him
cocoa on cold winter nights.  She always put
marshmallows in it though.
"No marshmallows?" he asked; eyes 
Krycek chuckled and pulled him to his feet after a few
more swallows.
"Somebody used to give you marshmallows too?" 
A few more greedy gulps and the Styrofoam cup was
empty.

"C'mon.  I've got water and sandwiches."  Krycek led
him through the door and into the blowing snow. 
"No."  Skinner pulled back.  "Cold" He clung to the
doorway.
"C'mon, it's warm inside.  I have blankets; the
heaters on, it's warm.  Krycek tugged him loose and
pulled him into the snowy darkness.
Skinner closed his eyes and muttered, "Cold.  I wanna
go home."

"Up; step up."  Krycek was saying.  Skinner opened his
eyes and saw light and felt warmth coming from the
open door.  He lunged forward and took the two steps
up on his knees.
"Good idea; knees." Krycek came in after him and
closed the door to the motor home behind him.  He
helped Skinner over to the couch, laid him down and
covered him with a blanket and put a pillow under his
head.
"Town's not far; about 5 miles; hospital is not an
option.  They've got some kind of major flu epidemic
going on.  The last thing you need now is to get sick;
sicker."

He was driving now and trying to reassure the injured
man that he was safe.
"I can take care of the leg.  Mostly what you need
right now is a little first-aid, some food and sleep. 
You still with me?" he called back over his shoulder.
"Mmmmmm" was the only answer he got.
"We got to find a place to stop for the night.  This
storm is only getting worse.  I saw some motels at the
edge of town.  We'll see if we can get a couple of
rooms."

Skinner nestled into the warmth of the blankets and
sighed at the amazing comfort of the pillow beneath
his aching head.  The vibration of the road beneath
them and the droning of the engine soon had him fast
asleep.

"C'mon, Skinner," I got us a room.  One was all they
had left but it'll do for now." He was pulling at him.
"No.  Wanna stay here.  S'warm."  Skinner protested.
"It's just a short walk.  We're almost out of gas so
the heater in here will be cutting off soon.  C'mon. 
I've got a hot bath running for you.  They've got one
of those big old fashioned tubs.  You can have a good
long soak.  How does that sound?  It'll make your leg
feel better."

He was on his feet again and not too happy about it. 
Hopping on one foot down the two steps, he realized
where he was.  He hopped eagerly toward the open
doorway; Krycek's arm around his waist, hauling him
into the room.
"Sorry I could get only one room.  The place is booked
solid because of the storm.  At least it's a double,
double."
He helped Skinner to the bed closest to the bathroom;
propped the pillows up for him.
He went to one of the bags he had placed on the
dresser earlier and brought back a packaged sandwich.


"Hungry?" he asked, tearing it open and offering the
contents to Skinner.  He grabbed for it and ate it
down in 3 or 4 enormous bites.  Krycek handed him some
bottled water.

"There wasn't much of a variety of food in that car
lot waiting room.  I got what I could out of the
machine while the salesman was doing his paperwork.  I
asked him about the hospital and he said it and most
everything else in this town was closed down due to
the flu epidemic and now with the storm, the roads
will be closing down in a few hours as well."

Krycek loosened the makeshift bandage on Walter's leg
and grimaced at what he saw.  The wound was a jagged
tear about 3 inches long.  It was swollen and the area
around it was warm to the touch with red streaks
radiating outwards; it was infected all right.
"How'd that happen?" he gestured to the wound.  "Looks
like you took a nasty blow to the forehead too."
"I'm not really sure.  Two men jumped me up at my
cabin.  We struggled, I hit something.  Wood from the
woodpile, I think.  Is it infected?"  He asked,
leaning up to
check it out.
"I think so.  A good soak will make it feel better." 
He got up from the side of the bed and went to turn
the running water off.  He helped Skinner into the
bathroom and out of his clothes.  With a little more
help, he was in the tub and settling down into the
steaming hot water.
"Too hot?" Krycek asked, feeling the water.
"No.  Perfect."  He wallowed in the luxury of the hot
water enveloping his aching body thinking he had never
in is life enjoyed a bath more.  He was a shower
person himself and never could understand how some
people wasted their time lying in a tub of water; but
this; this was perfection!
Krycek came back in and handed him another opened
bottle of water which he drank greedily.

"I'm going out for a bit."  Krycek sat on the closed
toilet and spoke to him.  "I saw some stores about a
mile or so back that were still open.  I'll see if I
can get you some Tylenol and some more food.
The same trickle of fear raced through him.  He was
being abandoned!  No!  He chased that fear away.  If
Krycek had wanted to be rid of him, he never would
have come back for him.  He'd left him to freeze to
death in that gas station.  Besides -- he was inside
where it was warm; there was a telephone on the night
stand and he was in no immediate danger even if Krycek
left and didn't come back.

"I won't be long." He was saying.  "The roads around
here don't seem too bad."  He stood to go.  A silly
thought crossed Skinner's mind; He hadn't remembered
Krycek being that tall.

He heard the door close, the sound of an engine
starting, and then fading into the distance.  Silence.
 Again he was aware of the silence; surrounding him
like a living thing, pressing in on him, demanding
answers to questions he didn't dare to even put into
words.  He broke the spell by reaching for the soap
and starting a rigorous lathering up of his body.  He
was amazed by the scrapes, small cuts, and bruises he
found.  He hadn't realized he'd been able to put up
that much of a fight.  He hoped silently that the two
bastards that jumped him were nursing a few good
bruises of their own.

The water was cooling now and Krycek still wasn't
back. "Couldn't have been too long." He thought,
"Maybe 30 minutes."  He opened the drain and let out
half the water.  He re-filled the tub with steaming
hot water -- not wanting to give up the comfort of
delicious warmth just let.
"He'll be back."  He thought.  "He came back before. 
This time when he comes back, I'll get some answers."

Krycek struggled getting through the door with a
double armful of packages then made a second and third
trip out in the cold for more.
Skinner heard him come in and relief flooded through
him.
"Hi, I'm back."  A red-faced, half-frozen Krycek stuck
his head in the door.  "I got all kinds of goodies. 
Wait a minute."  He dashed back to his pile of bags
and started rummaging through them till he pulled out
what he was looking for; a thick white terry-cloth
robe, which he carried into the bathroom and handed to
Skinner
"Here.  I got us some clothes too."  Skinner stood and
gratefully accepted the robe, covering himself with
its warmth.  "Thanks" he said, stepping out of the tub
accepting Krycek's extended arm for balance; not
wanting to put any more weight on his injured let than
was necessary.  He hobbled back to his bed and
wondered at the pile of bags on Krycek's bed and the
dresser.

"I had no idea you were a shopaholic, Krycek."
"We need all this stuff!"  Krycek said, once again
digging to find something in the pile.
"Here it is."  He pulled out a small first-aid kit. 
He sat on the edge of Skinner's bed and said, "Now
let's see that leg."  Skinner pulled the robe back and
exposed the leg with the wound.
"Good.  That long soak opened it up a little."  Krycek
began pulling supplies from the kit.  In moments the
leg was treated and bandaged.  Krycek pulled a small
vial and a syringe from his jacket pocket.
 "What's that?"  Skinner asked suspiciously.
"Penicillin," Krycek answered.  "You need it."  He
drew some into the syringe.
"Where did you get that?"
"A pharmacy," Krycek answered.  "They'll never miss
it."  He stuck the needle into Skinner's thigh before
he had a chance to object.  Skinner glared at him; his
best A.D. glare.
"You need it."  Was all Krycek said and the matter was
closed.

"I got us some warm clothes" he said, getting up and
tucking the vial and syringe into the first-aid kit.
"Here" he tossed a package of white cotton briefs to
Skinner.  "Wait, no, those are mine.  Here's yours." 
They switched packages.  Skinner opened his and slid a
pair on.  They felt good; soft and clean.  
"Here."  A wad of gray clothes landed in his lap.
"Sweat suit; the best thing to sleep in."

Thick white socks were next.  "I also got some jeans,
shirts, jackets and other stuff for tomorrow.  We'll
have to drive a ways.  This town doesn't have an
airport."  He folded the remaining clothes and put
them in the drawers.  Two thick, pile lined jackets
were draped on the back of nearby chairs.  Two boxes
with pictures of boots on the side were placed on the
dresser next to a large box with a picture of a
microwave on it.
"Is that a micro-wave?"
"Yeah," Krycek answered.  "I got some food too.  Soup,
noodles, coffee, chocolate;
hot cereal for breakfast in the morning, plus some
other stuff.  Everyone at the store was stocking up. 
They were talking about the possibility of being
snowed in for a few days.  I wanted to be prepared."

By the looks of the bags stacked on and beside the
dresser, they were well prepared indeed.
Krycek came back over to the bed with his knife and
cut the tags off Skinner's clothes.
"You all right?  You need to call anyone?"
"I thought about it while I was in the tub.  Who would
I call?  And what would I tell them?  Hell, I don't
even know what happened, or where I am."
A tired chuckle came from Krycek.  "I know.  I know." 
He stood up, gathered a pile of clothes together that
he had saved out, and headed for the bathroom.
"I need a shower.  We'll talk more when I get their
stench off of me.  I'll answer your questions, as best
I can then."  He paused at the doorway.  "You could
call Mulder.  He'd believe you." He said with a small
smile.

"Oh God!  Mulder?  That's all I'd need; Mulder
charging to the rescue, wreaking havoc in his wake!" 
They both laughed.
"He'd show up with Senators, reporters and his three
wise men.  Your picture would be on the cover of every
newspaper by morning."
Skinner nodded in agreement.  "Sure; I could tell my
story, kiss my career good-bye, and spend the rest of
my days in a rubber room; while Mulder goes on his
way, blithely seeking his truths!  I don't think so. 
No thanks!"

The combination of the hot bath, clean clothes, warm
bed and the three extra-strength Tylenol that Krycek
gave him, lulled Skinner into a deep sleep.
When Krycek re-entered the room, he was glad to see
that their talk would be postponed; at least for the
time being.  He crawled into the other bed and drifted
off to sleep listening to the soft snore from the bed
opposite his.

A knocking at the door brought them both awake; Krycek
reaching under his pillow for the gun he had gotten
the night before.  The room was bathed in a half-light
coming in around the edges of the drapes.  He peaked
through the peep-hole in the door.  A gray-haired
lady, 60ish, in a parka stood waiting.
"Yes?" he called.
"Management.  You got electricity?  Heat?"
"Yes.  We're fine here," he answered.
"Good.  Place next door has half its units out.  You
got food?  Storm's coming back in a few hours.  We're
warning everyone to get out and stock up while the
roads are still open."
"Yeah, we got food; enough for a couple of days."
"Good!  You take care now and keep warm.  If you need
anything, my number's on the phone.  Good day to you."
 And she was gone.

Krycek slid the gun back under his pillow.
"You get that at the pharmacy too?"  Skinner asked,
propping himself up into a sitting position.
"As a matter of fact, I did.  They always keep them in
the same place; drawer under the cash register."  He
grinned.  Skinner scowled.
"I'll clean it and mail it back after we get back to
D.C., OK?  For now-we need it."
End of conversation.                                  
                                                      
                            

Skinner stood up with a groan and headed for the
bathroom.  He relieved himself and helped himself to
one of the two toiletry kits on the counter.  He still
pretty much ached all over, but after a shave and
brushing his teeth, he felt ready to face the world
again.  If not the world, at least the man in the next
room and this morning, he would have some answers. 
The smell of coffee drew him eagerly into the outer
room.

Krycek was sitting on the edge of the bed sipping
coffee and watching the weather report on TV.
"Smells good" Skinner said, taking a seat at the small
table and reaching for the steaming cup of coffee
sitting there for him.
"How's the leg?"  Krycek asked and headed for his turn
in the bathroom.
"Hurts like hell." Skinner answered to the retreating
form.  
"Stay off it as much as you can."  The door closed
behind him.

Skinner sipped his coffee and helped himself to a
sweet roll from the opened package and settled in and
waited for Krycek to re-appear from the bathroom.
A few minutes later he emerged and busied himself at
the micro-wave.  He came to the table and sat a
steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of Skinner; then
prepared one for himself.
They ate in silence; plastic spoons scraping against
plastic bowls until they were empty.
"I don't normally like oatmeal but that was really
good."  Skinner offered.
"Yeah; it's got brown sugar and cinnamon in it.  It's
amazing what a little spice can do to a bowl of mush."
 Krycek collected the empty bowls and spoons and
dropped them into the garbage.  He returned to the
table with two bottles of water and two extra-strength
Tylenol.
Skinner took them, on the spot; no arguing there.

Krycek switched off the TV and sat back down.  "So
when did they take you?" he asked.
"Yesterday."  Skinner answered.  "Friday evening.  It
is Saturday, isn't it?"
"No, it's Monday morning.  That's why I asked if you
needed to call anyone last night."
"Monday?  Jeeze..."  He glanced at his watch as he
hobbled over to the phone.  "8:45 - good.  15 minutes
before my secretary is due in.  I'll be able to just
leave a message on her machine."

"Hi, it's me.  Listen, I got called out of town on a
family emergency.  I might be a few days.  Reschedule
any appointments for the end of the week.  Don't know
for sure the day I'll return.  I'll let you know if
it'll be more than a few days.  Thanks."  He hung up
the phone and returned to the table.
"So do you know what state we're in?"

"Washington State; small town east of Seattle called
Redmond," Krycek answered.
"Washington State?"  Skinner shook his head confused. 
"Clear across the country!"  He took a deep breath and
asked.  "Can you tell me what's going on here? Who are
these people?  Consortium?"

"It's a long, long story and I actually know very
little; but I'll tell you what I do know.  I'm sure
you remember Mulder's reports of the Oilians?"
Skinner squeezed his eyes shut tight and said, "Please
don't tell me this involves Mulder and one of his
alien races."
 
A slight chuckle from Krycek; "I'm afraid it does.  I
wouldn't have believed it either if it hadn't happened
to me."
"You mean there really is an intelligent life form
that exists in...oil?"  Skinner asked, "One that can
jump from human to human?"
"That's about it." Krycek answered.
"Well what do they want? And how can we stop them?"
Skinner asked slipping back into AD mode now that he
had a mystery to solve.
"I have no clue what they want and there is no
stopping them.  You kill the host and they simply
transfer to another body."
"There must be something."  Skinner insisted.  "Didn't
you learn anything about them while one was in you?"
"No. It doesn't work that way. When they are in a
host, they have complete control.
They know everything the host knows; shares every
talent, every ability.  In return, the host receives
nothing."  He stood and began to pace as he talked.

"The longest they can stay in a host is six or seven
days; until the host becomes too weak to function. 
They don't eat.  They don't need sustenance.  Our food
makes them deathly ill.  Their only consideration to
their hosts is a few sips of water now and then."

"Do you know what's happening?  Can't you communicate
with it in any way?"
Krycek sighed and replied, "Yes, the host knows
everything that's going on but has no control at all. 
It's like being along for the ride while someone else
uses your body."
Skinner shook his head in disbelief.
"You were able to communicate with it when you got
them to let me go."
"Not really.  I don't know what happened there.  It
somehow.....knew that you were important to me and
decided to spare you."

