From: Cynthia Hoffman Date: Wed, 10 Nov 1999 17:45:57 -0800 Subject: Pawns and Players (11/20) Disclaimers, etc. in Part 0 ****** "Did you really kill Agent Mulder's father?" Spender suddenly asked. Krycek raised an eyebrow. "Does it really matter?" Spender thought for a moment. "Yes." Krycek looked meaningfully at Skinner. The Assistant Director had remained just inside the doorway, guarding the entrance and listening impassively to the conversation. "I'll be waiting outside, Agent Spender," the AD advised, with obvious reluctance. "Let me know when you're finished." Krycek waited until the door had closed behind him. He activated the jammer in his pocket. He didn't think there was any surveillance in the room, apart from what he himself had set up, but it never paid to take unnecessary chances. He lowered his voice, until it was barely audible over the humming of the jamming device. The buzzing sound would ensure that even if Skinner was trying to eavesdrop, he wouldn't be able to hear anything. "This is just between you and me, Jeffrey. Breathe a word of it to anyone else -- especially Agent Mulder -- and you can forget about my help. I'll deny every word. And you won't have to worry about dear old dad, because I'll kill you myself. Some information can be deadly to the recipient. You still want to know?" "Yes," came the almost inaudible response. "The answer to your question is yes. I did." Spender stared at him, wide-eyed. "You don't even sound the least bit sorry," he murmured. "I'm not. There are a few deaths I've regretted, but Bill Mulder's is not one of them. There is no room for second thoughts in this business. You make your decisions and you live with them. Or, if you can't live with them anymore, you die with them. But you don't take your son down with you." "Your son," Jeffrey echoed in surprise; then, at Krycek's warning look, he hushed his voice. "Fox Mulder?" Krycek nodded. "Bill Mulder was an integral part of the Project for many years. He and your father worked hand-in-hand for decades, sacrificing family members, organizing the experiments, providing test subjects for the aliens, doing whatever was necessary to protect their secrets. Then he suddenly decided that he wanted to confide all in his son. Whether he was motivated by an attack of conscience or a sudden loss of nerve, no one will ever know. But he resolved to brief his son Fox on everything he knew about the Project and its ramifications. That could not be permitted to happen. If he had succeeded, then either Fox Mulder would have had to become a player in the Consortium -- something he was wholly unsuited-for, in terms of his personality and temperament -- or he would have been killed. By killing Bill Mulder before he could impart that information, I probably saved his son's life." "So you killed him for Fox Mulder's sake?" Spender queried. "No! I killed him because those were my orders, Jeff. Don't make me out to be something I'm not. At the time, I was your father's hired muscle, and when he said shoot, I pulled the trigger." "But --" "I was explaining why I don't regret the killing," Krycek continued in the same hushed, almost mesmerizing, voice. "Bill Mulder was a player. For many years, he played the game as effectively and ruthlessly as anyone. He knew that if he spoke to his son, it would make Fox a target, one way or another. And yet, he was willing to place his son in jeopardy, purely for his own selfish reasons. So -- no, I don't regret killing the man at all." Jeffrey shook his head. To be able to kill another human being, and remain so cool, so calm and unruffled by it -- it was hard for him to understand. Krycek terrified him... but at the same time, he was overawed by the man. "Agent Scully's sister?" he asked hoarsely, wondering why he was doing this. He was far more troubled by this conversation than the man who'd just confessed to an assassination. "I didn't kill her. A man named Luis Cardinale killed her. Agent Scully knows that, too." "But you were involved." It was not quite a question. "Yes. I was backup for Cardinale. Your father didn't quite trust me to handle the hit because I knew the parties involved. Though he made an exception in your case, he usually prefers impersonal hits. More professional that way. I suppose they told you the target was supposed to be Agent Scully?" Spender nodded mutely. "Your father would have preferred to let Cardinale handle the hit on Mulder's father for the same reason. But he didn't have time. That job came up quite suddenly, and Cardinale was overseas at the time. So it fell to me." Krycek paused. "Any more questions?" There was just the hint of an edge to his words. Spender remained silent, digesting what he'd been told. "So, Jeffrey, what's it to be? We both know I can protect you, and the FBI can't. I've explained why it's in my interest to do so. Do you want my help?" Another long moment of silence. Then, almost inaudibly, "Yes." "Okay. It'll take me a few days to arrange things, but you're not going anywhere for a few days anyway. I'll firm up the arrangements with AD Skinner; he can let you know the details we work out. It's too dangerous for me to come to the hospital again -- your father might be having the place watched -- so Skinner will act as go-between. When you're ready to leave the hospital, he'll deliver you to me at a time and place known only to Skinner, Mulder, Scully and myself. Is that okay with you?" "Yeah. Thanks, Alex." He paused, hesitantly. "Thanks for answering my questions." "You're welcome. Just remember what I said." "I won't breathe a word." Krycek turned for the door. "I'd better leave. You should get some sleep, and I should get out of here before I have to make explanations I'd rather not make. Good night, Jeffrey." "Night, Alex," Spender gave a tentative wave as Krycek slipped out the door. ****** Krycek paused briefly to exchange a few words with Skinner, leaving the hospital only minutes before Mulder and Scully returned from their coffee run. As the Agents returned, laden with cups of coffee for the entire FBI complement, Skinner gratefully relieved them of the espresso they had brought for him. The three walked back into Spender's room. Jeffrey was wide awake, his bed propped up slightly so he could see them without straining. "Krycek was here," he started without preamble. "Where?!" Mulder reached automatically for his gun as he looked around wildly for his elusive adversary. "He's gone, Agent Mulder," Skinner said calmly. "He waited until you left to have a few words with Spender." "What did he say?" Mulder demanded. "He wanted to know if I had any questions about his offer," Jeffrey said. "I asked him why he had saved me, and why I should trust him to save me again." "And did he answer your questions?" Scully asked. Jeffrey nodded. "Yes...basically. He thinks he can use me against my father. I don't really have any objections to that, so I've decided to accept his offer." "Agent Spender --" Mulder began, but Jeffrey weakly raised his hand, fending him off. "Please, Agent Mulder. I know there's bad blood between you and Alex Krycek. And anyone can see that he's a dangerous, ruthless man. But I think he can protect me, and I doubt the FBI can. And after talking to him, I think that he really wants to protect me, for his own reasons. And if he can use me to screw my father's plans, I'd kind of like to be a part of that." Mulder and Scully looked helplessly at Skinner, hoping he would protest this insanity, but it was obvious that Skinner had heard this before. He shrugged. "It's out of my hands, Agents. Jeffrey Spender has resigned from the FBI, and he can make his own decisions. And unless you're suggesting that I withdraw protection and leave him here undefended, I don't see that we have much choice other than to accede to his wishes in this." "Sir, you know that Krycek cannot be trusted! This is madness!" "It's Agent Spender's choice. Krycek said it would take a few days to get the arrangements made, but he wants to meet with the three of us tomorrow