From: obrien_liz@hotmail.com
Date: 5 Jan 2003 17:24:24 -0800
Subject: [atxc-pi] NEW: Hors de Combat Book I (0/7)
Source: atxc

Title: Hors de Combat Book I 
Author: Liz OBrien 
Author Email: obrien_liz@hotmail.com 
Status: NEW - Complete 
Size: 248k 
Rating: R 
Archive at Gossamer: Yes to Gossamer/Ephemeral 
Category: Story , Angst 
Keywords: Slash 
Pairings: Mulder/Scully romance, Mulder/Krycek romance 
Spoilers: All kinds, all eps 
 
Part 1
Please see part 0 (template) for warnings and summary.

Disclaimer: I found them languishing on TNT, I figured they were fair
game.

M/Sc, M/K 

Seven months. It was winter when they brought him here and now the
leaves have just begun to change. She stands at the window, looking
out at the courtyard where a red-haired boy is eating Popsicles with
his grandmother.

"He's the tallest kid in first grade, did I tell you? I knew he'd get
your height, it would be too cruel to give him that nose and not
compensate somehow." She laughs as the grandmother pulls a candy bar
from her purse and hands it to the child, whose squeal of delight
echoes softly up two stories to the room where his parents are.  "And
there goes Maggie Scully, who never once in my whole childhood would
have just handed me chocolate for no good reason at  all, spoiling our
son's dinner. Like the Popsicle wasn't bad enough." 

She turns from the window, crossing to the bed and sits in her chair.
When he first came here, from the ICU downstairs, there was a green
vinyl recliner next  to his bed, a piece of landmark hospital
furniture. After the sixth night she slept in it, she decided that no
matter how long she would be coming here to visit him, she had to have
something more comfortable to sit in, to hold William on her lap in
and sometimes to sleep in. Now there was a plush Lazy-Boy 
that she sat in almost every day, sitting next to him, holding his
papery hand,  wiping his mouth if the afternoon nurse forgot to clean
the oatmeal from between the still-lush lips. She looks at him, eyes
sweeping him intently, scanning up and down the slack face, the sunken
shoulders, the silent hands, willing him again to move something on
purpose, to show some sign that the brilliance inside was still there,
waiting to emerge. He blinks, he breathes, he pees in a bag and, when
they come to measure his brain stem responses, it seems like he
twitches his left hand a little. And that's all.

In October, it was time to move him, from the hospital in Georgetown
to a post-acute facility, time to release him into the wilds of
lifelong care. The words were spelled out for her - traumatic brain
injury, Level II generalized response, akinetic mutism, blah, blah,
blah...She met with social workers and therapists and sifted through
brochures and evaluation records. It all boiled down to this...Mulder
wasn't going to wake up and walk out of the hospital. She 
couldn't drag around the millstone of hope anymore. She picked a place
nearer Johns Hopkins, nearer their home in Ten Hills. She began
thinking of the visits  as part of her daily routine, instead of
telling herself, as she had during the  grueling ride down to D.C.
each day, that it was only for now, until he came back. 

At Christmas time, she began reading _A Tale of Two Cities_ to him,
thinking the Mulder he used to be would enjoy the hysteria and
paranoia of Madame DeFarge and the nobility of Sidney Carton. One day,
instead of starting in on their book right away, she stared at him, at
his head that lolled from side to side, at his beautiful eyes, once so
changeful and now so dull, and she wondered where all the things that
made him Mulder were now. A person's intellect, his ideas and beliefs,
couldn't just evaporate, could they? Maybe all the fantastic theories
and gruesome memories and sly innuendoes that used to be safely
wrapped up in myelin and axons were leaking out of his decaying
brain cells into the air around them, settling on the furniture and
collecting in puffballs under the bed. Or maybe, when the brick that
someone hit him with shook his brain loose, all those things came out
of his ear with the blood that  pooled around him on the sidewalk. She
sighed and shook herself. Maybe philosophy wasn't something she wanted
to indulge in anymore and she began to read. She got through two
chapters before the light outside faded. Getting up rather stiffly,
she reached for his hand, pressed it gently, then settled it on 
his chest. She spun the mobile that hung before the window, the one
she and Will had made him for Christmas, with stars and snowflakes,
trying not to think  about how futile it was, and headed out the
door.

"See you tomorrow, Babe. Love you."

It was early in May when they finished _A Tale of Two Cities._ One
glorious afternoon, she decided to wheel him outside to sit in the sun
for a while. The lilacs on the grounds were fully blooming and Mulder
had always loved them. He said they smelled like either a very
respectable whore or a very sexy mother. Will was spending the night
with a soccer friend, so she needn't hurry through her visit. She'd
had to do that a bit as she got ready for finals week and the
wrap-up of the semester. A long visit today, she thought, and maybe
she would spend the night, something she hadn't done since February.

They sat outside in the late afternoon's softening sunlight. Scully
felt peaceful for a change, listening to birds and bugs and smelling
the divine spring air. She held Mulder's hand and flipped through some
of their memories and felt, for the first time, the warmth of
remembrance instead of the sharp sting of loss. Maybe I'm coming out
of mourning, she thought languidly. Maybe I'm coming back to life. She
squeezed Mulder's hand, as if she could communicate some of her
newfound calm to him and smiled at the now-familiar twitch in his left
hand. The dinner bell rang, breaking the mood and Scully
rose regretfully to wheel him back inside.

"Time to eat, Babe. Maybe applesauce today. Would that taste good?"
She talked to him as they moved back into the dimness of the facility
and into the elevator to his unit. Margaret was on duty this afternoon
and was ready with Mulder's tray.

"Hi, Dr. Scully. Hi, Fox. Did you have a nice afternoon outside?" 

"It was very nice. The lilacs are going crazy and Mulder always loved
them. I'll feed him dinner, Margaret, all right? I'm planning on
sticking around for the night."

"Sure, if you like. That'll be nice, won't it Fox, having Dana stay?
We've missed you the last few weeks."

"I know. I've been really busy at work, end of the term and all that.
Hey, Buddy, let's go eat, huh? It looks like Margaret did get you some
applesauce. Come on."  She wheeled him down the hall to his room and
was soon spooning his food into him, massaging his throat to be sure
he swallowed. While she fed him,  she chatted on about her day at
Hopkins, about Will's soccer team, about Bill and Tara's new baby.
This is normal for me, she thought with a last flush of
regret. This is what my life is going to be from now on. And for the
first time, the idea didn't scare her or anger her. Maybe lots of
Mulder was gone, but she could still love what was left and revel in
the memory that, for a while, this once-exceptional man's world had
revolved around her.  Scully realized she no longer felt set apart
from the rest of the world, a legendary FBI agent whose partner was
horrifically attacked and left 'persistently unaware,' a stark figure
of tragedy who wore the mantle of loss and loneliness around her
shoulders every day. Now she was just a college professor  who had a 
loved one in a coma. There were lots of people like her just in this
modest hospital in Bethesda, never mind in the whole big wide world.
She was part of a  group, one of a crowd. It felt sane and regular. 

So of course, she was that much more surprised when everything fell to
shit.

She was dozing in the Lazy-Boy when Margaret came in. Looking at the
clock, she  realized it was close to 11:00, time for the shift to
change.

"Hey, Margaret, time to move him?"

"Yes, Dr. Scully, but don't get up. Seth and I will do it." A husky
orderly came in behind Margaret to help reposition Mulder, something
that was done several times a day. After they had resettled him on his
other side, Margaret got a blanket from the closet for Scully and
wished her a good night. Scully curled up in the recliner again,
wishing for the thousandth? millionth? time that she could  squeeze in
beside Mulder, wrap herself around him and feel his arms tighten
around her again. She closed her eyes and let herself drift into
some of their naughtier memories. She must have fallen asleep again,
but she jerked awake when she realized someone was in the room with
her. Another orderly hovered over Mulder's bed.

"He's already been moved, by the afternoon shift," she whispered.

"I know," the man whispered back. "I'm just checking his chart."

Something in the orderly's voice jarred her, stirring unpleasant
memories and she sat upright, trying to distinguish his face in the
moonlit room. He turned his face to her and a cold wave of fear and
anger swept over her. For a moment she was certain a ghost stood
before her. Then she jumped to her feet, but before she could make a
sound, he had grabbed her arms with one hand and clapped his other
over her mouth. His smooth voice was sibilant as he whispered 
right into her ear, his warm breath tickling the skin of her neck.
She squirmed, trying to break away from him, but he shook her tightly.

"I need you to listen, all right? Just listen. You are about to blow
any chance  in hell Mulder has of coming out of this, do you
understand that? Nod, okay?" She nodded briefly. "Okay, if I take my
hand away, are you going to start screaming or are you going to listen
to what I have to tell you?"

She shook her head, not sure if she was saying no, she wouldn't scream
or no, she didn't want to listen to this man.

"I'm doing what I can to help him. I'm not going to hurt him, I'm not
trying to  screw with you, I honest to God want to make him better. Is
that what you want?" She nodded again, wondering if there was anything
near the truth in what  this man was saying to her.   When she
remained quiet, he slowly stepped away from her, giving her room to
turn around. She faced him with her eyes closed, not wanting to
believe this particular nightmare could possibly be coming back. 
With a deep breath, she raised her face to his and opened her eyes. 

Dark hair fell over a pair of dark green, deeply-lashed eyes. The
broad shoulders were the same, except that one no longer ended in a
prosthesis. The fluid voice was the same, the set, tight jaw was the
same, she bet he even had the same gun he had the last time their
paths had crossed. Alex Krycek. Not blown up, not shot through the
head, not even missing an arm.

"What is it with you? Are you some kind of cat or something?" The
thought slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it and, to her
discomfort, Krycek threw his head back and laughed softly.

"Not exactly the greeting I expected, but certainly keeping in
character. Hi ya, Scully, how's tricks?"

Before he could say anything else, she shoved against him with all her
strength  and ran into the hall, grabbing the handle of the nearest
fire alarm. The cacophony sounded throughout the building and she knew
the security guards would be on their way  momentarily. 

"You don't think maybe you're overreacting, do you?" a voice suddenly
sounded in her ear as muscular arms surrounded her again. She found
herself being tossed over his shoulder, then jarred mightily as he ran
for the stairwell. He headed up two flights to the roof  and, with a
muffled click, locked the door, leaving them outside at the bottom of
the stairwell leading up to the roof.

He set her down roughly and, with one strong arm, pinned her against
the door. He leaned the other hand on his thigh and almost doubled
over, panting, sweat pouring down his face and darkening the scrubs he
wore. 

"Been...been a while since the Academy, I guess," he gasped out. 

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Krycek?" she snarled against
the metal door, trying to turn her head so she could see him.

"I told you, I'm trying to help Mulder."

"Bullshit."

"Listen, any second now the security dorks are going to try busting
through that door. We don't have a lot of time for chat, so listen
up." He spun her around, but didn't release his grip on her arms, only
pulling them over her head instead of wrenching them behind her back.
"I think I can help him. I know  something that might work. If you're
interested, you need to call off the dogs.  I can't help him if I lose
my job here or if you try to have me hauled off in cuffs." He lifted
an eyebrow in a creepy mirror image of her trademark expression. "So,
are you? Interested?"

Any answer she might have given was drowned out by the crashing of
bodies against the door back into the building.

"You want me to get that?" He asked with a smirk. She wanted to slap
him.

"I'll get it, you prick," she snarled.  "Don't you fucking move." She
unlocked the door and stepped aside as three security guards rushed
through it with their guns drawn.

"Turn around," one of them shouted at Scully and Krycek. "Hands where
I can see  them!"

The former agents raised their arms above their heads and submitted to
the indignity of a highly unprofessional frisking. She didn't miss the
grin that skittered across his face, in fact she could almost hear him
cataloguing the guards' procedural errors and highlighting how easily
he could have gotten away, overpowered or kept a weapon hidden from
these clowns.

"All clear. They're clean," one guard informed his cohorts. "All
right, what's going on here? Which of you pulled that alarm?"

Krycek met Scully's eyes warily and she readied herself, wondering
what insanity was creeping through her, then told the guards how she
thought she had  recognized Krycek from last night's America's Most
Wanted.

"It freaked me out, I mean here's this guy who looks just like a
murderer and he was leaning over Mulder like he was going to strangle
him. I just...overreacted," she trailed off lamely. "I'm really sorry,
I know how stupid this must look."

