From: san@net4all.be
Date: Sat, 06 Feb 1999 03:37:21 GMT
Subject: 

The File 
by Humbuggie
1999
san@net4all.be

Edited by Laurie D. Haynes
shannara@pnx.com

Situation : This story takes place after "The Beginning" with Mulder
and Scully working for Kersh.

Inside information : In two previous stories "The Game" and "Sins of
our Children" I have introduced two new
characters, Terence Davis -- Mulder's former boss at the VCS, and Tom
Fielding, a young FBI agent working for
Davis. You don't need to have read the previous stories, but of course
it does come in handy :-)

Spoilers : References to several episodes, including  "Little Green
Men," "The Host," "The End," "The Beginning,"
with a visit from the woman we all love to hate, Diana Fowley. 

Story : After the suicide of a respected senator, Mulder is contacted
by Senator Matheson to investigate the case. The trail leads to a
hidden file in the basement office and a list of names of people who
are potential victims to a strange governmental experiment involving
"The Project." When his enemies suspect Mulder's investigation, they
take the necessary measures to stop him.

Type : X-File, Mulder-Angst, M/S /Sk friendship, and Krycek in the
second part. 


From: san@net4all.be
REPOST: The File 7/11

2.    
December 17
5.12 a.m., Washington, D.C., Georgetown Medical Center 
The man sitting at the desk looked up surprised from his morning
newspaper when he saw two people provide their
badges, requesting to speak to the investigator in charge regarding
the disappearance of Amy James. 

"Disappearance?" the man said with a wry grin. "No offense but our
guests are quite dead. This isn't Highlander." 

Mulder smiled back, "Then I'm sure one of you people in here can tell
me who took her body and where it is right
now." 

The technician's smile vanished as he picked up the phone, "I'll
check, sir." 

A few minutes later, Mulder and Scully were guided into the office of
Dr. Ben Highley, the acting medical examiner.
Neither of the agents were surprised to see the man at work on this
ungodly hour. As soon as they were seated, John
Breaux arrived, as well, and eyed them. The name sounded familiar to
Mulder but he couldn't quite place it. The man
looked as if he'd been awakened from a deep sleep to get his ass over
here. What were they hiding?

"I've been told you are here to investigate the disappearance of Amy
James' body?" Highley started, playing nervously with a pencil.

"Yes, we are," Scully said, "as we have been told she died by her own
hand?" 

"Yes. Suicide. But there isn't any talk of a disappearance here
though. Her body was transferred."

"Oh really?" Mulder said surprised, "why and where?"

"She was transferred on my orders," Breaux added, "there was no need
for an autopsy. Her death was explained
quickly. It was obvious she committed suicide."

"Was there a note on the scene?"

"No."

"So you have no way of knowing she was forced to take those pills?" 

"Who said she died of pills?"

"That's what we've been told." Mulder shifted uncomfortably on the
chair, looking straight at the district attorney.
The man looked nervous. Mulder tried to pick out his thoughts in the
whirlwind of images he was exposed to. 

*They know we're lying. We need to get them out of here. How in the
world did they find out so fast?*

"Are you saying the girl died in another fashion, Dr. Highley?" Scully
asked, focusing her attention on the M.E.

"Yes, she slashed her wrists. No evidence of pills was found." 

"Then why have we been told otherwise?"

"Whoever told you must have been lying. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's
been a very long night and I would like to go
home." The M.E. got out of his chair and looked directly at the D.A.
"I'm sure Mr. Breaux can give you all the
information you need. After all, he's the one transferring the body."
*And I still hate him for forcing me to lie to her parents. Sick
bastard. Noel Markham's dead because of him.*

"Who was Noel Markham, Dr. Highley?" Mulder asked before he could stop
himself.

Highley stopped in his tracks and stared at him in surprise. 
"Excuse me?"

"Noel Markham died yesterday. Who was he?" 

"A colleague of mine. I regret his death. Excuse me." Highley was gone
before Mulder could ask him another question.
Scully stared at him in surprise, then turned to Breaux. The D.A.
rubbed his throat and said, "Noel Markham was
the medical examiner. He was shot to death yesterday just down the
hall. We don't know why."
*And they took all the evidence with them. I hate myself for letting
this happen.*

"Where is Amy's body, Mr. Breaux?" Scully asked carefully, waiting for
an answer. Breaux shifted nervously and rose from his chair. He needed
a drink despite the early hour. 
*Bethesda. But I can never let them know. Enough people have been
murdered.*

"Thank you, sir." Mulder got up and smiled as he reached to shake the
man's hand, "you've been very helpful." 

Before Scully could say anything more the agent was already out of the
room. Mulder took a deep breath in the hallway. It was very quiet in
the hospital. Still very early too. They would not find anything here.
The solution to their problems lay in Bethesda, but they would never
be able to get in there. They had done it once before to find the
bodies of the firemen blown up in the Dallas bombing. They were
keeping an eye out for him now. Perhaps someone else could get in
though.

"Mulder, what the hell was all that about?" Scully asked angry as she
closed the door behind her. "We still don't know anything !"

"The bodies are in Bethesda, Scully, I'm sure of it."

"Bodies? Are you saying there are more?" 

Mulder looked around nervously and took her by the arm. As they
silently walked through the corridor, he continued, "I've been told by
Matheson that the M.E., at least the man who held that position
yesterday, was shot to death after performing an autopsy on a suicide
victim. The victim vanished. What if there are more, Scully? We need
to find out how many and why they all died. Something must have killed
them, triggered their suicidal behavior somehow. We need to find out
quickly before anybody else dies." 

"How can you be sure they're in Bethesda?"

"It would make sense, wouldn't it? A hospital run by the military and
the government. Where else would they be?
Where would you bring them?"

"Bethesda," she agreed quietly, "but we'll never get in there. Not
after last time." 

"Then we'll have to find someone who can." 

As they left, Breaux opened the door of the medical examiner's office
and stared at the two departing agents with
disgust. He hated himself. To protect himself and those around him he
loved, he would have to keep on lying. It was
the only way to preserve the Project. 


 3.    
December 17, 1998
5:45  a.m., Washington, D.C.

The one-armed man hated the sound of the doorbell this early in the
morning. It could only mean trouble. 

It took him a while to get out of his sleepy stupor and head for the
door. In the meantime, the bell kept on being pushed and by the time
he had unlocked the door Krycek was angry. His feelings were only
worsened by the sight of the man in front of him.

"What do you want?" he sighed, turning from him. 

The smoking man closed the door behind him and looked at Krycek. The
man was wearing no shirt, showing the scars and missing limb clearly.
Krycek made no effort to hide his handicap. He sat down on his couch
and rubbed his eyes with the remaining right hand.

"I need your help. Agent Mulder's in trouble." 

"What's that got to do with me? Mulder's no friend of mine."

"Really? That's not the impression I got. As I recall it you paid the
man a friendly visit not so long ago. You've had
plenty of opportunities to kill him, Alex. I'm sure you don't want him
dead."

"Neither do you." 

The smoking man smiled and lit a cigarette, sitting down on a chair in
front of the man he didn't trust. He waited until
the inevitable question came. "What's wrong with Mulder?"

"He knows about the tests we're performing right here in D.C.. He's
subject to them as well."

This was enough to get Krycek's attention. "You're kidding me. I
thought Mulder was to be protected? Why and how
did he become a subject?"

"It's a long story and not one I'm going to share with you. Let's just
say his exposure was accidental and could not be
prevented. I had no idea until it was already too late. But I think
it's time you and I start thinking about a counteraction, Alex. After
all, we do work for the same goal, don't we?" 

"My goals are mine alone." 

The smoking man smiled. "Of course they are. I don't give a damn about
them. Get dressed, Krycek. We're going for
a little drive. I have a thing about talking in places I don't know." 

Krycek thought of the man he had worked with so long ago in the FBI.
He thought of everything he had ever done to
Mulder, making sure his partner got abducted, leading him into Russia
to be exposed to the black cancer. And at the
end it would be Mulder's own hand that would kill him. How ironic. But
perhaps it wouldn't be too late. Perhaps there
would still be a chance to save the agent's life. If he still wanted
to be saved. 

Krycek sighed as he dressed himself and forgot for the moment the
resentment he felt for the smoking man. He had
returned to the U.S. some time ago as a means to an end, knowing that
he needed to get close to the government
again in order to find out the truth. If it meant now helping this
smoking bastard, that's what he would do. And in the
meantime he would be saving his own hide. After all, that was Alex
Krycek's first priority. It had always been that way. 

In the car, Krycek received his instructions. Then he was let out of
the car with an assignment that would be almost
impossible to perform. But Krycek would pull it off. The smoking man
was as sure of that as of anything else in his
life.

 4.    
December 17, 1998
 8:15  a.m., Washington, D.C., J. Edgar Hoover Building

The man smoking all those Morleys sat quietly in the office of Walter
S. Skinner when the A.D. arrived early in the
morning. He had smoked three cigarettes already during the past
fifteen minutes, lighting one after another. He was
nervous as hell, and showing it to the outside world. Today would be
the day of truths, he knew that as sure as he knew anything in his
life. Today would be the day determining Fox Mulder's future or demise
within the FBI. 

Walter Skinner wasn't pleased to see the man though. His voice sounded
as angry and impatient as ever as he sat down, ignoring the cigarette
butts in his ashtray. 

"What do you want?" Skinner finally asked, looking up from the papers
that were already spread out on his desk. 

"I've been told Agent Mulder is in some sort of trouble," the smoking
man said, examining the pictures on the wall.

Funny, he'd been in this office so many times before but he'd never
noticed the way Skinner loved to keep the place
classy. He was probably the only A.D. within the bureau to do so.
Kersh definitely did not care about it. 

"I don't know what you're talking about," Skinner said quietly. 

"He was seen in Spender's office, and left with a file. That file is
missing." 

"Has Agent Mulder been charged yet?"

"No, not yet. I don't know if he will."

"Then why are you here?"

The smoking man got out of his chair and pushed the cigarette butt in
the ashtray. "I know you met with Mulder last
night. I know he came to you looking for help. If you want him to
survive this, you'd better keep him away from this
investigation, Skinner." 

"What investigation?"

"Some people are going to die, but they die for a cause. Accidents
happen fast. Suicides do as well. Don't let this
happen to Mulder if you care about the man."

"Is this a threat?"

"Call it what you want. I'm here as a friend. Keep Mulder under
control or he'll suffer like the rest of them." The
smoking man turned towards the door.

"You've got the list, haven't you?" Skinner angrily said, "you know
who's being tested. Where's that list?"

The smoking man glanced at him by the door. "Of course I do. Mulder
had his chance to get his hands on it and he
blew it. Don't blame me for that, I did what I could. Their deaths are
on his head, now." He was gone before he could
stopped. Skinner sat down, shaking with anger. If anything could be
done, it would have to be done without the
smoking man's help. No deals, no ways of finding out the truth. 