night, to go over the details. I said we'd be there." "Sir --" "I think we owe it to Agent Spender to give him every chance to get away safely. If this is what he wants, I think we have no choice but to cooperate with Krycek." Unspoken was the implicit admission that Skinner had no more faith in the FBI's ability to protect Spender than his agents did. "And if we do meet with Krycek, we may learn something to our advantage. If he is planning something, perhaps he'll let something slip." "I don't like it," Mulder said stubbornly. "I don't like it either," Skinner admitted. "But I see no alternative." ****** ****** The deserted storage facility fairly screamed "trap". Mulder, Scully and Skinner uneasily scrutinized their surroundings as they slowly tracked through the empty parking lot on their way to the darkened office. The one story office was only about twenty-five feet from the parking lot, but the walk seemed to take an eternity. Mulder found himself clutching at his gun for reassurance. He wouldn't have been surprised if they had found themselves suddenly illuminated by spotlights and in the middle of a shooting gallery. In a way, he would almost have preferred it to the eerie silence. Nonetheless, they reached the door without incident. By silent agreement, Skinner took the lead and knocked on the door. When there was no response, he knocked again, more loudly this time. The sound echoed loudly in the stillness of the night. "Bastard's playing games as usual." Mulder scowled. Experimentally, Skinner tried the door handle. The knob turned easily; the door was unlocked. The three looked at each other, then drew their guns. This time, when Skinner tried to lead them inside, Mulder reached out a hand to stop him. "No, sir. Let me do it." Without waiting for an argument, Mulder pushed his way in front. "Cover me," he whispered, just before he threw the door open and dove inside, breaking to the right. Scully angled to the left behind him. Skinner stayed at the door, gun in hand, ensuring they were not surprised from the rear. The office was dark and empty. From the other side, light spilled through a door which was partially ajar, providing a faint illumination. "Come in, Mulder." Krycek's voice issued from the far room. "You're early." "So are you," Mulder rejoined, his eyes darting around to inspect their surroundings. The FBI contingent had elected to show up a half hour early, to frustrate any possible traps, but it seemed that Krycek had anticipated them. Everything looked safe enough, but with Krycek involved, Mulder knew better than to make any assumptions. He remained watchful, the gun still in his hand. Off to one side, he saw that Scully was being equally cautious, her gun also drawn as she carefully checked for unwelcome surprises. He watched as she quickly glanced through the open, lighted doorway leading to the next room. Skinner slipped inside. "All quiet out there," he reported. "We found Krycek," Scully explained, nodding toward the other room. She was still standing just to one side of the doorway. "And you're wasting time," Krycek snapped. "Let's get on with it." Mulder, Scully and Skinner halted at the open doorway with guns still drawn, carefully eyeballing the surroundings before venturing inside. They found themselves staring at a perfectly ordinary conference room, defined by the perfectly ordinary, large oak conference table and surrounding chairs that occupied most of the space. The table was bare, except for a stack of legal-length yellow pads and some pens and pencils. The only surreal element marring the absurd normality of the scene before them was the black-clad assassin seated at the far end of the table with pen and legal pad, sipping a Coke. Krycek showed no overt signs of being armed, which of course meant nothing. Still, the absence of any overt firepower suggested that perhaps this was, indeed, intended to be a meeting and not a trap. Krycek let the three of them stare at him for over a minute before he decided that he'd had quite enough of that. "Well? Are you going to stand by the door all night? There are drinks over there if you want anything." He nodded toward the side wall, where there was a tray of sodas, together with a pitcher of ice. He ignored the three guns trained on him with admirable aplomb, knowing that his visitors would find this business-like persona far more unsettling than that of the assassin they knew. "I think we'll pass," Skinner said gruffly. His eyes locked on the small Palm Pilot lying on the table in front of Krycek. He glanced at Krycek's cheerful face, then looked hastily away. "You might as well drop the *good host* routine, Krycek," Mulder snarled. "It doesn't suit you." The agent was so wrapped up in his usual antipathy that Krycek was sure he'd missed Skinner's reaction entirely. "So, who's looking after Jeffrey while you're all out playing cops and robbers?" Krycek countered politely. He couldn't resist twisting the knife a little. "Why the hell do you care?" Mulder demanded. "You don't give a damn about Jeffrey Spender. What game are you playing this time, Krycek?" "You wrong me, Mulder. Jeffrey Spender's health is a matter of great concern to me at the moment." Krycek didn't press the question. His allies had the entire 7th floor of the hospital under surveillance; if there were any problems, they would inform him and deal with the situation as needed. Not that he thought it would come to that. Best information suggested that after the last setback, Old Smoky would wait until the chances for a successful outcome had improved, meaning he would wait until Junior was released from the hospital. Which was, after all, the entire point of this meeting. "Why, Krycek?" This time it was Scully; they were tag-teaming him. "Why this concern for the son of a man you regard as your enemy? You do regard CGB Spender as your enemy now, don't you?" "That's not a real name either, you know," Krycek remarked casually. "Just another alias. I don't know if even he remembers his real name at this point. He's been playing the game for so long." "Just answer the question, Krycek," Mulder groused. "Why help Jeffrey Spender?" "Because his father wants him dead," Krycek replied simply. "And contrary to your opinion, the Smoker doesn't kill people that lightly. If he wants his son dead, there has to be a reason. Something that can be used against him. And I intend to learn what that is." "And use it against him?" Scully asked. Krycek nodded. "That is the general idea." "Just who are you working for these days anyway, Krycek?" Mulder demanded. "Not the Smoker, obviously." "Obviously." Krycek smirked in what he knew to be his most annoying way. Mulder's hand fisted in response. "Well, Krycek? Going to answer the question?" Mulder pressed. It was clear the agent was using what little self-control he possessed to restrain himself from crossing the room and beating some answers out of his former partner. "Who's holding your leash these days?" Krycek declined to rise to the bait. "Let's just say that you and I have some interests in common, Mulder. Neither one of us wants to play host to a bunch of alien invaders. Hospitality is all well and good, but these guys give visitors a bad name." "Alien invaders?" Scully said doubtfully. Krycek grinned cheerfully at her. "Ever the skeptic, Agent Scully? Even after Antarctica? You know, I bet you'll probably still be looking for safe, mundane, scientific explanations when ET phones your neck implant and calls you home to play Mommy to a bunch of baby aliens." Scully instinctively clapped her hand to the back of her neck. Mulder glared daggers at Krycek. "What the hell do you know about Scully's implant?" "I know what it does," Krycek replied, unruffled. "Hell of a catch-22, isn't it, Scully? Remove it, and you die of cancer; leave it alone, and you live on the sufferance of the alien colonists, until they have need of you. Reality bites sometimes, you know?" Mulder was out of his chair and had his fists twisted in Krycek's collar almost before he