Skinner was quiet for a while then asked, "What's
going to happen to those people?  Those back there,
where I was being held?  Is there any way we can get
them out?"
No answer from Krycek.
"One of them was a pregnant woman.  She was in labor,
I think."
"I don't know, Skinner.  I don't know what they want
with them.  I have no idea how or if anyone could be
saved from them."

"There must be something we can do -- go back there to
that -- that field where they dumped us.  They must
have been holding me somewhere near there.  You were
there, couldn't you find it again?"  He stood up to
emphasize his words and stumbled against the table.
"Skinner, you just don't get it, do you?  You weren't
being held 'someplace near there'.  That's just where
they dropped us off."

Skinner stood at the window staring out at the falling
snow.  "She's probably already had it by now," he
muttered.
"What?"
"The baby; she's probably already had the baby by
now."
Krycek said nothing.
"What do they do with babies?"
"I don't know.  I've never seen any up there."
"What are you talking about? 'Up there'?"  He sat back
down at the table; his head spinning.  How could it be
that they've been talking and talking and he still
knew nothing of what had happened to him?

Krycek shook his head; would the man never understand?
 Never accept?
"You were on a ship, Walter," he stopped pacing and
sat on the foot of his bed.
"A ship?  You mean we were at sea?  Why did they take
us so far inland to release us?"  He still did not
understand.
Krycek stared at him.  "Not that kind of ship."
"You mean...." Understanding dawned on him.  "Oh no you
don't!  I was NOT on some sort of......space ship!" 
Skinner jumped up, turning over his chair.

"Skinner, if you don't want the answers, don't ask the
questions."
Skinner glared at him, turned back to the window and
stared out; the pieces of the puzzle slowly being
fitted into place.
"So, how many times have you been taken?" he asked,
not turning around.
"Several times over the years.  The first time, I was
still at Quantico."  He stopped, waiting for a
reaction; there was none.
"And you told no one?  You didn't think it was a
matter important to national security?"
"Would you have believed me?  If I had come to you and
told you I had been grabbed one morning while I was
out running?  That some guy vomited up some black oil
that crawled up my leg and took over my body; put me
on a plane and flew me to Helsinki, Finland; crouched
in some bushes with a rifle in my hands, waiting for
some guy to drive by.  Bang -- he's dead and I'm on a
plane and back home in my running clothes, vomiting up
black oil.  Would you have believed me?  Or would you
have sent me over to the Phsyc squad?"

"What did you do?" he asked quietly.
"Nothing!  What could I do?  After a few weeks, I
convinced myself it was all a dream.  Maybe someone at
school dropped something in my coke and I just had a
bad trip.  I didn't know what to think; not until
seven months latter when it happened again."

Skinner stood staring out the window at the snow
piling higher and higher.
"What would you have done?"  Krycek asked.
No answer.
Krycek moved to stand beside him at the window.
"Skinner?"
He turned to look at him.
"What WOULD you have done?"
"I don't know.  I don't know anything anymore."  He
passed his hand over his bald head as usual when he
was stumped by something.
"So where do we go from here?  We just go back to our
lives as if nothing ever happened?  You sit around and
wait for them to take you again?"
Krycek had nothing to say.  He sat back down at the
table, staring into space.

Skinner made his way back to his bed and lay down. 
His head ached and his leg throbbed.  He closed his
eyes and massaged his temples.  How did he get in the
middle of this?  All he wanted was to spend a few
quiet days at his cabin; breathe in some cool crisp
country air before it got too cold to enjoy it. 
Instead, he was clear across the country, snowbound in
a tiny town with no airport, roads closed, locked in a
room with a man who has been his most hated enemy for
the last several years; trapped in this Mulderesque
nightmare.  Don't tell me God doesn't have a sense of
humor!  Those were his last thoughts before he drifted
off to sleep.

He awoke with a start.  He ached all over, but at
least he was warm.  Krycek was sitting at the table
staring out the window.
"You have any more of that Tylenol?" he struggled up
to a sitting position.
Krycek shook two capsules out of the bottle and
brought them over to him, along with some bottled
water.
 "Hungry?" he asked.
"Starved" Skinner answered.
"I've got some more sandwiches and soup.  Chicken
noodle or vegetable beef?" he asked.
"Is it warm enough in here for you?  The heater has a
couple of more notches it can be moved up."
"Vegetable beef," came the answer from the man on the
bed.  He stared suspiciously at Krycek -- his
savior/enemy.  Which was he really?  Hadn't he, some
time ago, relished in torturing me with those damn
nanobytes?  Wasn't this extreme hatred and animosity
between them a mutual thing?

"You really should eat this at the table," Krycek said
placing the hot bowl of soup on the table.  He placed
a sandwich there as well as more water.  
"Coffee?" he asked.
"Yeah, thanks," Skinner answered and hobbled over to
the table.
Soon a steaming hot cup of coffee was placed before
him and he hungrily downed his food.
Krycek joined him, picking sparingly at his food.
"Not hungry?"  Skinner asked.
"Yeah, but still a little nauseated.  It takes a few
days to get that taste out of my system.
A small spark of sympathy passed through him and he
wondered how he could feel sympathy for this man. 
Wasn't this his enemy; this man feeding him, taking
care of him?
 
"What?" Krycek asked.
"Huh?" Skinner replied sipping his coffee.
"You have a lot of questions.  Why don't you ask?"
"Don't really know where to start." Skinner answered,
then in his next breath the questions came tumbling
out.

"What's going on here, Krycek?  Are you working for
these...Oileans? The Consortium?  Yourself?  What's in
all this for you?"
"You left someone out."  Krycek answered, a smile
curving the corners of his mouth.
"Who?  Cancer man? He's consortium."
"No.  I wasn't thinking of him.  I was talking about
the Bureau."
"The Bureau" Skinner was puzzled.
"Yeah," Krycek answered, trying to decide just how
much he should tell.
"Haven't you ever checked me out; done any research on
my background?"
"No, I haven't."  Skinner had to admit; wondering why
he never had.  "Exactly what would I find if I did?"

"Depends on how deep you dig."  Krycek crossed his
arms and leaned back in his chair.
"Krycek -- I haven't the patience for this right now." 
 He used his best AD voice.
"OK.  OK.  How you wanna do this?  You ask questions
and I answer?  Or do you just want a narrative of my
life story?"
"I'm not interested in whether you bottle or breast
fed; I just want to know what the hell is going on
here and where you fit into all this?"  He felt more
in control now.  Interrogating a witness; he could
handle.  He made his way back to his bed; sat and
gingerly lifted his leg.
"It's too early for more pills;" Krycek followed him
to the bed; "Maybe if you propped it up."  He reached
for a pillow.
"No, it's OK.  I just need it up a little." He settled
himself more comfortably on the bed.
"Talk!" he ordered.
"OK."  Krycek leaned back against the dresser and
started to talk.

"As I said before, I don't know why they are here or
what they want.  I know whenever they need to get
something done, they take a host.  I know they have
some dealings with Cancer Man, but he seldom mentions
them.  He calls them his 'friends'.  Don't know how
they hooked up, when or why."  He paused to organize
his thoughts.  "I do know of two ships, one in Terma,
N. Dakota in that silo; the other up there."  He
pointed towards the ceiling."
Skinner snorted, still not believing.
"There could be more.  Those are just the two that I'm
aware of."  Krycek went on.  "There are others aware
of their existence as well."

"Others?  You talking about Mulder?"
"No."  Krycek answered.  "Cassidy."
"Cassidy?"  Skinner was stunned.  He did not expect
that.  "Janna Cassidy?  Director Cassidy?"
"One and the same."  Krycek answered.   "After the
second time I was taken, I decided I had to do
something, tell someone.  I didn't know who I could
trust; who I should tell and I remembered when Cassidy
recruited me, she said if I needed anything or had any
questions, to come to her directly.  So I called her
and set up a meeting and told her all about it.  I
could tell by her expression that this was not the
first time she had heard this story."  He paused.

Skinner sat open-mouthed, glaring at the man across
from him.
"Cassidy knew?  She knows all about these.....Oilians?"
He couldn't believe his ears.  This must be a
nightmare!
"She knew."  Krycek answered.  "She wasn't the least
surprised.  She told me to just keep reporting
everything privately to her; whatever they had me do."
"Wait a minute.  Just a minute here; back up." 
Skinner sat upright.  "You said Cassidy recruited you?
 Personally?"
"Uh huh."  Krycek answered.
"Not the regular guys from personnel?"
"No.  Cassidy, herself."
"Cassidy does NOT go out and recruit new agents,
Krycek!  You're full of shit and trying to pass
some....story off on me!  I'm not buying it!"  He
slumped back against the headboard angrily.

Krycek left his place by the dresser and came to sit
on the side of his bed; across from Skinner.
"Walter, listen to me.  You want answers?  I've got
them.  I've got no agenda here.  I'm just trying to
keep you alive and get you back home."  He took a deep
breath then started his story.

"I had just finished my first year at the police
academy.  I had just aced all my finals, took top
score in all other competitions.  I was getting ready
to go out and celebrate when there was a knock on my
door.  It was Cassidy.  She introduced herself, showed
me I.D. came in and sat down.  She explained that she
was looking for one special agent to work privately
for her.  I was thrilled!  Finally, I was going to do
some important work!  I told her I still had another
year at the academy.  She said she wanted me to finish
that and during my time off she would have some
specialized training for me."

"Why you?" Skinner asked.  "Lots of guys score well on
those tests.  I've never heard of a Director going out
and recruiting anyone."

"She had some project in mind that needed my 'special
talents' for she said."
"What 'special talents'?"
"There are two things."  He answered.  "First, I have
total recall.  I remember everything I hear and see;
exactly as it happened; 100% accuracy.  Second, I can
draw an almost photo-like picture of faces, places,
and maps whatever."  He paused and watched as the
significance of his words sank in for Skinner.
"And this project was?" AD Skinner in interrogation
mode.
"She didn't tell me that until later; at Quantico. 
She just had me doing odd jobs for her; giving me a
little experience here and there.  
About a week before graduation at Quantico we had a
face to face meeting again.  She told me how proud of
me she was and told me about her 'project' as she
called it.  She told me there was this organization
that was causing a lot of trouble.  She said they had
made attempts over the years to get a mole into this
organization but had always failed.  She wanted me to
let them recruit me and report back directly to her. 
That's how I got mixed up with Cancer Man."  He paused
and waited for the questions he knew were coming.

"It was all a set-up?"  Skinner asked.  "You've been
working for Cassidy all along?"
"Uh huh." 
"But......what about......I mean;" too many questions trying
to get out at once.
"We had hoped that I could have stayed on at the
Bureau longer but the old man had other plans."  He
paused again; one flesh and blood hand massaging a
plastic one.

"Scully's kidnapping?"
"Yeah; that was one small matter that turned into a
fiasco."  He shook his head disgustingly.
"Why didn't you tell Cassidy?  She could have stopped
it."  Skinner was exasperated.  He didn't want to hear
what he was hearing.  He knew the answer before it
came.

"She knew.  I told her when I head about it, but I'm
sure she already knew."  Krycek got up and got his
water bottle from the table and took a long drink.
"Do you remember the Braxton case?"
Skinner nodded affirmatively.
"Mulder was getting too close.  The old man needed a
few days to get his man out of the country.  They
needed a diversion; something to occupy Mulder's time.
 They came up with the idea of taking Scully and
holding her a few days.  They decided to use Duane
Barry since he was no longer useful to them and
everyone thought he was crazy anyway.  My job in this
whole thing was to keep Mulder from stopping the
kidnapping.  I called the old man and told him where
we were headed.  He said he'd meet me there.  Once
Mulder had Barry and Scully was gone it time for me to
leave.  He had a plane ticket for me and a car waiting
to take me to the airport.  Next thing I knew I was
freezing my ass off in Helsinki, Finland." He took
another long drink of water.  Skinner sat listening
intently from the bed.

"I was there for 3 ½ weeks.  I checked in with Cassidy
when I got back and she told me something had gone
wrong with the plan and Scully was still missing.  I
couldn't believe it.  It was only supposed to be for a
few days!  I started looking for her immediately.  I
had gotten back from Finland a few days early and the
old man didn't know I was back so I had some free
time.  First I went to all the places where I knew
they had held people before; I had no luck.  Then I
remembered that a few days before the kidnapping, two
scientists were in to see the old man complaining that
they were having trouble finding people for their
tests.  I immediately headed for the labs.  There were
five in the area that I knew of.  It took me three
days but I finally found her."
"You're the one who found her and got her to the
hospital?"  Skinner asked.

"Yeah; it was almost too late.  When I found her she
was laying on an examining table nude.  She was all
bluish.  I thought she was dead.  I felt for a pulse
and found a weak one.  I called Cassidy and looked for
something to cover her with.  Cassidy told me what
hospital to take her to.  She was freezing and it was
really cold outside.  I couldn't find anything to
cover her with so I ended up taking off my long-johns
and putting them on her.  I hated to do that but I had
to cover her with something."  Another gulp of water.

"Cassidy knew all along?"  Skinner shook his head.
"She didn't know where Scully was being held.  She
really had been trying to find her.  She just didn't
know where to look.  I did."
Skinner sighed and rubbed his forehead.
"What else?" he asked.
"About what?" Krycek sat back down on his bed.
"What else have you been involved in.  Mulder's
father?  Did you have to kill him?"

A sigh this time from Krycek.  
"I didn't."  He shook his head.  "I'm so tired of
saying that.  I can't believe none of you have done
any investigating on this.  You would clearly see that
the bullet that killed Bill Mulder came from the same
gun that killed Melissa Scully and put a slug in your
gut as well!" He was becoming exasperated and tired of
being accused of something that he didn't do.
"Louis Cardinal?" Skinner asked, surprised.  "Mulder
was so convinced that you did it."
"Yeah, I know he was.  I went to his place the next
night to tell him what had happened but he was so
paranoid at that time, he jumped to the conclusion
that I had done it."  
"So why did he have to be killed?"

"That morning he came to see the old man.  He told him
he was dying.  He had lung cancer and the doctors gave
him three months left to live; tops.  He said he was
going to see Mulder and tell him everything.  They
argued for a time.  The old man was genuinely fond of
him; they had worked together for so many years.  He
tried to talk him out of telling Mulder everything but
he said that was the last thing he could for his son
and he was going to do it.   After he left, the old
man told me to make arrangements with this clinic in
New Hampshire to take him there." 

"I picked up a syringe of some drug that was supposed
to knock him out for the trip.  I got it and got to
his home just a few minutes before Mulder did. 
Cardinal was with me and waiting in the car.  I was to
call him when it was time to carry the man out to the
car.  Mulder Sr. came into the bathroom where I was
hiding.  I called Cardinal and told him to come to the
window.  I tried to talk Mr. Mulder into coming along
to the clinic so he could be taken care of but he
refused.  I had just put my hand in my pocket for the
syringe when the shot came.  It scared the hell out of
me.  I knew Mulder, in the next room, had heard it and
would be right in so I dove out the window.  As soon
as we got in the car and on the road I asked Cardinal
why he had shot him."  He shook his head in disgust.  
"What did he say?"
"He said the grass was damp and he had on a new pair
of shoes and he didn't want to ruin them carrying a
body across the lawn and since the guy was going to
die anyway, he didn't see any problem with it."

Skinner sneered in disgust.  "This was the same guy
who put a bullet in my gut?  What the hell was that
all about?"