 5.    
December 17, 1998
9:12  a.m., Washington, D.C., Federal Bureau of Investigation 

Diana Fowley did not like the man she was forced to work with but he
was a means to an end. She had what she
wanted, now, and she would not give it up, not even for Fox Mulder.
She did miss the man though and everything
about him. She missed having sex with him, missed his company, missed
the arguments they sometimes had when they were still together.  The
man sitting in the office with her was cold as a fish as the man he
claimed was his father. He didn't care about anybody or anything. His
career was the utmost importance in his life, his cooperation in the
ongoing Project the one thing that protected him from death. After
all, one was killed quickly when they dealt with scum and trash, but
this man definitely knew how to defend himself against his enemies.
Even if it meant working against Fox Mulder.

Even removed from the basement office Mulder still was a threat to
society, or so it seemed. Diana was not surprised
to find her partner sitting at Mulder's desk and staring into
oblivion. 

"Good morning, Jeffrey," she said as cold as ever. "What's wrong?"

He looked at her as if he saw her for the first time in his life. Then
he simply got up and left the office, leaving her
alone with a cold cup of coffee. She sighed and sat down, grabbing the
newspaper from Spender's desk. Headlines
spoke of the death of the medical examiner in Washington, D.C. Claims
that the man had stumbled onto something
and was killed for it were quickly being smothered by John Breaux, the
D.A. The man's death was still under
investigation. Diana felt shivers down her spine. Why did she feel
like Mulder was involved in it somehow? 
 
Spender's anger was clearly visible as he walked quickly through the
corridor, ignoring everyone until he arrived at
the water fountain. There, a man stopped by his side, waiting
patiently until he looked up. It was his father.

"I don't want to talk to you right now," Spender said impatiently and
wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand. 

"Have you pressed charges?"

"Yes."

"I asked you not to." 

"I had no choice. I got a visitor. They wanted me to." 

The smoking man's features changed as he realized who the visitor was.
"I see," the smoker said slowly. "They even
want to set my own son against me. This will not happen. But it's
okay, you did what you had to." 

"What's going to happen to Mulder now?"

"I don't know." The smoking man left his son alone in the corridor and
hurried outside of the building. If Mulder
continued to be a test case, it wouldn't matter anymore. He was
already subject to dying. 


Mulder knew things were going wrong the moment he entered the office.
He was stopped in the lobby by two security guards, asking him to go
with them to the second floor. He entered a small office quietly, to
see a committee of five waiting for him.

"What's this about?" he asked as self-assured as he could possibly be.


"Sit down, Agent Mulder." Section Chief McGrath spoke to him, his
voice almost thrilled with the possibility of finally getting Mulder
as he had always wanted.

Mulder sat down carefully, glad he had taken a painkiller before he
entered the office. He was all alone, fearful and
vulnerable in a room filled with enemies. Scully was not there to help
him. She wouldn't be allowed to, anyhow. He
was all on his own. 
  
"Agent Mulder, we have reason to believe you are involved with the
theft of a file assigned to agent Spender. This theft occurred on
Saturday."

"I was in the hospital on Saturday."

"We know, Agent Mulder. Please answer the questions. Are you aware of
the theft of this file?"

"What file?"

"An X-File Agent Spender had opened on November 30. Do you or do you
not have this file in your possession?"

"I do not."

"Did you enter Agent Spender's office last Saturday and retrieve this
file?"

"I did not. Am I being charged?"

"Not yet."

"If I'm being charged, I'm entitled to an attorney." 

"This is a preliminary hearing. Where were you last Saturday between 2
and 3 p.m.?"

"I was in my office working on the paperwork on a case. I left and got
hit by another car. My car exploded. I was
rescued by the Washington P.D. I'm sure my medical files can confirm
this."

"Was the missing file in your car when it exploded, Agent Mulder?"

"It was not."

"Did you see A.D. Skinner last night, Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, I did."

"On what matter?"

"A private matter. A.D. Skinner and I have become friends. We talk
regularly."

"Does A.D. Skinner know about this file, Agent Mulder?"

"How can he when I didn't know about it myself until now?"

"Agent Spender saw you with a file under your arm leaving the office,
Agent Mulder. What file was this?"

"I don't know what Agent Spender is talking about, sir. I had some
paperwork with me which burned up in the car,
but it wasn't a file. Unfortunately I cannot show you. It was
destroyed in the fire." 

"How convenient, Agent Mulder."

"Are you suggesting I'm lying, sir?" 

A silence. 
*We need to tie him to the theft. Without it I have no case. Damn it!*

McGrath continued, "We will check out your story, Agent Mulder, but I
strongly suggest you to tell us the truth. If
evidence shows you have stolen that file, you will be dismissed
without chance of further reinstatement. You will also be charged with
grand larceny. Is that clear?"
*He doesn't stand a chance. Too many people are against him. He blew
his last chance. He's finally out of the bureau.*

"Yes, sir," Mulder said, "it's all very clear to me now." 

Slowly, Mulder go out of his chair ignoring the wave of dizziness that
made him sway. Outside, Tom and Scully were
waiting for him. 

"What happened in there?" Scully asked. "Are you okay?" 

*God, he looks like hell. I need to get him home so he can get some
rest. He's hurting. Why won't he tell me the truth
about his health? I'm sure there's something else going on.*

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was as expected. They'll be talking to Skinner
now. I hope he'll be able to get me out of this mess."

"He will, don't worry. They don't have anything on you," Tom said,
resting his hand assuring on Mulder's arm. 

Mulder smiled wryly. "We both know that's a lie, Tom. They've got
everything on me. It's just a matter of time now
before I'm indicted and dismissed." 

"We'll have to prevent that, then. I suggest we talk to the parents of
Amy James as soon as we can. I cannot imagine
them lying about what happened to their daughter," Tom said. "In the
meantime Mulder, why don't you get some rest? You look like you could
use it." 

*And I hope we are able to find my sister soon. If she dies, I don't
know how to survive.*

"There's some work to do at my desk," Mulder said, turning his back to
them quickly. 

Dana Scully didn't know how to react for the first time in her life.
They had both been in trouble before, even to the
verge of dismissal, but it had never been like this. There was nothing
she could do to help him, except roll the dice
and hope that all would turn for the best. She felt desperate and
helpless. 

*I wish that he wouldn't listen to his informants. I wish they would
leave him alone so he and I could live a normal
life. I wish I could take his place.*

Mulder stopped in his footsteps and turned towards her saying,
"Scully, I wish this hadn't happened either but it has. Let's make the
best of it."

She nodded in surprise and smiled as he hugged her. He rarely took her
in his arms these days and somehow she
needed to feel his strength, to draw upon it. He had stopped her from
resigning before and he would stop her from
giving up now. She was just as tired as he was. The fighting would
never be over and they both knew it. It was simply exhausting.
*I'm going to lose him. Something's wrong and I'm going to lose him.*

Just as suddenly as he had hugged her, he let go and left her standing
alone in the hallway. Only then did she realize
she had been crying. As she looked aside, she saw Tom staring at her
in concern.

"What is it, Dana?" he asked, afraid to listen to her answer.

"I don't know." 

She stepped forward and left the man alone. 


 6.    
December  17, 1998
10:25 a.m., Bethesda Naval Hospital

If there was one place Alex Krycek could not reach Fox Mulder, it was
at the FBI. It was also the one place he would
have to avoid for the rest of his life. After all, despite the
assurance coming from the Consortium, no one could give
him the assurance he would not end up in cuffs and behind bars as soon
as an FBI agent spotted him.

Right now, Krycek had other things to deal with though. In shock, he
stared at the autopsy results of the bodies brought in here yesterday.


"These results can't be right," he said out loud, flipping through the
charts one by one.

"They certainly are, sir," the man in the white cloth said, wondering
why Krycek was so surprised. Who was this man
they had sent to pick up the results, if he didn't know anything about
the tests being inflicted on their subjects? "The
tests are as we expected. The results are very satisfying and
assuring. We can proceed on a higher level now."

"To what cause?"

"To make sure we have a defense against the colonization. To use what
we have learned against the alien colonists.
If they are our superiors, we will be forced to turn to more desperate
measures in order to ensure our own safety."

"Are you saying you've been testing this product on humans first and
are going to try it in the presence of the aliens?" 

"Yes, that was our one and only intent. Their mind control is superior
to ours. We have only made a first step here
toward our preservation but it was a good one. The only thing we're
not clear about is why the high number of suicides. My belief is that
the human mind cannot withstand the pressure of the drug and produces
the necessary chemicals to stimulate suicidal tendencies."

"How are you going to prevent that from happening?"

"We have a living subject who has survived so far. We are testing her
right now."

"I want to see her." 

"Of course. But she's not here. We've transferred her to a safe house.
There are only a few who know she's still alive.
We didn't want to suggest any positive progress right now, not until
we know why she has survived so far." 

"What about the others?"

"They're all dead. We have two more living subjects walking around
right now. One is a young woman who was in
a car accident four days ago. She's on her fourth day of mind control,
or MC, as we call the drug. She's still not
suspecting anything. The other subject is a man brought into
Georgetown on Saturday. He's .."

"An FBI-agent."

"Yes," the doctor said surprised, "how did you know?"

"I heard he was on the MC but didn't believe it."

"It's an unfortunate fact, though. He wasn't supposed to receive it
originally, but it couldn't be helped. The order came from a higher
level of authority. It's a dangerous course of events though. I cannot
help but wonder why they chose him for the purpose. I've read in his
file he has a photographic memory. People like that, who use their
minds on a different level than most human beings, are more
susceptible to the MC than anybody else. I'm afraid the use of the
drug on him will make him suicidal within three, four days, basically
killing him by the end of tomorrow."
"I see," Krycek said thoughtfully, "Doctor, I might need your help
soon. I was wondering if you could show me to the girl now." 

"Of course. I've been given instructions to provide you with any
information you might need." 

"I know," Krycek said with a grin, "isn't it wonderful?" 

As the men left the hospital, the burning of the body of Amy James was
already in progress. Her parents would receive a closed and sealed
empty casket. 


Mulder noticed the stares of those around him. He knew what they were
thinking. The story of the theft had already
gone through the building. It was worse than he thought.  The voices
returned, echoing in his mind. 
*Spooky's got himself in real trouble now. Too bad. He was a good
asset once.*
*He'll be out of here before he knows it. They won't let him get away
with this.*
*It's a shame. I liked the guy.*
*He couldn't have done this. He's a good man.*
*I wonder what's going to happen to him now. He'll go nuts if they
sack him.*

He caught their glimpses, and opened his mouth to respond to their
thoughts, but he didn't. He was scared. Everything seemed to tremble
around him. He felt like the world was colliding and turning against
him. Soon he would be all alone again. Scully would be taken from him
and he would be on the streets with nothing. What would he do? How
would he survive? He knew he couldn't. He needed his hold on the
bureau even if it was this way. 

Scully entered the room and sat down next to him, with her back
towards the others. She leaned over to him and said,
"I haven't been able to track down Amy's parents. Seems they moved in
the middle of the night. The house is empty,
Mulder. Nobody knows where they went. I have a pretty good hunch we
won't be able to find them. Something's gone wrong here." 

"Do you think they killed them too?"

"I don't know. Or they moved them and offered them a huge fee. In the
end you can bribe anyone, Mulder. Killing
them would probably be too obvious. They can't afford many more
deaths. And something else -- a call came into 911
yesterday. A man claimed he was going to kill himself, only when the
police arrived the place was empty and the man
was gone."

"Who was he?"