The guard looked at Krycek. "Is that what happened, Alex?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I'm not a murderer or anything. I was just
putting a new pillow  under the guy and she jumped me. Scared the shit
out of me and I panicked and ran. Then she ran after me and I lost my
head and wound up here. You never know, sometimes the stress some of
these folks are under, well, I thought maybe she might get kind of
violent. She looked like the type," he ended  maliciously. Scully
swallowed her fury at the picture he was painting of  her. Violent?
She'd show the son of a bitch violent. But she remained silent,
letting the guards harangue her about the illegality of setting off
false fire alarms and unnecessarily arousing panic among the staff.
Krycek's shoulders were squirming slightly in the effort to keep his
laughter in check. Finally, the guards escorted them back into the
building, dismissing Krycek as a nervous  twit and Scully as an
overwrought fan of cheesy TV. They stepped into the elevator together
and, when she got off at Mulder's floor, he gave her a casual 
wave and mouthed "Later" to her.

She stayed with Mulder for another hour, soothing her nerves by making
sure he was unharmed. The night nurse, Sophie, hurried to reassure her
that Mulder was fine and that Alex had been a trustworthy and
dedicated employee since March.

"He's really good with all our residents. He has so much patience and
he's strong enough to maneuver someone like Fox easily, without a lot
of tugging and  jostling. He's very good at his job and we've never,
ever had a single complaint about him."

"I'm sure he's wonderful," Scully said soothingly. "I just
overreacted. I hope he doesn't take offense." She patted Mulder's arm
in goodbye, then turned to walk out with the nurse. They continued
talking as Sophie resumed her seat at the desk and opened a folder. 

"Dr. Scully, I hope you'll understand, I have to write this up as a
security incident. One of our policies."

"No, that's fine. I'm glad the staff took it seriously. Now I know
what you'll do if anything ever does happen here." Scully paused for a
moment, then began as gentle an interrogation as she could manage. "I
really should apologize to that orderly again. I hope he doesn't quit
or anything like that. Does he get mad easily, lose his temper or
anything?"

"Oh, not Alex, he's not like that at all. He's a very good-natured
person. I've  seen him wipe up the most disgusting messes with a laugh
and a joke."

"He sounds very nice," Scully said, trying hard to sound sincere.

"Well, he's quite popular with the residents and their families.
Always willing  to put in an extra effort to help out. And he's very
good-looking, so of course  he's pretty popular with us as well," she
finished with a coy smile.

"Is he married?"

"Not that I know of. He's very friendly, but he doesn't talk much
about his private life. No ring and somehow he doesn't seem the type.
But he loves kids, always goes out of his way to chat with them when
they come to visit and the ones that are here long-term, he can't do
enough for them."

"Well, I'll have to make an extra-nice apology then, for startling him
the way I did. Where do you think I might be able to find him right
now?"

"It's almost 3:00, so he's probably getting ready to have his lunch.
If you want to catch him, try waiting by the men's locker room in the
basement. Check the desk first to see if he's signed out." Sophie
handed Scully a form to sign,  indicating her awareness, as Mulder's
next-of-kin, of the incident. 

She penned her name, then asked Sophie, "What was Alex's last name? I
didn't catch it in all the confusion upstairs."

"It's Hale."

"Thanks. I'll see you again soon." 

Scully stepped into the elevator again and pressed the button for the
basement.  At the second floor, however, the car stopped and Krycek
got on. She scowled at  him as he pressed the Stop Service switch and
waited for him to start explaining. He only stood looking at her, his
eyes flicking up and down as if trying to spot any differences in her
from their last meeting years ago. At last, with a deep sigh, he
spoke.

"You look good, Dr. Scully. Very trim and healthy. How's Will?"

"He's fine. Stop bullshitting around and tell me what the fuck you're
doing here."

"You really suck at interpersonal communication, you know that?"

She didn't offer any answer and Krycek quickly tired of waiting for
one.

"Okay, we need to talk but this is not the best place for it. Do you
have any objection to hooking up at your place later?"

"Dare I assume that you know exactly where my place is?"

"Of course I do. I looked it up in the Yellow Pages." He smirked and
Scully felt a wave of  angry heat go through her at the thought that
this man, who had  made her so intimately acquainted with fear and
loss, would laugh at her. She wasn't even aware of her hand lifting to
strike his cheek until he reeled briefly from the blow.

"Still fast on the draw, I see," he said, rubbing his face. "Feel
better now? Because pretty soon somebody's going to clue in to the
fact that this elevator is no longer running and call Our Gang from
security. You want to deal with that bunch again?"

"No," she snapped. "Fine, meet me at my house. Ten tonight and you do
not come inside. I'll meet you in the yard. Now turn on the elevator
so I can go home." She turned her back on him and he flipped the
switch back on. The machine started and soon enough she was on her way
home, thinking evil thoughts of extinguishing the light in those
infuriating green eyes.

***

It was just on 10:00 when he appeared in the tidy yard. She was
sitting at the picnic table, sipping a glass of wine and indulging in
a rare cigarette from the pack she kept in the freezer. She heard the
rattle of the fence near the alley and the soft thump of feet hitting
grass. She said nothing, just looked at him the way he had looked at
her in the elevator. He hadn't changed much. He  was a little heavier
around the middle, but still muscular. The arm exposed by
a short-sleeved tee was just an arm, not plastic, not a hook. He
watched as her  eyes scanned it slowly.

"It's real. Skin, bone, muscle, nerves. Pretty cool, huh?" 

"What do you want, Krycek?"

"How about a beer? I had a pretty rough day at work."

"How about some answers before I put this cigarette out in your left
eye socket?"

"Ouch. Fine, I'll get it myself." He stepped over to the garage and,
to Scully's horror, punched in the code and ducked under the opening
door. He emerged with a bottle of beer and the carafe of Merlot she
had poured earlier. "Want a refill?"

"Goddammit, Krycek, get out of here. Get away from me and my son and
stay the hell away from Mulder." She threw the cigarette at him and
marched to the back door.

"I thought you wanted answers," the smooth voice taunted.

Scully felt another wave of anger wash across her face. She clenched
her fist on the doorknob and tried to breathe deeply, willing the
cooling air to put out  her smoldering anger. She wanted Mulder to be
safe, she wanted to stay out of the crossfire that had followed them
around the globe for ten years, she wanted  to raise her son without
jumping at every small noise she couldn't immediately identify. But
more than anything else, she wanted him back and this fiery want
kept her from throwing herself at the throat of the man behind her.

"Do you want me to come back after you're done debating with
yourself?" he mocked again.

"You don't know when to shut up, do you?" She refused to face him but
he must have seen a decision roll across her stony back and rigid
shoulders because she  heard him set the beer bottle on the wooden
table, followed by the rough shifting noise of his jacket and the
scrape and pop of one of her cigarettes being lit. She turned to see
him sitting calmly at the table, smoking and drinking and waiting for
her to move.

"Help yourself," she said roughly as she sat across from him. He
pulled out another cigarette and lit it for her. She smoked it without
saying anything, silently looking off through the darkness. It was
close to the filter when she dropped it on the patio and ground it
out. "Okay, I'm listening." 

"Where should I start?" he asked seriously.

"I don't know. Why are you working at the hospital?"

"Because they hired me."

"Dammit, don't ..." she started hotly, but he cut her off.

"Sorry, force of habit. Okay, the condensed version of why I'm working
at the hospital is that that's where Mulder is."

"That's not really an answer. Why do you care where he is? Or why does
whoever you're working for care?"

"I'm working for me, Scully. I have been for a very long time, whether
you believe that or not."

Dozens of answers to that statement ran through her head, but she
fought off the temptation to antagonize him, at least until she
figured out what the hell it was he wanted.

"That doesn't answer my question. What difference does it make to you
where Mulder vegetates?"

"That's not a very sensitive thing to say, now, is it?"

"Just answer me, Krycek. With something real."

"If I say I'm doing research, will that satisfy you?"

"Research on what?"

"You. And Mulder. And how you two relate." He met her unbelieving
stare calmly.  "I mean it. If I can get a handle on how deep that
fabled connection of yours goes, it may help bring Mulder out of
this."

She let out a puff of laughter. "Okay. Enough. Somehow you've snowed
your way into the hospital, I don't know why, but tomorrow I will tell
the director every last incriminating thing I know about you and you
can rot in prison for the rest of your unnatural life. Thanks for the
smoke," and she got to her feet. He grabbed her arm to stop her and
she jerked away, roughly scraping her wrist.  "Dammit, Krycek, can't
you act like a decent human being for once in your evil, ruthless
life? Just go away and leave me and him and our son alone."

For a brief second, Scully thought she saw pain in Krycek's brilliant
eyes. Just a flash and for just a moment it looked as though sorrow
and defeat were there. Then the cold smirk was back and he said
jovially, "You make me sound positively demonic, Scully. I don't know
if I should be hurt or flattered." His  voice became serious again. "I
promise you, I will not hurt Mulder or you or Will. I don't care if
you believe me or trust me, but I want to help him. To help all three
of you have ...have what you should have had all along."

"That's big coming from you, you son of a bitch. You've done nothing
for Mulder  except hurt him and betray him and fuck with his head from
the day you met him.  Now you're back for more. Well, forget it. You
can't hurt him anymore. You can't hurt me, either. And you can't hurt
Will without bringing down the wrath of your old buddies in the
Network. So you're out of chips, pal. You've got nothing to gain and
we've got nothing to lose. Game's over."  She was leaning
right over him, snarling into his face. 

He stood up, forcing her to back away, and towered over her. "I never
wanted to  hurt him. I had a job to do, same as you." He jabbed a
finger into her chest for emphasis. "We were on opposite sides, but
don't ever presume that you had all the moral high ground on yours.
There was so much shit stacked so high against you two you'll never
understand the miracle of your survival. You think  they just liked
you enough to let you go? You'd have been dead ten times over
if it wasn't for me, Scully, I can promise you that."

"Well, thanks so much for taking such good care of me, Krycek. I
suppose the cancer and Missy were consolation prizes for you, though,
weren't they?"

He scrubbed a hand across his angry face and breathed deeply and
Scully had a sudden revelation that she pissed off this man as much as
he pissed off her.

"I didn't come here to hash over old times. I came here to see if you
wanted him back. If you do, I think maybe I can help him. If you
don't, say the word and I'm gone.  I'll never darken your door again,
he says villainously." He put  both hands up in a gesture of
surrender. "Your call, Scully."

She walked away from him, crossing the yard. She paced back and forth
from the picnic table to the swing set three times before she spoke.
"What do you mean, you think you can help him? Help him how?"

"Wake him up. Get that genius brain ticking over again."

"That's not going to happen, not now. There was too much damage,
unless you can  grow new brain tissue the way you grew that arm." She
sat back down at the table and held out her hand. He looked puzzled
until he realized she wanted to examine his arm. He let her take his
hand, finding himself oddly shy as she ran  her own over it, feeling
the skin to see if it was real. With a wicked grin, she pulled hard on
the hair on the back of the hand and he yelped, snatching
away from her.

"Ow! Don't do that! God, some doctor you are." He rubbed the spot as
she laughed.

"Just checking. So how did you do it?"

"I didn't and it's not part of this story anyway. I want to talk about
Mulder."  He pulled another cigarette out and lit it and, when she
held out her hand again, gave one to her. "We're both going to be
smoke hung over tomorrow," he said as he lit hers.

"Not if you talk faster. Come on, Krycek, how are you going to grow
Mulder a new brain?"

"Fine. Cutting to the chase, how much do you know about Russian
legends, folk tales, that kind of thing?"

"Next to nothing. Peter and the Wolf is about it."

"Have you ever heard of Stolnyenka?"

"No.  Are you going to tell me a story, Uncle Alex?"  He got up from
the table and leaned against a tree.

"Very funny. Stolnyenka was a witch, but not a wicked witch. She was
supposed to have healing powers. She could put that power into a charm
or an amulet and if a person who was sick or hurt wore it all the
time, their injury or illness would be cured."

She looked at him in incredulous amusement. "That's it? You're going
to get a Russian witch to come in and give Mulder a rabbit's foot and
he's just going to  get better?"

"No, since Stolnyenka lived, if she ever did, in the 12th century."

"So, what's the point of all this?"

"I've seen this work, Scully. In Russia. About three years ago. A man
had a stroke and his mother, she made him a ring and put it on him and
three months later he was fine. He could walk and talk again, he was
cured."

"You're kidding, right?" She had the strangest feeling of dj vu, as if
Mulder stood before her spouting the gibberish that somehow always
ended up being gospel truth.

"I swear it. The guy was riding horses and singing Cossack drinking
songs when I left."

"So how does this tie in with Mulder? You're going to bring this woman
instead of  Stolakenya?"

"Stolnyenka. No. See, I think...I mean, I'm pretty sure...Shit, could
you stop looking at me like that for a minute? Please? It bugs me."