"He was just showing off.  He had heard the old man
complaining about you -- not being able to control you
the way he wanted to, so he thought he'd do the old
man a favor and show him how things were handled where
he came from.  The old man was really pissed.  He
wanted an AD in his pocket; not in a grave."

Skinner was relieved that, at least, he wasn't a
marked man.  He sat a moment digesting what he'd just
heard.
"What about Melissa Scully?  That was supposed to be
Scully?  Dana Scully?"
"No.  That was another Cardinal fiasco. We were sent
there to trash her apartment.  The old man was pissed
at Mulder for something.  It was supposed to give him
a message; that he could be gotten to.  I called first
to make sure no one was there.  I saw her leave -- with
you.  We got in through the bedroom window.  We just
walked into the living room when it all happened so
fast.  We heard a key in the lock, the door opened and
Cardinal fired; all within 2 seconds.  I turned her
over and saw it was a 'kill shot' to the head.  We
took off.  I called 911 from the car and reported a
gun shot at her complex.  I left her front door opened
so they could find her quicker but I knew it wasn't
any use.  She didn't stand a chance."  He said sadly;
his eyes on the floor.

Skinner cleared his throat; hatred burning in his guts
for this smoking man; this 'old man' that seemed to be
untouchable, above the law; unanswerable to anyone.
"That son-of-a-bitch has to be stopped.  You've been
with him for years now.  Can't you find something we
can take him down with?  After all these years, there
must be something?"
"Krycek shook his head, "Taking him down isn't the
main goal here; I wish it was.  I would have gladly
put him down years ago but that's not what Cassidy
wants."

"What the hell does she want then?" Skinner asked
angrily.
"She wants the whole consortium.  It's world-wide, you
know.  They are now in nine other countries."
"So what does she expect you to do?  Just report what
you see?"
"That's about it for now.  If she has some grand plan,
she hasn't shared it with me." 
Skinner cursed under his breath.  His head hurt, he
wanted out of this frozen nightmare, he wanted to go
home to his own bed, have a doctor look at his leg and
give him some magic pills to make all the pain go
away.  This Tylenol wasn't doing it.  He scooted back
down in the bed.
"I'm tired," was all he had to say.  He had a lot to
think about.  He didn't like any of it.  How could any
of this be true?  Was any of it true?  Was all this
some game Krycek was playing?  No, it wasn't.  Somehow
he knew it was all true and it sickened him.

"Try to sleep some.  I'll check on the storm."  Krycek
turned the TV back on and lowered the volume.  The
murmuring of the TV lulled Skinner to sleep.
He was back there again; in that round room and that
black puddle of oil was coming toward him.  He turned
to find Krycek but he wasn't there.  Cancer Man was
standing there lighting a cigarette.
He jerked into wakefulness with a groan.
Krycek came to him.  "Hey, you OK?"
"Yeah," he answered, "I'm OK.  What time is it?"
"Little after seven.  How about some dinner?  You
hungry?"
"Yeah, sure," Skinner answered and made his way into
the bathroom.  He came out a few minutes later to the
smell of dinner cooking.
"Smells good.  What is it?" he asked.
"Frozen dinners.  I left them outside in the motor
home to keep them frozen."  He placed one on the table
in front of Skinner.
"It's not much but with some bread, a salad, and a
little fruit, it'll make a pretty good meal."
"It's fine.  I eat these things some times.  The salad
and fruit were a good idea too."

Krycek joined him when the microwave dinged and
produced his dinner.
"So you've been undercover all these years?  Who else
knows?"
"Just Cassidy," he answered between bites.  "She swore
me to secrecy.   I'm not supposed to tell anyone.  I
promised."
"So why did you tell me?"
Krycek placed his plastic fork onto his plate and
pushed it back.  Wiping his mouth, he thought about
his answer.
"I'm tired.  It's been eight years now and I want
out."
Skinner studied him for a moment then asked, "So, you
going to tell Cassidy or just take off?"
"You think I'm a coward, that I should stick it out?"
"It's your decision to make.  Personally, I've never
heard of anyone being undercover for eight years. 
You've been through a lot."  He had to admit to
himself that he was beginning to feel a strange bit of
respect for this man.  Could he himself have endured
what Krycek went through; for eight years?

"You know, the worst part is having everyone you
admire and respect, hate you; treat you like you're
scum."  Krycek toyed with his water bottle.  "No one
to talk to, no one who has a clue what's going on with
you."

"So why haven't you left before now?"
"I have.  It didn't work out so well."  He stood and
went to the TV.  "Finally some news on the storm."  He
turned the volume up.

Skinner got the distinct impression there was more to
this man than he'd ever considered. He had wondered in
the past, why a guy would work to make it through
Quantico, which was no picnic as he remembered, only
to go over to the 'other side' less than a year after
becoming an agent.  He really should have done some
background work on Krycek.  Wonder what else he would
have found?

"Storm ends tonight; snow-plows out at dawn," the TV
was saying.
"Good.  We can leave in the morning" Krycek said as he
cleared the remnants of their dinner off the table. 
I'm going to grab a quick shower and get some sleep."
The bathroom door clicked shut and he heard the shower
come on.
"Guess that's all the answers for tonight," Skinner
thought.  He settled himself back on his bed; the
revelations of the day running circles in his head.  

"You're not asleep, are you?"  Warm damp air flooded
the room as a white-robed Krycek nudged the side of
his bed.
"Hmmm?  No; just resting my eyes."  He wiped a hand
over his eyes and scooched up into a sitting position.
"Here," a hand extended to him with two Tylenol and a
bottle of water.
"These things really don't do much good," but he took
them grudgingly anyway.
"I know.  About all they do is make you sleepy; and
you need to sleep; give your body a rest; let it
heal."  He went to the dresser and came back with the
first aid kit.  Walter lowered the sweat pants down
and Alex removed the bandage.
"Any better?" Skinner asked hopefully.
"Not yet," Krycek answered squeezing some Neosporin
onto the wound.  "It'll take a few more days on
penicillin before you see any improvement."  He filled
the syringe and said, "This really should go in the
hip."

Skinner scowled, turned on his side.  The wet-wipe was
cold, but the shot was quick and over with before he
could complain.  He lay back down and Krycek pulled
the covers up over him.  It was a strange feeling,
having Krycek look after him.  He couldn't make out
what his feelings were.  "Undercover for eight years;
is that possible?  Would Cassidy really take a green
agent and hand him over to the Consortium like that? 
Yeah, she would; in a heartbeat.  She'd turn over her
own mother if it would further her career!"  These
thoughts raced through his mind.

The lights were turned off.  He could see a vague
silhouette of Krycek rummaging in the drawers; the
robe tossed on a chair as he slipped on clean
underwear.
"Mmmmm, nice ass," Skinner thought as the Tylenol
kicked in and he drifted off to sleep.

The beeping microwave woke him up and the smell of
coffee filled his nostrils.  A cup of coffee and a
small container of orange juice were placed on the
night stand beside him.
"Morning," Krycek said and turned the TV on.  "Good;
they're clearing the streets."

Skinner made his way to the bathroom after downing
half the orange juice.  He was surprised at how much
better he felt.  Not so weak or achy.  His leg was
still sore as hell when he walked on it, but it was
bearable.  Krycek was making more of that oatmeal, he
could smell it.  It sure smelled good and he was
looking forward to it.  He finished his morning
routine and hurried back to breakfast.

In an hour, they were in the motor home and on their
way.
"We should be in Seattle in a couple of hours
depending on traffic and road conditions.  It
shouldn't be too difficult finding the air port." 
Krycek said as he maneuvered the motor home through
traffic.
Skinner studied him from the side.  "Where'd you get
this thing anyway?  Should I be keeping my eye out for
a cop car looking for a stolen vehicle?"
Krycek laughed and gave him a sideways glance.  "I
would have stolen one if I had to but it wasn't
necessary.  This was on the first lot I came to.  Got
it for $12,500; just made a bank transfer and it was
mine."

They were on the highway now and the going was
smoother.
"It's small but it was perfect for our needs," he
added.
"I always wanted one of these."  Skinner mused.
"Really?  Why didn't you ever get one?" Krycek asked,
making his way past an 18-wheeler.
"Sharon was horrified at the idea.  Her idea of
camping was a limo to the airport, first class
tickets, limo to a five-star hotel, room service with
a mint on the pillow."  Did he really say that, as
sarcastically as it sounded?
"She's been gone several years now."  Krycek offered.
"Yeah, I know.  I guess it's something you want to do
with someone.  What fun would it be, seeing all the
great places with no one to share it with?"  He stared
out the side window at the snow drifts piled high
along side the highway.

"I wondered why she never went up to your cabin with
you."
"How do you know that?"  Skinner snapped back.
"Spender had me watching you on and off over the
years.  I followed you up there a few times.  After
you left, I'd go in and check the place out.  No
female things, nothing at all.  No female clothes,
cosmetics; no ruffles or fancy stuff; definitely a
man's cabin."

"So the old bastard knows about the cabin?"  One more
place he'd have to watch his back.
"No; he doesn't," Krycek assured him.  "I told him you
just checked into a motel somewhere and stayed a few
days to get away from it all."
"Why didn't you tell him?"
"I don't know.  He didn't need to know everything.  I
told him only what he really wanted to know; if you
were seeing any body."
"And you told him.....?"  
"That you were always in those motels alone."  Another
sideways glance showed a worried Skinner.
"He doesn't know."  Krycek added.
"Know what?"  Skinner snapped defensively.
"That you weren't always alone."

Skinner stared straight ahead out the window, saying
nothing.  Thoughts raced through his mind.  What all
did Krycek see?  How often was he watching?  Did he
see the hooker; the rent boy?  He tried to remember if
he had been with anyone after tangling with Spender. 
Would that have been when he was having him followed?
"What about Cassidy?" He asked.
"Same thing; need to know basis; she didn't need to
know.  Your private business is just that; private;
nobody's business but yours."

Skinner thought about that for a while and began to
wonder just how much more he had to be thankful to
this guy for.

"There's the sign -- Airport 3 miles ahead.  We can
have you in the air and on your way home on the next
flight heading east."  Krycek said as he maneuvered
into the right lane.
"Me?  Aren't you flying back?"
"Nah, I'm enjoying driving this thing around.  I'll
just drive back."
Airport, next exit the sign read.

"No," Skinner's mouth was saying before his mind had a
chance to think about it.  "I'll drive back too."
Krycek glanced at him, "You sure?"  You could be home
in a few hours.  It'll take a couple of days to
drive."
"Yeah, I'm sure."  He watched the road sign "Airport
Exit" pass by.  "I've always wanted to drive cross
country.  This is the perfect opportunity.  Besides,"
he continued,
"Tomorrow is Budget meeting.  The thought of sitting
there listening to Hodgkins drone on and on about
paperclips and pencils is enough reason to play hooky
for a few days."

"All right; it'll be nice to have the company." Krycek
agreed and maneuvered back over into the through
traffic lane.
"I was planning on heading south until we get out of
snow country. Somewhere in California, then head east
tomorrow.  Is that OK with you?"
"Sure," Skinner agreed, "you're the driver.  I'm
looking forward to seeing a little of this country
that I've flown over so many times."

"Why, Skinner!  You're a tourist at heart!"
Skinner laughed and relaxed a little.  "Yeah, I guess
I am.  I really have always wanted to do the tourist
thing, you know, see all the sites; Grand Canyon,
Mount Rushmore, the Everglades.  Every state has
beautiful places, historical sites.  I just......I don't
know. That last thought had skittered away.  He was a
little embarrassed by his own enthusiasm.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."  Krycek encouraged. 
"This has been a dream of mine for years, although I
always dreamed it in one of those million dollar
rigs."
"I've seen literature on those.  They have those slide
outs and every amenity you can imagine."  Skinner
added.  "This one is nice though.  It's got to be --
what 30 feet?"
"Yeah, 30 feet, only has 45,000 miles on it and drives
really well, considering its 10 years old."
"Looks like it's been well cared for; it's nice and
clean." Skinner said.
"Uh huh.  I haven't had the time to check it out.  I
just spotted it on the lot, asked if it ran, got in it
and drove it around the block and bought it.  We can
check it out later when we stop for lunch."

"Sounds good," Skinner answered, "If that refrigerator
works, we can stock up on some more groceries.  Looks
like the cook-top is electric, so we should be able to
do some cooking if we stop at campgrounds with
hookups."
"Yeah, the salesman said everything works and this
sticker here," he pointed to a sticker on the
windshield, "will get us in free in any state park. 
It's a 5-year sticker with two years left on it.  You
can just drive into any state park without worrying
about checking in, paying, or anything."  He stopped
for a breath.  "I thought we'd stop in Portland for
lunch.  We can check everything out then."
"Sounds good," Skinner answered, tempering his
excitement at the prospect of spending the next few
days on the road, sight seeing.

"How's the leg?"
"I think it's a little better.  Still sore as hell
when I walk on it but the throbbing is about gone."
"Good.  We'll keep you on the penicillin and if we can
keep you off it for the next few days, you should be
out of the woods."
"I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for
what you've done for me."
"There's no need.  Actually, you already have.  You
let me unload on you last night.  I really appreciate
that.  It was good having someone to talk to."

They drove in silence for a while.  Skinner trying to
imagine what it must have been like having no one you
could talk to; confide in for eight years.  He gave a
silent prayer of thanks for his friends.

"You said something last night," Skinner said, turning
slightly in his seat.  "You said you've left the
Consortium before and it didn't work out.  What
happened?"  He didn't know if he expected an answer or
not but he was curious.
Krycek shifted uneasily in his seat.  "The first time;
he found me and had his goons work me over until I
promised never to leave again."
"How many times were you caught?"
"Three times."  He was clearly uncomfortable with this
subject but he answered anyway.
"Second time, same beating with a little something
extra; he locked me in a small closet for four days."
"A closet?"  Skinner was appalled.
"Yeah."
 "The third time?" Skinner prompted.

Krycek took a deep breath and answered.  "Beating,
closet, needle in the arm, plane trip, and I woke up
in a prison in Tunisia."  All out in one breath.
"Tunisia?"  Skinner was aghast.  "That's where they
accept anyone you bring them and keep them there as
long as they get paid?"
"Uh huh.  Tunisia has nothing to offer any other
country in trade.  No manufacturing, no ores, nothing
but sand.  So they devised this prison system.  They
accept prisoners from any country; for any reason, no
questions asked.  As long as you pay, they keep
whoever you bring.  Of course, the prison system
answers to no one in the government so they set their
own rules."
"Disgusting!"  Skinner snarled his disapproval.
"He brought me back when he had a job for me."
"How long were you there?"
"27 days of hell."
An uncomfortable silence settled over them.
"Any other questions?" He was obviously not in the
mood for any more.

"No.  You'll talk when you're ready.  We got plenty of
time."  Skinner turned his attention back to the road.

Krycek finally broke the silence.  "So tell me, what's
it like growing up on a farm?  Did you have lots of
animals?"
"How did you know I grew up on a farm?"  Skinner was
amazed but pleased that they were talking again.
"I did my homework." Krycek chuckled.
"And I was your homework?"
"At different times over the years; whenever the old
man wanted to get something to use on you."  A
sideways glance showed another scowl on Skinner's
face.