"A real estate agent named Dean Hampton. Nobody reported him missing
so far but I might be able to get a tape of
his 911 call." 
*I wonder how many people have died, and how many will be dying. I
wonder if we're not already too late. If people
are dropping like flies right now, they might have killed themselves
yesterday, all at the same time. Perhaps a mass
suicide.*

A mass suicide ... He thought of Amy. Oh, God, not another one. 

"Excuse me." In the middle of Scully's sentence he got up and hurried
to the men's room, just in time to get rid of the
coffee he had for breakfast. When he looked up, he saw his own pale
features. What was going on? He should be feeling better by now, not
worse. But it all seemed to tumble down and end up in a large hole in
the ground, along with the thoughts running through his mind. A man
entered the room, waiting patiently until Mulder saw him. 

"Hey Tom." Mulder quickly rinsed his mouth and washed his hands. 

"Mulder, what's going on?"
"I don't know," Mulder lied. "Ever since the accident I've been
feeling like hell. Must have caught a bug in the ER or
something."

"You look like it. Why don't you go home?"
*He's lying.*

"No time. We've got to find that list first."

"You're not alone on this, Mulder. Scully's worried about you. She
sent me in to see how you were."
*Scully was right. Something's going on we don't know anything about.
Mulder knows, but he won't tell us.*

"I know she's worried," Mulder said softly, tired of fighting this
thing on his own. He needed to trust in someone, even if it was to get
out it all out in the open. He took a deep breath and continued, "I
could read it in her thoughts."

"What?"
*Oh my god, don't tell me this is happening.*

"It is happening, Tom," Mulder grinned wryly, shaking his head slowly.
As he turned away from his friend, he caught
Tom's eyes in the mirror. The younger agent looked shocked and hurt as
if he didn't want to hear this.  "I don't know
how but I can hear your thoughts just as clear as if you were talking
to me. Not just you, everyone. I can hear other
people's thoughts and it's scaring the shit out of me." 

"That can't be." 
*His name can't be on that list!*

"I don't think my name is on the list. I think I've gotten too close
for comfort and now they want me to kill myself. But
I'm not suicidal, Tom, I just read minds." Mulder laughed harshly. It
sounded just as scary as the words he had just
spoken. 

"But how?"

"I don't know. But whatever is happening to those people, is happening
to me too. I've become the victim of their
schemes and now they want to finish me within the FBI. And I don't
even know what was in that goddamn file.!"

"Mulder, you're not making any sense."

"I know." He laughed almost hysterically, grasping the sink tightly.
"Ain't life a bitch, Tommy?" 

*Nobody every calls me Tommy except for Resie.*

"Resie is still alive. We'll find her. They need her. I think everyone
else is dead already, Tom. I just feel it."

Tom stretched out his hand carefully, as if to support his friend. His
fingers lingered for a while on Mulder's arm. The
agent felt the warmth of Tom's hand and smiled. It actually felt good.
Then he straightened himself and ran a hand
through his hair. He couldn't prevent himself from being this pale but
he could stop himself from collapsing on the
spot. 
*She needs to know. How in the world am I going to tell her?*

"Don't tell her," Mulder said out loud, "Not yet at least. We've been
through a lot, both of us, she doesn't need this."

"Don't you want her to know?"

"No."

"Why? She's your partner for goodness sake, and a doctor. She needs to
know. You can't walk around like this,
knowing you might kill yourself, too."

"You're not going to stop me from working. And I won't be the one
telling her I might kill myself in a couple of days.
She'll find out soon enough."

"But there might be a cure ! How can you not take the chance of
finding that?" 

"Once we find the list, we'll find a cure. I'm sure of it." 

"Then let us help you ! Whatever is going on, Mulder, it can be dealt
with. We can deal with it!" Tom's hand was on
his arm now, forcing the other agent to look at him. 

"No." Mulder pulled himself free, "this one is mine alone. Don't tell
her. Keep this to yourself if you care about
anything that is going on here. Promise me, Tom !"

"No. I can't."   

Mulder sighed and opened the door quickly. Scully waited outside
patiently, looking into his eyes when he passed her. She followed him
quickly as he returned to his desk, typing away at his computer
viciously.  Scully sat down and
returned to her own papers, wondering how long it would take he would
tell her the truth. But as she stared at Tom,
she was shocked. The man's pale features and guilty expression
indicated to her that he knew what was happening.
And he wouldn't tell her.



From: san@net4all.be
REPOST: The File 8/11

 7.    
December 17, 1998
11:21 a.m., Washington D.C., Hoover Building

Terence Davis needed no introduction to those in the field of
investigations. He had started as a rookie agent in '75,
after 'Nam and college. He was an excellent profiler back then, when
the serial killers were already vicious, and the
murders already vile. He made his way through the bureau quite ably,
but he had to fight for his promotions. He had
seen a lot of agents passing through his department. Some of them were
burned out after two years at the VCS. Some
of them never returned to the bureau after taking medical leave. Some
of them turned out to be brilliant young agents
with the ability to do just about everything. For those agents he
would walk through fire if necessary. He would protect them and kill
for them, and he would trust them with his life. 

One of those agents was Fox Mulder. The man that had left a stamp on
Davis in a way rarely anyone had ever before
or ever after. The man had come through for him several times. Now
that he was in trouble, it was Davis' turn to return
the favor. 

But despite his knowledge and experience at the FBI, Terence Davis
could only think about the demons and nightmares Mulder must have seen
and encountered during his career. He didn't want to be in Mulder's
shoes, but then again, who would? 

Davis was already on the phone to different hospitals trying to get a
list of suicides over the past month that had been faxed to him. The
faxes were already coming in when a knock on his door woke him out of
his thoughts. Tom Fielding entered the office frowning worriedly. 

"What's wrong, Tom?"

"It's Mulder." Fielding sat down and stared at the fax machine, "I'm
worried about him."

"He'll be fine. He always pulls through."
"I know, sir. Are those the suicide lists?"

"Yes."  Davis gave him two sheets of paper with a number of names.
"You've got some work cut out for you, Tom. I
want you to go over these lists with Mulder. If one of these people
was a victim, we need to find similarities in their
lives or deaths."

"Any suggestions, sir?"

"No. Count on Mulder's profiling skills. He'll have ideas. Work
closely with him."

"Yes, sir." 

Tom got up and clutched the papers. At the door he was stopped by
Davis' voice. "Tom?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on with Mulder?"

Tom bit his lip. 

"He has it too, hasn't it?"

"I believe so, yes."

"My God." Davis sunk back in his chair and rubbed his face profusely.
"How?"

"I don't know." 

"Is he accountable for himself?"

"Right now? Yes. But I don't know for how long. And Scully doesn't
know. He refuses to tell her and I'm not sure how to go about it."

"Then stay with him. I'll talk to Skinner about it. We'll find a way
to help him, Tom." 

"Yes, sir." Tom left the office with five sheets of papers, all filled
with names. Over the past month, 69 people had
committed suicide. A huge list for a huge city. A sad list.
Unfortunately, also a long list. How would they ever be able
to find out who had been a test subject? How would they ever stop
anyone from being a subject again? Would Mulder's name be on this list
as well?  Tom sighed and walked over to Mulder's desk. As Davis said,
they had their work cut out for them.

 8.    
December 17, 1998
11:45 a.m., Washington, D.C., FBI

Walter Skinner had rarely before been interrogated at such lengths as
he was today. He found himself in front of a
committee of ten people, whereas Mulder "only" had to talk to five
people. Again, McGrath asked the questions,
enjoying the moment thoroughly.

"Have you spoken to Agent Mulder over the weekend?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"On Sunday evening. He stopped by for a drink."

"Does he do that a lot?"

"Yes. We've become friends since he's been reassigned to A.D. Kersh.
He wanted to talk."

"About what?"

"Several things,  personal things." 

"How long did he stay?"

"A while. It became late."

"Did you know he was in an accident on Saturday?"

"Yes, of course. Scully called me and told me." 

"Did you visit him in the hospital?"

"Yes. I also visited him at home and drove him around when he needed
some groceries." 

"That was very kind of you, sir, do you care about all your agents
this much?"

"As I said before, Agent Mulder is a friend of mine."

McGrath snorted and moved on. "When did you hear about the missing
file?"

"Early this morning. Agent Mulder did not take it."

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

"Where did Agent Mulder go after he left the office and before he
crashed his car?" 

"I don't know. You'd have to ask Agent Mulder."

"Is it your believe that Agent Mulder is wasting his time at the FBI,
Assistant Director Skinner?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you believe that Agent Mulder is still valid as an FBI agent?"

"With all due respect, sir, that is a lousy question. Agent Mulder is
the best agent I have ever worked with, and I regret his reassignment
every single day. I would be proud to have Agent Mulder under my
guidance again. He is a fine agent with an unique track record. I'd
welcome him with open arms."

McGrath did not like that answer. 

"Would you take a polygraph test to support your claims, A.D.
Skinner?"

Skinner swallowed, "yes, I would. But it is my impression that the FBI
would not like it known that its assistant
directors were being asked to take polygraph tests. Don't you think
so, Section Chief McGrath?"

9. 
December 18, 1998
1:15 p.m., Washington, D.C., Hoover Building

The list of 69 patients was down narrowed quickly to 45, after
excluding the terminally ill and psychiatric patients with
a long track record of illness and previous attempts. Mulder stated
they were looking for healthy people who only
recently went crazy. That was the profile he had written. 

Scully attempted to get her hands on the medical files of both Dean
Hampton and Amy James but to no avail. She was furious when she was
told after being put on hold for minutes that the files apparently
had gone missing. And so had the 911 distress call from Dean Hampton.
Nothing could be discovered on their health or state of mind.

"I don't understand, Mulder," Scully said as she sat down furiously,
"why would they go to the length of concealing
the medical files of their victims?"

"Maybe there's the link," Mulder proposed, "they underwent some sort
of treatment which needed to be concealed. My guess is, Scully, that
more bodies have vanished suddenly over the past few weeks and have
all been destroyed. As soon as we have found out which, we will also
find their medical histories being gone. So we need to find out where
and when they were treated. We'll need your medical degree to get you
a badge and a way to get into Bethesda or any of the hospitals here in
the city."

"How many possibilities do we have left?"

Tom showed her a list of the 45 remaining suicides on the list. Going
through the police and FBI track records another
12 victims could be excluded. They all had attempted suicide before,
leaving no doubt about their current success. And their bodies had
been identified by their relatives. 

Of the 33 remaining victims, 18 medical records could be traced
instantly. Going on Mulder's hunch these people
where not involved in the experiment. That left 15 potential victims
whose medical records could not be found.
It cost them almost the entire afternoon to narrow down this list.

"I'll take Agent Wilson and go talk to the families of these people,"
Tom said tired, not looking forward to this part
of the job. 

"You won't find them," Mulder said convincingly, "they're all gone. At
least, if the same M.O. has been followed." 

"What are you thinking, Mulder?" Scully asked leaning back in her
chair.

Mulder got out of his chair and rubbed his tired eyes. "I think all of
these people were perfectly healthy when they were exposed to the
test. They would take subjects who were in perfect health, right? So
anyone who's already spent some time in the hospital would not fit
their profile."

"So why are their files missing?"