"Like what?"

"Like you're humoring some idiot child with water on the brain." He
took a deep  breath and plunged in. "Okay, laugh all you want. The
point of all this is that  my family, my father's family, claimed they
were descendants of Stolnyenka. That this...this power can pass down
from generation to generation. Not all of us have it, but that woman
in Russia, she was my father's great-aunt. And she knows I have it."

Scully stared at Krycek, trying to see some glimmer of malice or even
dark humor in the bright green eyes. They were surprisingly clear and
hopeful. She pondered what he'd just said and was about to dismiss it
all as arrant nonsense  when a little leftover Mulder voice in her
head said, 'How is that story any stranger than other things you've
seen? And what if it were true, that Krycek could bring him back to
you?' She looked into the green eyes once more, swallowed hard and
said, "Tell me more."

A smile split his face, not the cocky smirk she was used to, but a
genuine smile of pleasure and excitement. He leaned across the table
towards her and began to talk eagerly.

"All right, when I said I could do it, what it means is that I can
help you do it. It has something to do with emotional connection, that
the emotional feeling between two people creates a kind of energy. If
there is an intense tie  between a sick person and a healthy one, the
energy of the healthy person can be channeled to the sick person
through some physical conduit."

"Like a charm or a ring, right?"

"You heard this one already, huh?"

"I'm missing something here. It sounds like you're saying I give
Mulder some kind of good-luck charm and think happy thoughts and he
gets better. How do you  come into it?"

"You are such a killjoy, you know that? Don't you have any imagination
at all?"

"No."

"You want the scientific method? Fine. You can't just buy the agent.
You need to make it. From pure materials, preferably gold, but copper
might work too. It  depends on the kind of injury or illness.
Different materials for different problems. You with me?" She nodded,
but by now her arms were across her chest and the skeptical look was
firmly entrenched across her face. "Okay. You and I each make
something he can wear all the time, like a ring or necklace. Yours
will carry the energy and mine will open the conduit. Like
piggybacking medication in an IV."

"And then Mulder wakes up and we live happily ever after?" she asked
archly. "I  think you're nuts, Krycek, you know that? You've finally
gone around the bend."

"Why is this any more nuts than some of the other things you've seen?"
His echo  of her thoughts stabbed her heart. "Because it's me? Because
you don't want to trust me?"

"Not just that, although I absolutely doubt your motives. What you're
suggesting is improbable at the very least. And even if something like
that could work in a man who was recently injured, Mulder's been like
this for over a year. His entire body is atrophied, his internal
organs are working at half-capacity. There's too much damage, it's not
just the brain anymore."

"Are you so sure of that that you won't even try?"

"And another thing, you talked about an emotional connection. Won't
your bad vibes cancel out my good ones? I would think the enmity
between you two would be likely to kill him, not cure him."

"I...I don't think that will happen," he stammered and for a moment,
Scully thought he might be blushing. "Anyway, that's my idea, take it
or leave it. I thought you might still be willing to look outside the
borders of rationality, especially for him. Maybe I was wrong." He
stood up. "I need to get to work. I'll be back at Townsend as usual. 
Let me know how you want to play this."

He tossed back the rest of his beer and set the empty bottle on the
table, strolled through the yard to the fence and vaulted it with
ease. She heard his soft steps fade away, then the sounds of a car
starting and driving away. For a  long time, she sat at the picnic
table, playing idly with the empty bottle while she turned thoughts in
and out of her mind. Mulder back, healthy again, here in this house,
in her life, in her bed. Will with a Daddy instead of a
strange assortment of uncles. And a warped thought that he would be
proud of her if she pursued Krycek's bizarre theory, that he would be
proud that she had  stepped outside the boundaries of her medicine and
science to find a way to bring him back.

*****************

She woke the next morning with a minor hangover and a major case of
regret. She  had no idea what Krycek was up to and the knowledge that
he had free access to Mulder sat hard in her belly. She impulsively
decided she would head down to D.C. and poke around. Krycek was wanted
in half the continents on the planet and had been presumed dead more
than once. He had to have passed the background  check at the hospital
without any flags going up. She knew the hospital often
employed parolees as orderlies and maintenance staff, but a wanted
murderer, one with a dozen Federal warrants out for his arrest and
believed dead besides,  was not going to pass muster. Somehow, he had
purged his identity, fingerprints  and all, from any felony databases.
She decided it was time to renew a few old acquaintances in the Hoover
Building.

The drive to DC was excruciating as always. It was 1:30 before she got
to the Hoover, an hour later than she had planned to meet with
Skinner. His new secretary (what had happened to Kimberly?) ushered
her into a much plusher, bigger office. He was on the phone and he
waved her into a chair near his desk as he finished the call. he hung
up and reached across the desk to shake her hand.

"It's great to see you again, Scully. What's dragged you down to the
bowels of the American government?"

She smiled at his gruff affection, then turned a sober eye to him. "I
wanted to  talk to you about some investments, sir."

His eyebrows went up almost to his non-existent hairline. The phrase
she was using was ancient history, dating back to the presence of
Jeffrey Spender and Diana Fowley in the basement offices. It meant
"Let's get the hell out of here so I can spill some major beans," and
Skinner smoothly rose from his seat and motioned for her to follow. 

"Always glad to help you out, Scully. Is Mulder's annuity from the
Bureau taking care of everything?" Read: is this about our favorite
comatose genius?

"Absolutely, sir. But I do have a few questions about maintaining it.
Why don't  we have a late lunch and talk?"

They headed to the garage and picked up Scully's Corolla, but she let
Skinner drive, not wanting to get back behind the wheel after her
earlier marathon Beltway session. They talked quietly about Will and
Maggie but steered clear of  the issue of Mulder and his annuity until
they reached a crowded and mercifully  noisy restaurant near the
Mall.

"We'll be okay here. We probably would have been okay back in my
office, they sweep it every damn day, it seems like. Anyway, I don't
think anybody's really listening anymore, are they? I mean, from the
old crowd?"

"I'm not so sure about that." She paused as a waiter took their drink
orders, then continued as quietly as she could. "What has two green
eyes, a smart mouth  and a surprisingly healthy heart for a dead guy?"

She watched the wheels spinning in the bald head and then, "Oh, crap.
Please tell me you are not talking about..."

"No names."

"Vodka gimlet?"

"Bingo. Christ, this feels like a John LeCarre' novel." She rubbed her
hands across her face briefly. "Okay, here's the deal without all the
fifth column crap. He's working at Townsend. On the floor as an
orderly. He's been there for  a month and he swears he's not up to
anything."

"A month?"

"That struck me, too. If he's going to do something, why wait? It's
not like Mulder's going to fight back or anything."

"Assuming our friend is there for a hit."

"Why else? There's no way to pry information out of Mulder, he's not
exactly a threat to anyone beyond his managed care provider. Nothing's
been attempted, nothing out of the ordinary has ever happened there, I
haven't been approached or threatened or anything."

"What about Will? Could this be about him?"

"Why? We sorted all that out years ago. Will is Will, he's nothing
special anymore. The colony ended at El Rico, the soldiers were a
total bust and Mulder  is out of the game. There's nothing to go
after. I just can't see what's in it for Krycek."

"No names, Dana."

"Sorry. I'm a little out of practice with my cloak and dagger." The
waiter brought their drinks and took their lunch orders and then
Scully continued. "I don't want to get sucked back into this mess. I
tried to figure out what the hell he's up to, but, not surprisingly, I
got a lot of nothing. He's still a pro at stringing people along. I
even made a rather feeble attempt to appeal to  his sense of decency,
forgetting that the little prick doesn't have one."

"That must have amused him," was Skinner's laconic reply.

She paused again, remembering the brief flash of emotion she thought
she had surprised in Krycek's eyes. "It didn't actually. I think I hit
some kind of nerve, but I don't know which one."

"What, you think he means it, then?"

"Well, I'd never rush to put a lot of stock in anything that came out
of that mouth. But, he was absolutely open about being at the hospital
under an assumed  name. I can get a copy of his personnel file at
Townsend and I'd like to look into some of the stuff that's in it. And
I thought maybe there might be something in his FBI record as well."

"And you need me to access the FBI records for you, right? You know
he's probably been purged from the system by now?"

"His initial application to the Academy won't be. We found
applications dating back to the inception of the Bureau during an
X-File. There should be a hard copy somewhere in the archives at
Quantico. I just need authorization to poke around."

"Authorization granted. Just don't get yourself into anything deep and
messy. I  like knowing you and Mulder and Will are safe. I want you to
stay that way." Their food had arrived by now and their conversation
cooled off, heading into more commonplace topics. When they had
finished and were driving back to the Hoover, Skinner turned the
conversation back to Krycek.

"It'd be interesting to hear from him how he survived that head shot.
And regenerated the arm."

"The arm looked real. It was bizarre."

"Well, let's start where we can and see where it takes us. Are you
heading back  tonight?"

"No, I want to get out to Quantico as soon as possible. I'm staying
with the guys." 

Skinner frowned. "Would you like to stay with me instead? As much as I
respect their technical skills, I'm not sure they can be trusted
around an unchaperoned  female."

She laughed aloud. "I'll be fine. Frohike is like a dog chasing a car.
He wouldn't..."

"...know what to do with it if he caught it," her old boss finished,
and they shared a companionable laugh as they pulled into the Hoover
garage. 

********************************

Scully sat on the unmade bed Frohike had gallantly given up for her,
reading through a sheaf of papers she had brought back from her
afternoon at the Quantico archives. She could hear the guys in the
other room, arguing over a complicated program function, tossing
esoteric epithets at each other and howling over arcane coding errors.
She pulled her glasses off and lay back, trying to decode her own
thoughts. She had six applications to the FBI Academy in front of her.
Her own and Mulder's. Jeffrey Spender's and Diana Fowley's.
Walter Skinner. And Alex Krycek.  She also had, courtesy of Skinner,
the corresponding Bureau personnel files for each. She had found a
dozen inaccuracies between the application and Bureau file for Spender
and over twenty-five in Fowley's. Mulder's application read like a
recruiter's wet dream, but his personnel file had more red ink than
even she had been aware of.  Her own files were boring, except for the
recommendation to partner her with Mulder. That order had apparently
come down from the top tier of the Department  of Justice. Interesting
how high up the Consortium had climbed even that far back.

Krycek's personnel file was short and to the point - he had been
relieved of duty after failing to report for an OPR hearing regarding
the kidnapping of a Federal agent. There was one commendation in his
file, from Mulder of all people. 

(Continued in part 2)
 
Part 2
See part 0 for header information.


His application was quite a different story, starting with his name.
Aleksandr Mikhailevich Kryshenkov. Born in Cincinnati to Soviet migrs
Ivana and Mikhail Kryshenkov, a music teacher and an acoustics
engineer respectively. Scully huffed out a little laugh when she saw
the birth date listed on the application. Alex Krycek, born on the
Fourth of July, 1965. Family -- two sisters, Elena and Elisaveta, born
in 1969 and 1972. Graduated from Oberlin College in 1985, Bachelor of
Arts in Political Science, Summa Cum Laude with a minor in music
performance. Master of Arts in International Relations, 1987,
George Washington University. Recruited by the FBI in 1987. Served in
the American Diplomatic Corps as a secretary to the West German attach
in DC, 1987 to 1988.  Applied to Quantico late in 1992. Graduated in
April of 1993, first in his class. 

So who are you, really, Aleksandr? she thought as she drove back to
Bethesda the next day. Who taught you to betray your country? To lie
so convincingly that those bright green eyes never blink or waver? She
stewed over the information she had gathered. She firmly believed the
bulk of the information in his Academy application was fabricated,
either by Krycek himself or by the men he had worked for, but one key
investigative skill Mulder had taught her was that every lie told you
as much as the truth if you could figure out why the lie was there.
Someone, maybe Krycek himself, had wanted the prospective
agent to appear highly intelligent, well-educated and cultured. He or
they either hadn't felt it was necessary to cover up his
Russian/Soviet heritage or felt it might be a selling point at the
Academy. Hell, maybe that was fake, too. If she could just figure out
what the lies were and why they were there, maybe she could get a
handle on whether Krycek's wild suggestion was even worth 
further investigation.

***************

It was almost 10:00 when she pulled into the lot at Townsend. She
scanned the cars parked in the employee lot and mentally kicked
herself for not checking to  see what Krycek had been driving last
night. She stepped into the lobby and headed for the reception area,
giving the security guard a friendly greeting. Luckily, it wasn't one
of the crew from the night she and Krycek had renewed their
acquaintance. As she signed in on the visitor's log, she glanced at
the staff sign-in next to it. Alex Hale had signed in at 9:30. She
raised her eyebrow, wondering if he was upstairs waiting for her.