finished the sentence. "This is your fault," he seethed. "You did this to her!" "No, you did," Krycek retorted around Mulder's choke hold. "If you hadn't been so damned curious, stuck your nose where it wasn't wanted, they wouldn't have chosen her. They wanted to control you. And now they do." He glared back at Mulder, making no attempt to pull free of the hands gripping at his neck. "Agent Mulder --" Skinner had kept silent throughout the meeting, but he finally injected a cautionary note. "Let him go, Mulder," Scully added. "He's not worth it. Besides, there's nothing we can do about it now." Mulder gave Krycek one more hate-filled glance, then slammed him back into his chair. "This isn't what we came here for, Krycek," Skinner declared. "I thought you called this meeting to discuss the arrangements for Agent Spender." "I did," Krycek agreed, rubbing his neck. He started to cough; took a few sips of soda to settle himself. He had no doubt the reddened imprint of Mulder's hands was plainly visible on his bruised flesh. "Now that we've exchanged the usual pleasantries..." He removed a folder from the briefcase beside his chair and slid it across the table. "This file contains all the relevant details. Hospital procedure is to authorize discharges at 7 am. The morning that the doctors authorize Spender's release from the hospital, you call me at the number on the inside cover between 7 and 8 am. I'll be waiting at the safe house from 11 am onward that day. Arrange for Jeffrey to be discharged at 10 am. You will provide transportation to the safe house. Take a very roundabout route and make sure you're not followed. That will be your responsibility, Skinner -- and I don't want anyone other than the three of you to know the final location. You got that? You arrange for a decoy, whatever -- I leave the details in your capable hands. But have these two deliver Jeffrey Spender to that house after 11 am on the day of his release, and I'll take things from there." "This address," Skinner frowned. "I know this area of Maryland. They're very grand houses, but it's still a very well-populated area. Not the best place to maintain a low profile and hide someone indefinitely." "No kidding. That's why we won't be staying there more than a day or two at most. Jeffrey Spender is going to disappear completely. This is only Phase 1. You don't need to know anything about Phase II." Krycek watched them in silence, drinking his Coke, as the FBI trio poured over the file. They quizzed Krycek further on some of the details, but as he'd expected, they were forced to reluctantly admit that the plan was sound. They bounced around some possible decoy ideas, even grudgingly allowed Krycek to offer up some ideas of his own. After about two hours, they had reached a consensus on how the operation should be handled, and not a moment too soon. Krycek had had quite enough veiled -- and unveiled -- hostility for one night. And there was still one more thing to be done before it was over. "I think that's all, folks," he said cheerfully. "You'd better get back to the hospital. I'll see you in a couple of days." "So help me, Krycek, if this turns out to be just another one of your schemes --" Mulder began. "Yeah, yeah, I know the drill, Mulder. You'll beat the crap out of me. You just handle your end. I'll take care of the rest." The three turned to leave and were almost to the door when Krycek spoke again. "Hey, Skinner? There's something else I'd like to discuss with you. Let Mulder and Scully go on ahead." "We'll all stay and hear," Mulder drawled, turning back. "This doesn't concern you, Mulder," Krycek retorted. "This has to do with certain administrative aspects of the problem. Go back to the hospital before our old friend Smoky realizes that he can get to the kid without knocking you off." "Sir?" Scully hesitated, looking to Skinner for direction. "It's okay, Agents," he replied. "Go ahead. I was heading back to the office to finish a few things from here anyway. I'll meet you back at the hospital tomorrow morning." Krycek waited until he heard the outside door slam shut. Then he crossed the room, ignoring Skinner, to go lock the door. "Just wanted to make sure we're not disturbed," he said calmly. Skinner glared at him. "All right, Krycek. What's so important that you couldn't discuss it in front of Mulder and Scully?" Krycek smiled. He'd been waiting all night for this moment. "Well, you see, Walter: I'm afraid the plan isn't going to go quite the way I described it. I have some special orders for you." ****** ****** Skinner listened with alarm and dismay as Krycek calmly outlined his real plans and Skinner's part in them. This was even worse than he'd imagined -- despite the fact that his imagination had been working overtime from the moment he'd discovered Krycek in Jeffrey Spender's hospital room. "I can't do that!" he gasped. "You're out of your mind, Krycek!" They had returned to the conference room after Mulder and Scully's departure, this time seated in adjoining seats. "Of course you can," Krycek corrected him frostily. "And you will. You have no choice in the matter." He glanced down at his hand. "I don't know even know where the man is," Skinner protested. "How do you expect me to contact him?" "You're a bright guy, Skinner. You'll figure something out." "I should have known you'd never really change," Skinner raged between clenched teeth. "You always were a goddamn, double-crossing bastard, and you're still a goddamn, double-crossing bastard." Krycek tsked at him. "Walter, I'm shocked at your use of language. Now, will you do it, or do I have to make other arrangements?" He didn't look down this time, but his hand lightly tapped at the small Palm Pilot that had rested on the table beside him through the entire meeting. "You leave me no choice," Skinner said painfully. "Damn you, Krycek!" "No choice at all. And I don't want to have to remind you of that again. I'm sick and tired of this dance routine. When I tell you to do something, I don't want to hear an argument. I get enough of that from Mulder." "I do have one question, though." Krycek's eyes bored into him, neither inviting nor discouraging inquiry. "Why? Why these elaborate arrangements? Why not just take your gun out and shoot Jeffrey Spender yourself? You're certainly capable of it. Why bring his father back into the picture? And why in hell did you interfere with the men the Smoker sent to finish him?" "I don't really see why I should answer your questions," Krycek replied. He had now picked up the Palm Pilot and was fingering it casually. "Indulge me," Skinner said bitterly. He was angry enough to ignore the implied threat. Krycek shrugged. "If you insist." He dropped the Palm Pilot back on the table, his bluff called. "It's quite simple, really, if you think about it. I want old Smoky to owe me a favor. If he has to do the dirty himself, I'll have something on him." "And what makes you think he'll do the job himself? What's to keep him from sending another team of hired assassins?" "Two things. First, good help is hard to find, and he's a little short at the moment. I saw to that personally." Krycek's sharklike grin oozed menace. "His backup team isn't nearly as good as those pathetic fools you saw lying about the hospital room; he'd never entrust them with so important a task. Secondly, because this is personal, and he likes to take care of personal business personally. Why do you think he tried to do Jeffrey himself at the Hoover building?" Skinner looked at Krycek with disgust. "You really are a loathsome piece of work, Krycek, you know that? Is there anyone you wouldn't sell? Anyone or anything you're loyal to, apart from yourself?" "Personally, I've always found loyalty to be a terrible encumbrance," Krycek answered. "It has a distressing tendency to get in the way of self-interest at the most inconvenient times. Same thing with so-called *morality*." His voice hardened. "Enough of this. I've indulged your curiousity, Skinner. You have your orders. Get out. And let me know when