"Because they did end up in hospital once," Mulder said, feeling the
tiny weight of the bottle of pills in his pocket. It
all made sense to him now. "During that visit in hospital they were
given something, some sort of medication. At least that's what they
thought. In reality however they were exposed to the test." 

"But that doesn't make any sense, Mulder. My sister was a drug user.
She doesn't fit the profile. Why would they use
her?"

"Maybe they didn't know she was a drug user. Perhaps somehow that also
kept her alive until now. You said she was
fighting against herself when she spoke to you, wasn't she? Maybe some
chemicals lower the effects of the tests on her. It's all speculation
of course but I don't see any other explanation right now."

"So how are we going to find out what happened to all of them? And
where Theresa is?" Scully asked, reaching for
her jacket. 

"Neighbors and friends. Anybody who was close to them. It's going to
take a while, Tom, but by talking to just one
friend we might be able to find the link. Scully, why don't you and I
go to the hospital and talk to some ER doctors
there?" 

"Okay. I'll be right back." Scully got up and left her partner alone
with Tom.

"I'll make some inquiries," Tom said, getting up as well.

"Make it quick, Tom."

*Count on me, Mulder. I hate seeing you like this.*

"I know you do," Mulder said out loud as his friend turned his back
towards them. 

"What?"

"You hate seeing me like this."

Tom stopped in his tracks and stared at Mulder with fear and surprise,
"How did you ...? Never mind."

Mulder grinned, grabbing his coat. "I've got to go."

Tom watched his friend leave the room, then freeze and stare at Agent
Brown seated near the window. The look on
Mulder's face spoke of the unspoken hurt and pain the man never said
out loud. Whatever Brown was thinking was
hurting the man obviously. Brown's eyes met Mulder's and the older
agent suddenly blushed and turned away from
Mulder, feeling embarrassed. Mulder waited for Scully by the door and
turned towards Tom, looking at him with a
meaningful glare. Tom understood.

Fielding waited until his friend had left the office, and then walked
over to the office of A.D. Skinner. The assistant
director had just returned from the committee hearing, looking wiped
after a five hour discussion. 

"I need to talk to you, sir," Fielding said, "it's an emergency."

"My office. Kim, hold all my calls." Skinner closed the door behind
him, watching the younger special agent stand
straight, though nervously. 

"What is it, Tom?" 

"Mulder's been exposed to whatever it is that's killing those people.
He's in a bad way, sir."

Skinner stared at him in surprise. "How?"

"I don't know, sir. Davis knows as well. He was going to talk to you
about it." 

"Is he suicidal?"

"I don't think so. Not yet. Sir, he can read my thoughts. It's
uncanny. He knows everything anyone in his environment thinks. It's
driving him up the wall. We need to find that list, sir. And a way to
undo what has been done. I think Agent Mulder doesn't realize how bad
it is. He refused to tell Scully. He thinks he's protecting her like
this."

"What do you suggest we do?"

"I've heard you all talk about the smoking man. Let's make a deal with
him."

"No. No deals."

"Why not?"

"He doesn't keep his end of the bargain. He never does."

"Then how do we get the list?"

"I don't know. Not yet. Go about your business."

"What about Mulder?"

"I'll talk to him, make sure he's okay. Thanks, Tom." 

Fielding left the office feeling a bit better. At least now someone
who knew Mulder better than him, knew about the
telepathy. He hadn't told Scully. He hadn't betrayed Mulder.

The A.D. picked up the phone and dialed the number he had not used in
over a year. He knew the smoking man would answer and meet him. A deal
should have been out of the question, but something needed to be done,
even if it meant dealing with scum. 


 10.   
December 17, 1998
2:45 p.m., Washington, D.C.

Alex Krycek stared in shock at the woman sitting in the glass cage.
She was trapped like an animal, the palms of her
hands pressing against the glass furiously. The men in the cubicle had
trouble strapping her down on the bed, and
putting her on an IV. She had already pulled out the previous one,
leaving a trace of blood on the floor. 

Theresa Fielding screamed as they put in the IV again, and then
relaxed immediately as a syringe was emptied into
her arm. 

"What drives her crazy like this?" Krycek asked carefully.

"The MC no doubt. She was exposed to drugs for years. We found old
needle tracks in the crooks of her arms. The MC first had a minor
effect on her and now has made her aggressive. I don't know why, yet,
we'll have to do a number
of tests. I do believe that we might be able to reverse the effects of
the tests though."

"Really?" Krycek asked interested, "how?"

"The MC works on the metabolism of the human body, you have to
understand. In fact, it attacks those parts of the
body that are not in use, like the larger part of the brain. We only
use a fraction of our brown because we don't know
how to use them effectively just yet. There have been a number of
tests where monkeys for instance have been subject to drug tests to
see if they would start to improve their intelligence. This experiment
basically does the same thing. It affects that part of our brain that
we don't know or haven't learnt to explore yet. Gibson Praise knew how
to explore it because he was born this way. By slowing down the vital
functions of a human body, we are also slowing down the knowledge and
functions of the brain. In other words, fight fire with fire." 

"Are you saying you have a counteragent for the MC?"
"Yes," the doctor smiled, "that's what I've been saying." 

"Can we use this on Agent Mulder?"

The doctor looked surprised, "do you want to save the agent?" 

"Let's keep it to testing. Think about it, doctor. Theresa Fielding is
not a good subject. Fox Mulder is. His rapid
downfall will learn you more about the human body than anything else.
We need him. But I need your quiet approval
on this. No one can know we're testing him. Think about it! You'll be
rewarded if you improve the drug."

The doctor didn't need long to think about it. He knew he would go
along with Krycek, no matter what cost. After all,
he would be able to pull off things he'd never been able to pull off
before. 

"Okay," the man said, "I'm with you."

"Good. Otherwise I would have had to kill you." 

The doctor paled as Krycek left the room, leaving him alone. If it
wasn't for the money, the doc would have quit the
job a long time ago. Not to mention the fact there wasn't even the
possibility of quitting. He was involved in this shit
for life, no matter how old he became. Krycek's words were only
another confirmation to the fact.

Krycek pulled out his cell phone and called the smoking man on his way
out of the building. Somehow, he was sure
his employer did not know about the woman. He would have mentioned it.


"What news?" the smoker asked. Krycek could hear noises in the
background. He was not alone.

"It's been confirmed. Agent Mulder is the last living test subject.
They'll come after him soon."

"Then we'll have to make sure they don't have a reason to come after
him. Go ahead."

"Yes, sir." Krycek hung up and looked behind him. 

The screams of the young woman had started again. He didn't want to
know what was going on inside her head.
Somehow he knew it would be too inhuman for anyone to survive. 

11. 
December 17, 1998
4:14 p.m., Washington D.C., Potomac River 

"Scully, please stop the car." 

Dana Scully pulled over and stopped the car near the bench at the
Potomac. She had bad memories about the last time she had sat down
here. Not even so long after that she was taken away by Duane Barry.
Now, another man sat on that bench and he was staring across the
river. She didn't need to see his face to know who he was. 

"I'll wait in the car," she said quietly, watching her partner
struggle to get out. Then he turned and said, "No, I want
you to go to Bethesda Hospital and try to get in. I'll meet you back
at the bureau. Be careful, Scully."

"Mulder, I'll never get in."

"You can be persuasive if want to."

"What about you? I hate leaving you alone."

"I'm a big boy," he said, tapping on the holster of his gun. She
smiled despite everything and drove off. Mulder made
his way to the bench and sat down next to the man.

"I thought you might be trying to find me," Senator Matheson said, not
even looking aside.

"You knew about this, didn't you?" Mulder asked, "You knew I was a
subject too."

"Yes."

"How?"

"The moment I heard you were admitted to Georgetown. That's where all
the subjects were being treated. You didn't
know it yourself, but you came under their care and they decided to do
it, to see how you would react to the drug they slipped you." 

"Who was responsible?"

"The man you know as Dr. Matthews. He's probably gone by now. He was
the one taking the files of the victims after
they all perished. That wasn't foreseen, you see. That they would all
die so suddenly. You are the only one left. You,
and a young woman they have right now." 

"Where is she?"

"I don't know." 

"You don't know or you don't want to tell me?"

*I don't know.* 
"I don't know," the senator said, avoiding the agent's eyes. "I'm
really sorry."

"You lie."

"I'm not lying."
*Believe me, Mulder. I don't know.*

"I can hear your thoughts. I can hear you say, "Poor Mulder, he's
suffering because I lead him to this case." I know
you're regretting my involvement in this case, sir, but it's not your
concern. Now tell me where that list is."

*The smoking man has it. I don't know where it is.*
"I don't have it," the Senator said out loud, "you have to believe
me."

Mulder believed him. Slowly the agent stretched his body and stared
over the river. "What's going to happen to me?"

"You will get worse, just like the others. I don't know why it's
affecting you so rapidly. The others took weeks. I also
have no idea how they give you the drug. I don't know if they're still
slipping it to you."

"The pills. I've been given painkillers, but they didn't help." 

"Have them examined, you might find a way to save yourself." 

"Will I kill myself at the end?"

"Probably. Unless you find a way to overcome the drug. But I have to
warn you, they might try to get their hands on
you. Eventually they will unless you find the way to win."
"Why didn't you tell me? You could have prevented this !"

"I couldn't. I'm risking my life already for you just by sitting here
and talking to you. I am exposing myself as a part
of the project that you have been chasing for five years! By exposing
myself I will turn everyone that is dear to me, and everything I have
worked for so long will go to waste. I can't do that, not even for
you, Fox."

"So you simply let me die?" 

"I'm talking to you now, aren't I? I have lead you to the file,
haven't I? I have told you the truth. If that's not good
enough for you, then we will never speak to each other again."

Mulder sat back quietly, wondering what to believe. Then his informant
sat up quietly and said, "Mulder, sometimes,
help comes from a corner you don't expect. And sometimes those that
you hate will act for the good and become your
allies. This is what you need to remember." 

The senator stretched out his hand and shook Mulder's, pressing a
piece of paper against the palm of the agent's hand.
Mulder got up and left without a word, knowing his enemies would be
watching. Quickly, the agent hailed a cab and
instructed the driver to go to the bureau. From the corner of his eye,
he saw two men walk up to the senator and request him to come with
them. A second later a black car stopped near the bench and the
senator was forced into the back. Mulder knew there was nothing he
could do for the man. And the man couldn't do anything for him
anymore. 





From: san@net4all.be
REPOST: The File 9/11

12. 
December 18, 1998
5:15 p.m., Washington D.C., Hoover Building

Tom Fielding waited patiently as the smoking man entered Skinner's
room. The young agent's patience had come to
an end. He was desperate to find his sister and a means to help her
and Mulder. But he knew he couldn't. He was too
vulnerable and had nothing to offer the man. 

But someone else had. The young VCS agent walked to the elevators and
chose the basement, knowing the man in
there was the only one who could talk some sense into the smoker. He
would also be the only one that had a grip on
the smoker. After all, he was his son. 

But the man wasn't inside. A dark haired woman was the one looking up
as soon as he entered the room. 

"Yes?" she asked surprised taking in the name on his badge. 

"I was looking for Agent Spender. Is he in?"

"He left a couple of hours ago to talk to a committee. Can I help you
with something?"

"No. Thank you."