"He never found anything out; not from me."
Skinner stewed for a bit.
"So what was it like?  Horses?  Cows? Chickens?"
"No.  No horses or cows.  We did have chickens one
year but my sister cried every time we had one for
dinner and refused to eat."  He smiled at the memory. 
"It was just a small family farm; 40 acres."
"Forty acres?  That doesn't sound small."
"Well it was compared to some.  We had no cash crops,
just stuff to feed the family."
"What's a cash crop?"
"It's a crop you grow to take into town to sell.  We
never did that.  Dad had a job in town and worked the
farm evenings and weekends.  All three of us kids
helped.  Mom was a stay-at-home mom and did all the
canning, freezing and processing all the fruits and
vegetables."

"Sounds wonderful.  It must have been great having a
brother and sister."
"It was when we were kids.  We grew apart as we got
older."  Skinner answered, and then asked, "You have
any brothers or sisters?"
A muscle twitched in Krycek's jaw.
"No.  Almost had a sister though."
"Almost?  What the hell kind of answer is that?"
"Momma was 8 ½ months pregnant with my baby sister
when they.....died."

"Oh."  Skinner immediately regretted his attitude. 
"I'm sorry.  What happened?"

 "It happened on Christmas eve.  I was eight years
old.  We had just trimmed our little tree sitting on
the table.  There were four presents under the; one
for each of us. I was so excited.  I had just run
upstairs to my room to get the little gifts that I
hade made in school for my parents and the little
mobile Poppa helped me make for the baby.  I had drawn
pictures on brown grocery bags for wrapping paper and
had them all wrapped and hidden in my secret hiding
place.  In my closet there was a lose panel.  I could
slide it sideways and slip in under the eave.  It was
small, but enough room for me and my best friend
JimmyWebb to climb in and call it our secret club
house."  He paused a moment, took a deep breath and
went on.
  "I had just picked the gifts up when I heard a loud
banging, a crash as our front door was kicked in. 
Poppa was shouting "Get out!  Get out of our house!" 
Momma screamed once; then again then there was
silence."
Krycek steered the motor home off the highway,
stopping behind an 18-wheeler at a rest stop.  He sat
in silence for a moment then went on.  "I heard them
ransacking the house.  There were two of them.  I
crept back into my hiding place and pulled the panel
shut.  They came in my room, went through the closet
but didn't find me.  After a while there was silence. 
I should have come out but I didn't.  I was too
scared.  I knew Poppa would come and get me when it
was safe so I stayed hidden and waited.  No one came. 
I waited and waited.  It was so cold in there; I kept
thinking about my coat hanging in the closet just a
few feet away but I was too afraid to open that
panel."  
He got up from the driver's seat and took a seat on
the couch.  Head in hands, elbows on knees, he sat
there.  Skinner took the seat opposite him and waited.

"I didn't know at the time but I was in there for
three days.  I heard someone coming up the stairs
calling my name.  I didn't come out.  I thought it was
them again.  Then I heard Jimmy's voice.  He called my
name and knocked on the panel.  He told me the police
were here and wanted to talk with me.  I opened the
panel and came out.  There was a cop standing there. 
He had this awful look on his face and I knew.  Up
till then, I kept hoping....but when I saw him, I knew. 
All he said was, 'I'm so sorry son.'  He picked my up,
wrapped his jacket around me and carried me down the
stairs.  He tried to shield me, turn me away, but I
saw it; a big brown stain on the floor.  I looked into
the front room and saw our sad little tree; it had
been knocked over.  For some reason that made me cry. 
That was the first time I cried.  I was too scared to
cry before."

He leaned back on the couch.  "You know, I don't ever
remember crying before then.  I was a happy kid.  My
parents adored me.  I had a lot of friends, did well
in school.  My life was perfect.  Then in one moment,
it was all gone."  He wiped at the tears that had
slipped down his cheeks.

Skinner was stunned into silence.  Krycek began again.
"They put me in a police car and drove me across town
to Sisters of Charity home for boys.  I lived there
for five years then took off."  He stood and went to
the refrigerator for some bottled water.

"I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am for what
you've been through."  Skinner tried to find the right
words; something to say to ease this man's pain that
was still saw fresh and raw within him.
"It was a long time ago," was all Krycek said as he
climbed back into the driver's seat, started the
engine and pulled back out onto the highway. 

They drove the rest of the way to Portland in silence;
an occasional comment now and then on a car or view.
"What do you feel like eating?"  Krycek asked as they
entered the outskirts of town and began seeing signs
for the different restaurants.
"I don't much care.  Some little café or coffee shop
is fine.  I'm not much into burgers and fries."
They found a little café; went in and ordered a light
lunch.
"You OK?" Skinner asked after sitting through the meal
in silence.
"Yeah, I'm OK."  Krycek answered.  "I just don't like
talking about my family.  It's too personal; it hurts
too much."
"I understand why now.  We don't have to discuss them
further."

A small smile of gratitude crossed his face.  "Thanks"
he muttered as they got up to leave.
"I'll take care of this," Skinner said, taking out his
credit card.
  They took highway 5 out of Portland and headed
south; driving for a time in silence.
"You decided where to stay tonight?" Skinner asked,
thumbing through a State Parks Directory he found in
the glove box.  
"No.  I just figured I'd drive until I get tired.  You
got someplace in mind?"
"You ever been to Crater Lake National Park?"
"No. They got a campground there?"
"Yes, with full hook-ups."  Skinner announced, reading
'full hookup including water, electric, sewer,
telephone and internet; pool, playground, Laundromat,
coffee shop and general store.'
They passed the sign saying Crater Lake National Park,
12 miles.

"Sounds perfect;" Krycek agreed; everything we need."
 "Should be a beautiful drive; looks like pine tree
country."
"It'll be good to get off the highway for a while." He
eased the motor home down the off-
Ramp and onto the smaller winding road.

It was a beautiful drive.  The going was much slower
and they cracked the windows to let in some of the
crisp mountain air.  It was over all too soon but the
beauty of the park made up for it.  They quickly found
a spot.  It was February so not too many camp sites
were taken; lots of privacy.  The nearest camper was
six rows over.

They climbed out and quickly made the hookups.  A trip
to the general store and they had groceries, towels,
sweatshirts and tees with "I (heart) Oregon" and
"Crater National Park" on them.  They snipped off the
price tags and along with the clothes bought earlier,
made their way to the Laundromat.  They put their
laundry in to wash then took a short stroll around the
park; enjoying the cool crisp air; stopping now and
then to rest Skinner's injured leg.  They circled back
to the Laundromat and put their loads into the dryers.
 A short walk to the lake front and they sat down on
one of the benches. 
 
The lakefront was deserted; a cool breeze was blowing
in and they buttoned up their jackets as they watched
the sun set.

"Getting colder," Krycek offered, shoving his hands in
his pockets.  "Probably get some snow tonight."
"Yeah, good thing the heater in the camper works so
well." Skinner agreed.

They picked up their laundry and headed back to their
campsite.  They folded the warm clothes and found
drawer space for it all; clean sheets on the queen
sized bed and towels in the bathroom.
Dishes and cooking utensils were found in the
cabinets.  The salesman had said this motor home had
been a rental so it had most of the necessities.
Before long, they were devouring a warm delicious
dinner and watching for the weather report on TV. 
Just a light dusting of show was all that was
expected, so there was no worry about the roads for
tomorrow.

It was dark now and Skinner closed the curtains as
Krycek cleaned up after dinner.  He sat back in a
chair and watched Krycek stacking the dishes back into
the cupboard.  He wondered, once again, about this
strange man he had thought of for so long as his
enemy.  How could he have been so wrong?  He was
usually such a good judge of character.  Was Alex
really that good an actor?  Could anyone sustain such
an act for eight years?  Was    
that possible?  Or is all this an act now?  
No!  It couldn't be; at least not the part about his
family.  Those were real tears and he's got to know
I'll check out anything he tells me when we get back
home.  He said he left the boys home after five years.
 That would make him thirteen.  Wonder why he left?

"Questions?" Krycek asked, seating himself on the
couch across from Skinner.
"I was just wondering about the boy's home you left at
thirteen.  Was it awful there?  Where did you go?"
"No, it was wonderful there.  I loved everyone there. 
It was like having 43 brothers!  We were all in the
same boat; no parents.  We seldom talked about our
families.  There was no need.  We all knew we were
there for the same reason.  Our parents were dead; or
in two cases, in prison."
"Why did you leave then?"
Krycek thought for a few minutes then answered, "I had
a couple of bad experiences in foster homes.  Each
time I got to come back was wonderful.  They told me
they had another home that wanted me.  I couldn't risk
it.  I begged them to let me stay but the sate welfare
agency was in charge and said if a home was available,
I had to so.  So I left."

"Where did you go?  You were only 13!  How did you
survive?"
"It wasn't that hard.  I hitched a few rides from
Springfield, Ohio to NYC.  That's where I wanted to
live; took me two days to get there.  A couple of guys
who picked me up bought me stuff to eat.  I walked a
lot but I got there.  I stopped at the first fast-food
place I came to and tried to get work.  The guy behind
the counter, Eddie, was young and he told me the first
thing I had to do to get a job was to quit saying I
was 13.  Nobody hires a 13 year old.  He said 16 was
the minimum age and to tell people that was my age. 
He told me he was really only 15 but he had made a
copy of his birth certificate and changed the date on
it and was hired.  I told him I didn't have a birth
certificate and he said he was getting off work in an
hour and he'd take me to the library and show me how
to print one up on the computer.  He made me a free
burger while I waited."
"The next day, I had two jobs.  Mon, Wed, Fri, & Sat;
4 hours a day at McDonalds; Tues, Thurs, & Sun, 4
hours a day at Jack in The Box.  I stayed at Eddie's
house until I started getting paid.  His mom worked
nights so she was always gone or sound asleep."
"My first paycheck I went to a nearby Goodwill store
and bought a $20 bike and some clothes. Within a
month, I had rented a room in a boarding house.  I got
an early morning paper route and in the fall I
enrolled in 11th grade at a nearby high school. 
School was always easy for me.  I got text books at
the library and once I read them, I had it all down. 
I was tall for my age so no one questioned my birth
certificate."  He paused and took a long drink from
his bottled water.  "Anything else you're curious
about?"

"Every time you answer a question, you leave me with
ten more."
Krycek chuckled.  "I'm going to take a shower.  Get
your ten questions in mind and I'll answer them when
I'm done."  He rummaged through the drawers in the
bedroom for a minute then closed himself in the
bathroom.

Skinner went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle
of water.  "Ten questions.  Hmmmm.  What do I want to
ask?"  He sat back down and worked on his questions.

Soon the bathroom door opened and the camper was
filled with warm damp air and the smell of bath soap
and shampoo.  Krycek came out pulling a clean sweat
shirt over his head and took a seat across from
Skinner.  
"Got your questions ready?  Just ten now and I'm going
to bed."

"Ten; OK, got it."  He gathered his thoughts and
began.
"#1.  How did you get from McDonalds to Quantico?"
"Worked hard every day to support myself; took every
martial arts class I could squeeze in on my time off;
studied languages; bought a gun and practiced till I
was expert class; read every book the library had on
police work; made marksman and top scholar at the
Police Academy; got recruited for the bureau at the
end of my first year."

"OK.  #2."  Skinner considered his choices then asked.
 "You worked at fast-food places until you got into
the academy then?"
"No.  Just for two years.  Between high school and the
Academy, I worked at several jobs. Luby's Cafeteria,
Wyler's Construction Company, Anderson's Landscaping &
Design and in college I even sang with my room mate in
some small clubs around town."
"You sing?"  Skinner asked surprised.

"Is that question #3?"  Krycek grinned.

The grin affected Skinner in ways he didn't
understand, but he went on.
"Uh....OK...Yeah; that's #3."
"Yes, I sing some.  I remember the words and melody to
every song I hear; I can carry a tune and have an
acceptable voice.  #4?"

"#4."  Skinner was taken aback; Alex Krycek sings! 
Next question, next question; he noticed Krycek
fiddling with his prosthesis.
"Your arm; what the hell happened over there in
Tunguska?"

Krycek was surprised by the question.  He had expected
more about his childhood.
"OK, the arm."  He wrestled with his thoughts; how to
tell it in a condensed version.
"You know from Mulder's report that we were caught and
thrown into a cell."
Skinner agreed with a nod and, "uh huh."
"The first time they questioned me, it was rough.  I
tried to convince them that I was an undercover
Russian agent, but they didn't believe me.  I heard
them talking about torturing the truth out of us;
starting with Mulder; then sending us to the lab for
the tests.  The second time they took me, I was able
to convince them to take me to their supervisor.  It
turned out; I had met the guy before. He remembered me
as being part of "the big group" as he called it.  I
told him I was on assignment there and was taking
Mulder back to the States to be dealt with.  He bought
it; gave me a meal and a decent place to sleep. He
made arrangements for the two of us to get
transportation back into town the next morning.  We
were standing on the dock waiting for the prisoners to
be brought out so Mulder and I could leave."
  "All of the sudden, Mulder comes at me swinging some
sort of knife and knocks me off the dock and into the
back of a truck.  I lost consciousness for a few
minutes and the next thing I knew, we were barreling
down this mountain road.  I tried to get Mulder's
attention to tell him about the arrangement I had made
but he was too busy fighting that truck.  The brakes
wouldn't work and he was having trouble steering it. 
Meanwhile, the road was getting steeper and more
treacherous.  I tried to holler to Mulder to jump but
he couldn't hear me.  I knew it was only a matter of
time before he went over the side.  There were a lot
of curves ahead, I hoped he would have remembered from
our trip up there, and just jump.  I went off the back
of the truck and took off running.  A few minutes
later, I heard the crash."
"I hurried as fast as I could, but by the time I got
there, he was gone.  The guards on horseback were
coming so I took off into the woods.  I came across
some villagers and explained my situation to them. 
They took me to their camp and fed me.  I questioned
them about all of them missing their left arms.  They
said it was the tests.  One of them had actually lost
his arm in an accident and he was never taken for the
tests again.  The others saw this and one by one they
removed each other's arms and they were not taken
again.  They offered to 'help' me but I explained to
them that as soon as I found my friend, I would be
leaving.  They agreed to help me search for Mulder."

"We searched those woods for three days but there was
no trace of him.  On the third night, I was sleeping
by the fire."  He stopped; massaged his shoulder, then
went on.
"I didn't know what was happening at first.  It seemed
they all jumped on me.  Then I saw one of them come
towards me with a white hot knife."  A shudder passed
through him and he continued. "The next thing I knew,
that knife was taking my arm off.  They took good care
of me and told me that the guards had been to the
village and were combing the woods for me but now I
was safe."

"I stayed with them a few days then made my way into
town.  I called Cassidy and she told me Mulder had
made it home safely; all in one piece.  I called the
old man and he had someone pick me up and got me to a
hospital in St. Petersburg.  That's where I got this."
 He held up his plastic arm; then said, "#5?"

Skinner stood up and walked around a bit rubbing his
leg.  
"Hurting?"  Krycek asked.
"Just a little achy," he sat back down.  "#5.  Why
does Mulder hate you so much?"

"He thinks I killed his father."
"It has to be more than that," Skinner shook his head.
 "His hatred for you is beyond all reason; like its
personal or something.  Is there something else there?
 Something I don't know about?"
"He was paranoid back then, remember?  He had that
stuff in his apartment building making him nutty.  I
heard he even attacked you."

Skinner remembered that fracas in the hall.  "Nothing
personal between you two then?"
Krycek stared at him for several seconds then
responded.  "No personal connection at all; ever."
That satisfied Skinner, more than he understood why.