Sure enough, he was sitting in her Lazy-Boy when she got up to the
fifth floor.  He was sitting in the darkened room, one foot propped on
the window sill, his back to the door. He must have heard her walking
down the hall, but he didn't turn around when she entered the room.

"Hey, Scully. Have a nice trip to DC? How's Skinner?"

She set her purse on the table by the door and reached for the light
switch.

"Leave it off, would you? It's been dark in here for a while, I don't
want the light to hurt his eyes."

"So you know I was in DC, huh? Spying on me still?"

"No, you're just very predictable. The first thing you do when
presented with the unpredictable is to rush for some facts to screw
around with." He threw a packet of papers on the table beside her
purse. "Here, I thought I'd save you some trouble."

She picked the papers up and held them up to the light coming in from
the hall.  "Your personnel file. And employment application. And,
interestingly enough, parole record. You've been a busy boy today."
She reached into her purse and pulled out the copies of his FBI
application and Bureau file and handed them to  him. He reached into
his shirt pocket for a pair of reading glasses and sheepishly slipped
them on, ignoring her wry laugh.

"Gee, Old Man Time gets the best of everybody, doesn't he?" she
jeered, watching his face as he read the old files. He grimaced once
or twice and actually laughed out loud when he got to the commendation
from Mulder.

"God, he was fun to work with, wasn't he?"

"Fun?" she snorted. "You weren't his partner during the whole Flukeman
thing."

He put the papers back on the table and shifted his glasses to the top
of his head.  "So, this trip down memory lane, does it have a point?"

"How much of this is true? Any of it?"

"Would you believe, every word?" he asked in a creditable impression
of Maxwell  Smart. "At least," he reverted to his normal smooth voice,
"every word on the Quantico application. Obviously, I've taken some
liberties with the other stuff."

"Obviously. How about the prison record?"

"Accurate with the exception of the name."

"You got popped for grand theft auto? That's pretty small stuff for
you, isn't it?"

"Would you do me a really big favor and reschedule this conversation?
I'm supposed to start work in a few minutes and I have the feeling
this isn't one of those breezy chats that can be rushed through."

"Fine. Meet me back here when your shift is over."

"I'd also like to relocate it, since you seem intent on delving into
all my dark secrets. I need to keep a few...illusions in place while
I'm working here."

She sighed with exasperation. "Fine. Where?"

"I'll meet you at the IHOP down the street at 7:30 tomorrow morning.
We'll have  bacon and eggs and soulful conversation, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. 7:30, IHOP. I'll be there."

*******************

He was there first, sitting in a booth in the farthest corner of the
restaurant, cradling a coffee cup in his large, long-fingered hands.
They caught Scully's eye and she remembered the music performance
notation on his Quantico application. She sat down and, without a
word, pulled a micro-recorder  out of her pocket and set it
ostentatiously on the table.

"Testing, one, two, three," he quipped. "You sure you don't want video
as well?"

"Let's talk, Mr. Hale."

"Okay. Four score and seven years ago..." His eyes locked with hers as
he reached over to shut the recorder off.

"Very funny, wiseass." She handed him the copy of his Quantico
application again. "Fact or fiction, Krycek?" A frowzy waitress
approached and took their order with bored grace. Alex waited to
answer, making sure the waitress was out  of hearing.

"First, how did you get this? I would have thought that everything on
record at  the Bureau would have been sanitized."

"I'm willing to bet not a lot of people are aware of the really
amazing amount of paper the FBI keeps tucked away. This was just
laying in the stack with the rest of your Academy classmates' apps."

"You trying to get me killed, Scully? Poking around with my name can
lead to all sorts of...complications."

"Your name never came up, Mr. Hale," she chided gently. "I pulled the
stack for  that entire years' graduating classes as well as the prior
and following years.  I called it a demographic study and nobody
blinked an eye. So," she repeated, "fact or fiction?"

"I told you last night, every single word on that application is
true."

She considered him, looking for signs of deception or unease in his
face, but found none. "Music performance? What instrument?"

"Piano and cello."

"You're kidding, right?"

"Okay, see, you're not going to believe me no matter what I tell you,
so why are we doing this?" He sipped at his coffee to avoid her gaze.

"Why Political Science?"

"It was interesting."
"Can you still speak all those languages?"

"Which one would you like to hear?"

"Where are your sisters?"

Krycek didn't answer, just looked at her steadily. The quiet
lengthened until Scully realized he wasn't taking time to formulate an
answer, he was refusing to answer.

"Not going there, huh?"

"No."

Their orders arrived at this point and they ate quietly for a few
minutes until, the worst of her hunger gone and her curiosity
returning in full force, Scully wiped her mouth and asked another
question.

"What the hell were you doing stealing cars in Newark?"

"Ah, I was wondering if that would catch your eye," he answered. He
finished buttering his toast before going on. "I was being clever. I
wanted to disappear  for a while. I'd been laying low in Russia for a
couple years and when I came back to the States, there were still
enough fragments of  the Network left for me to be concerned about my
personal safety."

"That project died out years ago."

"The project died. Not everyone involved in the Network did. I got on
the wrong  side of quite a few people when I was working to take it
out."

"Are you trying to tell me you were part of that? Destroying the
soldiers? Exposing the project?"

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"Of course it is. Mulder almost died taking down that project. What
the hell did you have to do with it?"	

He looked down at his cooled coffee and swirled the cup. "They tried
to make me  one. After your pal Skinner shot me. It was easily the
most horrible thing I've  ever experienced in my life."

"Is that how your arm grew back?"

He looked down at the limb thoughtfully, flexing his hand. "Yeah. The
irony hasn't been lost on me. They gave me the thing in the world I
wanted the most. But I would have let them chew off the other one if
it meant they'd have let me  go."

"So what happened?"

"What happened? They underestimated me. People do it all the time.
They figured  I hated you and Mulder personally enough to take you
out. And that I'd do anything to get some back from Skinner. So they
trusted me. Let me call the shots and set up the plan for hitting both
of you and taking Will. They never understood that I didn't have any
personal animosity towards you two.	So I saw my chance to get away
from the Network and I hooked up with Mulder and we pooled our
considerable resources."

"And Mulder just went along with this? You're full of shit," she
said.

"He took a little convincing."

"I'll bet."

"Hey, he wanted to end it. He was tired of the whole romantic quest
gig. All he  wanted was to get back to you and Will. And believe me or
don't, but I was repulsed, completely and thoroughly, by the
objectives of the Network. I hated the fact that they existed. I
managed to convince Mulder of my feelings and he just wanted the whole
fucking mess to go away. So, in a warped way, we were on
the same side. And we knew we were on the same side, which made all
the difference in the world. Long story short, and you probably know
most of it, good-bye, super soldiers, hello life on the run for me and
home sweet home for you and Mulder."  

"Why didn't we ever have any problems with the Network that was
left?"

"They that doeth evil hateth the light of day. Or something like that.
You and Mulder and Will were in the light, they weren't going to come
near you. I was in the dark, I was an easy target. So Alex Krycek went
to Russia and disappeared into the mists and Alex Hale, petty
criminal, turned up in Newark."

"Stealing cars."

"If you wanted to hide from people who were beyond the reach of the
law, where would you go?"

"Not Newark."

"Come on, Scully, exercise the little gray cells. Where would you go
if  you wanted to be certain you were safe from people who were never
going to be arrested?"

"Ah. Prison. That is clever."

"Thank you. I thought so. Alex Hale embarked on a criminal career. A
few minor offenses to get a nice record worked up and then he made the
bonehead maneuver of hotwiring a BMW that belonged to a New York City
Councilman."

"That's class, Krycek."

"I certainly thought so."

"So you went to jail. For how long?"

"Eighteen months. Easy time, minimum security. It's amazing what a
clean cut look and a college degree will allow you to get away with."

"How did you get your ID out of all the systems? Your fingerprints are
the same, even if your name isn't."

"Actually, they're not. I had a little cosmetic work done in Russia.
New arm, new fingerprints, petty crimes instead of big wonking murders
and Alex Krycek fades from the memory of the world. The last bits of
the Network, according to some old friends of mine, are trying to worm
their way into the good graces of the various criminal masterminds
still floating around in the world. They wouldn't spend the effort to
find me anymore even if they could. I just need to  be cautious how I
throw my DNA around, that's the only way left to hook me up
with Alex-from-before." He waved to the waitress to bring her coffee
pot and stopped talking while she refilled his cup. After she had
walked away again, they continued eating in silence while she
considered the answers he had given her in her mind's orderly fashion.
Finally, she set her fork down, steepled her  hands and rested her
chin on them. She looked at him for a long moment, trying
to read him somehow. 

At last, she asked, "How did you come to work for the Consortium?"

After a brief pause, he answered, "Same as the Bureau, I was
recruited."

"What, they had a booth on campus at George Washington?"

"Not quite. It's more of a talent scout arrangement." 

When he didn't add to his answer, she went on.

"From my reading of all this, and assuming you're telling the truth,
you had a very promising career in diplomacy or even public policy
ahead of you when you applied to the Academy."

He still didn't respond and she raised her eyebrow in unspoken
challenge. "Well?"

"I didn't know there was a question on the table. Was I on the fast
track in American diplomacy? Absolutely. I coulda been...well, not
exactly a contender but certainly a player. At least, what I thought a
player was back then."

"You still haven't answered me."

"You still haven't asked me a question."

"Fine. In tiny words, then, how does someone like Aleksandr become
someone like  Krycek?"

"Aleksandr? I haven't heard that name in a long while." He paused as
if calculating how she would respond to his answer. Shrugging, he
said, "It happens a lot more easily than you might think." Another
pause and then a cold grin crept across his face. "A certain amount of
moral flexibility is involved." The grin vanished. "Have you ever seen
The Shawshank Redemption?" At  her nod, he said, "At the end, after
Andy escapes, and Red says all it took was  time and pressure? That's
me. Time and pressure and here's where I ended up."

He tipped the coffee cup back to empty it and stood up. "Well, Dr.
Scully, as much fun as being interrogated always is, I have someplace
I need to be." He tossed a ten on the table, then regarded her rather
intently. "I meant what I said about Mulder. My offer's still open."
He slung his jacket onto his shoulder and walked away, leaving Scully
in stormy contemplation. Finally, she mimicked Krycek, draining the
last of her coffee and walking out.

***********************

She purposely avoided Townsend during Krycek's shift during the
following days.  She wore herself out each night cruising the 'Net for
any sort of collaboration  to his wild story, finding only a few vague
references to a mythical Slavic healing woman who used talismans to
cure illness. When she finally threw herself into bed later and later
each night, she slept poorly, listening to her  innate skepticism and
her long-held hatred and distrust of Alex Krycek battle
with her heavy, aching need for Mulder and some offshoot Catholic
desire to find miracles. She went through her days mechanically and
spent every moment she could spare at the hospital, sitting beside him
and trying to decide. Finally, a day came when she snapped and she
found herself debating the issue with him as if they were still tucked
into a stuffy basement, pencils in the ceiling and sparks between the
two of them.

"I know what you'd say," she said out loud to him. "You'd say that
just because  my contemporary science can't explain something like
this doesn't mean old science or extraterrestrial science can't,
right? But what about believing Alex  Krycek? How can you expect me to
do that, after everything he's done to us? I know, he says he worked
with you back then, and that he helped us out before. But, trust no
one, right? Or did you change the motto again without sending me
the memo?" She smiled at the far-off memory of a passionate oddball
who stood spinning fancies in the face of an infuriatingly passionless
spouter of facts. "Jesus, Mulder, how did we not kill each other back
then?" She picked up his limp hand, willing him to send her a sign of
his opinion, but none came and she  pulled her hand away with a sigh.
"Well, I guess it's time to see how well you trained me in those leaps
of faith you always pulled off. Wish me luck, Babe." She walked out of
the room, down the hall and into the elevator. She punched
the button, not to the ground floor but to the basement, to the staff
locker rooms. She knew Krycek was signed in, that he would just be
getting ready to start his shift. The traffic in and out of the men's
locker room was heavy as one shift ended and the other began. She sat
in a chair just outside the door and waited for him to come out,
finally spying him dressed in scrubs and wearing his reading glasses
as he looked over some papers. She stood up and called him aside.

"Well, Dr. Scully. This is a pleasant surprise," he said nonchalantly.

"Hi, Mr. Hale," she answered. "Do you have a few minutes? I'd like to
talk to you about some of that stuff you suggested last week."