"You're Fox's friend aren't you? The one from the VCS?"

Surprised Tom turned around and stared at her. "How do you know?"

She got up and stretched out her hand. "My name's Diana Fowley. I've
known Fox for years. I was wondering how he's doing. He was in an
accident, wasn't he?"

"Yes. He's fine."

"You don't sound convincing."
"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

She smiled faintly. "I'm not sure we're still on speaking terms. It's
a long story."

"Do you know about the file?"

"Yes. But I don't think he took it. He wouldn't do that."

"Do you know what was in it?"

"No. Should I? As Agent Spender has made very clear to me, I'm only
here because I know about the paranormal.
Spender doesn't take this job seriously. He's only doing  it because
it will bring him to a point in his career where he
can choose for himself. He's as ambitious as anyone, I suppose. If I
were him I would do the same thing I guess."

"You don't seem to have much respect for the man. He is your partner,
isn't he?"

"For now, yes." Diana smiled again. "Tell Fox I said hi."

Tom closed the door behind him only to find the smoking man leaving
Skinner's office. As Fielding knocked on the
A.D.'s door, he immediately knew things had gone wrong. 


The smoking man was fully aware of the power he held in his hands
right now. It was a feeling he hadn't had in a long
time, not since he got shot by his own men. Then, he had been betrayed
and lead into a trap he himself had inflicted
by caring too much about Mulder's situation. By protecting the man he
had sentenced himself. But now he was back
with a full vengeance and he would damn well show them he was not to
be messed with. 

Walter Skinner didn't feel at ease as he watched the man sit down and
smoke a cigarette. He waited patiently until the
smoker started to talk, and already dreaded the sound he would most
definitely hear in the man's voice. 

"So you want another deal to save Mulder's life, Skinner?"

"No. No deals. I want you to help him. I know you're willing to do
so."

"Why would I help him? We're on opposite sides."

"Because whatever happened to him wasn't in the plan. Somehow, Mulder
got involved and you didn't want it to
happen. You've been protecting him for quite some time, I know that
now. It was the reason you got shot, wasn't it?
Why is this happening to him? What did he do to deserve this?"

The smoking man's face seemed to darken as he turned away from the
A.D., ignoring the man's fierce eyes. He couldn't hide his feelings. 

"I know you set the office on fire. I've known it for quite some time.
By destroying it, you wanted to protect him as well, didn't you? You
thought it would stop him from searching for the truth, but he didn't
give up. He found the virus and went in search of his partner. Were
you there too? Were you the one making sure they were found out on the
ice? If you want to help Mulder ... if you ever wanted to help him,
help him now. He needs you."

The man stubbed out his Morley in the ashtray, saying, "I can't give
you the list."

"Then tell me how to save him."

"You can't."

"I refuse to believe that."

"Believe it. Mulder is going to die and there's nothing you can do
about it. There is no cure to a disease that isn't even a disease. It
was a test. You cannot stop its consequences." The smoking man left
the office, leaving the assistant director alone and desperate. 

And then Tom came in and asked him about it. Skinner's expression said
enough. The A.D. took off his glasses and
rubbed his eyes. Time was running out. They knew it. Everyone knew it.


Another knock sounded and Mulder entered the room, his eyes wild and
angry. 

"It's all so clear to me now," he said, throwing the bottle with pills
on the table. "I checked with Georgetown. Dr.
Matthews has disappeared. There never was a Dr. Matthews there. All
the victims came in through the ER, caught up
in some sort of minor accident. They were all healthy and fit for
testing. He gave them the pills and they killed
themselves not knowing why. But I know, now."

"My God," Skinner said, staring at the bottle. "How many of these have
you taken?"

"Too many." Mulder sank down on a chair and covered his face with his
hands. "We need to find Matthews. He took
a flight to Boston early this morning but he'll be back soon. He's
booked on another flight into town tomorrow at four
using a fake name. I don't know which but I'll recognize him. We need
to find him at the airport." 

"How do you know?"

Mulder threw a piece of paper on the table. "Matheson told me." 

Skinner picked up the paper. The flight number and time was written on
it. Mulder leaned back heavily, closing his
eyes. He was so tired, so exhausted. All he wanted to do was sleep. 

"Mulder?" 

Fielding's voice came from a distance, ringing quietly in his ears. He
didn't have the strength to open his eyes anymore. The world seemed to
spin. Strong hands helped him to his feet and supported him as they
made their way to the couch. The next moment he was lying on the
couch, his feet up. 

He heard his former superior open the door, saying, "Call an
ambulance, Agent Mulder is not feeling well." 

Then he picked up the phone. Mulder could hear him talking to Scully.
He knew his partner was on her way down. 

Tom sat down on a chair next to his friend, laying a hand on his
flushed face. 

*He's dying. Something went wrong. This isn't supposed to be
happening.*

Mulder grabbed Tom's hand as the man touched him, forcing Fielding to
lean forward to listen to his words. "I'm not
giving up just yet." 

There were more voices outside the room, all focusing on the man
inside. Kersh was there, so was the smoker, so were several others. He
could hear all their silent remarks. 

*He looks like shit, had no idea he was sick.*
*He's burning himself at the stake before someone else does it.*

*Where the hell is that doctor?* That one was Skinner's worried
thought. *Look at that smoking bastard. He knows
what caused this and he won't do anything about it.*
But the smoking man's thoughts were describing his own worries as
Mulder listened to the silence. 

*There's nothing I can do. Where the hell is Krycek?*

Mulder opened his eyes in shock. "Krycek?" he spoke out loud. "Where
is he? Where is he!?" Fielding needed all the strength he had to keep
the agent down. 

Fielding turned to Skinner and asked, "Who's Krycek?"

The smoking man whirled and left the room. 

Before the ambulance arrived, Mulder lost consciousness.

13. 
December 18, 1998
5:14 p.m., Bethesda Naval Hospital 

Dana Scully's body language could only be described as nervous yet
self-assured when she entered the hospital
reception area. The security guard looking at her waited until she
spoke. "Dana Scully with the FBI. I'm a forensic
pathologist and was sent here to autopsy the body of Amy James."

The man looked on a piece of paper and said, "There's no one been
brought in here by that name, Agent Scully. Who
gave you this order?"

"Senator Matheson. He was supposed to inform you I was on my way. I
thought you would know. I don't have much
time here."

"Wait here, Agent Scully. I'll get someone down here to talk to you." 

Scully sat down nervously and impatiently, knowing that the man coming
for her would be someone familiar. She was
right. District Attorney John Breaux came up to her, looking annoyed
and angry as she got up.

"Agent Scully, still looking for corpses?"

"A district attorney that works in a naval hospital? What brings you
here, sir?"

"That is none of your concern. What you are looking for is not here.
Friends like Senator Matheson will not help you
in here. Amy James' body is gone and if I were you I would leave it at
that." 

"What do they have on you, sir? How did they manage to rein you in? Is
it the upcoming elections? Did they promise
you a promotion and pay raise? What does it take to get a D.A. in on
the deal, sir?"

"I think you'd better leave now, Agent Scully."

"Not until you tell me why at least fifteen people have been brought
here after committing suicide, and why people like yourself are
attempting to hide it."

The D.A. slowly said, "I think you should worry about your partner
instead of those people, Agent Scully."

"What?" Scully stared at him in shock. As the D.A. turned around,
Scully's cell phone rang Shocked, she listened to
Skinner's request to come to Georgetown immediately. Her partner would
be there.

The ER of Georgetown Medical Center was as crowded as ever when Scully
arrived to find her partner being examined in a private cubicle.
Skinner was there, and so was Tom. Neither of them were leaving the
room. They watched the doctors suspiciously. Scully didn't understand.
One look at the pale face of her partner told her he had collapsed,
either from exhaustion or something else. 
*Oh god, don't let it be something else.*

Mulder opened his eyes and looked straight at her, as if he had known
she was there. But she hadn't spoken a word.
He stretched out his hand and beckoned for her to come. She stepped
forward beside Skinner and grabbed her partner's hand. He smiled. 

"Hey," she said, "I told you to take it easy, not to end up in here
again." 

"Scully."  Skinner touched her elbow and pulled her aside, leaving her
partner in the room alone with Tom. She
suspected the truth immediately before her former supervisor told her,
but she let him speak. 

"He's been infected with it. The painkillers he'd been given weren't
painkillers but an unknown drug which is now
being examined in the FBI labs. We haven't been able to identify it,
yet, but it seems to be some sort of stimulant that
works directly on the brain. He collapsed from exhaustion and pain,
apparently. The doctors are at a loss, they don't
know what to do. They want to keep Mulder here to monitor him. I've
told them about all the symptoms we know.
That's all we can do for now."

*Oh god, it's worse than I thought. He's dying.*

"I'm not dying," Mulder said out loud, looking at her from inside the
room.

*Oh my god, he can read my thoughts.*

"Yeah," he said quietly, "I can."

*He's scaring me.*

"I'm sorry that I'm scaring you."

She felt tears in her eyes, for the first time since she met him not
knowing what to say. She simply stepped forward
and grabbed his hand again. 

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Scully."

"I know why. Don't worry about it. All that matters now is that we
find a way to stop this." 

"I'm open for suggestions," he smiled, "but I'm glad you're here."

"So am I." 

She kissed the fingers of his hand and helped him sit up after he
insisted on it. The last samples of blood were taken
away. He felt lightheaded but okay. He didn't want to stay at the
hospital. This time Scully seemed to read his mind. 

"You can rest here, Mulder. They want to keep an eye on you to be
sure. We'll stay right here, okay?"
*Be damn sure I'll stay here to take care of you. I won't let  you out
of my sight.*

Mulder knew she wouldn't. But he couldn't stay here. If he did, the
one man able to help him might be gone for good.

"We'll find Matthews tomorrow, Mulder," Skinner said, "Scully knows
him too. We'll find him." 

"I know," Mulder said, "I know." 

14. 
December 17, 1998
10:24 p.m., Washington, D.C., Georgetown Medical Center 

Mulder lay awake in the dark silence of his room listening to her even
breathing. She was the only one left in the room now, sleeping on the
other bed. Tom and Skinner had left half an hour before. He had taken
the sleeping pill the nurse put in his hand, only to spit it out as
soon as she left the room. Scully was in the bathroom when he did. He
knew she wouldn't let him leave, but he had to. The message Matheson
had written on the paper had been for his eyes only and he had ripped
it off before throwing the flight number on the table. 

As soon as he heard the name "Krycek," Mulder knew what was going on.
The enemies Matheson had spoken of were revealed now. And ironically
enough, they would be the ones saving his life. He would have to trust
them somehow.
Even if it turned out to be a trap, it would not matter. The rage
inside of him had been building up for quite some time
now. If he stayed here he would be dead for sure. He couldn't just sit
back and let it happen, not when all the others
were gone. But the girl might have a chance to survive. After all, she
had survived so far. 

Mulder slid out of the bed quickly and quietly. Getting dressed was
easy. Leaving the hospital would be easy, too. With a bit of luck, it
would take some time before they missed him. As he put on his coat he
looked at Scully's sleeping features and apologized in silence for
ditching her again. But this was something he needed to do. If not, he
would never forgive himself for missing the chance of saving a human
being's life. 