"#6?"  Krycek prompted.
"The dat tape.  How did you know I had it?"
"Easy one.  They had a camera in Mulder's office and
saw you take it."
"Was it necessary to beat the shit out of me to get
it?" A spark of anger flared.

"#7?" Krycek asked with a grin.
"OK.  Yeah.  #7"
"It was assigned to Cardinal.  He was playing with his
switchblade in the car all the way to the hospital,
bragging that he'd show us how things were handled in
his country.  I knew what he had in mind.  I began
talking about you; how much I hated you; how you rode
me and treated me like dirt."

"That never happened!"  Skinner came out of his chair.
 "I never treated you unfairly!"
"I know, I know.  I just told him that to make him
believe I hated you.  I told him I wanted to beat you
to death with my bare hands.  I asked him to let me at
you first, before he did his thing.  I had a small
gismo in my pocket and after a few punches, I turned
it on and set off the alarm, knowing everyone would
come pouring into the stairwell and Cardinal wouldn't
get to carry out his plans."
Skinner stood staring at him; once again blindsided by
what he knew was probably the truth.

"#8?"  Krycek asked. 
Skinner took his seat and thought a while.
"Did Spender have anything to do with my wife's
death?"
"No.  Not that I know of.  Actually, he was out of the
country at the time and I never heard any discussion
about it."

"#9.  Did you know Cardinal was going to shoot me? 
Couldn't you have warned me?"
"That's #9 & 10?"
"OK.  9 & 10."
"No, I didn't know he was going to shoot you.   He
said later it was unfinished business.  I guess he
meant the Dat tape deal. If I had known, I would have
stopped him and you wouldn't have needed warning."  He
stood.  "That's 10.  I hope you know that I expect to
get my 10 questions answered tomorrow."
"You got it."  Skinner agreed and sat in silence for a
while, pondering the latest information, then stood
and announced "I need a shower", and headed for the
bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later he emerged to find Krycek making
up the couch with sheets and blankets.
"You didn't have to do that."  He said, entering the
living room area.  "I can make up my own bed."
"Why don't you take the bed, Krycek offered.  "This is
fine for me."
"No.  Couch is mine.  Your rig; your bed," Skinner
said.
"Yeah, but you're injured," he argued.
"Not that bad.  Besides; it's getting better."  He
parted his robe and held out his leg.
"It does look better.  A few more days and it'll be
good as new."  Krycek said and reached for the
first-aid kit in an overhead storage compartment.

Skinner sat down on the couch/bed; leaned back against
the pillows.  "Feels good." He said stretching his
long legs out in front of him.  Krycek sat down beside
him, first-aid kit in is lap.  "Looks like it's
closing up good" he said, inspecting the wound closer.
 He squeezed some Neosporin on it and re-bandaged it. 
He filled the syringe and gave him another shot. 


Next morning over coffee, after breakfast, Krycek
asked, "So do I get my 10 questions now?"
"Can't think of any questions you might have.  You
seem to know all about me" Skinner answered.
"Oh, I got questions.  So are you game?"
"You can ask.  Don't guarantee I'll answer."
"That's not fair!"  Krycek protested.
"Take it or leave it."
"OK.  We'll do it your way; but if you refuse to
answer, I get another question in its place."
"Agreed," Skinner answered, sipping his coffee.
"#1.  Why did you decide to drive back to DC with me
instead of flying?"
"Easy.  If I had the choice first day, I would have
flown back.  All I wanted to do was to forget this
nightmare ever happened.  Then we spent some time
together in that motel room and I realized talking
with you about it was the only way I was going to get
any answers."
"I didn't have many answers for you."
"You told me a hell of a lot more than I knew."

"#2.  Why haven't you retired?  You got 23 years in;
you waiting for a gold watch?"
"That's two questions," Skinner warned.
"Answer just the first one then."
"OK.  I was waiting for my 20 years to retire but when
it came, I realized I didn't have anything better to
do with my life or anyone to do it with, so I just
stayed on."
Krycek thought about that for a few minutes.
"3.  I thought maybe you and Mulder.....You're not going
to answer that one."  He stood and took his empty cup
to the sink and rinsed it out.
"You thought that Mulder and I what?" He stared his
best AD stare at Krycek -- pinning him where he stood.
"I thought that you and Mulder might......I don't know, go
into business together or something."
"Why in the world would I want to go into business
with Mulder?  It's not like he and I have ever agreed
on anything."

Krycek chuckled and sat down on the couch, drumming
his fingers on the arm.  
"Just wondering," he added before going on to #4.

"#4.  So if you did decide to retire, you'd want to do
what; travel?"
"I actually haven't thought about it in a while; but
yes, that's what I'd like to do.  I'd probably get me
one of those big motor homes and just take off.  See
this country that I've spend more than half of my life
trying to protect."
"And after?"
"Is that #5?"
"Yeah, that's #5.  What are you going to do after
you're tired of traveling around?"

"Well, I was thinking about getting a place somewhere;
out in the country, far away
from the city with all its noise and traffic and
smells."
"Become a country Squire?"
"No, not at all.  I was thinking more along the lines
of an old farm house to remodel.  Nothing very big;
something like the folks had.  Maybe put in a
vegetable garden, some fruit trees; get a couple of
dogs."
"You like dogs?"
"Is that #6?"

"Yeah, that's #6."
"Yes, I like dogs.  We always had a couple, 2 or 3
around the place when I was growing up.  But I like
big dogs.  Not those little yippy things."
"I hear you.  I know what you mean."

"#7?" Skinner asked, uncapping his bottled water and
taking a drink.
"#7.  Do you think you'll ever get married again?"
"That's an easy one.  No chance in hell!"
"Sound pretty sure of yourself."
"That I am!"

"#8?" Skinner asked.
"OK; I'm thinking.  Which is your preference; male or
female?"
"Getting kind of personal there."
"That's not an answer."
"OK.  The answer is, it would depend on the person and
the situation."
"That's a cop-out, Walter."

Skinner glared at him; but Krycek, slouched in his
chair, long legs stretched out in front of him and
crossed at the ankles; just grinned.  He wasn't buying
the AD act.
"Male.  Next question," Skinner answered making it
clear there would be no further discussion of the
matter.
"OK.  I got two questions left."  Krycek fiddled with
the bottle of water; screwing the cap off and back on
again.
"#9.  Mulder and you; anything personal there; and is
he your type?"
"That's two questions!" Skinner snapped.
"OK, make that 9 and 10 then; I have two left."
"Answers the same for both; no and no!  I think it's
time we get back on the road."

They secured everything, unhooked, and after one last
drive around the lake they left; back on the road
again.
"I don't want to get back into the 20 questions again,
but there is something I've been wondering."  Skinner
said.
"What would that be?"  Krycek gave him a sideways
glance from the driver's seat.
"Assuming everything you told me is true; how long do
you intend to keep this undercover job going?  You
mentioned you were working on a plan?"
"I don't know yet.  I'll stay with it as long as I
can, but I don't see me sticking around much longer." 
He kept his eyes on the road.
"The plan?" Skinner asked.
"The plan, as I said, is a work in progress.  I got
quite a bit of it nailed down but some fine details
are yet to be worked out."
"Anything I can help you with?"  Skinner asked.

Krycek turned and looked at him in surprise.
"You serious?"
"Sure; why not?  You saved my life; apparently more
than once.  It's the least I could do."
"I don't think there's anything you can do.  What I
need is to find some doctor who can do an MRI on me,
scan for implants, and keep it off the record.  There
was one doctor I could trust, he hated the Consortium
as much as I do but he disappeared.  I'll find one
somewhere.  Crooked doctors are easy to find, but I
need one with access to a MRI.  That's another story."
"That's all you need, I can arrange that easy."
"It would have to be completely off the record; no
charts, no reports.
"Not a problem.  When do you want it done?"
"You sure about this?  Sure you can trust this
doctor?"  Krycek asked, hopefully.
"Positive.  He's an ex-marine buddy of mine.  He runs
a clinic over on 134th street and Hudson."
"He'll do it?  No questions asked?"
"Can't guarantee there will be no questions; he's a
doctor.  Doctors love to ask questions."
"I won't have any answers for him," Krycek warned.
"Won't matter; he'll do it for me.  When do you want
to do it?"
"The sooner the better!"
"Let me borrow your phone."  He reached over for
Krycek's cell phone.  He punched in a series of
numbers and put the phone to his ear.
"Be careful what you say," Krycek warned.

Skinner's face broke into a smile.
"Hey beautiful!  Are you ready to leave that scoundrel
of a husband of yours and run off with me yet?"  He
smiled as Krycek looked on.
Skinner laughed, "Sweetie, I need to talk to Tony. 
Can he come to the phone?"  He waited a few minutes
then said, "Hey, Tony!  Need some help."
  Pause 
 "No, not for a couple of days."
  Pause
  "An MRI"
  Pause 
 "No.  Not for me." 
 Pause
 "Yeah; something that shouldn't be there."
Pause
 "And Tony, this will have to be strictly on a John
Doe basis." 
 Pause 
"Can't tell you that.  We'll be back in town in a day
or so.  I'll call you when we know for sure.  Thanks,
Tony.  Bye."  He handed the phone back to Krycek.

"Just like that?" Krycek asked with a smile.
"Just like that!"  Skinner assured him.
They drove on in silence for a while.

"You sure they put something in you?"  Skinner asked.
"Can't figure any other way they could find me so
fast."
"How fast?"
"Two -- three days.  Had my trail covered; no way else
they could have found me."
"If there is something there -- what then?"
"Will your doctor take it out for me?"
"Yeah, if he can.  You'll need to destroy it somehow."
"Thought about that.  I made some enemies last year
among the Chinese group called the Tong."
"I've heard of them."
"There have been threats of retaliation.  They have
been known to dump their enemies in the East River.  I
thought I'd take the device and dump it there.  The
old man might just figure they got me and not look too
hard."

"Might work.  You got someplace to go?"
"Yeah, it's not quite ready but it'll do.  I haven't
been there in a while.  The old man might suspect
something; he's really been keeping an eye on my
lately.  I didn't want to take the chance of leading
him there."
"You think the Olians told him?"
"I have no way of knowing."
"So if we find something and Tony takes it out, are
you gone?"
"You bet!"

They didn't talk much after that.  Not about anything
important; each deep in his own thoughts.  That
evening they were halfway across the country when they
stopped for the night.  They pulled into a state park
and made their hookups.
Krycek fixed a dinner for them and they ate quietly;
next to no conversation at all.
Krycek headed for the shower and Skinner stopped him
with, "Can I use your phone again?  I'd like to call
and leave word that I won't be back to work until
Monday."
"Sure.  Knock yourself out."  Krycek said and tossed
him the phone.
"Thanks"

He punched in a number and waited.
"Tommy.  Good.  I'm glad I caught you.  Listen, I need
a favor; I need you to check someone out for me.  His
name is Krycek.  Alex Krycek.  K R Y C E K.  He worked
at the bureau for a while so you can start there.  I
need to know everything you can find on him -- and I
mean everything.  The information that we had on him,
said he went bad.  Now there's a possibility he's one
of Cassidy's boys."
"Be extra careful on this one, Tommy.  No one can
suspect he's being checked up on.  Oh, one more thing;
I need this information tomorrow if possible."
He held the phone away from his ear while Tommy ranted
at him.
"I know, Tommy, I know.  It's that important." 
 Pause 
"No, I don't have my phone with me.  I'll have to call
you back." 
 Pause 
 "OK, thanks.  I'll owe you big time for this one. 
Call you tomorrow about the same time." 

He punched in his secretary's number and left her a
quick message; then closed the phone and put it back
on the kitchen counter.

Krycek came out of the bathroom then; got the
first-aid kit down re-dressed Walter's wound and gave
him another shot.  He made one last check on all the
windows; made sure the door was locked, and then went
to bed.

Next morning they had a quick breakfast, gassed up and
were on the road.
"You're awful quiet this morning," Skinner said once
they had made it out on the highway.
"Yeah, I'm anxious for this MRI business.  It's been
the one major stumbling block in my escape plan."
"You can relax about it then because it's as good as
done."  Skinner assured him.
"You sure you can trust this guy?  I know you said he
was in the Marines with you but that was a long time
ago."
"It's a long story if you want to hear it?"
"We got the time; so yes, I would like to hear it."

"We were in Nam together.  Tony was just a Medic then.
 He's the one who found me.  My squad had walked right
into an ambush.  We were cut to pieces.  When they
found us every one was dead.  They were putting us all
in body bags when Tony noticed that I was still alive.
 He worked on me there in the field, then got me back
to camp.  He saved my life."
"There were only six of us out of my unit that made it
back. We've stuck pretty close every since." He
stopped, reining in his emotions as a flood of smiling
faces passed through his mind.  All his buddies, lost
so many years ago, their faces still fresh and clear
in his mind.

"You were lucky," Krycek said quietly.
Skinner snapped his head around and scowled, "Lucky?" 
"Lucky he found you still alive; lucky you made it
back."
"Skinner didn't respond to that; just stared out the
front window for a while.

"So all six of you are in the DC area?"
"Five of us are.  One lives in Texas.  He's a Texas
Ranger.  The rest of us live within a couple hours of
each other."
"So you all get together and sit around talking about
the war?"
"No.  We get together whenever we can but we don't
talk about the war.  Never.  It's always there;
something horrible that we all shared.  We have no
need to discuss it."

"A lot of guys came back pretty messed up."  Krycek
said.
"Yeah, I know.  Don't know how we all managed to keep
our heads on straight but we did.  Tony went on to
Medical School and has his own clinic now.  Tommy went
to law school with me.  He eventually went into
International Finance.  Bruce is a detective with
NYPD.  He's on suspension most of the time.  Can't
seem to follow the rules but he's too good at what he
does so they just keep transferring him around." 
Skinner said with an affectionate chuckle.
"Kind of like Mulder?"  Krycek offered.
"You could say that.  Then there's the General."
 "Your General?"
"Actually he was our Lieutenant.  He was always saying
if he was a general things would be different so we
started calling him the general and I guess it just
stuck.  We still call him that."

"Is he a General for real now?"
"Nah; funny thing is though, he has an identical twin
brother who is a real General in the Army."
"Army; not the Marines?"
"Nope; they say it was the only time they ever
disagreed on anything.  Gene went into the Marines and
Jerry went into the Army."
"They still close?"
"Like two peas in a pod."
"Your General stay in?"
"Oh hell no; we all got out as fast as we could. 
Tommy, Bruce and I were all in the same hospital for a
time.  Tony went into medical school close by and he
and the General and Chuck, the Texas Ranger, came by
to visit when they could.  We stayed in contact ever
since."

"The General has his own construction company; does a
lot of specialized jobs."
"Specialized jobs?"
"Yeah, top security type jobs."
"Oh.  Sounds interesting."
"It is.  He comes up with some stories you wouldn't
believe, so does Tommy."
"International Finance?  Sounds pretty dull to me."
"He's got some stories too.  Setting up overseas
accounts for a dog so the old lady's young husband
wouldn't get her millions; another guy was hiding
money from his four wives he was currently involved
with.  You'd be surprised."
"I guess so."  Krycek laughed.  "And I'm sure you've
regaled them with stories of Mulder and his antics."
"I have; and now I've found out first hand that at
least one of his stories has a ring of truth to it."
"If the truth were ever to come out, you'd probably
find most of Mulder's stories are true; at least the
ones about the aliens are.  Don't know much about some
of those other stories he comes up with." Krycek
chuckled.