it's done." Skinner rose to his feet and towered over the smirking renegade for a moment, clenching and unclenching his fists. Then, with a snarled curse, he stormed out of the room. Krycek smiled as he watched the AD's departure, and poured himself another drink. Everything was working out just the way he had planned. ****** Skinner went back to the FBI office following the meeting with Krycek. Feeling more than a little nauseated, he set to work trying to locate the elusive Cancerman. He didn't have any kind of current address or phone number for the man, but Krycek hadn't seemed to think that would be an obstacle to locating him. Skinner called various contacts in DOD and the NSA, people he knew had been linked to the Smoker in the past. None of them seemed to have any information either -- at least, nothing they were willing to share with Skinner -- but they all agreed to pass along the message that Skinner was looking for him if they happened to come into contact. After two hours of chasing nonexistent leads, Skinner was ready to call it a night. He was physically and mentally drained. He almost considered leaving his car in the parking garage and calling a cab, but he didn't want to lose time getting to the hospital in the morning. Besides, driving might give him a chance to unwind. Despite his exhaustion, he still felt tightly wired. Damn Krycek for playing these games. Why couldn't the bastard just kill him and be done with it? He stepped out of the elevator and trudged slowly across the largely deserted parking area of Level 2. There were only a few cars left at this late hour, widely scattered about and barely visible in the dimly lit garage. As he passed one of the concrete pillars supporting the edifice, a figure stepped out of the shadows to join him. A second set of footsteps echoed as they walked toward his car. At the next pillar, his companion stopped, receding into the shadows once again. Reluctantly, Skinner followed. With careful deliberation, the Smoker struck a match and raised it to the unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He took a deep breath and exhaled with evident pleasure. Skinner watched him impatiently, but knew better than to give voice to his irritation. That precise deliberation of action was calculated to the nth degree: to show which of the men was in charge of this encounter. And given what Skinner had in mind, he could not afford to antagonize his companion. "You wanted to see me?" CGB Spender, or whatever his name was, had evidently had enough of playing games for the moment, and was ready to get down to business. "I have something you want," Skinner said without preamble. "Do you now," the Smoker commented, showing no visible reaction to the words. "And I'm prepared to let you have it. For a price," Skinner continued raggedly. Gods, he hated fencing with this man. "Are you?" The tone bespoke polite disinterest, but Skinner had not missed the flash in his eyes at the words. The Smoker was definitely intrigued. Of course, that hardly came as a surprise. "Yes. But if you're not interested --" Spender genially waved his hand in the air to stop him. "Not so hasty, Mr. Skinner. This item, in which you feel I may have some interest -- you can deliver it to me?" "No. I can't do that. But I can tell you when it's going to be delivered to a certain location." "Ah." Was that disappointment? Skinner didn't know why, but he suddenly sensed that he was losing his audience. "It's not a trap," he continued desperately. "You know that traps are not my style. It will be very lightly guarded; only four people know the location I'm speaking of. You'll never have a better chance of acquiring this item. After my colleagues and I deliver the item in question to the rendezvous point, it's likely to disappear almost immediately. If that happens, I don't think you're going to have much luck in recovering it." "Hmmm." The tone was noncommittal, but the Smoking Man puffed on his cigarette, lost in thought. Considering pros and cons, most likely, Skinner guessed. Still, the tension had almost reached the breaking point when he posed another question. "Of course, I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Skinner. But if I were in the slightest bit interested, what kind of price were you thinking about?" Skinner took a deep breath. This was the tough part. But he'd thought about it and thought about it, and this was the only way out. He was tired of being pushed around; tired of having his chain yanked whenever the mood hit Krycek. At least if he went down this way, he'd go down fighting. It was also the only way to give Jeffrey Spender at least a fighting chance. Of course, there was the danger that Krycek might have anticipated that his tame FBI puppet might go rogue on him; Krycek might have prepared some kind of *insurance* to take Skinner out if Krycek was killed. But it was worth the risk to be free of the man's control -- and he was not going to see an innocent man die to save his own skin, not if it was within his power to prevent it. So, in answer to the Smoker's question, he replied with two simple words. "Alex Krycek." The words seemed to hang in the air. "What about Mr. Krycek?" There was an edge to the CSM's question. "We're delivering the item in question to Krycek. He selected the rendezvous point. He apparently hopes to use it to exert some leverage over you." A pause. "I want you to take him out." The Smoker took a long drag on his cigarette. He regarded the AD with a thoughtful eye. "Mr. Skinner, you surprise me." "Will you do it?" The words were forced through clenched teeth. "Why do you want Mr. Krycek taken out?" "Let's just say that I have damn good reasons for wanting the son of a bitch dead," Skinner said harshly, leaving no doubt of his antagonism. "Look, will you do it, or won't you?" "Why?" the CSM pressed. "Why, Mr. Skinner?" "Because Krycek has something on me, damnit!" Skinner burst out. "And I'm sick and tired of dancing to the bastard's tune!" "Ah." The Smoker seemed to be considering whether he should press Skinner further, perhaps goad him into revealing more about the hold Krycek had on him. He was probably wondering if two could play at blackmail, Skinner thought bitterly. That was why he hadn't wanted to reveal even that small detail to the Smoker. But it had been wishful thinking to expect the Smoker to do his dirty work without an explanation. He wasn't surprised the information had been dragged out of him. Another puff on the cigarette, and the butt was dropped to the ground. The Smoker crushed it under his heel. He lit another cigarette, took another languorous puff. Skinner held his ground, with barely leashed impatience. "Well? Will you do it?" "Yes." Another slow, languid puff sent smoke wreathing the air. "I was planning to do it anyway. Mr. Krycek has been a considerable disappointment and annoyance to me. He has long outlived his usefulness." "What usefulness?" Skinner grumbled. "Do you have an address for me?" the Smoker asked politely. Skinner nodded; then named an address in an expensive part of Chevy Chase, Maryland. "We're supposed to deliver the item in a few days, around noon. I'll have to let you know the precise details later, because they are still subject to change. I won't actually know the delivery date until around 7 am on the morning of the delivery day. How can I contact you?" "I'll call you. Expect a call on your cell at 8 am each morning. If you don't have the details, just hang up as though it were a wrong number. Once you have the information, be ready to provide it." "Then we understand each other?" "I believe we do, Mr. Skinner. Good night." ****** ****** The next several days passed in an atmosphere of uneasy anticipation. There were no further attempts on Jeffrey Spender's life. Mulder and Scully remained on duty at the hospital, guarding Spender, but there was little for them to do other than make small talk and play computer games. The injured man's condition continued to improve in slow but measurable steps. OPR was