He stopped walking and faced her with a raised eyebrow.  She nodded
almost imperceptibly. "I can't really talk right now, not for the time
we should take with this. Do you want to meet for breakfast again?"

"Sure," she answered. "IHOP at 7:30?"

"Actually, I'd prefer someplace less public, if that's okay." He
smiled gently as mistrust flared in her blue eyes. "If you don't mind,
of course."

"No, no, that'll be fine," she replied coldly.

"Okay." He tore a corner of one of his papers and scrawled on it.
"Here's my address. Meet me there at about 8:00. I'll have breakfast
waiting." He turned away from her and stepped into the full elevator,
leaving her to catch the next  one.

***************************

She got home by 11:30 and was met at the door by Maggie.

"Thanks for sitting for me, Mom. I didn't think I'd be this late
tonight."

"Is Fox okay, Dana? You've been spending a lot of time there lately."

"He's fine, Mom. I'm just...I'm making sure everything is being done
for him that can be. I want to make sure I've explored every option we
have. And sometimes that means putting in a lot of hours. Sorry, I
know I've asked you to  watch Will quite a bit lately."

"Like I mind," she smiled. "That's not what I meant. You look
exhausted, Dana. If I know you, you're eating a cup of yogurt a day
and maybe having a cup of tea at bedtime and that's it." Scully walked
down the hall towards Will's room,  cracking the door to peek in and
Maggie followed. "He went to bed around 9:00. He was pretty whipped,
he played with that boy from school..."

"Scotty?"

"That's the one, and then Melvin and Langly came by with a video game
they wanted him to try out."

"Oh, God, it wasn't too horrible, was it?"

"No, not at all, it was actually pretty funny. It was something about
saving the circus. Clowns racing cars and elephants shooting cannon
balls at aliens. No blood or guts, just lots of cartoon action. Will
loved it." They went into the kitchen where Maggie had water boiling
in the tea kettle. Scully made herself a cup, then, at her mother's
pointed look, got some graham crackers from the pantry to snack on.
"You know, Will missed you quite a bit tonight," Maggie said in what
she obviously wanted to be a casual tone. "He wanted to
stay up till you got home."

Scully glanced at her mother over the rim of her cup, not answering,
knowing more was coming. Maggie didn't disappoint her.

"Dana, I know how much you miss Fox. I miss him, too, I loved him like
he was family. But I'm going to say something to you that may sound
heartless and unkind to him, as much as I love him." She reached
across the table for Scully's hand and went on. "He doesn't need you
anymore, Dana, not the way Will  needs you. I think you've been
absolutely heroic through this whole ordeal but I think maybe it's
time to let go a little. You don't need to go over every
single day and you don't need to stay until this late every night.
Will needs you home, he doesn't need to see you at his father's
bedside constantly or to not see you at all." There were tears in
Maggie's eyes as she spoke and Scully wiped them away.

"I know, Mom, it's hard on Will. It's hard on everybody. But I can't
just turn my back on Mulder." Maggie got up and went to stand behind
Dana, wrapping her arms around her to soften what she was saying.

"I'm not saying you should walk away from him. But I do think you
could spend a  little less time hovering over him. There's been no
change at all, Dana, not since the day they took him off the
respirator. I'm sure Fox knows, in some way, that you're there and
that you still love him. But I think that in that same way, he knows
that Will needs you more than he does."

"He might," Dana replied.  "I appreciate your concern, Mom, for all of
us. I'll  think about it." 

"And I'm sorry if I upset you. I love you and Will and Fox dearly, but
I don't want to see the two of you spend the rest of your lives
sitting next to his hospital bed." Scully held her mother's arms
against her own for a moment, then  stood up as well. 

"Thanks, Mom, I love you, too. And thanks for the motherly advice,
even if I don't take it." She smiled impishly at her mother and
escorted her to the front  door, locking it behind Maggie and heading
back into the kitchen to finish her tea and plan what she would say to
Krycek in the morning.

****************

She found her way to his home easily enough, after dropping Will off
at Maggie's. Krycek lived only a mile or so from the hospital, in a
neighborhood of small, well-maintained houses and duplexes. She
knocked on the weathered door and it opened quickly, carrying a heady
smell of bacon.

"You weren't kidding about the breakfast, then?" she asked with a
quirked brow.

He ushered her in with exaggerated gallantry, then followed her as she
made her  way to the bright kitchen at the rear of the house. Coffee
was brewing in a Braun unit and the pans that were hanging from a pot
rack over the sink were Calphalon and Creuset. She couldn't help
looking around in some amazement.  The  well-stocked kitchen included
an eclectic spice rack sharing counter space with  a high-end food
processor. The picture of a domesticated Krycek caused her
eyebrow to work overtime-she had assumed that Krycek would be
typically bacheloresque as far as meals and kitchenware were
concerned. 

"Nice hardware," she commented as he lifted the bacon onto a plate. 

"Just because I'm a cold-blooded criminal doesn't mean I'm a complete
savage, Dr. Scully. And shame on you for your gender stereotyping. I'm
a pretty good cook."

"It smells like it. I happen to be a shitty cook."

"I've heard." He met her startled glance evenly, daring her to ask
more.

I will not give you the satisfaction, she thought vindictively. "Okay,
Martha Stewart, dish up, I'm starving."

They sat at a battered table, dishes full and coffee poured. Neither
seemed inclined to start right in on their discussion. She broke the
lengthy silence by complimenting his cooking toward the end of the
meal and he acknowledged her  with a nod. Finally, they finished and
picked up their coffee mugs, heading outside to sit on the
weather-beaten deck.

"I don't have any smokes, by the way," he said, "so if you want them,
go to the  7-11 on the corner."

"No, I'm okay. That was extremely rare for me."

"Pathetic how easy it is to just pick them up again, isn't it?"

"Pathetic. So," she continued after a moment's pause, "let's talk."

"About...?"

"This theory of yours. The miracle Alex Krycek cure. What does the
miracle worker get out of it?"

"The satisfaction of a job well-done?" He grinned at the way she
immediately bristled up. "Sorry. It's just so much fun to set you
off."

"Listen, I don't trust you, Krycek and, quite frankly, I don't want to
waste our time while you try to convince me I should. I want to know
how much your help is going to cost me and if the end result is going
to be worth the price."

"You're a terribly cynical person, aren't you?"

"Aren't you?"

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? When, all this time, I'm actually quite
a sentimentalist. You and Mulder managed to survive all the shit in
the world being thrown at you and you managed to keep your integrity
and your sugary ideals mostly intact. You did good work that needed to
be done despite the costs to both of you. Then you fell stupidly,
dangerously in love with each other and somehow managed to create
Will, who, aside from the sheer miracle of his existence, happens to
be a pretty great kid. I like to think all that hard work and
dedication should be rewarded with something more than a pension from
the Bureau and a bag full of piss that needs dumping twice a day."

"Gee, yeah, that's really sentimental, all right. Are Mulder and I the
only good deeds on your to do list?"

"Well, I may try save a kitten or two, but, yeah, you guys are pretty
much it."

"You don't want to use your powers for good? Cure kids with cancer,
heal the lame, cast out a few demons?"

"Even if I wanted to, it doesn't work that way. I told you that."

She sighed heavily and stood up to pace around the deck. "Come on,
Krycek," she  said. "Don't draw this out, okay?  I want him back. I'll
give you anything I can, if I can give it to you without selling my
soul. You want me to beg? Fine,  I'm begging. Prove you can do what
you say you can and I'll beg till my knees bleed. You want money? All
I've got is a couple grand in the bank and a pitiful  IRA, but it's
all yours. You want my pull in the Bureau, I'll do what I can. If 
you want something from me, just tell me. But the last thing I need
right now is for you to fuck with me. It's too much." She struggled to
keep her voice steady, hating the idea of showing Krycek any weakness
at all. "The only thing I can't do is bring Will into it. If that's
what you're after, forget it. He's off limits."

"I don't want Will. This is a freebie, okay?" he said very gently.

"I can't accept that, not from you. You don't do freebies, you've
always got some angle to play or some hidden agenda. I don't want to
get it in the ass the  minute I agree to this."

"We can't work together like that, Scully. You don't have to like me,
but you have to trust me." Frustration replaced the gentle tone and he
scowled at her.

She stood before him and fixed him with icy eyes. They looked at each
other intently, one trying to convince, the other wanting to believe.
Finally, she broke away from his stare and sat beside him.

"Okay, then, show me something solid. Let me talk to the guy you say
your aunt cured. I need proof if I'm going to even try to believe
you." She expected him to refuse outright and that would convince her
she couldn't trust him. She half-hoped he might come up with some
bullshit excuse why he couldn't and that would be another brick to
stack against him and the temptation he was dangling in front of her.

"Russia's an 18 hour flight away. When can you be ready to leave?"

Her mouth dropped open and she stammered without really answering
him.

"What? You want proof, proof's in Russia. That's what it's going to
take, isn't  it? For you to see it for yourself. It's going to take
the whole Doubting Thomas act. So, come on. Grab your toothbrush and
let's go. The longer we screw  around debating the issue, the more
damage Mulder racks up." He got up and headed for the kitchen door. 

"I am not going to Russia with you."

"You won't believe me any other way, Scully. I know it even if you
don't. So go  home, call your mom and set it up. I'll book us a
flight."

"You're crazy. This is crazy. I am not going to Russia," she
repeated.

He walked back to her, grabbed her elbow and dragged her into the
house, through the kitchen and to the front door. Tossing her purse to
her, he said "I'll call you later. I have to set some other stuff
up."

"Like what?"

"If you decide you want to do this, we'll need to get materials. And I
want to talk to Anna, to run the whole thing by her."

"Is that your aunt?"

"Yes, actually."

Scully smiled a bit hesitantly. "You know, it would almost be worth a
trip to Russia to see Alex Krycek, the dutiful nephew, paying a visit
to his auntie."

"Fine, whatever it takes." And he shoved her out the door.

**************

"So, I thought about what you said last night." Scully and Maggie were
sitting in lawn chairs in Maggie's voluminous garden, watching Will
dig in the little patch his grandmother had set aside for his own
garden.

"Which part? I said quite a bit last night," Maggie said with a bit of
chagrin.

"It's okay, Mom. You were right to tell me about Will missing me. But
I was referring to spending a little less time holding Mulder's hand.
I've lost sight  of things a little lately and I need to try to get
back a little perspective."

"That sounds like a good idea," Maggie said with a smile. "Any
particular plans  for that?"

"Actually," she went on more seriously, "I'm thinking about taking a
little trip."

"Really?" Maggie sounded delighted. "By yourself?"

"Well, yes, I think that would be best. I want to spend a little time
by myself, away from the hospital and away from my day-to-day life. I
need to think about my future and Will's and what we both need."

"I think that would be wonderful for you, Dana. Where are you thinking
about going?"

"I was considering somewhere overseas, really. Not for long, a week at
the most." " Overseas? Overseas where?"

Here we go, Scully thought, taking a deep breath.  "Russia, actually.
I'm thinking of doing some research over there, combining business
with pleasure."

A look of suspicion settled onto Maggie's face. "Russia? What put that
idea in your head? It's not something FBI, is it? You've got to
consider Will, Dana, before you do anything."

"I know, Mom. It's nothing to do with the FBI. That's ancient history,
you know  that."

"Well, sometimes I think you miss it a little. The excitement and the
challenge."

"And the bullets and the freaks and the politics...no, Mom, I do not
miss the FBI."

"Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, what's in Russia that you want to
research?"

"Just some medical stuff, alternative therapies, some interesting
folklore. More out of curiosity than anything else."

"So nothing to do with brain injuries?" Maggie asked with an arched
eyebrow.

"I didn't say that."

"Dana, do you think that's a good idea? What do you think you're going
to find in Russia that you haven't  found here?"

"Not everything I do is wrapped up in Mulder, Mom."

"Bullshit," Maggie barked and Scully burst into laughter. "Dana,
you've never insulted my intelligence by lying to me. If you're going
to Russia to check on something that you think might help Fox, then do
it, but don't lie to me and don't lie to yourself."

"Can't we just leave it at research without going into a lot of
nitpicky detail?"

"Fine.  I can handle Will for a week, but a week at the most, okay? I
don't want you getting obsessive in Russia. It's bad enough when you
do it here." 

"Thanks a lot, Mom. This means a lot to me."  She gathered their
things together and called Will.

"Come on, Farmer Mulder, it's time to go home."

"I want to stay at Grandma's for lunch."

"Not today, Hot Shot. We need to get home, Mom has some work to take
care of. But, pretty soon, Grandma's going to come and stay at our
house for a whole week. How's that sound?"

"Yea! She can come to all my games, right?"

"She wouldn't miss them."