"Mulder's a good man, an excellent agent with a real
feel for the work.  He just gets a little carried away
sometimes."  Skinner defended his #1 agent.
"I'd say that's an understatement."  Krycek grinned.

They drove in silence for a while, and then Krycek
asked, "So this Dr. Tony; you're sure about him?"
"Positive," Skinner answered
"Can't ask for anything more than that."

It was nearly 9:00 PM when they closed in on the
clinic.
"Better call Tony and let him know we're near."
Skinner said and reached out a hand for Krycek's
phone. 
He punched the number in and waited.  Tony answered.
"Hey Tony, we're about 10 minutes out.  We need to
come in the back entrance.  We're in a 30 foot motor
home." 
 Pause 
 "Good deal.  See you shortly."  He snapped the phone
shut and handed it back to Krycek.
"All set.  Go in on Marshal Street, take the alley. 
You'll be able to drive right into the building.  Tony
will be waiting."

"Good.  Man, I can't believe this.  I've been
wondering and worrying about this for the last few
years now," Krycek said.
"We'll know soon enough if there's anything in your
body that's not supposed to be there.  If there's
something there, Tony will find it."
"And he knows how to read an MRI and all?  We won't
have to send it out and wait days for results?"
"No.  Tony and Rachel, his wife, who I've also known
almost as long as I've known Tony, and trust just as
much; both work the machine and can interpret the
readings."
"There it is."  Skinner said pointing to a large old
building.  The back bay doors were open and there was
plenty of room for Krycek to drive right on in.  The
large doors clackety clacked closed behind them.
Skinner was up and out the door before Krycek even
stood.

"What the hell happened to you?"  Tony was checking
out the wound on the side of Skinner's head as Krycek
came out the door, gun tucked safely in his waist band
and hidden by his jacket.
"The leg's the real problem," Krycek said.
"Leg? Christ, Walter.  You didn't say anything abut
being hurt!"

Rachel ran up about then and flung herself into
Walter's arms.
"You've come to take me away from all this?" she
giggled.
"Careful Rach, he's hurt." Tony said.
"I'm fine," Skinner protested.
"This is our MRI?" Tony said reaching a hand to
Krycek.
"That's right," Skinner answered, "Meet John Doe."
Krycek heaved a sigh of relief and shook hands.
"Well come on in and let's get started.  Now what
happened to you?" Tony led them to the back elevator.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you; but I will say
this much, I was attacked up at the cabin.  I was out
back turning the generator on and two guys jumped me. 
Don't know where they came from, I didn't see any
vehicles in the area.  I remember falling against the
wood pile in the struggle, then someone hit me in the
head, I felt a sting against the side of my neck and I
went out.  They drugged me, I don't know what with,
but I woke up clear across the country."  He stopped
talking as the elevator stopped and they got off and
followed Tony down the hall and into an examining
room.
Rachel handed Krycek a gown and pointed to a dressing
room.  "We'll need everything off."  She said.

"Did he do this to you?"  Tony asked in a lowered
voice.
"No.  He found me; got me out of there and brought me
back." Skinner assured him.
"Let's see the leg.:  Tony said, motioning for Skinner
to sit on the bed.
He hopped up and pulled up his pant leg.
"Ugly," Tony said, "should have had stitches."
"Yeah, I know."  Krycek said coming out of the room in
the gown and his socks.  "I didn't see it until it was
2 or 3 days old and already infected so all I could do
was give him Penicillin and Neosporin."  He came over
to check out the wound, "Looks a lot better though."

"You did the right thing.  Where'd you get the
penicillin?" Tony asked.
"Pharmacy." Krycek answered.  "Here, you'd better hold
on to this."  He handed the gun to Skinner.
"What the hell happened to your arm?" Tony asked,
noticing Krycek's prosthesis.
"Long story; can we do this now?"
"Sure can."  Rachel said and led him into the next
room where the machine was set up.

"I want all the details!" Tony said to Walter as they
followed into the next room.
"Later." Walter whispered back, "I need to use your
cell phone and call Tommy and I don't want John Doe to
know I'm on the phone."
"Can do," Tony said.

"You get things started here Rach, I want to take a
closer look at Walter's leg and draw some blood, just
to make sure he's OK."  Then to Krycek his said, "This
should take about an hour, so just lie back and relax.
 We'll be right in the next room."

They walked back into the examining room and Tony
handed Walter his cell phone.  "Your leg looks fine
but I do need to take some blood."
"Go ahead."  Walter sat on the table and punched
Tommy's numbers into the phone.
"Hey Tom, what do you have?"  A long silence on
Walter's end while Tommy told him what he'd found.
"This Alex Krycek is something else!  Had to check and
re-check everything every which way from Sunday but in
a capsule, Yes.  You're right about him being one of
Cassidy's boys.  A check from her private bureau
account is deposited directly into his private account
every month.  He also has several other accounts and,
yes, on of them receives a deposit monthly from an
account we know to be Consortium.  You'd better be
careful with this one.  No telling for sure which side
he's on."
"I know.  That's why I called you; anything else; any
feelings on this guy?"
"Yeah; some really shitty stuff from his childhood;
could turn a guy either way.  As to feelings; this guy
could turn out to be either a mass murderer or a
priest, or anything in between."

"That's not much help.  No gut-feelings at all on this
one?"
"I gotten into a lot of background that I won't take
up your time with right now but if I had to guess, I'd
say he's a good guy.  But, for God's sakes, Walt, be
careful.  You know what these people are capable of."
"Yeah, I know, I know.  Thanks Tommy.  I'll be
careful, but I think you're right.  I think he's
clean.  If anything else pops up, give me a call.  I'm
at Tony clinic."
"You got it.  Bye."
"Bye"

Tony placed a wad of 2X2's on Walter's arm where he
drew the blood and covered it with tape.  They walked
back into the other room and watched the proceedings
through the window.  Walter noticed Krycek's
prosthesis on a cabinet top and winced.  He knew
Krycek had a false arm, had seen the plastic hand
often enough, but seeing it lying there like that
brought a lump to his throat.
"You ever see anything like that?"  Tony asked going
over and picking it up. "This thing is so old; he must
have gotten it in some 3rd world country.  We haven't
used this style in years."
"Russia."  Walter said.  "He got it 4 or 5 years ago
in Russia."  He didn't go over and look at it;
couldn't bring himself to.

"Oh my God!" Rachel exclaimed looking at he viewing
screen sending back images.  "Look at this!" She
motioned to her husband.
"Shit!" Tony said eyeing the images flickering before
him.
"What?" Skinner asked, looking over their shoulders at
the screen -- not sure what he was looking at.
"Here, and here and here" Rachel pointed at the
screen.
"More down here as well, "Tony said studying the
screen.
"Tony! What?" Walter insisted on an answer.

"This guy's had his scull fractured 3 times; both
collar bones have been broken."
"Oh no!" Rachel's hand went to her throat.
"What?" Skinner asked.
"Looks like he's had just about every rib broken at
one time or another."  Tony said still studying the
images.
"Rachel stood and walked to the other side of the
room, unable to look at the images any longer.  She
turned back to them, "This guy has been tortured; over
a long period of time.  And you haven't even seen his
back!"
"What's the matter with his back?" Tony and Walter
asked at the same time.
"He's been whipped!  More than once.  The scars are
hideous!"
The three of them exchanged grimaces and returned to
the screen.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Tony asked.
"Anything that doesn't belong there.  Actually, it's
small, about the size of a car fuse; 1 to 2 inches
long."
"It's going to be hard to spot with all this scar
tissue.  That looks like an old knife wound there." He
pointed to the screen.  "There" Rachel pointed 
"What's that?"
"Don't know," Tony answered, turning the dials to make
the image clearer.  "Whatever it is, it doesn't belong
there.
"Where?" Walter asked.
"Right here."
"Can you take it out?"
"Sure, if that's what he wants."

"Hey, how much longer?" Krycek's voice came over the
little speaker on the desk.
"Almost there; another 15 minutes," Rachel said into
the small microphone.
"Can I talk to him?"
"Sure.  Just push this button and he can hear you;
lift up and you'll be able to hear him."
"Thanks."

"Hey John Doe; how're you doing?"
"It's been at least an hour, hasn't it?"
"Close; just a little longer."
"I'm going crazy in here."
"I know its tough; but you can do this."
"Probably not going to find anything anyway."
"Already found one; middle of your back."
"Shit!  You sure?  Can it be taken out?"
"Tony says yes.  We want to keep going just incase
there's another one.  Duane Barry had three."
"Poor bastard."
"There!"  Tony pointed out, "Left leg."

Skinner walked over and looked at it; it looked the
same.
"Looks like they just found another one in your left
thigh."
"Not surprised.  I took a bullet there."

Tony's phone rang; he took the call; spoke a few
minutes then motioned Walter over to the computer.  A
few adjustments and the screen blinked to life.  He
handed Walter the phone and went back to work.
"What do you have, Tommy?" Walter asked into the
phone.
'I finished my run down on this Krycek and I'd like to
change my opinion.  If you have the real Alex Krycek
there, I'd say it's more likely 90% sure he's a good
guy.  Can never be 100% where the Consortium is
concerned.  I'm sending you a photo of him; let me
know when you get it."
"It's coming in now. Yeah, that's him."
"OK.  That's all I can do for you.  If you need
anything else, call me."
"Thanks Tommy, I owe you."

"All set?"  Tony asked getting up. "We can get him out
of there now."
Walter nodded his head and picked up the microphone.,
"Coming to get you out right now."
"Thank God!"

Walter was standing there when Krycek was rolled out
of the machine.  He offered a hand and hoisted him
into a sitting position.
"Can we take them out now?" Krycek asked.
"Sure thing; we can do it with a local.  Let's go into
the other room."

They went into the examining room and Rachel slid some
X-rays into the light fixture.  Alex lay down on the
table on his stomach; head facing away from the
others.
Rachel undid the laces on the back of Krycek's gown
and opened it, exposing the scarred up back.  The
three of them exchanged looks.  A drape was placed
across his back and another across his thigh.  20
minutes later, both devices were removed and the
wounds stitched and bandaged.  A few minutes in the
little dressing room and he joined the others.

"How much do I owe you, Doc?  I'll get the money as
soon as the bank opens in the morning I'll do a bank
transfer."
"That's OK.  Don't worry about it." Tony said.
Alex slipped on his jacket; and stuck the gun that
Walter handed him, in the back of his jeans.
"I have money; I can pay.  I just don't have it on
me."
"It's not necessary.  This is a free clinic."  Rachel
assured him.
"I'll make a donation then." He turned to Skinner.
"You need a ride home?"
"A...Yeah."  He turned to Tony and Rachel.  "Thanks,
both of you.  I owe you big time for this one."
Walter hugged them both good-bye and he and Alex left.

The climbed back into the motor home, Alex slid into
the driver's seat and headed out.  Twenty minutes
later they pulled into the parking garage of Walter's
apartment building.
Their journey over, they stood from the drivers area.

"Can we talk for a few minutes?" Krycek asked.
"Sure," Walter answered, sitting down on the couch. 
Krycek took the chair opposite.
"I don't have time to work up to this slowly so I'm
just going to ask."  He leaned forward, elbows on
knees.
"Why don't you come with me?"
Walter was stunned into silence.
"Come with you?" he stammered.
"I got a place already.  All it needs is a little
work; actually a lot of work.  We can stay in the
motor home till we get it livable.  You don't really
want to go back to the bureau, do you?"
"I can't just leave.  I have responsibilities...."
"You have a responsibility to yourself.  Do you ever
think of that?"
"What makes you think I'm ready to leave the bureau?"

Krycek broke eye contact and sat there, staring at the
carpet for a minute then looked back up.
"You've been waiting for a reason to leave.  Here it
is sitting right across form you."
Skinner looked away.  He couldn't mean what it sounded
like he was saying.  He couldn't; could he?
"Alex, I...."

"At least that's a start.  You called me Alex instead
of Krycek." He smiled a sad little smile, and looked
away.
"You can't possibly mean what it sounds like you're
saying."
"Oh I mean it."  Green eyes once again connected with
brown.  "It's there, Walter.  It always has been but
we, neither one of us, were ever in a position to do
anything about it before.  We are now."
Walter stood, went to the refrigerator and took out a
bottle of water, uncapped it and took a long drink.

"I suppose you need an answer right now?  No time to
think about it?"
"When I leave here, I'm headed to the East River to
dump these things; then I'm gone.  It's up to you. 
Leave this job you've grown to hate. Come away with
me.  We can build a new life; together."  He stood and
walked over to Skinner.
"I know I'm not the man you first met 8 years ago, but
I can promise you this, you'll never know another
lonely night."

He was so close; only a few feet away.  Walter's hand
trembled as he sat the water bottle down on the
counter.  Another step and Alex was right in front of
him; inches away.
"Am I wrong?" Alex asked.
"I....I don't know."
Alex reached out his hand, placed it on Walter's
forearm and squeezed.
"I'm not wrong."
"Alex....you don't even know if I.....if we....."
A slow smiled curved Alex's lips.
"I know what I feel; what I've felt for 8 years."

Skinner tried to look away but those green eyes drew
him like a magnet.  He could only look away for a
second or two and he was pulled back to them.
"8 years?"
"Yes, 8 years.  Do you remember the first day we met?"
"Uh huh, 4th floor break room.  You were pounding on
the snack machine."
"That's right.  That's when I knew."
"That's impossible," Skinner shrugged.
"Do you remember when you met Mulder?  Scully? 
Wilson?  Kelso?"
"No.  I don't."
"Yet you remember meeting me."
"That's different.  You were creating a scene; banging
on that machine."
"Well it stole my money and didn't give me my candy
bar!" he grinned.
"You just didn't know where to hit it to make the
coins drop."

"That was my first day at the Hoover.  I'd been warned
about big bad ex-marine AD Skinner and was relieved to
be assigned to AD Kolfax. I thanked you that day and
introduced myself; offered my hand.  You took it and
said, 'AD Skinner' and I couldn't believe it."  He
shook his head and leaned back against the counter.
Skinner had to admit that he had felt something that
day too but he never messed with a co-worker and he
wasn't about it; no matter how gorgeous he was.
He had also thought of that meeting often; remembering
the look on Alex's face, the warmth of his hand.

"This is crazy.  We can't just go off like this."
"Why not?"  We don't have time to do the whole
courting routine, Walter.  I'm leaving tonight.  I
want you to come with me."
"There's a million things I need to do."
Alex slid his hand down Walter's arm and grasped his
hand and held it in a firm grip.
"Let somebody else do them."
Walter stared at their hands.  It felt so good.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to take some vacation time,
take a look at your place.  Maybe help out a little
with it."
Alex smiled at him.
 "You'll go with me?"
"Can I at least go inside and pack a few things?"
"Sure.  Five minutes.  That's all you've got, then
we're on the road.  I'm coming in with you."
"Great.  You can help me carry some stuff."
They locked up the motor home and headed for the
elevator.