still dithering over the attempted assassination and what to do with the X-Files. Mulder and Scully were still under orders to be ready for another meeting at any time, but no date had been set. As far as both the agents and Skinner were concerned, they were already back on the X-Files anyway, and they were in no hurry for another round with the not-always-predictable, stiff-necked bureaucrats of OPR. The uneasiness was compounded by the fact that, in characteristic but annoying fashion, Krycek had once again disappeared into the woodwork following the late night meeting at the storage place. Just like a rat, Mulder had jibed. He didn't call Skinner. He didn't visit the hospital. There was nothing to show that he was even aware of what was going on at all. This of course meant that none of the thousand and one objections to his plan that had occurred to them after the meeting could be addressed. Which, Mulder sourly admitted, was probably precisely the reason for the latest disappearing act. Deeply distrustful of Krycek, Scully and Mulder remained highly suspicious of the entire business, and especially of Krycek's intentions. And yet, since Krycek had indisputably saved Jeffrey Spender's life -- twice now -- they really weren't in a position to argue. For Jeffrey, it was the opposite situation. He trusted Krycek -- well, more or less -- to protect him; but after the earful he had gotten from Mulder, Scully and Skinner, he couldn't help but have some niggling doubts about why Krycek would consider protecting him worth his while. He tried to crush those reservations whenever he could, but they continued to intrude with unsettling regularity. As for Skinner, the days were more than uneasy; they were nervewracking. Each passing uneventful minute was torture for the AD because of what he had deliberately set in motion. Skinner was counting on the fact that the Smoker would take out Krycek before turning his attention to Jeffrey. The Smoker was a professional, and it was clearly the logical, professional move, Krycek being far more dangerous and mobile than the injured Spender. Skinner was gambling that an attack on Krycek would give him, Mulder and Scully the warning needed to protect their injured colleague. And if Krycek turned his own weapon on Agent Spender, Skinner was resolved to kill him personally, regardless of consequences. If Mulder didn't beat him to it. Skinner tried to console himself with this analysis of the situation at least fifty times a day. But it was small comfort. He knew the Smoker couldn't be trusted, any more than Alex Krycek could be trusted. He was only too aware of everything that could go wrong with that very tenuous, cobbled-together plan; and in every quiet moment, those contingencies screamed at him. He could never lose sight of the fact that his own actions might have placed all their lives at risk. Not surprisingly, the four of them were very relieved four mornings later when the word came down from the Chief of Surgery that Jeffrey Spender was well enough to be released. ****** Everything was in readiness. It had been a critical error for Skinner to give him the address so far in advance, CGB Spender reflected, flicking ash from the tip of his cigarette as he maintained his discreet watch upon the premises. Plenty of time for him to prepare for their arrival, long before even Krycek arrived to make his own arrangements. His own plans had been laid days earlier, the very day after Skinner had relayed the damning information. All he had to do now was wait. Through his binoculars, he saw the FBI contingent arrive. Saw the two cars drive up; watched Skinner and Mulder emerge from separate cars, Mulder followed a few minutes later by Scully. Lit a new cigarette as the agents milled about looking for Krycek, who had yet to make his appearance. Exhaled in anticipation as Krycek finally emerged from the woods behind the house to join the threesome. Wreathed a vastly satisfied smoke ring as Scully helped Jeffrey out of the car. Smiled almost reminiscently as Mulder's stance became overtly aggressive when Krycek slipped past the bristling agent to open the door to the house. He'd seen enough. "Goodbye, gentlemen." Stupid of Skinner to think that he would leave any loose ends when he disposed of Jeffrey and Alex, but then desperate men take foolish chances. Skinner's loss -- his gain. It was a pity about Mulder, but the man had become dangerously unpredictable and unruly over the past two years. Of course Skinner himself and Agent Scully were expendable. Once surveillance had assured him that nobody was laying in wait, his best explosives people had been all over the site two nights earlier, setting everything up. Nobody had been near the primed devices since. In fact, no one had even set foot on the premises until Krycek made a brief visit earlier that morning, presumably to make some preparations for Jeffrey's impending arrival. Foolish of his former lackey to rely so much on the element of secrecy, but then his one-time protg had always been susceptible to lazy, half-hearted planning. This time it was going to cost him dearly. Everything, in fact. CGB Spender took a last satisfied puff on his cigarette and ground it into the dirt. He pressed the detonator, looking forward to the short-lived screams, watching to see the entire property dissolve into a smoking pile of rubble. Nothing happened. He stared at the detonator for a moment. He checked the connections, and activated the detonator once again. Again, nothing happened. The Smoker cursed fluently under his breath. There had to be a break in the fuse wire or a defect in the way the explosives themselves had been placed. It seemed his explosives team was as damnably incompetent as his late, unlamented hit team had been. Fortunately, he always had a back up plan in hand. "Want anything done right, you have to do it yourself," he groused as he raised the laser-sighted automatic rifle to his shoulder. ****** ****** Mulder's brain had finished processing the astounding revelation that he was not, contrary to expectation, dead, injured -- or even shot. He also realized that the pins-and-needles effect, whatever the hell it was, was beginning to wear off, just about the time that Krycek had shouted. He shook himself, assuring that there were no lingering effects, and turned to confront Krycek, to demand an explanation. And he wasn't going to be put off again; this time, he would make the miserable worm answer him. But as he looked around, he froze. He suddenly realized that things were a good deal more complicated than he had imagined. Somehow, the courtyard where they stood had been cut off from its surroundings. Everyone was trapped within a thirty square foot area of the yard. On all sides, they seemed to be sealed within a translucent barrier of what looked like smoked glass, except that it appeared to be gaseous, constantly forming and reforming. The world beyond, even the sky above, appeared hazy and distorted. The others -- Skinner, Scully, Jeffrey Spender and the Smoking Man -- had been immobilized. They looked like statues. They didn't even seem to be breathing. Even as he registered that alarming fact, he realized that the eight rent-a-thugs were changing. Their features melted into shapelessness and reformed, until seven of them resembled his old friend the alien bounty hunter. The eighth one -- the one who had "shot" him -- had also changed, but he now bore a striking resemblance to a Star Trek alien, with a tall, thin, cadaverous body and an oversized, hairless cranium. Morphs. Aliens. "TriBeta!" he heard Krycek murmur. He didn't know what that meant, but the renegade sounded surprised and impressed. "What -- what --?" Mulder looked wildly around and found himself perversely grateful that Krycek, at least, had not changed and also seemed conscious of the events transpiring around them. Although, unlike Mulder, he also seemed perfectly unsurprised by what was happening. "What's going on, Krycek?" Mulder mentally congratulated himself for somehow managing enough control to get a coherent sentence out and not run screaming down the driveway. Assuming the barrier would let him through. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to test it. Krycek smirked at him. "Isn't it obvious? You're being allowed to witness an alien abduction firsthand. Congratulations, Mulder." "You're not claiming to be an alien, are you Krycek?" Mulder asked dubiously. "Not that that wouldn't explain a few things." "Not me." Krycek shook his head impatiently. "Them. Quiet!" he barked as Mulder tried to ask another question. "Watch and listen, Mulder, and keep your mouth shut, or we can turn you off as easily as we did them." He nodded toward the others. "What have you done to them?" he asked in horrified fascination, ignoring Krycek's orders. "Nothing, really." Krycek smirked. "What are a few missing minutes between friends anyway?" "Then why wasn't I -- The one who shot me." Realization dawned. "What happened to me? What's a *TriBeta*?" "You were made immune to the effects of the d'lin time regulator. Think of it as being within the *missing time* associated with alien abduction. And everything else can wait." Mulder opened his mouth to ask another question and Krycek tried to glare him down. Unfazed, Mulder was going to ask anyway -- until some...thing materialized out of thin air not five feet in front of him. He forgot his question and gawked at the grey alien. He was still gawking when the grey dissolved before his eyes and morphed into the even more unlikely guise of a slight, nondescript balding man in a bodysuit so close-fitting that it almost looked painted on. Except that there weren't any bulges in the usual places. Mulder rubbed his eyes, but the apparition refused to go away. "Alex!" Dee looked around and spotted his friend. "Things went well?" Alien and human embraced. "Exactly as planned. Makes a nice change from Fort Marlene and El Rico." Alex glared hatefully at the Smoker. "But what brings you here? No one told me you were coming. And what's with the dramatic entrance?" Dee smiled his usual sunny smile. "Oh come now, Alex. It was in honor of our guest, of course. I heard about the Council decision. You surely didn't expect me to pass up my chance to meet the famous -- or is the word *infamous*? Sometimes your language confuses me, Alex -- Fox Mulder?" The strangely garbed alien grinned amiably at Mulder and headed straight for the Agent, Alex at his side. Mulder realized that his jaw was still hanging open and he shut it with an audible click. "Hello, Fox Mulder," the alien greeted him with affable familiarity and crushed his hand in an enthusiastic pumping grip. "It's a great pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard so many interesting things about you from Alex." Mulder struggled to think of something intelligent to say to *that*. Unfortunately, not much suggested itself, though the pain in his mangled hand might have been partly responsible for that. "This is Dee." Alex introduced him, with a faint look of reproach toward his irrepressible friend and colleague. "Dee is the chief scientist among the d'lin rebels." Mulder stared at the unmistakably alien figure of the lead alien, then back at Dee, then back at Krycek, and wondered if it was all just some bizarre nightmare and if so, when was he going to wake up. "Hi," he finally croaked. "The pleasure's all mine." His eyes bored into Krycek's, imploring an explanation. "You are wasting time," the d'lin leader declared from his position beside the still frozen Smoker. Mulder dimly registered the fact that the chief alien, TriBeta, whoever, whatever he was, had taken control of events. "The --" he spouted some unintelligible gibberish of which the only words that sounded remotely familiar to Mulder were "inducer" and "limited" and something that sounded vaguely like "gravitex". "We cannot remain in this time continuum for more than twenty minutes. You can brief the Mulder human later, Krycek. We must proceed now. Prepare the human." "Right." Krycek turned away from Mulder and walked over to where the TriBeta and the Smoker were standing. The oddly exuberant Dee bounced alongside, staying close to his friend. Mulder followed, keeping a few steps behind and out of their way, finally taking to heart Krycek's admonition to watch and listen. Indeed, having gotten past the initial shock of events, he was drinking it all in like a sponge, consciously trying to etch every word, every look, every movement into memory, to be analyzed and dissected at a more convenient time. The TriBeta handed Krycek what looked to Mulder like a relatively ordinary pair of handcuffs, although he suspected that they were anything but. Even so, Krycek took the cuffs and fastened around the Smoker's wrists. He then proceeded to thoroughly frisk the man, tossing to the ground anything that might conceivably be used as a weapon or a means of escape, right down to the man's shoelaces. Cigarettes, matches and lighter joined the growing pile on the ground. Alex even checked his man's teeth for "L" pills -- and found one, much to his and Mulder's disgust. Then, with a mocking grin at Mulder, daring him to comment, Krycek unsheathed a nasty-looking knife and began to cut away the Smoker's clothes. When he was finished, the man was clad only in his stocking feet and underwear. "Wouldn't want our friend here to hurt himself accidentally," Krycek quipped jovially, as he all but severed the elastic waistband on Spender's boxers. Mulder watched with shocked consternation, but the glint in Krycek's eyes warned him that it would be better not to invite attention at this particular moment, and he managed to keep his lips firmly closed. Krycek finally straightened, satisfied that the Smoking Man no longer posed a threat to anyone, including his own person. "He's all yours. Do I have time to pay my last respects?" "If you are quick." The d'lin leader *shot* the Smoker with the same *gun* he had used on Mulder. Sparkles coalesced in the air, and the man slowly came back to life... only to quickly discover that his hands were cuffed and he was seriously underdressed. "What in --" He looked around wildly, evidently realized what was happening, and clapped his mouth shut. He shrank back, pale as death. His one-time employee had to snap his fingers to get the man's attention. "I wanted to say goodbye," Krycek said silkily. "Funny thing is, I was really sorry when I heard that we'd missed you at El Rico. But in a way, this is even better. My friends here are looking forward to speaking with you. I'm sure there are a lot of blanks you can fill in." Surprisingly to Mulder, the Smoker didn't respond. Mulder had waved a gun under this man's nose without shaking his composure in the slightest. He had threatened him, and the man had blown smoke rings in his face. Nothing had perturbed him. But he was scared now. More than scared. Terrified. "Their techniques aren't as primitive as ours, but they are a lot more reliable. Painful, too, from what I've heard. Of course, after a while, there won't be enough of you left to notice." He smiled cruelly, then spat at the man's feet. "He's all yours, sir," Krycek said respectfully to the TriBeta, turning his back on the Smoker. "Thank you." "Your report on the events at Fort Marlene is long overdue, Krycek," the d'lin replied, ignoring the byplay that had just occurred between the two humans. "We expect it to be filed no later than tomorrow, along with your report on the Spender matter." The dismay on Krycek's face was unmistakable. Mulder supposed that paperwork was a bitch, no matter who -- or what -- your boss was. "Yes, sir. I'll have it for you." "You have another four minutes and forty-two seconds," the d'lin intoned. He tapped out a sequence on the oddly shaped buttons of the bracelet he wore. In moments, the eight d'lin, and the CSM disappeared, leaving behind Dee, Krycek, Mulder and the still-frozen Scully, Spender and Skinner. ****** ****** "You have another four minutes and forty-two seconds," the d'lin intoned. He