******************

An endless flight into Kiev and a half-day's drive through a vast
rural stretch  of the Ukraine drained Scully's energy so completely
that she had almost forgotten who she was traveling with until their
rented car slowed and turned off a country road onto a rutted gravel
lane. She startled out of a doze at the  first jolt, not recognizing
her surroundings momentarily.

"It's okay. We're almost there," Krycek soothed.

"Mmmm, good." She yawned heavily and checked her watch, which was
still registering Eastern Standard Time. "What time is it here?"

"Add eight hours. It's about four in the afternoon."

"What day is it?"

He laughed. "Thursday. Look, over there, that's my aunt's house." He
pointed to  their left, at a farmhouse framed by a stone wall and
flanked by two other buildings.

"Is this still a farm? Or does she heal for a living?"

"Very funny. This is a wheat farm now, but it was a collective in the
bad old days. She and my father's cousin bought it a few years ago."

"Is your father's cousin the one who had the stroke?"

"Yeah," he answered, his eyes intent on the winding track that seemed
to be a major throughway for chickens. "I hate driving around here.
Animals everywhere.  And it's really bad karma to hit one."

They finally reached the turn into the front drive of the house. It
wound around the side of the house and Scully found herself gaping at
a newly washed,  late model Ford pick-up truck parked next to a dark
blue Mercedes sedan.

"Is there a lot of money in wheat farming these days? Or does your
aunt share your...what did you call it? Moral flexibility?"

"You know, you can really be a bitch sometimes."

"Especially when I'm tired and in the Russian back woods with
convicted felons."

The bickering would have continued but a shout from the south barn
intervened. Krycek shouted back in Russian as he pulled into place
beside the Mercedes and jumped out of the car to throw his arms around
an older man with sparse white hair and still-dazzling green eyes.

"Dmitri Ayeshenkov, this is Dana Scully, the doctor I told you about,"
he said in English.

"I am happy to see you, Doctor. Aleksandr tell to me that you are
teaching in America about head sickness, yes?" The man shook her hand
heartily, then spoke to Krycek in Russian again. Scully looked at them
pointedly and Krycek translated.

"He says Anna will be back from town very soon and her English is much
better."  Dmitri shook Scully's hand again, then herded both of them
towards the house, he and Krycek conversing animatedly as they walked
along. They entered the house through a door leading directly into a
modernized kitchen. The smell of coffee and bread spoke directly to
Scully's stomach and she realized she couldn't clearly recall when
she'd last eaten. Dmitri bustled around setting out cups and plates
for them, filling the cups and placing sliced bread and
butter on the table. Scully sat down heavily and a grunting sigh
escaped her. Krycek followed, lazily stretching his legs before him as
he took a sip of the steaming, strong coffee. They ate well, finishing
the first plate of bread and the second pile Dmitri offered.

Scully had just refilled her cup when they heard a car pull up outside
the door. Krycek leapt up from his chair and hurried outside, Scully
following more  slowly. An elderly woman was lifting net bags full of
produce out of the trunk of an ancient Austin-Morris, handing them to
Krycek as they spoke in swift Russian. Scully estimated the woman's
age to be eighty-five to ninety from her facial appearance alone. Her
mobility didn't appear to be limited in any way and there were no
signs of the skeletal or muscular deterioration Scully expected to see
in someone that advanced in age.

Krycek and the woman went into the kitchen and he waved at Scully to
come in as  well. After setting down the various bags, the woman
turned to Scully and looked her over appraisingly.

"So this is the American doctor you brought to see my son, is it,
Alex?" the woman asked in English. "She does not believe you, so she
had to come all this way to look at a farmer?"

"She doesn't believe easily, Aunt."

"She doesn't believe you, that's clear. I'm a stranger to you, Dr.
Scully, and Alex you know. Why would you believe me if you don't
believe him?"

Scully looked at Krycek, wondering how much of their story he had
shared with the woman. He returned her look blandly, clearly not
caring what she said or how many of his secrets she let out.

"Krycek...Alex and I have some bad history between us. We don't
believe in the same things or have the same values. It makes me
cautious about trusting him."

"But you came halfway around the world with him. Why do that if you
don't trust  him?"

"He says he can make my...friend better, that he can cure him of his
injuries. I would travel more than halfway around the world for that.
If you can prove to  me that he is telling the truth, I'll believe him
and ask him to help me."

(Continued in part 3)
 
Part 3
See part 0 for header information.


"What will prove it to you? Here is Dmitri, alive and walking and
talking. Does  that prove anything to you?"

"Krycek tells me Dmitri had a stroke several years ago, that he was
paralyzed and couldn't speak. He tells me that you healed him, with a
ring. I don't see how that can be possible, but I've seen many
inexplicable things in my life. I want to believe that this can be
true and that my friend can be healed."

"I cannot promise that it will happen. What Alex wants to do doesn't
always work. There are many barriers between people and it is hard to
break through them all." She waved her hand suddenly as if clearing
the air. "Bah, I'm tired.  It's the end of the day, I want to have my
tea and sit for a while. We can talk  more later. You should rest,
Alex, Dr. Scully. Dmitri," she said, suddenly switching to Russian,
"take them to their rooms."

Anna sat down at the kitchen table, filling another cup with tea and
picking up  a slice of bread. Scully and Krycek followed Dmitri up a
dark, steep staircase and into a long, dimly lit hallway. The walls of
the hall were lined with photos and Scully paused frequently to look
at the faces. Many of them carried obvious resemblances to Krycek, the
dark, wavy hair and bright green eyes repeated over and over. She
stopped in front of one photo that showed a group of young men, five
in all, and two who were identical twins to Krycek.

"My father and his brother, Stefan," Krycek offered. "And their
cousins, Dmitri, Aleksandr and Josef."

"Quite a family."

Dmitri stopped in front of one room and indicated that this was for
Scully. He said something in Russian to Krycek, who laughed, then
turned to Scully to translate.

"He says he's putting you farthest from the stairs so all the men from
the pub will have to fight through him and me to get at you. They
don't get a lot of redheads around here and he says rumours are flying
around town about you."

"Tell him I said thanks," she said dryly and stepped into the room.
She put her  head out again immediately, before she lost track of
Krycek. "When do you think  your aunt will be ready to talk again?"

"I don't know. Get some rest and I'll come get you when it's time for
supper. We can talk more then." He broke off with a yawn and Scully
realized that he looked exhausted. It forced her to consider how she
must look as well.

"Okay. You rest, too. You look like shit."

He laughed aloud again and translated for Dmitri this time, who broke
into laughter himself. Krycek stepped into a room on opposite to and
one closer to the stairs then Scully's and closed the door. Dmitri
gave Scully an energetic slap on the shoulder, then walked back down
the hall to the stairs. She listened to his steps briefly, then heard
a conversation start up in Russian from the kitchen below. With a
mighty yawn, she turned into her room, lay down on the bed without
glancing at her surroundings and was asleep in two minutes.

************************

A gentle tap on her door woke her two hours later. She rolled off the
bed and opened the door.

"Anna is ready to talk and dinner will be ready soon," Krycek said. He
had showered and shaved and she grimaced, thinking how grubby she must
look. He must have followed her thoughts because he came into the room
and crossed to a bulky armoire near the window. He rummaged through
it, pulling out a washcloth and several heavy towels.

"Here, get yourself cleaned up. You'll feel better. Shower's the
second door on  the right of the stairs." He tossed the towels on the
bed and walked out the door.

"Wait a minute," she called. "Where are my bags? I'm going to want
clean clothes pretty soon."

"I'll bring them up. Go ahead, I'll leave them by the shower door." He
walked away again and she heard him going down the stairs. She picked
up the towels and found the shower, which Krycek hadn't told her was a
shower and nothing more. No toilet, no sink, just a room with a
tile-enclosed shower, an old wooden bench and a cupboard made of
darker wood. She smiled to herself, enjoying the old thrill of
discovery she remembered feeling as the Scullys had moved around the
world. She figured out the taps and got the water to her
liking, letting the stiffness and grime of heavy travel soak away.
When she heard a soft thump outside the door, she wrapped one of the
towels around her and peered out into the hallway. Her carry-on bag
and duffel were stacked there  and she stepped into the hall to search
out her toiletry kit and a change of clothes. 

Twenty minutes later, she appeared in the kitchen downstairs, wearing
worn jeans and a weathered sweatshirt Krycek recognized as Mulder's,
her damp and waving hair clipped back. The kitchen had acquired a
tantalizing collection of smells since she'd gone upstairs and the
table was set for a meal. Anna and Dmitri rose when she came in and,
at a sharp word from the old woman, Krycek got lazily to his feet as
well.

"Apparently you merit guest status and I don't anymore," he said as he
sat back  down. "You hungry or do you want to talk first?"

"Both, if we can. I'm starving," she answered as she took her own
seat, followed by Anna and then Dmitri.

"You should eat or talk," the old woman said chidingly. "You can't do
right by either one if you mix them up." She rang a small bell by her
plate and a young woman who looked to be in her late teens appeared at
the table with a platter of roasted meat. She went back and forth to
the cooking area bringing dish after dish until the long, planked
table was practically covered with an enticing multitude of foods.
When the girl had finished, she gave an abbreviated curtsey and then
sat in the chair at the end of the table nearest the cooking area.
"Thank you, Fyenna," Anna said, then introduced Scully to the 
young woman who served as cook and server to the family and farm
employees. Anna poured strong tea for each of them and smiled when
Scully exclaimed over the lovely fragility of the porcelain cups. 
"They are very old, 18th century Cevres. I found them in a shop in
Paris after the war."

"World War Two?" Scully asked.

"Of course, Dr. I am quite old but I'm not as old as all that."

Scully blushed and threw a glare at Krycek's laughing face. "My
apologies, Mrs.  Ayeshenkov."

"You may call me Anna, Dr. Scully, if you like." Anna and Scully
conversed throughout the meal in English about the different places
they had visited while Krycek and Dmitri fell into a Russian
discussion about what had to be a sport of some kind, given the
animated gestures and passionate voices of the two men. Scully found
herself watching this unfamiliar Krycek, who was quick to 
laugh boyishly and whose smile lacked the chill of his trademark
smirk. 

"This is a new Aleksandr to you, yes, Dr. Scully?" Anna asked at one
point.

Scully turned away from watching Krycek and Dmitri to meet Anna's
gaze. "I don't think I've ever seen him at ease before," she answered
in a muted voice, hoping Krycek wasn't listening. "I've never seen him
in his own environment. He  looks...comfortable."

"He should be comfortable here, this is his home."

"I didn't know he had any place he called home."

Anna stood up abruptly. "Come outside with me, Dr. I want you to see
our farm with the trees in their blossoms. It's not like something you
will see in America." 

Scully arched her eyebrow, but rose and followed. Krycek and Dmitri
stood up, surprised at their sudden move.

"Sit, sit. I want to show Dr. Scully the orchard. Finish eating and
playing the  World Cup over again on my dinner table."

They walked about a quarter mile to the rear of the house and Scully
gasped as they crested a slight hill. She had seen the DC cherry trees
in blossom for years and had always thought the sight had to be the
loveliest thing on the planet, but the Ayeshenkov apple orchard was
dazzling beyond anything she had ever experienced. Anna led her to a
bench set just off the path that wound through the banks of trees,
bride-like in their white and pink flowers and bewitching in their
heady fragrance. They sat for long minutes while Scully
looked and smelled and tried to etch the aching loveliness of the
scene into her memory. Finally, Anna broke the stillness, sighing as
she did.

"You said that you didn't know Aleksandr had a place to call home,
yes? You know him that well?"

Scully thought over Anna's question. Did she know Krycek well? She
felt like she didn't know him at all. "I only know what Krycek...Alex
wants me to know, I  think. He has never told me anything about his
life here."

"Alex never knew he had a home here. I don't know all about his life
in America, I don't think I want to know much about it." 

Scully smiled bitterly. "You probably don't."

"Alex has told me some of it. I know he has hurt you in the past. He
has hurt many people, I think, either in their bodies or in their
souls. It's the way of  people, when we are hurt, we want to hurt
others, too. And Alex hurt very much for a very long time."

"You can't excuse some of the things he's done, Anna."

"It's not for me to excuse Alex. He has his own conscience to answer
to, he doesn't need to answer to me as well. No, I only need to know
if it's possible for you to come to trust him. It's easy for anyone to
see that you don't. And what he wants to do for your friend, it won't
work without trust between you and Alex."

"What does he want to do? Can you explain that to me?"

"Will it make it easier for you to trust Alex if I tell you?"