"You know this is crazy, don't you.  I'll probably end
up in a rubber room somewhere."
The elevator dinged and the door opened.  Alex pushed
the 17 button and reached a hand to Walter's cheek;
leaned in and brought their lips together.
Walter gasped and then kissed him back.  They broke
apart, both breathless as the door whooshed opened.
"We'd better..." Skinner said, pointing to the hallway.
"Yeah, we'd better get your stuff; get on the road."
"Right; get my stuff!"

They hurried around Walter's apartment throwing things
in a suitcase.  He unlocked his desk drawer and took
out his emergency flight kit that he had kept prepared
since Spender had first gotten him under his thumb. 
He pulled out the briefcase, opened it and checked the
contents.  Gun, cartridges, cell phone, $50,000 cash,
a fist full of credit cards and false ID's with his
photo on them.  He pocketed the cell phone, hooked the
gun holster to his belt and snapped the case shut.
"All set."  He said.
"Good.  Let's get out of here," Krycek said and hefted
Skinner's shoulder bag and laptop; Skinner carrying
his suitcase and briefcase opened the door and there
stood Mulder, arm raised ready to knock.

The three of them stood like statues looking from one
to the other.  Mulder finally lowered his arm and
spoke first.  "Sir?  What's going on?  I've been
trying to get in touch with you.  They said you'd
taken emergency leave."
"That's right.  Whatever problem you have you can take
it up with whoever they've assigned to cover for me." 
He pushed on past Mulder, Alex following; and turned
the lights out and locked the door.
The three of them headed for the elevator.

"What happened to your head?  You're limping.  You
sure you're all right?"  Mulder asked as they stood
waiting the elevator; then added, "What's Krycek doing
here?"
"Mulder, contrary to what you may believe, everything
that happens at the bureau is not your business."
The elevator opened and they all got on.

"Is it something I can help with?  I just finished
with the Collins' case so I'm free."  Mulder offered
eagerly.
"If you finished the Collins' case, you've got a desk
full of paperwork that needs your attention.  If I
needed your help, I'd have asked for it."
They stood and stared at one another; Mulder glaring
at Krycek.

The elevator stopped; Krycek started out the door;
stood leaning against it, holding it open.  Skinner
turned to Mulder and said, "Mulder, I've covered your
ass more times than I can count. I'm asking you now to
cover mine. You didn't see me, you didn't see him, and
you weren't even here.  If anyone asks you, you
haven't even seen me and you have no idea where I am."
"But Sir..."  Mulder refused to be left out.
With a hand to the middle of Mulder's chest, Skinner
backed him up against the far wall of the elevator.
"Stay out of this one, Mulder."  He reached the
elevator panel and pushed three buttons in rapid
succession; floor 24, Express, Close door, and stepped
out.  The door closed and Krycek and Skinner hurried
to the motor home; and slung the bags inside.  Krycek
slid behind the wheel, keyed the ignition and they
were gone.

By the time they hit the highway, the pink/gray light
of dawn was leading their way.
Skinner sighed with relief.  "I don't think he
followed us."
"There's no way he could know what vehicle we were
in."  Krycek answered.
"What name did you put this motor home in?"
"Bectel Systems Inc."
"Why that?"
"Because that's the name I have ID for.  It's a dummy
corporation I set up years ago."
"So it couldn't be traced?"
"Yeah, and anyone trying would find that It was owned
by a corporation based in Switzerland."
"Aaah, European privacy laws."

"Exactly."
  
They drove in silence for a while.
"May I ask where we're headed?"
"East River; so I can dump these." He pulled the small
vial containing the two tracking devices from his
pocket.
"Good idea."

They drove until they were near the waterway and
stopped on a bridge.  Krycek left the motor running,
put it in park and hurried out. He sprinted to the
guardrail, tossed the vial as far as he could, out
into the water, then hurried back.  In minutes they
were back on the highway again, heading north.

"Feel better?" Skinner asked.
"Yes; a lot better.  But I won't really feel good
until I put a couple hundred miles between me and
those things."

It was full daylight when they turned onto highway 83
north.
"There's a state park just north of Harrisburg.  I
figured we'd stop there; get something to eat and a
few hours sleep."
"Sounds good to me.  I'm starving and I could go for a
few hours sleep as well."

An hour later, they pulled into the camp grounds and
found a site far in the back; away from the other
campers.  They connected the hookups then walked over
to the little on-site grocery store.  They purchased
enough food for a few days and headed back.
Krycek noticed the grin on Walter's face.
"What?" he asked as they unlocked the door and went
in.
"If I was back in DC right now, I'd be sitting in
traffic, going over my day's agenda; not planning a
big breakfast and going around in jeans and boots."
"Homesick already?  I can always take you back if you
want.  I'm sure Mulder would be more than happy to
keep you busy."

Skinner laughed as they started unloading groceries
and stuffing them in their small refrigerator and
pantry.
"No way!"  He took a sweet roll from the package
Krycek offered.  "Don't get me wrong.  I like Mulder. 
I admire and respect him, but he makes me crazy
sometimes.  He's like a bull dog.  He gets an idea in
his head and he will not let it go."
"You think he'll come looking for you?" Krycek asked,
pulling out a frying pan and supplies to build some
omelets.
Skinner pulled out a knife and started chopping
vegetables.
"No telling.  With Mulder, there's no way to be sure."

"You like to cook?"  Krycek asked.
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.  I learned when I
was still in High School.  Mom had an automobile
accident; broke both of her legs.  She was in a
wheelchair for several months.  My brother, sister and
I, took turns with the cooking chores.  Mom would sit
there and tell us what to do and we'd do it.  My
brother hated it, my sister tolerated it and I loved
it."

"Me too."
"Your mom taught you how to cook?"
"No, not my mom; I learned at the home.  From the
cook, whose name, believe it or not, was Mrs. Cook."
He laughed.  "She broke her glasses one day and needed
someone to read the recipes to her.  That's how I
started.  Then I started getting things out for her,
measuring stuff and before long, I was helping out
every meal.  I loved it too.  There is just something
magical about throwing a bunch of ingredients together
and creating a delicious meal."  He grinned and dumped
all the chopped vegetables into the pan.
"I know what you mean," Skinner agreed.

In minutes they were eating; omelets, juice, and
coffee.  Clean up took only a matter of minutes and
was finished.  Krycek stifled a yawn as he rinsed off
the last dish while Skinner wiped them dry.

"Sure you don't want the bed?"  Krycek asked wiping
off the counter and hanging the towel on the cabinet
door-knob.
"The couch/bed is fine.  How's your back and leg, by
the way?"
"Itches like hell.  Where's that tube of cream Doc
Tony gave me?"
"Here."  Skinner tossed it to him from the cabinet.
"Thanks," Krycek answered, pulling the shades down and
double checking the locked door.
Skinner pulled out his bed and readied it for sleep.

Krycek took first turn in the shower while Skinner
waited; his mind wandering.  He leaned back in the
chair, legs stretched out in front of him.  "What have
I done?" he wondered out loud, scrubbing his hand over
his bald head and down over his face.
"What the hell am I doing?"  He listened to the shower
running and thought about the man inside.  "He's why
I'm here."  The thought was clear as a bell.  "How
could he have stood what he must have gone through
these last 8 years?" he wondered.  "Where is this
place of his and will they really be safe once they
get there?  And what was Krycek expecting from him?"
These thoughts were circling around in his mind when
the bathroom door opened and Krycek came out with a
towel wrapped abound his waist.
"Could you give me a hand here?  I can't reach."  He
held up the tube of antiseptic cream.
"Sure thing."  Skinner stood and took the tube of
cream. 
Krycek turned around and for the first time Skinner
got a close up view of the scars.  He uncapped the
tube and smeared some cream on the one inch incision
and bandaged it.
"Thanks.  That little thing has been itching for
hours."  He turned around and took the tube back,
screwed on the cap.  He saw the look on Skinner's
face.

"I'm sorry.  I didn't think," he apologized and turned
away.
"No, don't go.  I didn't mean to stare."
"It's OK.  I'm used to it."   He walked back to his
sleeping area.
"You're not used to it from me and you won't see it
again."  Skinner said following him.
"It's not important."  Krycek said and slipped some
sweat pants on.
"Yes it is.  I have to ask and get it over with.  What
the hell happened?  Who did that to you and why?"
"Who do you think?  Spender!" he spit the words out
and sat on the edge of his bed.
Skinner stood leaning against the doorway.  "Cassidy
knows about this and she kept you undercover?"
"Of course she does.  She knew every time he laid a
hand on me; didn't make a bit of difference to her. 
Just get the job done.  That's all she cared about."
"Bitch!" Skinner said with disgust.

"So what did you do to make the old man that angry?"
"I'd rally rather not talk about it right now." 
Krycek got up, took a t-shirt out of a drawer and
pulled it on over his head; his eyes downcast.
Walter walked over to him, cupped Alex's face with
both hands and said, "What you saw in my face was not
disgust, Alex.  It was sympathy for your pain and
hatred for whatever kind of monster could do this to
another human being."  He kissed him gently on the
lips then said, "Sleep well."
Walter took his turn in the shower then went on to
bed.

He awoke to the sound of the toilet flushing and the
smell of coffee filling his nostrils.
"Hungry?" Alex asked.
"I could eat a horse." Walter got up and folded his
bed back into a couch.
"Don't have any horsemeat but we have those roast beef
sandwiches we bought this morning."
"Perfect." Walter said, making his way back to the
bathroom.  When he came out, Alex had the table all
set; sandwiches and hot coffee.

Walter sat down opposite Alex in the little dinette
and sipped the steaming coffee.  They ate in silence;
both more in need of food than conversation.  They
finished eating and lingered over a second cup of
coffee.
"I need to make a phone call; do you mind?"  Walter
asked, pulling out his cell.
"No, not al all; you want me to wait in the back?"
"No.  Keep your seat."  He punched some numbers into
his phone and waited.
"Hey Tommy."
 Pause
"Listen, that request for retirement you worked up for
me a few years ago; I need you to date it and get it
over to Cassidy."
Pause
"Today, yesterday; I don't care what date you use. 
Just make it clear that I'm not coming back."
Pause
"I'm sure.  I told you I'd know when the time was
right."
Pause
"Don't know yet.  I'll be in touch.  Thanks Tommy.  I
got my laptop and my emergency cell phone so you can
contact me whenever you want.  OK, will do."  He
clicked the phone off and asked,
"So how much farther to this place of yours?"

"Four or five hours drive."  Alex stood and carried
his dishes to the sink.  Walter followed with his.
"I haven't been on the place in 2 years.  I was too
afraid I'd be followed.
"Good thinking.  No sense taking any chances."

"Wait till you see this place, Walter, I hope you like
it as much as I do."  His whole mood changed.
"I'm sure I will."
"It's really something!  Let's get going and I'll tell
you about it."

They unhooked the camper, secured everything for the
road and left.  A few minutes spent maneuvering and
they were on highway 81 heading north.

"It was really funny, the way it turned out.  I put in
the computer that I wanted to stay in the New England
area; I wanted some acreage, at least 100 acres,
something within 30 minutes drive of a small town,
approximately 20,000 population.  I didn't get to
check back for a few days.  I was using a computer at
the library so it couldn't be traced back to me."
"When I finally did get back to check it out, there
were six properties listed.  The one I bought was the
first one on the list.  I didn't even look at the
others."

"That good?"
"Perfect!  It's completely self-sufficient; has its
own water well, septic system, generator.  No public
utilities at all."
"All in working condition?"
"Now they are.  I had the water tested and checked
out; no water well problems in the area ever been
reported; ever.  I had a new well-head installed, new
septic system, new generator; which runs on propane so
I had a new, industrial sized, propane tank installed
and filled.  Of course, the first thing I did was put
up a security fence all around the place."
"Sounds great!  Does it have a house on it?"
"Yeah," he grinned.  "That's the best surprise of all.
 Paperwork said the place was 112 years old so I
expected to see a pile of rubble that I'd most likely
have to tear down but you should see it, Walter!  It's
incredible!"
"Still standing; livable?"
"Oh yeah, it's beautiful!  Well, not yet, but it will
be.  It's solid as a rock.  Not a single crack in the
foundation; all windows intact, not a single sign of
any roof leaks ever.  I did have a new roof put on
since the old one was about 45 years old."
"Good idea.  What about plumbing, electrics?  I can do
some of that but a house that old probably needs it
all replaced."
"Already done.  I had all the old wiring torn out and
brought up to code and the plumbing replaced as well."

"Sounds like you thought of everything."

"Don't get me wrong here; it's still rough around the
edges; needs stripping, staining, painting, wallpaper
and the kitchen is practically non-existent.  The
place still needs a lot of work."
"Yeah, but that's the fun part.  The kind of stuff I
love to do.  If it's sound and has water and
electricity; that's all we need to get started.  How
many acres did you end up with?"
"250."
"250?  That's huge."
"Tell me about it!  The fencing alone cost me a
bundle!  It's electrified but I still want to get
cameras set up; some other security measures."
"Good idea.  A second inner fence would be a good idea
too.  Your outer fence can only have so much voltage
as required by law, but an inner fence can have as
high voltage as you want."
"I thought of that but was afraid that might look a
little suspicious so I figured I'd work on that once I
got here."

"We probably ought to make that our first priority,
just to be safe." Skinner suggested.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that.  I've been
looking at post-hole diggers and we'll need a trailer
to haul all the equipment."
"You ever put up a fence before?  It's a nasty, dirty,
brutal job!"
"We need it."  Alex insisted.
"Agreed.  But why not let me give the General a call. 
He can have his team there and get the fence up in a
matter of days.  It'd take the two of us months to
fence in 250 acres."

"I know you trust the General but what about his men? 
One slip if the tongue in a bar someplace and it's all
over."
"I told you they were a special group.  They come into
a place, do their thing, like fencing, building safe
rooms, all kinds of security systems, and they're out
of there.  They are all fine men; I know a lot of them
personally; worked with them before.  They are all
armed, well trained, and know what they're doing. 
They can come in and have that fence up and wired in a
matter of days.  They can do the camera set-up as
well."

Alex sat staring out the windshield.
"I can vouch for these people, Alex.  I'd trust them
with my life."

"That's exactly what you would be doing; you do
understand that don't you?  If that old man finds me,
and you're with me, he'll have no reason to let you
live.  Once you're no longer an AD with the bureau,
he'll have no further use for you."
"I understand that.  These guys are worthy of that
trust; I promise you."

"If you're that sure, go ahead and give them a call. 
The sooner we get the place secured the sooner we can
relax."

Skinner pulled out his phone and punched in the
numbers and waited.  "Hey, General, how's it hanging?"
 Walter greeted his old friend with a smile.
Pause
"Yeah, that's why I called.  I have a job that needs
your special touch.  It's personal, you interested?"
Pause
"I thought you would be.  I've decided to retire and
get the hell out of Dodge.  There's a possibility
someone will be looking for me -- very soon. Someone
who I can't let find me."
"The place where I'll be living has an outer fence,
electrified but we need an inner fence,
high-powered, with cameras, the whole nine yards.  Can
you help me or are you in the middle of something?"
Pause
Then to Alex he said, "He wants to know where and how
soon?"
"Watertown, NY; as soon as possible; yesterday," Alex
answered.

"Watertown, NY, as soon as possible; we're on our way
there right now."
Pause
"250 acres," Walter said and held the phone away from
his ear so the General's reaction wouldn't burst his
eardrum; he grinned at Alex.
Pause (long and loud)
"That's about it, General.  If you'd rather not, I can
call Home Depot and see if they're interested in the
job; get Radio Shack over to do up the wiring."
Another grin.
Pause
"Sounds good.  Talk to you in the morning them. Bye."