The cab brought him to the address on the piece of paper. An abandoned
warehouse was his destination. Here he would find Alex Krycek and
Theresa Fielding, Tom's sister.

The place was dark and abandoned. He didn't like it. He pulled out his
gun and opened the door quietly, hearing the
wood crack underneath his feet. No one had been in here for ages. Or
had they? Quickly he made his way upstairs only to find nothing but
rubble and garbage. He went downstairs again, and tried every door he
could find. Only one was locked. But behind it were people. He picked
up their thoughts. 
*Mulder is late. He was supposed to be here already.*
*He'll come. He wants to save the girl.*
Hearing footsteps, Mulder turned. Before he could make another move
the door was flung open and a gun was pointed straight at his face,
just as the agent's gun was pointed between the eyes of the other man,
Alex Krycek. 

"I knew you'd come, Mulder." 

"Where's the girl?"

"In the basement. She's fine."

"I want to see her."

"Later. Put down the gun, Mulder. I'm not going to kill you, and
you're not going to kill me. The only person you want to kill is
yourself." 

"No, I don't." 

"Not yet. But you know it's going to come soon. You've been given a
drug called MC, short for Mind Control. You
helped them create that drug, Mulder."

"How?"

"By giving them Gibson Praise. You were right, he is the missing link.
And now he's your demise unless I help you."

"Why would you help me?"

"Put down the gun and I'll tell you. There's not much time." 

"Time for what?"

"To save your life. Now come with me."

"No." Mulder put the barrel of his gun closer to Krycek's face. "I'm
here to pick up the girl, nothing more. Let me
pass." Carefully, the agent walked past the man he once worked with.
Krycek didn't stop him. The next moment
something stung him incredibly hard in the leg, just above the knee.
He stared down at his leg, and saw the needle.
Only then did he see the second man standing inches away from him,
wearing the white robe. Another doctor. 

Mulder's leg seemed to collapse and lose its strength, and seemed to
become detached from his body. Then the rest of him gave in. He
couldn't do anything but fall to the floor.

Mulder did everything he could to fight the waves of dizziness in his
mind and body, but he was losing the fight
rapidly. He could hear the doctor's thoughts. 
*We got him.* The doctor's inner voice spoke of triumph. Then Mulder
was lying on his side, dropping the gun. They were beside him
instantly, turning him on his back. Krycek looked down on him.

A third man approached before Mulder closed his eyes. It was the cab
driver. 
*Oh, God, now, no one will know.*

Mulder's eyes were closed but he was still conscious. Krycek's voice
spoke, bringing Mulder out of his stupor for a few seconds. "Get him
to the basement now. We need to work fast in order to save him." 
*I'm sorry this had to happen to you, my friend. I told you to believe
me, and now you're paying the price. Now I'm
the one saving your ass. Some day you'll hate me for it.*

Mulder could feel his body being lifted on an ice cold table. His
jacket and shirt were being removed. He shivered.
Someone lifted his eyelids saying, "He's still awake." 

"That's impossible. He should be out like a light."

"He's fighting off the drug. I can't do anything like this." 

"Use the mask. Hurry." 

Mulder used all the strength he had in him to open his eyes and stare
at the men around the table. He didn't recognize
any of them, except for the man with the short, black hair., leaning
over him. 

"Mulder," Krycek said, "don't fight the drug. I'm trying to save you,
here." 

"W - Why?" Mulder hardly recognized his own voice, but he needed to
ask the question. His lips were dry, every
muscle in him ached and protested against the painful position on the
cold table. He was surrounded with equipment
and medical tools, everything he had dreaded all of his life. 

"Don't ask any questions, now. You're going to be fine."
The man in the white coat put a mask over Mulder's nose and mouth,
pumping twilight into his system. Mulder didn't
want to inhale the stuff but he had no choice. He sensed a sweet taste
in his mouth, and then his lungs were filled with the gas. The same
moment something sharp stung his hand, and the dizziness overcame him.
He had no choice but to let himself slide into the abyss, realizing
that no one knew where he was or what was happening to him. Hell, he
didn't even know himself. 

15. 
December 18, 1998
2:14 a.m., Washington, D.C.

Scully was angry. At herself for falling asleep and angry at Mulder
for taking off like that. But she understood why.
After all, he was the one in danger. Wouldn't it be normal for him to
try and save himself? 

Skinner entered the room and sat down with a sigh. "We've got nothing
to go on, Scully. I called all the taxi companies in the district
myself. No one can tell us anything. Mulder is on his own."

"I won't let this happen," Scully said angry, "not if there's still a
chance to help him." She felt tears weld up in her eyes. She was
tired. 

Tom grabbed her hand and pushed her against him. She felt comforted.
Why was this happening? And how could she ever tell Mulder now how
much she cared? He might die thinking she didn't care enough to find
out where he was or how he was. Yet at the same time she knew he knew.
After all, he could read her mind. 


16. 
December 18, 1998
7:13 a.m., Washington, D.C.

He woke up in the silence of a lonely room. He opened his eyes and
focused on where he was and why he was there.
He was in some sort of storage room, paper-thin walls hiding him from
the sight of others. He could hear several
monitors working besides him, all attached to his body. A tube in his
hand, another one in the crack of his arm.
Something over his mouth and nose. He could feel oxygen float into his
system. His mind worked slowly and seemed
too tired to think about anything.  But the main thing was the utter
silence. He seemed to be all alone.  Or was he?

Somewhere in the far distance he could hear voices. They seemed faint.
He had trouble focusing on them. He couldn't
even recall who they were. It didn't matter now. Then there were
footsteps and he closed his eyes again immediately,
faking sleep. A curtain was slid aside and he felt vulnerable and
naked as the men approached the bed and stared down at him. He had no
trouble pretending he was still out of it. His thoughts were too slow
and fuzzy.

"It's going to take a while before he's able to overcome this," an
unknown voice said, "we're talking days here, Alex.
The dosage they gave him was just as effective as any of the others." 

"We don't have days. He needs to be returned today. They're all
looking for him. We're already exposing ourselves
here. Soon they'll know I was the one helping him. My life won't be
worth anything anymore," Krycek said. 

"The best I can do is slow down his motions even more and hope for the
best. If he's a fighter, the dosage I'm giving
him will break the MC. If not, he's a goner. There's no way you'll be
able to prevent him from killing himself then." 

"Have you found out how it was given to him yet?"

"The tests are still ongoing. I'll have more news for you soon. My
guess is Matthews gave him the painkillers, just like the others.
There's no other way he could have digested the MC." 

"Good. Let me know." Footsteps were heard again as Krycek turned to
leave the room. 

"Krycek." The other man stopped him, "I have to warn you. Mulder might
not be grateful to you for saving his ass. He's a paranoid and
vulnerable man right now. If you put him on the streets again and he
still has his gun, he'll turn towards anything or anyone in his way.
Stay out of his way, you hear me?" 

Krycek nodded and left the room. The doctor was still at Mulder's
side. The agent slowly opened his eyes to see
the man preparing a syringe to be emptied in the IV attached to his
arm. Mulder cleared his throat, making the doctor
look at him. 

"Look who's awake," the doctor said, actually smiling, "how are you
feeling?"

"What did you do to me?" Mulder asked weakly, staring at the man. 

"We're treating you with large dosages of a sedative I have prepared
myself. If you want to continue living I would do as I say." The
doctor looked at his syringe, reaching for the IV line. The next
moment Mulder's free hand was at the man's throat, forcing him
backwards. The IV pole fell to the ground as both men struggled for
control. Mulder groaned with pain as the tubes to his arm and hand
struggled hard to stay inside of him. The doctor was pushed backwards
against the wall, dragging one of the machines with him. The man
stayed down for the count. Mulder bit his lip as he pulled out both
tubes and detached himself from the machines. He lifted his legs over
the edge of the bed and slid to the ground. He swayed as his legs
tried to keep his weight up, but felt himself sinking to the ground. 

"Damn it!" he groaned out loud as his  knees buckled, leaving him
vulnerable and exposed on the ground for anyone
to find him. His hands gripped the cold bars of the bed as he pulled
himself up again, managing finally to stand
straight. The room danced and swayed. He convulsed, spitting nothing
but bile, and turned to see Krycek next to the
curtains. With one move the man was next to him and gripped him,
pulling him to his feet. Alex reached down and
grabbed the syringe, ready to shove it in the agent's body. 

"No, please don't." Mulder's plead stopped the one-armed man,
basically forcing him to listen. 

"Mulder, you're a very sick man. I'm trying to save your ass here." 

"This isn't about me," Mulder croaked, fighting against the spots and
lights in the corners of his eyes, "this is about
our government. We don't have time for this."

"There's nothing you can do if you're sick. I don't give a damn about
the government. There's nothing we can about
them." 

"I need your help. There's no time. All the evidence will be gone
soon. If you're my friend as you say you are, help me." 

Krycek pushed the agent gently on the bed, debating with himself. 
*He's right. There's no time.*

"I've never asked for your help before but I am now. Help me," Mulder
wanted to do nothing but sleep and rest and
forget everything but he couldn't. It was coming to a close now and
they both knew it.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Matthews is the key to this all. I'm sure of it. He's the one we need
to find."

"He vanished."

"No, I know where he is. I need to contact Scully. We need to find him
before your friends in the government do."

"I can't help you on this. If I do, I'm dead. I don't care about the
others, but I do care about myself."

"And me apparently."

"I'm paying you back for old times," Krycek said, "there are certain
people out there who don't want to see you die.
This wasn't supposed to happen, Mulder. If you feel anger, turn it
against those who inflicted this on you." 

"I will." Mulder licked his lips, fighting off the sleep. He knew he'd
lost the battle when his body slipped off the side
of the bed and onto the cold floor. The last thing he felt was Krycek
tugging at him and shouting his name. 

Then it all just went black, and Krycek was the one putting him on the
bed again, with the help of the cab driver. The
tall African-American looked down at the body of the FBI agent. "Is he
going to live?"

"Yeah. He'll be fine if we continue to treat him. Right now we don't
have time. Guard him, I need to make a phone
call."

The tall man nodded and looked down at the agent. It would be a shame
to kill this man. He might be the only one
surviving the tests. After all, the girl was on the verge of dying. He
could hear her croak in the other room. She was
not surviving the attempts to save her. Strughold wouldn't allow it to
happen anyhow. 

The tall man pulled out a gun and pointed it at the face of the FBI
agent, only to find a barrel of another gun pointed
at his back. 

"I thought you were going to show your true self sooner or later,
Adam. Turn around slowly and hand me the gun." 

The tall man surrendered quickly, handing the gun to Krycek. As he
turned around he saw the shorter and younger
man smile nervously. "Who sent you?"

"Strughold." 

"Does he know we're trying to save Mulder's life?"

The tall man turned quiet. Krycek sighed disappointed, knowing they
would not be able to make it with the girl and
the doctor. They would have to stay behind, only to be found by those
who were sent to kill Mulder and him. 

"Turn around and walk away, Adam. I don't wish to kill you. Get out.
Next time we meet you're dead." 

The tall man did as he was told. He quickly left them behind. Krycek
sighed as the man on the bed began to stir. The
doctor on the floor was still out cold. He couldn't wait for the man
to wake up. He needed to move Mulder quickly. 