"I don't know. It might. I don't understand what he wants to do and I
don't know why he wants to do it. The Alex Krycek that I knew many
years ago would never have helped Mulder..."

"Mulder? Is Mulder your friend that Alex wants to heal?"

"Yes, he's...much more than my friend. He's..."

"Stop. I know what he is to you. It's on your face, you have one of
those Irish  faces that can't hide anything."

"I know," Scully said ruefully. 

"This Mulder, his name is Fox?"

Scully gave Anna a peculiar look. "Yes, it is. How do you know that?"

"He worked with Alex in America."

"Alex says he did. I don't know about that. Mulder and I were apart
when Alex claims they were working together."

"You can believe Alex about that. I know a few things about Fox Mulder
that Alex told me. I know they were partners for some little time,
working to stop a  group of men who would have done much evil in the
world." Anna looked gravely at Scully. It looked as though the older
woman was carefully considering what her next words should be.

Scully's impatience took over before Anna could go on. "Anna, can Alex
cure Mulder? Can he do what he says he can do?"

Anna took several moments to answer. "I only know that he should be
able to. He  has never used this gift, but I'm sure he has it."

"Will it hurt Mulder if we try it and it doesn't work?"

"No, but it will hurt you if you hope for him to get well and he
doesn't."

"Tell me what we would have to do. Alex said we needed to make
something that Mulder can wear, that can carry whatever needs to go to
him."

"Yes, that's part of it. Come back inside now, it's getting too dark
to see the  trees anymore and we can still smell them from the house."
They rose from the bench.

When they got back to the house, they found the table cleared of their
dishes. Anna left the room and came back quickly with a stack of
papers.

"These are Dmitri's medical records, from when he was ill. I had
Aleksandr translate them for you," she explained to Scully. "You can
look them over while  I talk to my nephew for a minute or two." 

She caught Alex's eye from where he stood at the sink washing dishes
and he immediately began drying his hands. They left the room
together, leaving Scully  to read until she heard heated voices.
Dmitri had been sitting at the table reading a newspaper while Scully
studied his records, but on hearing the growing argument, he rose,
left the kitchen and joined Anna and Alex in the next room. With the
door now open, Scully could hear more clearly and began to
pick up on words that were being repeated. After several attempts at
soothing the other two, Dmitri spoke loudly over Anna's sharp voice
and Krycek's fiery tenor. The room was awkwardly quiet for a moment,
then Krycek's voice burst out  in English.

"Enough! Lisa never knew about it for a damned good reason. And it
doesn't matter anymore."

Anna's voice, much softer, broke in and Scully could hear the name
Lisa among the Russian words.

"No, I won't have her told. We'll do it this way. It will work."

Scully, realizing she was shamelessly eavesdropping, put her nose back
into the  medical papers still strewn across the table and was
pointedly studying them when Anna and Dmitri came back into the
kitchen. 

"Leave those for now," Anna said. "We should talk before we sleep."

Alex came in then, his face freshly washed and his hair damp again,
and took a seat across from Scully and next to Anna. Dmitri sat beside
Scully. Nothing was  said about the vocal exchange that had just taken
place.

"So, Dr. Scully. You want to know about this gift we Kryshenkovs
have," Anna began. She reached across to Dmitri and pulled a thin gold
chain out of his shirt. It held a gold ring with a small red stone set
in it. Dmitri made to pull it off his neck, but Anna stopped him.

"No, keep it on, Dmitri. You know better." This was said in Russian,
then Anna switched to English for Scully's benefit. "This ring, I made
it three years ago, when Dmitri had his stroke. It took me five weeks
to find the material and  do the work."

Scully held the ring in her hand, admiring its simple and graceful
beauty. "What is the red stone?"

"It's called carnelian. It's a form of chalcedony, quartz. I put this
ring on Dmitri's finger two months after his stroke. He couldn't walk
and his speech was unintelligible. And he got better."

"How long did it take to correct the damage from the stroke?"

"He was better in one month. He was completely healed in six."

"How does this healing work? Does it reverse damage or renew injured
tissue?"

"I don't know. I only know that Dmitri's brain is no longer damaged
and that his blood vessels are no longer blocked."

"Alex said there is an emotional component involved in the process.
How does that work?"

"Dr. Scully, this is not medicine. I cannot give you the organic
make-up of my love for my son and explain how it made the dead cells
come back to life. There  are not chemicals in your feeling for Mulder
that will mix with electricity from Alex. The only thing I can tell
you is that if your tie to Fox Mulder is as strong as Alex thinks it
is, you and he should be able to heal him."

"Alex, will the past ... the animosity you had for each other for so
long, will  it keep this from working?"

Anna began to speak, but Krycek, with a brutal gesture, silenced her.
Scully looked across the table at him, shocked by his intensity, but
he was looking at  his aunt with a fierce scowl. They spoke together
in heated Russian for a minute, but neither translated for Scully when
they finished. Anna looked angry, Alex determined and Dmitri unhappy.

"Fine," Anna said. "Dr. Scully, do you want to try this? I can't
promise it will work, but Mulder will be no worse off than he was
before if it doesn't. And Alex's feelings for Mulder will be of no
consequence." She said this last rather brittlely and shot a dirty
look at Krycek.

"I have a few more questions and then I'd like to go to bed and sleep
on it," Scully said quietly. She resented not being told what had
passed between them.

"Ask your questions, then," said Anna.

"What type of materials do we need and where do we get them? And what
is the exact nature of the procedure?"

"Gold is universal in healing-- all the times I've seen the healing
done, gold has been the base material. Sometimes gold is enough, other
times there is another problem or a second injury that blocks the
healing and another material  is used to strengthen the gold and send
the healing where it is needed."

"I don't understand that. How can things like the stone in Dmitri's
ring operate that way?"

Anna considered her answer to Scully's question for a short time. "If
a patient  of yours is sick with pneumonia, you give antibiotics, yes?
But not the same kind of antibiotics you give to a patient with an
infected ear. The ear and the  lungs are different, and the bacteria
making the sickness is different. So the patients, they need different
medicines. So with the healing. Where it goes and  what it needs to do
tells us what kind of material to use."

"What does the carnelian do, then?"

"We say it purifies the blood, washes away those things that make
blood thicken  and the vessels weak."

"Would gold be enough for Mulder?"

"Alex should answer that question," Anna replied with a slight
challenge in her  voice. "I want to be sure he understands what needs
to be done."

"Hang on a minute, I need some things from upstairs," Krycek said.
When he returned, he was carrying papers tucked into a manila folder.
He was also wearing his glasses again and Anna commented on them,
saying he hadn't needed them during his last visit.

"What can I say, it sucks to get old," he said with a warm smile for
his aged relative. "How about you fix my eyes for me like you fixed
Dmitri?"

"That won't work and you know it, 'Sandr. Now what are these papers
you are squinting over?"

"Copies of Mulder's medical records, the ones from the hospital where
he was first treated and from the hospital he's in now." Krycek sat
down and spread the papers on the table so that Anna and Scully could
see them, Dmitri having excused himself from the discussion and
retiring to his room.

"I need  Scully to explain some of it to me first. I want to be sure
I understand all of it." Scully picked up the initial neurology
reports from the day Mulder had been injured and walked Alex and Anna
through the descriptions of the initial damage, with Alex translating
if Anna felt the English version wasn't as clear as she wanted. Scully
went into details about the subsequent treatments and further
potential for damage caused by prolonged unconsciousness 
and ended by giving a minute description of Mulder's current state.

"So, now, Mulder, his brain is not receiving signals from his body at
all or only a little bit?" Anna asked when Scully had finished and
Alex had done the last translation.

"Not as far as we can tell. Mulder has no voluntary control over any
part of his body. He blinks sporadically, but we have to put drops in
his eyes and tape  them sometimes to keep them moist. He doesn't
swallow mechanically, so we sort of massage his throat to stimulate
the response and we can get a fairly soft diet in him that way. It
keeps us from having to insert a feeding tube and dealing with all the
complications that causes, although as his systems deteriorate, we'll
probably have to put one in."

"But he isn't being kept alive, is he? No breathing help?"

"No, he breathes independently."

Alex studied the notes he had taken during Scully's dissertation and
he and Anna spoke together for a few minutes. At length, he took off
his glasses and leaned back in his chair, rolling his neck from side
to side to ease the tension that had built up during the evening.

"Okay, Anna will tell me if I'm wrong, but here's my spin on this. The
right type of gold should be able to restore the damaged brain tissue,
whether it's regeneration or recovery. The sole deficit he has, the
one that's keeping him in the coma, is the head injury from the blunt
trauma, right?" he asked Scully.

"Right, we checked him very thoroughly for any other problems, given
his medical history," she answered with a tight smile.

"I need to know absolutely. There's nothing held over from when he was
sick, back in '99? Or chronic problems from the Network fiasco?"

"No, he's fine. He was fine. The system deterioration hasn't really
become pervasive yet. There's some damage to his kidneys from the
constant catheterization. The muscular atrophy can be addressed with
therapy after he's awake."

"If he wakes up," Anna interjected gently. "Remember that, Dr.
Scully."

"I know," she replied sharply. "Go ahead, Alex."

He gave her a quizzical look, but continued. "I think the gold will
be sufficient if there are no other problems that need to be dealt
with. I want to  acquire it here, where I can be sure the purity is
what it needs to be and Anna  can back me up. And I think we should
pick up a couple of tag-alongs, just in case anything else comes up."

"Tag-alongs?" Scully and Anna asked simultaneously.

Krycek said, "That's my term, in English, for something like the stone
in Dmitri's ring. A secondary material, to treat any contingent
problems. Like a piece of limestone to aid the kidney function or
calcite to strengthen the muscle tissue."

"Very good, Alex, you were paying attention all that time, eh?" Anna
said approvingly.

"A true wise man never stops learning, to paraphrase Michelangelo," he
said glibly and gave Scully a wink when she choked on her tea.

"So, Dr., you want to sleep on it. I want to sleep as well, so I will
bid you goodnight. Alex, please lock up the house before you go to
bed." Anna rose smoothly and walked to the door, pausing before she
left the room. "You and Alex finish talking. Have another cup of tea
or there is stronger to drink in the cupboard over the stove.
Goodnight, Dr. Scully, goodnight, 'Sandr." She stood beside Krycek for
a moment, murmuring in his ear in Russian, then patted his broad
shoulder and left the kitchen. They heard her footsteps on the stairs
immediately, then the creak of the hallway floor above their heads and
the soft  click of a door opening and closing. Alex went straight to
the cupboard Anna had mentioned and pulled down a bottle of whiskey.

"You want one?" he offered as he pulled open another cupboard to
search for a glass.

"Sure, why not?"

He poured two healthy glasses of the liquor and Scully poured both of
them more  tea. They sat silently, Scully sipping alternately at the
burning alcohol and the soothing, honey-laden tea. She tried to focus
on all she had learned that evening about the treatment Alex had
described, but found her mind returning relentlessly back to the
argument between Alex and Anna.

Krycek, meanwhile, ignored the tea entirely and was staring moodily
into his glass of whiskey when he wasn't gulping it down. He finished
his drink before Scully had taken a quarter of hers and went back to
the cupboard for another. She watched him walk across the expansive
kitchen and felt certain that something besides fatigue was wearing
heavily on him, stooping his shoulders and slowing his step. He came
back with his drink and was about to sit down when he muttered, "Fuck
it," and went back to bring the bottle to the table.

"Well, Dr. Scully, if you've got any more questions for me tonight,
you better get 'em in quick. I plan on being completely shit-faced in
about ten minutes."

She watched him toss back half the glass and wipe his mouth with the
back of his hand. He got up from the table again and left the room,
coming back in with  his jacket and a cigarette pack.

"I thought you didn't really smoke?"

"Only when I'm getting drunk," he smiled in the familiar cold way. "I
like to lump all my vices together." He offered the pack to her, but
she shook her head.

"I'm not getting drunk tonight," she said bluntly.

"Good, then you can put me to bed after I pass out." He lit the
cigarette, then  headed over to the door that led out to the yard. He
leaned against the jamb, smoking silently and Scully felt she had
become invisible and irrelevant. He lit a second cigarette  from the
ember of the first, and she decided not to wait to continue their
discussion.	

"Alex," she began, but his bark of laughter cut her off.  "What?"

"You, calling me 'Alex'. It just sounds so damn funny. It sounds like
we're buddies now, Daaana." He drawled the 'day' sound out mockingly
and it grated against her.

"I wouldn't say we were buddies, so if you prefer 'Kryyycek', I'll be
happy to oblige," she retorted as snottily as if she were twelve.

He snorted in laughter again. "Be useful for a minute and get me my
glass, would you?" he asked.