tapped out a sequence on the oddly shaped buttons of the bracelet he wore. In moments, the eight d'lin, and the CSM disappeared, leaving behind Dee, Krycek, Mulder and the still-frozen Scully, Spender and Skinner. "What about them?" Mulder demanded, waving toward the others. "Your friends are unharmed," Dee replied. "They'll be rejoining you in ... four minutes and thirty-one seconds. Which means I must go as well. I wish we had more time. But now that we've met, I'm sure another occasion will present itself." "Wait, Dee. I need you to take a look at something before you go," Krycek interrupted. Dee looked inquiring, but he willingly followed his friend to where Agent Scully stood, motionless. Mulder trailed them closely, watching warily, but not quite willing to interfere. At least, not yet. "I want you to check this one for signs of ch'lith'kik'a contamination," Krycek remarked. Dee looked at him. "Oh, dear." The alien removed a small electronic probe from a patch in his synthex suit, and activated the scanner. The device whirred for a moment, then started to emit an urgent series of beeps. "What is that? What does that mean? What's going on?" Mulder demanded. Dee switched off the scanner. "No doubt of it, Alex. She's carrying the taint, all right. They can call her whenever they're ready." Alex cursed. He'd suspected it, of course -- hell, he'd twitted Scully about it at the storage place. But it was a damn sight worse to have his suspicions reliably confirmed. "They? You're saying that the colonists can control her with the implant in her neck, is that what you're saying?" Mulder guessed, a roiling feeling in his stomach. He too had suspected, but somehow hearing this alien confirm it was like a punch to the gut. "That's right, Mulder. She's their pawn, anytime they want her." Krycek turned back to Dee. "Can you neutralize the effects?" The alien looked hesitant. "Well, Alex, you know we don't like to interfere directly in these matters... Not without some compelling reason. She is human, after all." "She's Agent Mulder's partner," Krycek said tightly. "And friend." "Ah, yes, of course. This is Agent Scully, yes? That's different, then." Mulder suddenly had the sense that he was missing part of the conversation. Dee activated the scanner again, took some more readings. "It can't be removed, of course. Not without toxicity to the host. Damn ch'lith'kik'a always build in a failsafe." "Chlith-- what?" Mulder interrupted. "The alien colonists," Krycek snapped. "Shut up, Mulder and let Dee work. We don't have much time." "One minute, fifty-three seconds, to be precise," Dee commented. "She's obviously had the Terran vaccine; that protects her from being used again as a breeder, but she's still vulnerable to their call. As a temporary measure, I could implant a jamming device. It will remain inert until and unless she is called -- but when the implant is activated, it will jam all incoming signals. Probably give the human one hell of a headache, but the ch'lith'kik'a won't be able to control her. Perhaps I can develop something more effective in time. Is that satisfactory?" he asked Alex. "Most satisfactory," Krycek said with a wolfish grin. "Hold on a minute," Mulder protested. "Scully should be the one to decide. It's her body." The real protest remained unspoken. <> Dee ignored him as he withdrew another device and made several adjustments. Moments later, he stepped closer to Scully and pressed something against her neck. Mulder tried to interfere, only to find himself in a chokehold. "Stop! You can't do that!" Mulder began an abortive protest, as he vainly tried to pull free of Krycek's iron grasp. As Dee moved away from Scully, Krycek released him with a shove that almost sent him sprawling. Mulder swore at him as he staggered to regain his balance, but the steely glint in Krycek's eyes kept him from pushing the matter further. Dee turned back to face the men. "It's done, Alex," he said, ignoring Mulder's protests. "And now, I really must go before I create a scene." Krycek smiled at his friend. "Thanks, Dee. I'll meet you back at the base. Got to finish those reports and all. See you in a few hours." He rolled his eyes, resentful as always that he had to waste hours in travel that was virtually instantaneous for the d'lin. Dee smiled back. "This should help." He handed Krycek a bracelet, similar to the one the d'lin had been wearing. Krycek gaped at it, his eyes wide. It was obvious to Mulder that whatever just happened had come as a total shock to Krycek. "It's been keyed to your DNA signature. A favor from the Council." "They probably just want their damned report sooner," Krycek muttered. Still, he couldn't keep from fingering the present with wonder, as a smile spread across his face. "Just this once," the alien warned him. "It's preset and locked on. All you have to do is activate." Krycek was still staring at the item in his hand. Finally, he shook his head and used the prosthetic to slide the bracelet around his good wrist. He hadn't stopped grinning. "No! Wait!" It had finally dawned on Mulder that he had spent the last fifteen minutes or so surrounded by extraterrestrial life forms, and that he had yet to ask a single intelligent question about who and what they were, where they were from, and what they were doing here. "I need to talk to you." "No time," Dee said, sounding regretful. "Goodbye, Fox Mulder." Like the others, he fingered his bracelet and disappeared into thin air. Mulder stared at Krycek, mildly surprised that the renegade hadn't disappeared along with his alien friend. His own companions were still frozen in time, and would be for another minute or so if he understood correctly. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what's going on," he commented, sounding almost jealous. He moved to inspect Scully's neck. There was no sign of injury; nothing to indicate that Dee had done anything at all. "I can tell you some of it, Mulder. But not now. Things are going to get lively here pretty damn quickly." He kicked at some of the detritus he had pulled from the now-absent Smoker. "Think the FBI can get rid of this crap for me?" "How long have you been working for them?" Mulder asked quietly. He felt oddly deflated. "Since they rescued me from the silo where the Smoker had left me to rot," Krycek answered. "Since I learned the truth about colonization and the human collaborators who worked to protect the Project." "So you were working for them when you came to my apartment last year?" Mulder asked, thinking aloud. "But not when you killed my father." His voice hardened, and he began to recapture some of the hostility that had temporarily evaporated from his demeanor. "This isn't the time or place to play True Confessions, Mulder," Krycek hissed. As if in response, the clearing abruptly brightened as the barrier silently evaporated. The others suddenly started to breathe again. "What was that?" Skinner asked, as he shakily leaned against his automobile. Scully and Spender were equally unsteady on their feet. "What was what, sir?" Mulder asked. "They're gone!" Skinner looked around, suddenly realizing that the men who had surrounded them, and the CSM, had all disappeared. "Where are they? What the hell is going on, Krycek?" He and Scully stared at the pile of cigarettes, weapons and clothing that marked the Smoker's former presence among them. "I think if you consult your watches, you'll find that you lost about twenty minutes," Krycek said calmly, evading the question. "You can assume that the others left during that time." "Twenty minutes? Agent Mulder, do you know what he's talking about?" Skinner asked with irritation as he consulted his watch. He was annoyed to realize that Krycek appeared to be correct. There were indeed about twenty minutes he couldn't account for. He looked at Scully. She was frowning, having confirmed the missing time for herself. "Yes, sir. Krycek is claiming that the others were EBEs, and that CGB Spender has been abducted." "Abducted? Why?" Skinner demanded. "Not that I believe