"Sounded like that went over well," Alex teased.
"Oh, he'll be fine.  He lives for jobs like this.  A
call comes in and he gathers all his men and they
huddle together and take off for the trenches.  He
loves it."
"Just not the 250 acre part?"
"That did throw him a bit.  Don't think he ever
expected me on a place that big."
"It is big.  Lots of rolling hills, green pastures,
some of the acreage in the back is wooded.
There's an old orchard with lots of fruit trees and
some old berry bushes.  Don't know if they produce any
fruit any more though."
"If they did once they probably will again.  The
General has a botanist in his group that can do
anything with trees.  We can get him in there to take
a look and see what they need.  If there's any life
left in them, he'll know and be able to tell us what
we need to do to get them producing fruit again.  If
they are dead, we can get him to remove them and
re-plant with trees that will produce."
"You've got answers for just about everything, don't
you?"
"I don't know about that."

They drove on in silence for a bit then Walter asked,
"What do you have up there in the way of tools?"
"Next to nothing.  There are a few that were left on
the place but they are all so old they should all be
replaced."
"That's a good place to start then; 4-wheel drive
pickup, trailer and tools."
"That's what I figured.  I just thought I'd have more
time to get it in better shape before moving in."
"This all too fast for you?"
"No, not at all; in fact, there were some times I
worried I might not live long enough to make it
there."
"This town, Watertown, does it have a Home Depot, a
Sears?"
"Both."
"Good.  Between the two of them, we should be able to
pick up everything we'll need.  I need to get some
more jeans and work boots too."
"Won't be much use for your usual wardrobe up here,"
Alex grinned at him.
"No more suits and ties? I think I can handle that,"
Walter smiled back.

"You seem to be looking forward to all the hard work."
"You bet I am!  I'd much rather be doing this kind of
work than that paperwork shit I've been doing the last
several years."
"You've been doing a lot more than paperwork."
"Yeah, the field work I usually like, except when my
tail's in the wringer.  My job mostly has been reading
reports, writing reports on said reports, sitting in
endless meetings, and trying to keep my agents out of
trouble."

"So is Mulder out of it now or not?"
"Officially, he's out of it, he has no assigned
status.  He still has security clearance and does some
work for the bureau."
"He should get out of it while he still can."
"Agreed.  He's got Scully and the baby to look after. 
He needs to find something a little safer to do."
"Scully still enjoy teaching?"
"Seems to.  It's a much quieter life; much safer."
"Good; that's what she needs."

They drove in silencer for a while then Alex said,
"I'm really anxious for you to see the place; see if
you think it's as perfect as I do."
"It sounds like it is, and if it isn't, we can make it
perfect."  He smiled at Alex.
"You ever been to Watertown?"
"No, but I've been in up-state New York before and
it's beautiful."
"Yes, it is.  Another thing I love about it is the way
it smells."
"The way it smells?"
"Yeah, all green with trees and pastures; all those
good country smells; clean air, no fumes or rancid
city smells."
"Sounds perfect to me," Walter said with a sigh.

"We should take a quick drive around town when we get
there.  It'll only take about 10 or 15 minutes.  It's
got your usual small town businesses; Post Office,
bank, small shopping area.  It has a lumberyard,
hardware store, Sears, JC Penney's, Radio Shack, Home
Depot, Wal Mart, car/truck dealership that carries 4
or 5 main brands, plus farm equipment.  There's also a
couple grocery stores, pharmacy, barber shop; all the
usual things; also a small airport and hospital."
"Sounds like it has everything we'll need."
"Shouldn't be too much longer now."
The sign said 6 miles to Watertown and they were both
getting anxious and restless in their seats.
"We need to stop and get some groceries and hit Home
Depot for a heavy duty extension cord and some sewer
line extensions so we can use the motor home for a
while if necessary."  Alex said.

They made their quick tour around town and stopped for
supplies and headed out to their place.  Alex took
several turns, when Walter commented, "Jeeze, don't
these people believe in signs?  How the hell you
supposed to find your way around?"
"I guess they figure everyone around here knows where
they are going and strangers don't need to know." 
Alex laughed.

"This is the start of the property line right there at
that cross-fence.  That property belongs to the Army. 
There's an old deserted base back there. This property
backs up to it; has a side and back fence common with
it." He drove slowly down the dirt road, motor home
swaying from side to side in the ruts.
"Can you see the gate?" Alex asked.
"No; where is it?"  Walter looked up and down the
fence line.  "Looks like an old road over there but no
gate.  Is it around the other side?"

Alex pulled to a stop and they got out.  "It's right
there."  Alex walked over to a fence post, bent down
and fingered something at the bottom and a section of
the fence swung open by the old road.  
"An invisible gate!  I've heard about them but never
saw one."  Walter stood, hands on hips admiring the
new technology.
"It's keyed by a number sequence on this little pad
here."  He slid a panel over at the bottom of the
fence post, around the back; on the inside was a small
touch pad.  "We can re-program it once we get around
to it.  Right now, just the contractor that I've been
using has the current numbers."
They climbed back into the motor home and drove
through the gate; then got out and keyed the panel
again and the fence swung shut; locking into place.

They drove the winding dirt road on up to the house. 
"Shit!" Walter exclaimed climbing out.
"What do you think?" Alex asked proudly.
"You didn't tell me it was a mansion!"
"It's nice; isn't it?  Wait until you see the inside;
c'mon."  Alex ran up the steps to the porch; Walter on
his heels.
"How big is this place, anyway?"  Walter asked as Alex
fiddled with the combination lock on the door.
"24 rooms, 12 up and 12 down; then there's a full
length attic and basement."
They walked into the front hallway and left the front
door opened to get both light and fresh air inside.
"My God!  This place is like a hotel!"  Walter said
looking up the stairway and around the large foyer.  

"Over here is the front parlor, next a second parlor;
sliding pocket doors and fireplaces in both rooms." 
Alex started the tour.
"I'd like to get my hands on whoever painted over all
this oak."  Walter said running his hand over the wood
trim around the doorway.
"Yeah, it's going to be a bitch of a job stripping all
that."
"And the stairway," Walter added.

"Left side here is the formal living room with an
archway into the dining room; both have fireplaces."
"How many fireplaces does this place have anyway?"
Walter asked.
"12; 6 up and 6 down."
Walter let out a slow whistle.
They went back out into the foyer.
"After the second parlor over there is what they
called the sun room.  It faces the west and has a door
that goes out onto the wrap-around porch.  It's nice
sized.  Beyond that is the only downstairs bathroom
right now."  He opened the door and they looked in.
"It's huge."  Walter commented, looking in at the old
claw-foot bathtub at one end.

"The last room on this side is huge too. It's 20X30
foot.  The previous owner used this as the master
bedroom. She was a real old lady living here all
alone.  Her daughter came from New Mexico, packed her
up and left.  She apparently hated the place and
couldn't get away fast enough.  Some of the old lady's
stuff is still in the closets and drawers."
"Some of this furniture is not bad.  This wardrobe is
really nice." Walter commented.
"There's a lot of odds and ends of furniture through
out the place." 
They walked across the hall past the back door at the
end of the hallway. 

"This room is the same at that one, 20X30.  I was
thinking we could use these two for our rooms while we
work on the place.  They are the same size and both
have fireplaces.  Right next door to this room is a
huge windowless storeroom.  I was thinking we could
use part of it for another bathroom.  Next to that is
the kitchen."
"Oh.  I see what you mean about the kitchen; tiny for
a house this size."

"Look over here," Alex crossed the kitchen, "These two
tiny rooms were maid's quarters the Realtor said.  I
was thinking we could tear these out and have one nice
sized kitchen then."
"You're right about that.  These aren't load-bearing
walls.  They could come down easily enough.  That
would give you two more windows; let in a lot more
light."
"These windows face the east.  They'll bring in the
morning sun." Alex's face was all aglow with
excitement.

Walter couldn't take his eyes off him.  A smile seemed
to take 10 years off his age; he seemed like a
different person than the one Walter had knows for so
many years.  It was like he was that young agent
again, banging on the vending machine, wanting his
candy.
Alex was chattering away about the house, the room
next to the kitchen, something about making half of
the store room into a utility room the other half an
extra bathroom, but Walter wasn't paying too much
attention to what he was saying.  He was too busy
watching him; how animated he was, swinging his good
arm around, pointing things out; his voice rising in
excitement; green eyes flashing
.
"Was this the same man that I once handcuffed out on
my balcony?  The same man I was so sure was dirty? 
The one we all called Rat Bastard?"  He thought to
himself.  How could I have not seen this Alex?  That
smile?  "I must have been blind!"

"Huh?"  Alex said, hearing only the last part of what
Walter had accidentally said aloud.
"Did you say something about blinds?"  Alex asked
pulling on the window shade cord, trying to make it
open; it wouldn't.
 
Walter walked over to him and cupped Alex's face in
both his hands and brought their lips together.  Alex
gasped.  "I didn't know kitchens turned you on.  I'll
have to remember that."
Walter chuckled.  "It's not the kitchen, Alex," and
bent his head down for another kiss.  Alex's good arm
came up around Walter's back and pulled him in closer.
 They broke the kiss but stayed close; inches apart.
Walter's hands slid down from Alex's cheeks, down the
side of his neck and came to rest on his shoulders. 
Alex held on with his good arm and kept the plastic
arm behind him.  Walter's hands wandered down Alex's
arms; and met with resistance as the plastic arm was
held back.
"What is it?  Does it hurt when I touch it?" Walter
asked.
"No.  I just try to keep it back; I know people don't
like to be touched by it."
"I'm not 'people' Alex.  I'm the one you asked to
share your life with."
"I know, but...."He put his head down and tried to pull
back.
"No, Alex.  Don't pull away from me.  I've already
seen you; with it and without it.  It's just a piece
of plastic, with some straps to hold it on.  It's
nothing to be ashamed of."
"You've already got enough to deal with, with all my
scars; and everything else that's been between us for
the last 8 years."

"You think I give a damn about a plastic arm or
scars?"  Walter gripped him by the shoulders; brown
eyes boring into green.
"Most people can't handle it; I just didn't want to
offend you; scare you off before we ever go to...."
"To what?" Skinner asked; "to this?" He crushed him in
his arms then, kissing him deeply; tongue delving into
Alex's mouth, demanding attention.  He pulled both of
Alex's arms around his own back; and wrapped both his
around Alex, holding them tight.

He backed Alex up against the cupboards, pressing
their groins together.  Alex moaned, his fist gripping
the back of Walter's jacket.  They kissed again and
Walter let go long enough to shuck out of his heavy
jacket then slid Alex's jacket down off his shoulders.
 Alex slipped his hands out of it, shoving it back on
the counter top.  As soon as their hands were free of
their jackets they grabbed for each other again;
mouths clinging together like magnets.
Walter slipped a hand in between them and leaned back
far enough to undo Alex's jeans and work then down his
hips.  He slid both hands beneath the cotton briefs
and caressed the firm cheeks.  Alex was clinging to
him; breathless, as Walter worked his magic with his
hands wandering around; caressing, squeezing.  His
face buried in Alex's neck; Alex's arms around his
shoulders, Walter whispered; "You're right.  This is
what I wanted from the first day I met you!"

Alex let out a whimper as Walter knelt down in front
of him; pulling his briefs down to his knees.   One
hand cupped his balls, the other gripped is shaft;
tongue working furiously over the tip and under the
ridge.  Alex moaned and squirmed moving his hips
against the hands that held him.
The hot moist mouth engulfed him then; the bald head
moving up and down.  He tried to force his eyes to
stay opened to see one of his favorite fantasies
coming true but the sensations kept causing his head
to roll back and his eyes to close in rapture.  In one
swift moment his body seized up; everything in him
spilling out into Walter's mouth.  The world spun for
a moment and when it stopped he was on the floor and
Walter was holding him.
He gasped, filling his lungs with air that they had
been deprived of; his head thudded back against the
cabinets.  
"I'll have to remember this about you and kitchens."
He grinned at Walter.

Walter kissed him gently and helped him to his feet. 
Alex pulled up his briefs and jeans and secured them. 
They kissed again with kiss-swollen lips; Walter's
need making him tremble with desire.
Alex took him by the hand and led him out the door
towards the motor home.  "C'mon" was all he said. Once
inside, they went straight back to the bedroom.  Alex
stood by the foot of the bed and began to strip;
sweatshirt first then tee and tossed into a corner. 
He leaned against the dresser and pulled off his boots
and socks.  He undid his jeans and slid them and his
briefs down in one movement and stepped out of them. 
Walter stood staring at him mesmerized by the sight
and shaking with need.
Alex walked around the side of the bed, reached into
the nightstand drawer and pulled out a jar of Vaseline
and set it on top.  He stretched out on the bed then,
on his back, hands up behind his head, legs spread
apart.
In an instant, Walter was on top of him; mashing their
mouths together; hips grinding against hips.
Walter was sucking on his nipples but Alex managed to
get out in a hoarse whisper, "You've got too many
clothes on," and started pulling on Walter's shirt. 
Walter agreed and in seconds his clothes were flung
over the side of the bed in every direction.

Their mouths clung together while their hands roamed
each others bodies; touching, caressing, pulling each
other closer.  Walter rolled off to the side and
reached for the Vaseline, his mouth trailing little
kisses down the center of Alex's chest and stomach.
He brought a dab of Vaseline out of the jar and
pressed it into Alex's opening.  He squirmed a bit at
first but after a few deep breaths was able to relax
enough to allow easy penetration of a second finger.
Walter was making long strokes with his tongue up the
side of Alex's re-awakened shaft, swirling around the
tip, licking it; then going back down low enough to
nuzzle his balls, with a low, soft murmur of pleasure.
Alex began to squirm with need as those long fingers
began probing rhythmically into his body.  "Walter,
please....fuck me," he pleaded.
Walter went up to his knees, lifted Alex's legs up to
his shoulders and pressed into him.
Alex let out a long moan and reached for Walter's
hips, pulling him in deeper.
"Easy," Walter warned, "not too fast.  I don't want to
hurt you."  He was breathing in gasps, sweat running
down his back and dripping off his chin; his forehead
furrowed in concentration.  Soon he bottomed out; his
eyes glued to Alex's for any sign pain.  Alex
tightened and then loosened his ass muscles and Walter
groaned his appreciation but stopped him.  
"Stop that!  Don't want it to end yet. 
Please.....Ohhhhh."  He shoved into him then and eased
out and back in again.  "Jesus!"  He worked it as
slowly as he could but Alex was becoming frantic
beneath him, grasping at him, begging him, "Do it!  Do
it!"
His hips were working harder now; driving in and out,
in and out.  Each thrust deeper and harder than the
last until they were a blur of motion and one long
loud roar of two mingled climaxes.  They fell in a
heap of sweat and semen and tangled sheets.  
Awareness finally returned to them as they lay there,
wrapped around each other, legs tangled together.
"That was amazing!" Walter whispered against the
tousled head that was lying on his shoulder.
"Promise me something?"  Alex rubbed his cheek against
the softly furred chest.
"Anything," Walter said.
"Promise me you'll do that again, just as soon as
humanly possible?"
Walter just chuckled and cuddled his armful closer. 
"I promise!"

The End