"Come on Mulder," Krycek sighed as he lifted the man up from the bed
and supported him with his right arm. Despite
the agent's protests they moved quickly, leaving the building. Outside
the tall man was sitting in his car and waited
patiently. 


From: san@net4all.be
REPOST: The File 10/11

17. 
December 18, 1998
10:23 a.m., Washington, D.C. 

"Something's wrong here, Scully."

Dana Scully looked up at the sound of Fielding's voice. The man sat
next to her and stared at the numbers on the piece of paper Matheson
had given Mulder. Scully had been trying to reach the senator for
hours now, but he didn't respond.
His secretary finally told them he was out of town on a business trip.
Scully knew they wouldn't find him, at least not
before it was too late.

"What do you mean?" she asked curiously, looking at him tiredly. 

"Matheson has been feeding Mulder information. They know. Why would
they tell him which flight he was on ? What if they gave him false
information to lead Mulder to the airport to kill him?"

"Why would they kill him in the airport?"
"A robbery gone wrong, some thugs stealing his wallet and gun. A
single stab wound in the heart. It would arouse less suspicion than a
car crash." 

Scully stared at him shocked. "Do you think Mulder's been at the
airport all this time?"

"He could have been. Keeping an eye on the passenger terminal. He has
no way of knowing the man's identity, but the doctor might be there
and Mulder won't take the chance of missing them. Perhaps they even
count on Mulder's current state of mind. Perhaps they want him to kill
the doctor."

She grabbed her jacket. "Let's go then. Warn Skinner and get some men
out there." 

 18.   
December 18, 1998
10:10  a.m., Washington, D.C.

The men sitting in the small meeting room weren't too pleased with the
course of events. Mulder was missing and the
entire bureau was in search of him. It was publicity they didn't need
right now, nor the knowledge that their secret was out in the open.
Everyone now knew Mulder had been subjected to the test. It would give
him the sympathy he had lost over the past couple of years and the
support he needed to return to the path he so desperately was seeking.

"Mulder has to be removed. He's becoming too dangerous. We cannot wait
for the MC to take its course. Make sure
he doesn't survive." 

"No." The smoking man's face changed features as he got up and refused
to look at the others. "We had a deal,
Strughold." 

"We never had a deal. It is inevitable." 

"Then I shall withdraw from these tests." 

"As I believe it, you already have," Strughold said angrily, "or did
you think we don't know you sent Krycek to save
Mulder?" 

The smoking man paled. Strughold smiled. "Don't worry, you will not be
harmed this time. We accept your betrayal,
but only this once. Next time you will suffer the consequences of your
actions, as I have promised you one time before. Now get out of my
sight before I change my mind."

The smoking man left the room and swallowed away his anger as he left
the building. There was nothing more he could do now. He had done all
he could. And he didn't even know if it was worth it.


19. 
December 18, 1998
10:20 a.m., Dulles Airport

The one-armed man supported him as they moved towards the passenger
terminal. Krycek didn't like being seen in
public with the man he was supposed to be curing. If the others were
here to kill the doctor, they would be spotted.

"I need to rest." Mulder leaned heavily against a metal bar, shifting
his weight so he could find a comfortable position. The man licked his
lips again and was sweating profusely. Krycek didn't like it. After
Mulder had regained
consciousness again, he had all the trouble in the world to convince
the man to take some medication in order to stop
the progress of the MC. Mulder sighed and rubbed his eyes. Suddenly,
he seemed able to move again and the both of them moved further.
Krycek looked around suspiciously. 

"They're not here."

"How do you know?"

"I can't hear them." Mulder grinned wryly. "That drug you're giving me
is working though. I have trouble focusing
on anyone's thoughts, even my own. I'm too tired to think about
anything." 

"Good, I'm glad it's working. Now look around and see if you spot
him." 

Mulder chose a seat near the passenger exit leading from the terminals
and stared at the faces passing them. The doctor wasn't amongst them.
Mulder knew it was going to be a long day. Then, as he leaned forward,
Mulder suddenly saw the man who had given him the painkillers at the
hospital, the one causing all of this. It was Matthews. 

Mulder slowly got up and walked over to the man. The doctor didn't see
him at first, but instead was looking around
for something or someone. Just a few inches before Mulder reached him,
the doctor looked up and saw him.
Immediately he paled, revealing his guilt. As the man turned to walk
away, Mulder saw a tall African American
approach the doctor. The black man pulled out the gun from the
waistband of his pants. The following second, a single gunshot rang
from behind Mulder. Mulder felt something splatter on his arm and hand
and then the doctor slumped forward, falling into the arms of the man
who had killed him and was trying to avoid the doctor's heavy weight. 

Mulder couldn't think anymore. The sound of the gun had been deafening
and disturbing. He heard screams and shouts and there was confusion
everywhere. As he turned around, he saw Krycek's expression of anger.
For him, too, the last chance had just been killed. Krycek quickly
grabbed Mulder's arm, pulling him with him as the man underneath the
doctor struggled and freed himself from the dead man's weight, shoving
his gun forward and firing twice. Mulder felt the impact of the
bullets in the wall next to him. Other screams and shouts and people
running added to the disturbing
atmosphere.

"Come with me," Krycek said pulling the agent's jacket. Mulder felt
numb as his legs seemed to obey Krycek without
questions asked. The former FBI agent seemed to know exactly where to
go. Through corridors and hallways he went, until he suddenly pushed
open a door and pulled Mulder inside. The FBI agent leaned heavily
against the door, still not believing what he saw. The expression on
Krycek's face. He had known they would come to find the doctor. He had
led them straight to it! 

"You set me up," Mulder sighed, banging his fist in disbelief against
the door, "you were sent to kill the doctor.
Bastard!"

"I didn't want him dead." 

"You knew they were looking for him too! Why didn't you tell me?"

"We all make choices in life, Mulder. You should know by now I usually
choose for myself." 

"Not this time." Mulder pulled out his gun and shoved it against the
man's cheek, his anger no longer in control. The
fatigue he had felt before was completely gone. The rage had returned
in all its complicated awareness. He wanted to
kill someone. Krycek, or someone else. Himself. It didn't really
matter. 

Krycek pushed aside the gun, saying angry, "Don't kill me, Mulder. If
it weren't for me you would have died a long
time ago. If you want to remain alive you'll do as I say."

"No." Mulder's move was fast and sudden as he shoved the barrel of the
gun into Krycek's face. The next moment his former partner slumped
backwards until his head hit the wall. The man sank down without a
sound. Mulder took his gun and tucked it in his coat pocket. Then he
opened the door again, only to find his partner standing just a few
inches from him. He couldn't let her find him like this. Not before he
turned his gun on the smoking man and blew him to Kingdom Come. After
all, what was there else left in life but to kill the man that caused
all of this? And what better
way to go out yourself, after destroying that what had caused you the
most pain in the world?

Quickly, he closed the door again and walked past the luggage
containers. There were men at work but they didn't pay any attention
to him. But one man was behind him, his gun ready to be used. It was
the tall, black man, avoiding the crowds in the airport. It was the
man sent to kill him. 

 20.   
December 18, 1998
10:45 a.m., Dulles Airport 

Scully knew they were too late as soon as they entered the airport
terminal. The body on the floor could only be
identified as Dr. Matthews, the man that had slipped Mulder the drugs
at the ER.

"Damn it!" she heard herself say, "he was our one chance to gather the
evidence we needed." 

"These people wouldn't have allowed it, Scully," Skinner said behind
her, "we need to find Mulder. Witnesses saw him and a one-armed man
running away from the scene." 

"Krycek?" she said, shocked. "So he's back in town."

"I have all exits covered," Skinner continued. "They are probably
still inside. So is the man that killed the doctor.
Witnesses describe a tall black man. Details are sketchy, it all
happened so fast. The assassin tried to kill Mulder and
Krycek as well. My guess is he's after them."

"So we have to find Mulder before he does," Tom said, scanning the
area, "or before Mulder kills himself." 

Scully stared at him in shock. Until now she hadn't even considered
this possibility. But  now it had become a real fact. If her partner
was in trouble and on the run, it would only add to his already
ongoing feeling of paranoia. 

*Mulder, read my thoughts,* she beckoned, *know that I'm here.*

 If ever she believed in one man's abilities, it was in her partner's.
If he was able to read her mind, he would know she
was there and trying to find him. And if he wanted to be found, he
would himself be found. 

But the trouble was, did he want to? 

 21.   
December 18, 1998
10:55 a.m., Dulles Airport


Mulder heard noises coming from behind him. Quickly, he spun around to
see something coming at him. He was faster than whatever was about to
hit him. He dropped to his knees, driving his fist into the man's
belly. The tall man yelled and tried to grab the agent again, dropping
himself to the floor in the act. There were noises coming from behind
them as both men got caught up in the struggle for the upper hand.
Mulder yelled as his gun was yanked away from him and the black man's
weight forced him onto the luggage transport. Then the man was on top
of him again, forcing the back of his head against a suitcase.
Mulder's fist lashed out, hitting the man straight in his face,
breaking his nose. 

Mulder could taste his own blood as he slid off the luggage transport
and onto the floor. The gun was still lying there. Quickly, he went
for it, grabbing it with his right hand. His opponent was right behind
him, grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket. Mulder went down again,
his hand letting go of the gun. The tall man had the gun now, and
pointed it at him. Two shots rang out at the same time. Mulder's last
attempt to get out of the way of the gun was rewarded with something
hard hitting him in the left upper arm, slamming into flesh and bone.
He screamed and protected himself by rolling into a fetal position,
protecting himself against an impact that would never come.  

The tall man lay dead against him, his eyes staring into oblivion. A
bullet to the back of his head had finished him off.
Mulder sighed deeply and shivered continuously as he stared at the
man's body. Then his right hand found the gun
again and he pointed it behind him, at the man who had just saved his
life. Krycek stood there, bleeding from the blow Mulder had given him
minutes before, the tall man's gun pointed at its owner. Both men
stood opposite each other again, and Mulder crawled to his feet,
keeping his bleeding arm against his body. 

"Drop the gun, Mulder, or do you want it to kill yourself? I'll shoot
you if I have to -- if it means saving your life." 

Mulder's injured arm burned as he brought his left hand to his face
and wiped the blood away from his split lip. "I'll
kill you first." 

"Have you forgotten I have saved your life, not once but several
times. Is this your gratitude towards me?" 

"What do I care about gratitude? You didn't give a shit about me when
you betrayed me. Go to hell, Krycek." Mulder's trigger finger tensed
as he remembered the last time he had pulled a gun on Krycek, his mind
filled with slumbering feelings of hatred. He had wanted to kill the
man more than once. Now, at last he would get his chance. Or would he?

Krycek lowered the gun and dropped it to the floor. He stood there in
defeat, saying softly, "They'll be here soon. If
you want to finish me, do it now."

Mulder stared into the man's eyes, knowing he couldn't kill him. Not
if there was a way of staying alive through all
of this. But he did want to kill himself. To make it all stop. The
pain and the hurt, the hatred and the aching. Oh, God,
he just wanted to end it all.

A voice seemed to bubble inside his head until he could make out what
it was saying. It was her. He had seen her from a few feet away and
now she was trying to reach him and to assure him he would be fine. 