"Fine, Souse." She got it from the table and handed it over, thinking
a few more drinks would probably get her answers to some long-standing
questions. He must have followed her thoughts, because he shot down
the rest of the liquid and handed it to her with a crooked smile. 

"Could I get a refill? And, in case you were wondering, booze doesn't
make me get all cozy and confessional. I just get quiet and mean."

It was her turn to snort, but she took the glass anyway and filled it
from the bottle on the table. She handed it to him and he took a long
swallow, holding the glass with the same hand that held his cigarette.
His other hand, the one that had been cut off, was held limply at his
side. He saw that she was looking  there and flushed.

"I know, it's a habit. Sometimes I really don't remember that it's
there. It's like the opposite of phantom pain." He laughed lightly,
almost a giggle. "Maybe  I'll call it  Phantom Stump Syndrome. You can
write about it in one of your brainiac journals." 

Scully bit her lip to keep from smiling at his almost-slurring voice.
A drunk Alex Krycek should be quite interesting, she thought. 

He tossed the second cigarette stub into the yard and headed back to
the table.  His gait was steady, but she could tell by the glassy look
to his eyes that the  liquor was settling in nicely. He poured his
fourth drink and knocked back half  of it, using his hand as a napkin
again.

"So is now a good time to ask you questions, Aaalex?" she teased.

He met her gaze a bit blearily and smiled sloppily. "Not about
anything requiring a lot of thought."

"Well, then, I guess my first question is, how much thought does Lisa
require?"

He froze with his glass at his mouth and met her eyes over the rim. He
broke the gaze and said in a dark tone, "You don't want to go asking
questions about Lisa, Scully,  I promise you that." Sparks of rage
replaced the glassy look in his eyes, but she refused to let him
intimidate her.

"Touchy subject, I can tell, but what does she have to do with
Mulder?"

He looked stunned for a moment, then laughed loud and long and soon
there were tears streaming down his cheeks. When he was able, he said
"That is just fucking priceless. What does Lisa have to do with
Mulder? Lisa and Mulder...well, fuck me, that is the perfect
question."

"God dammit, Krycek, answer me. Who is she?"

"'Who is she?' the good doctor asks innocently. Well, I guess you
could say Lisa is...Lisa is the bane of my existence. Lisa has sent me
to heaven and hell  and back again more times than I can count. And
Lisa is nothing to Mulder."

"Was she someone you love?"

Another burst of laughter and Krycek nodded. "Yes, that's what Lisa
is. Someone  I love. Who, unfortunately for me, doesn't exist
anymore."

Scully hesitated before asking the obvious question. "Is she dead?"

"Is Lisa dead? Lisa is dead to everyone in the world except me. But
that's probably because Lisa only existed for me. And now there is no
Lisa. And the only other person who knew the Lisa I knew would deny
that there ever was a Lisa."

"Christ, Alex, how drunk are you?" Scully asked indignantly. "You're
talking gibberish."

"I'm pretty well ripped. And I'm going to get drunker before the night
is over.  Care to join me, Daaana? I'd like to see you drunk once,
just to see if anything can shake you loose."

"You never answered my question."

"About Lisa? Sure I did. Lisa is nothing to Mulder. And nothing for
you to worry your pretty head about."

"You're being incredibly obnoxious."

"I know. I'm trying to piss you off."

"It's working," and she poured a little more whiskey into her own
glass. "Why do you want to piss me off, Kryyyycek?"

"God, why wouldn't I? You're so smooth and unruffled. You're
passionless and practical." He looked at her appraisingly, then, with
a wicked grin, asked "I'll bet you've never come in your life, have
you?"

After a moment's shocked speechlessness, she screeched, "You
son-of-a-bitch..."

"That's better. See how fun it is to feel passionate about something,
Agent Scully?"

"What the hell is the matter with you?"

"You're the matter with me," he snarled, suddenly leaning across the
table to glare into her face. "You're everything that's the matter
with me." He slammed the now-empty glass down and it shattered on the
table, cutting his hand. "You talk about the damage done to Mulder, to
that beautiful, dazzling mind of his, so calmly and rationally, like
it wasn't worth the breath in your body to bring  him back. You look
at me like I'm filth because of things I've done but I've
never betrayed anyone I loved the way you did. And you never had to
pay for that the way I've had to pay for my sins. And that pisses me
off beyond belief." He slammed his still-bleeding hand on the table in
front of her and she jumped back, sure his next strike would be at
her.  Instead, he pushed back  from the table, knocking the chair over
as he stalked to the door again, slinging his jacket on and slamming
the door as he walked out.

****************

Scully was awakened the next morning by Anna calling gently through
the door. She tossed on her robe and called the older woman in.

"Dr. Scully, I'm sorry to wake you , but do you know where Aleksandr
is?"

"No, Anna, I'm sorry, I don't."

"Did he go somewhere last night? His bed is not slept in."

Scully looked down as memories of Krycek's anger came back. "He left
the house around midnight. I don't know if he came back or not."

"He left? Where did he go?"

"I don't know. He...he was angry and he'd been drinking quite a bit.
Are the cars all here?"

"I haven't checked yet," Anna replied and she moved to the door.

"Wait, I'll get dressed and go with you." Scully grabbed her sweats
from the night before and pulled them over her pajamas. Then she and
Anna went down to the kitchen and out the door to the yard. The cars
and pick-up were in their same spots but a pair of feet in Reeboks
hung off the bed of the truck. Anna frowned and she and Scully stepped
over to peer in. Krycek lay sprawled, sleeping heavily and snoring
loudly. Scully bit back a giggle as Anna gently shook him.  He jerked
awake immediately and sat up, then groaned and fell back. 
Anna spoke to him briefly, then said to Scully, "He'll go back to
sleep once he's in a proper bed. Help me with him."

They each grabbed one of his hands and pulled Krycek back to sitting.
He yanked  free of them and buried his head in his lap, wrapping his
hands around the back  of his neck and groaning again.

"Come, Alex," Anna coaxed. "You go to bed inside. You'll fell better
in your own bed."

He pulled his head up and scooted off the truck, grunting painfully
when his feet jarred onto the ground. He took about a dozen steps,
then suddenly turned away from the two women and vomited into a
convenient flower bed.

"Well, that was charming," Scully commented when he was done.

"Fuck off," he croaked without looking at her.

When they got into the kitchen he stepped to the sink and drank
greedily from the tap, then cupped water in his hands and scrubbed at
his stubbled, pasty face. Without a word, he left the kitchen and
climbed the stairs. Anna and Scully stayed behind, listening to Alex's
door close then his shoes hitting the  floor.

"We'll let him sleep till lunch time. He should feel better by then,"
Anna said  as she began setting breakfast items on the table.

"Sit, Dr. Scully. Would you like tea or coffee?"

"Tea, please, Anna, but let me help," and Scully moved to the cooking
area, filling the kettle while Anna pulled cups and saucers from a
shelf.

"Where is Fyenna today?" she asked.

"She comes at 10:00, after breakfast. We get our own usually. With a
guest in the house, I make a little more special then for just Dmitri
and I."

"I don't really eat much at breakfast," Scully interjected. "Just make
what Alex will eat later. And if there's any bread left from
yesterday, I'll have toast."

Anna finished making tea and she and Scully sat down at the table.
They sipped in a comfortable quiet for some minutes until Anna spoke
up.

"So, Aleksandr was drinking last night, yes? Whiskey?"

"Yes, lots of whiskey."

"I thought maybe you and he might talk a little more. About Mulder and
the healing."

"No, he started right after you left us."

"Was he still angry after I left?"

Scully thought for a moment, then answered, "Not at first. I think he
was unhappy or upset about...well, about whatever you and he were
discussing last night."

"Yes, he was unhappy about that."

"May I ask an impertinent question, Anna?"

The old woman nodded and Scully plunged in.

"Who is Lisa? Alex wouldn't tell me much, but I can see she has
something to do  with Mulder and Alex. And I need to know what."

Anna's eyes widened in surprise and she set her cup down abruptly.
"What did Aleksandr say about Lisa?"

"Nothing I could understand. He said he had loved her but that she was
gone and  that she had nothing to do with Mulder."

"You can believe what Alex tells you about...about Lisa. He would
never lie about that."

Scully set her tea down and rose form her chair, pacing the length of
the kitchen. "I don't know what to think about Alex anymore, Anna. The
man I see here, with you, is vastly different from the ruthless,
brutal man I've known for so long. Alex Krycek was vicious and cruel.
He killed people, Anna, and..."

"Stop," Anna barked sharply. "Dr. Scully, it is for Alex to tell me or
not about his past, not you." She fixed Scully with a stern gaze, then
continued. "I know he was different when you first knew him. But he is
also different now.  The Aleksandr that came to me five years ago,
that man was not vicious or ruthless. He was broken and in pain and he
needed to be healed as much as your friend Mulder, maybe even more
than that."

"His arm..."

"Pah, not his body, Dr. Scully. The heart and the mind and the soul
can suffer,  you know that. Alex was hurt in them all. He had
lost...he had lost everything that kept him sane. I think he came
here, to his family's home, to die. I know he wanted no more of this
world when Dmitri and I found him."

"Because of Lisa? Did she die? Or did she hurt him?"

"Lisa is only part of what happened to Alex. I don't know all of it,
each person knows his own story best, but I can tell some of Alex's,
and you should know some of it." Anna said. "Please, sit down. I think
it will help in understanding Alex and that may help in trusting."

Scully returned to her seat at the table and Anna freshened both cups
of tea before she began telling the story. "You know Alex was born in
America, yes?"

"Yes, in Ohio."

"Yes. His father, Mikhail, was my nephew. After he married Ivana,
Alex's mother, they left to live in Czechoslovakia. Mikhail wanted to
get out from under the Soviets, but they were pushing into
Czechoslovakia soon after they got there and so he and Ivana slipped
away, first to France and then to the States. And Aleksandr was born
soon after. Mikhail kept in touch some, but it wasn't very safe to
write many letters back then. He told us, though, when each 
baby was born and he told me, in particular, if any of them showed
signs of the  healing gift. He didn't see it in Aleksandr - I'm sorry
to say Mikhail was not very observant or terribly bright. But he said
both girls, Elena and Elisaveta,  were promising. So we went on like
that, letters here and there. I have one from Ivana, with a picture of
Aleksandr graduating from high school. She was so  proud of him, of
his brains and his music. I started getting fewer and fewer
letters the next years. I knew Elena, the older daughter, was giving
Ivana and Mikhail worry, with boys and drugs. I didn't know how bad
things were until 1987, when the first terrible thing happened." Anna
drank deeply from her cooling tea and nodded when Scully offered to
warm it.

"I got a phone call from Ivana, the first ever. She said that
Elisaveta was dead and that Elena had killed her and then tried to
kill herself. Elena was in  the hospital, not just for her injuries
but because she was so unstable. No one  ever figured out what
happened to her, why she went so crazy. Ivana thought it
was the drugs. And I know that many of those with the power to give
life don't have the same hesitation about taking life as others." Anna
paused with a weary  sigh, then went on.

"So, Aleksandr went back to work in Washington and Elena, after her
wounds healed, was sent away to a prison for mental patients. But
then, 6 months after  Elisaveta's death, we got news that Mikhail was
dead, that he had been murdered  horribly. Alex quit his job in
Washington, then. I think he tried to find Mikhail's killer. After
that, we didn't hear anymore from America. I sent a few 
letters to Ivana, but she never answered them and then the letters
came back. We lost all track of them, Ivana and Alex and Elena until
about four years ago."

"2004," Scully put in. "When Alex says he came here."

"Yes. He came to Russia, whether to hide or to see his family's home,
I don't know. I only know one day there was a man asleep in the woods
by the far field who looked like the ghost of Stefan and Mikhail. He
was covered in bruises and dry blood and Dmitri half-carried him up to
the house. He said he'd been in a bar fight, over a game of darts."

"That sounds like the Alex I know," Scully said.

Anna gave a small smile, then went on. "He didn't tell us much about
himself. I  learned that Ivana was dead, too. She killed herself not
long after Mikhail's death. So Aleksandr was quite alone. Elena is
still in the prison, but he never  sees her. He said that he wanted to
go somewhere quiet and away from too many people. So he stayed here.
He farmed with Dmitri and played darts in the pub in  town and
eventually he told me about Lisa."

"What about her?"

"I can't tell you much, Alex wouldn't want that. But I can tell you
that he loved Lisa and I'm certain Lisa loved him. But Lisa left him
to go back to someone else. And that took the last bit of peace out of
Aleksandr's soul. He came to us broken, Dr. Scully."

(Continued in part 4)