Mulder lowered his gun and stared at Krycek. Then he stared at his
hand holding the weapon. Two years ago, he had
been sitting in his living room staring at his own gun too. He had
wanted to put a bullet inside his head and get it over with. Now, he
had come to a point in his life where he would be doing just that. He
would finish the job others had been trying to finish for quite some
time now. 

"Mulder, no !" He heard a voice coming from behind him, shaking him
out of his stupor. He didn't want her to see this, not like this.
Instantly Krycek moved forward, knocking the gun from his hand. The
following second, the two men went down, and Mulder was pinned against
the floor. Krycek's knee was on his chest. The man moved quickly.
Before Scully could reach him, he had already dug out the syringe from
his coat pocket. 

"Krycek, freeze!" Skinner was next to his agent, backing her up with
his own gun. There was another younger man
with them Krycek didn't know. 

Krycek moved slowly putting his one hand in the air. The syringe was
still in it. "You have to listen to me," he said
slowly, "I'm trying to save Mulder. What I have here can save his
life." 

"Move away from him now," Scully said forcefully, her hand eager to
pull the trigger on the bastard that had caused
her so much trouble in the past. "Move away, Krycek, or I'll shoot." 

"No, you won't. Not when you know I'm the only one left who can ID the
ones that did this. Now are you going to let
me help Mulder or not?" 

Scully shared a glance with Skinner. How could she trust him? But one
look at Mulder's face told her that her partner
was in bad shape. Already, he was struggling to get his hands on the
gun again. He would not listen to reason, not from her or anyone. He
would kill himself, no matter what they did. Krycek moved quickly and
plunged the syringe into the agent's injured arm, causing the man to
cry out. The next moment, the one-armed man moved away, again, raising
his hand in the air. He was pulled away from Mulder and shoved against
the wall by the younger agent he didn't know.
 
Quickly, Scully assessed the situation and knelt by her partner,
checking his pulse. Mulder stared at her in surprise.
His vital functions seemed to slow down and she watched him fade into
unconsciousness as she put her hand behind his neck and supported him.


"It's okay," she said soothingly, "you're going to be fine." 
*I won't let you die.*

He smiled and grabbed her wrist as he winced in pain. "Listen to
Krycek. He knows where the girl is. Please, Scully."

"I will," she promised and then watched her partner go down for the
count. As she turned towards Krycek, she asked, "what have you given
him?"

"A drug, slowing down the effects of the test in his brain. If you
move fast, you might be able to find the doctor who
can help your partner and the girl you've been searching for. I can
lead you there," Krycek said calmly, looking at
Mulder's unconscious form. "That is, if you want to save your
partner's life."

Scully knew she had made a promise to her partner but that didn't mean
she had to like it. She sighed as she pushed
Krycek forward, knowing the man would win no matter what. At the end,
he would be the one walking away from all
of this. 


From: san@net4all.be
REPOST: The File 11/11

22.   
December 18, 1998
12:14 p.m., Washington, D.C. 

Tom Fielding dreaded the sight he would be forced to witness when the
team moved into the building. Under Krycek's guidance, they entered
the hidden basement, finding a very surprised doctor and his still
alive patient behind a couple of fake walls. The doctor didn't protest
as they moved in and arrested him. Nor was he surprised when they
didn't bring him to the FBI's headquarters but to a hospital nearby. 

Tom held his breath as he stared at the form of his sister. He hardly
recognized her. She had been strapped down to
a bed to keep her from harming herself. She was physically and
mentally exhausted, having fought the drugs inside
of her for weeks now. Her eyes were dilated and unnaturally large. Her
mouth was dry and her lips cracked. She hadn't eaten in days. The
doctor explained what he had done to keep her alive. 

As they moved their suspect and victim outside, a man was standing
near a black car only a couple of yards away from the building. He was
smoking a cigarette and smiled as he watched the removal of the two
people from his shelter. The girl would live without a doubt. And the
doctor would be sent to save Agent Mulder's life.

Another car stopped next to his and a man with a German accent got out
and eyed him angrily. "I know I have had
a number of things to make up with you, my friend, but this has paid
for it all. If anyone within the Consortium finds
out, we are both dead. If the aliens know, they won't hesitate to kill
us."

"They will never know," the smoking man said, dropping the butt on the
grass. "Or will they, my friend?" 

The German sighed and left. 

23.   
December 18, 1998
2:45  p.m., Washington, D.C., Georgetown Medical Center 

Mulder was aware of the cold. That was the only sensation he felt. Not
outside of him but inside of his body. He felt
tired, exhausted, cold and oh so lonely. The dreaded feelings
lingering in his mind now came out to haunt him again.
He had overcome these feelings so many times but now they seemed to be
winning. Yet, at the same time, his body
seemed too weak to do anything. He couldn't think straight anymore.
All he wanted to do was sleep and forget about
everything except Scully. She was the only thing keeping him from
insanity right now.
*You're my one in five billion too.*

He opened his eyes and looked straight into her eyes. She was leaning
over him and smiled, "I knew you would pick
up that thought, Mulder." 

"Where are we?" 

"The hospital. You'll be feeling very tired and drowsy for the next
couple of hours and days. We're trying to save your life."

"Krycek?" 

"He's around. He's giving the doctors instructions on what to do.
They're going to keep you out for a while, Mulder,
until the effects of the MC drug subside. Hopefully, by the time you
wake up again, you'll be as good as new." 

He reached for her hand and winced when he felt a sharp pain in his
upper left arm. He remembered the bullet hitting
it. She understood and grabbed his right hand. "It's okay, I'll stay
here."
*I'm so sorry I let you down. You won't leave my sight again.*

Another syringe was emptied into the IV attached to his arm. He wanted
to fight the drowsiness and talk to her some
more but he was already gone. She sighed and sat down on the edge of
the bed, staring into the eyes of the doctor she didn't trust for a
second. There was no way she would leave her partner, now he was
vulnerable and an open invitation for anyone who wanted to kill him.
No way at all. 


It seemed to take days before the first signs of Mulder's fight
against the MC was coming to a close. For days, the
people that cared about him listened and struggled just as hard as he
did against the feelings he had inside of him.
Straps were attached to his body, keeping his legs and arms restrained
and making sure he wasn't able to hurt himself. His screams were heard
outside his room, chilling those who walked around it. 

But then the hazel eyes of the FBI agent opened again and for the
first time in days he requested water and something to eat as he
stared into Scully's eyes, not recognizing her at first. He called her
ma'am and treated her like she was a complete stranger. She chilled
immediately, fearing a permanent memory loss. The doctor however
assured her it was a way for his brain to overcome the strain put on
it. 

The doctor seemed right. Two hours later, Mulder opened his eyes again
and recognized her, being able to talk to her
in a normal fashion. She smiled as she listened to his account of a
dream he had about Samantha. He told her
everything, including the minor details, and smiled when she smiled.
She knew then he would be fine. 

Epilogue 

The man sitting in the small interrogation room did not feel like
talking to the ones that were doing the interrogating.
The only one he wanted to talk to was the FBI agent he had helped, the
one he had worked with now for several years in secret. 

It was something he waited patiently for. Until then he wouldn't start
talking. And after that he probably wouldn't start talking either. So
he waited. And then the door slid open and the A.D. entered the room
and dismissed the others inside. He was accompanied by the man with
the cigarettes. 

"You can go now," the A.D. said, opening the door for the one-armed
man. 

Krycek got up quietly , surprised, grabbed his coat and walked to the
door. "How's Mulder?"
"He'll live. I'm sure you'll bump into him sooner or later. Now go."

At the door Krycek turned and said, "When are you going to tell him
you're involved in the Project, Kersh?" 

Kersh pressed his lips closely together and didn't say a word. Krycek
knew Mulder would never know. At last not now. The man whistled as he
left the federal building a free man. He would bump into Mulder again
soon enough. That, he knew for a fact. 


The voices had faded to a dull numb sound in his mind, lingering there
until he was able to stop listening to them.
He knew that he was being forced to take drugs in order to keep him
from going crazy, but he was being turned into
a zombie. At least that's what he felt like.  But the drugs helped,
and he started to feel human again. And the voices
stopped at last. He could sense them no more. 

Scully was worried about him, he saw it in her eyes. Kersh had put him
on undetermined sick leave so he could
recuperate from his ordeal. She brought him home a week after his
admittance at the hospital. He had lost weight and
seemed stressed, yet when she talked to him, he seemed perfectly calm
and relaxed. He refused to tell her how he felt
though. She knew it would take time. 

The first night he was alone at home, a knock on the door surprised
him, yet at the same time it didn't. He knew who
it was before he opened the door. He didn't have to read minds to
know. 

"Mulder," the one-armed man said, entering the room, "I'm glad to see
you up and about again."

"Who set you free, Krycek?"

"That is none of your concern. You didn't possibly think I would spend
time in jail, did you? I am a liability to my
employers, as was the doctor. But killing us they could not risk. Too
many people have already died."

"Eighteen in all," Mulder said quietly. "You knew about the tests and
you let it happen. Is the list complete now,
Krycek, or are there more?" 

"No. The tests have stopped. You won't be harmed anymore."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? Do you know Tom Fielding's
sister has brain damage? She's a vegetable,
Krycek. She might as well have died. I've been pumped full of drugs to
stop all this. If you expect me to feel gratitude
towards you, forget it." 

"Mulder, I helped you because you need to help me. I told you some
time ago, things were going to be turning for the worse. The date is
set, Mulder, and if you're not on our side, you will be left in the
darkness with the rest of them."

"Why should you care?"

"Believe it or not, I do."

"I don't believe you."

Krycek smiled and turned towards the door. "I'll see you soon, Mulder.
If I were you I would concentrate my energy
on things more important now. You should be thankful. Your
interference stopped the remaining tests. You saved lives, Mulder,
even if it doesn't feel that way right now. There was nothing you
could have done to help the ones that killed themselves."

Mulder sat down slowly, saying, "I promise you this, Krycek. I will
expose every single one of you involved in this.
There are more people out there who know the truth. Sooner or later
every single one of you has to come out of their
hole in the ground and I'll be standing right there to wait for it."

"Just keep on telling yourself that, Mulder, and some day you will
believe it," Krycek smiled, leaving the agent alone
in the dark. Mulder didn't bother to stop his former partner. He knew
Krycek would never be prosecuted. Neither would anyone involved in
these tests. It was always the same. 

Mulder didn't feel like going back to work and performing shitty
assignments for Kersh, not knowing if and when he
would be able to go back to the basement. If they never would allow
it, there was no point of staying within the bureau. But he wouldn't
give them the satisfaction of quitting either.

The charges against him were miraculously dropped during his time in
hospital. The missing file had supposedly
returned, of course containing nothing but innocent materials. Jeffrey
Spender kept his mouth shut as did Diana
Fowley. No one would come forward now to claim Mulder was a thief.
Everything was as it was before. Wasn't it?


In the middle of the night, Mulder woke up feeling strange sensations
through his mind and body. He lay quietly on
the couch listening to the street noises. He could feel the sensation
rippling through his brain like a wave predicting
an upcoming storm. He knew then, as he lay there, that he would never
be the same again. And that one day, perhaps
even soon, he would hear the voices again, beckoning to him as if they
were his own thoughts.

He would never be safe again.


The End