a word of this." "Nothing inimical to humanity," Krycek responded. "Let's just say that I don't think the Smoking Man is going to bother any of us again. Including you, Jeff. You're free of him." "Free?" Free!" the younger man spat. "You set me up, you son of a bitch. You used me to draw him into the open." "Yes. I did." Krycek was unrepentant. "And you played the tethered goat to perfection." "We could all have been killed!" Jeffrey lashed out. Krycek shrugged indifferently. "Goddamn you!" The younger Spender struggled to his feet. "Let's get out of here," he said to the others, disgust souring his features. Mulder, of all people, looked to Krycek. "Is he still in any danger?" Krycek shook his head. "I doubt it. His father was the source of the threat. Now that that threat has been eliminated, he should be able to resume a normal life." "And you're still not going to tell us what happened, are you, Krycek?" Skinner said with disgust. Krycek shrugged. "You wouldn't believe me if I did. Agent Mulder is open to a lot more extreme possibilities than you are, and I don't think even he would believe me." "Try me," Mulder said softly. The others all stared at him. There was hostility in the tone, but there was something else there as well. Something new. Different. "I'll think about it." Krycek promised nothing. "Show's over, Scully, gentlemen. You will take care of this stuff for me, won't you, Mulder?" He toed the Smoker's discards. "Oh, and before you leave, I suggest you send the bomb squad over to check out the property. The whole place is mined with explosives." He walked over to the side of the house and dug carefully into the recently turned earth of the nearest flowerbed, revealing the top of a substantial cache of dynamite. "You underestimated the Smoker, Skinner," Krycek chastised. "His original plan was to blow all of us to kingdom come. Unfortunately for him, my friends interfered with that, so he had to come out into the open." "Your friends defused the bombs?" The others all looked around uneasily, wondering if any bombs might have been missed. "Why bother to defuse when you can use an energy damping field?" Krycek smirked, knowing that none of them, with the possible exception of Mulder, would have the faintest idea of what he was talking about. "Don't worry, they've been neutralized. They won't explode. But they should be properly deactivated and removed, don't you think?" Skinner was already pulling out his cell phone. "And now, if you'll excuse me... places to go, people to kill, and all that." Krycek flashed them his most annoying smile; then turned on his heel and briskly headed back toward the woods from which he'd first appeared. "No! Wait!" Mulder ordered. Krycek just kept walking. "We can't hold him, Mulder," Skinner said, putting a hand on Mulder's shoulder to restrain him. "Not that I wouldn't like to, playing us for fools and risking all our lives like that." Mulder shook off the restraint. "He's not getting away from me so easily this time," he declared, sprinting after the departing figure. "Mulder! Come back here!" Skinner cursed and kicked at the gravel. "Should I go after him, sir?" Scully offered. Skinner shook his head. "Let's see what happens." Krycek glanced back at the sounds of shouting and pounding footsteps behind him. Instead of either speeding up or arguing with Mulder, he waited for the other man to join him. Together they walked slowly toward the forest. Scully and Skinner stared after them, then at each other. "Do you have any idea what's going on, sir?" Scully asked. "Not a clue," Skinner replied ruefully. "Come on, let's get Spender settled back in the car. We can wait for Mulder there. Assuming *he* doesn't vanish into thin air," he added acerbically. ****** ****** Mulder was surprised when Krycek allowed him to catch up; he'd half expected the other man to start running away from him. Once Mulder had reached him, Krycek resumed his trek toward the woods, Mulder matching his pace as he caught his breath. "So, what happens now, Krycek?" Mulder finally asked. "You going to disappear like your friends?" Krycek nodded. "Something like that. I thought it would be better if the others didn't see me do it, though. I think they've had enough shocks for one day." Once again, the antagonists walked some moments in a silence that was unusually companionable for the pair. "Energy damping field?" Mulder finally said. The other man chuckled. "I thought you might enjoy that." "We never were in any real danger, were we, Krycek?" Mulder continued slowly, thinking it through. "Your friends had things covered all the way. Not just the bombs; the rifle too. That's why the Smoker missed his shot." "So?" Krycek made no effort to deny it. "So, why didn't you tell them? Why let Jeffrey think you betrayed him?" "Why not?" Krycek said rhetorically. "The hero worship thing gets old very quickly. Anyway, he's not wrong. I would have sacrificed him to get the Smoker if I'd had to. It just wasn't necessary." Mulder digested that fact, then slowly nodded. "Why, Krycek?" "Why what?" "Why not freeze me with the others? Why let me witness what happened?" Something undefinable flashed across his adversary's face. "Maybe I felt I owed you something. Maybe I wanted you to know what was going on." Lips curled in amusement. "On the other hand, maybe I just wanted to fuck with your head. You can't exactly tell the others what you saw, and they wouldn't believe you if you did." Mulder sighed. "I bet Skinner's right -- you know exactly what happened at Fort Marlene and El Rico and why, don't you?" Krycek's shit-eating grin was answer enough. "Feel like sharing?" Krycek shook his head. "You're not ready." Silence prevailed for another few moments as Mulder swallowed the angry retort that flew instinctively to his lips at the cavalier dismissal. Fighting with Krycek at this particular moment would get him precisely nowhere, and for once, he wasn't even sure it would make him feel better. "Samantha!" He turned stricken eyes on his companion. "I should have asked --" Krycek shook his head. "Wrong aliens, remember?" Mulder's face fell. "On the other hand," Krycek continued, "there is someone who just might be able to answer that question, and he happens to be in a fairly vulnerable state at the moment..." Mulder's breath hitched in sudden hope. "Do you think..." His eyes narrowed. "What price are you asking?" he demanded suspiciously. Krycek raised his hand. "Let me see if there is an answer first. Then we can talk about price. I think it's customary to offer your soul when you deal with the devil, but we can discuss the matter later." Krycek's tone was light, and Mulder was almost 100 percent positive he was being teased. Almost. There was just that little niggling bit of doubt when dealing with Krycek. Of course, it was scarier to think that he just might be willing to pay Krycek's price. He'd come so close to selling his soul to the Smoker, on more than one occasion... Then again, if Krycek was working against the colonists, his price might not be so very hard to pay. "You'll make sure that they ask the question?" Mulder pressed, wanting reassurance. Krycek nodded. "I'll do my best." "He really believed in the Project, you know," Mulder remarked thoughtfully, thinking about their longtime and lately-abducted mutual antagonist. "That collaboration and hybridization were the only way to survive." He kicked aimlessly at the grass, then looked up at Krycek with a wry smile. "He invited me to El Rico, did you know that? To be one of the *survivors*?" Krycek frowned at him with narrowed eyes. Evidently, this came as news to the other man. "I guess you're not sorry to have missed the party," Krycek finally replied, masking any feelings he might have had about the matter. "Why didn't you go?" Mulder scratched at an itchy spot on his neck. "Scully." He hesitated. "Will they kill him?" "Probably." Krycek spoke with perfect unconcern. "Not by design, perhaps, but they'll take him apart to learn what he knows, and they tend to overlook the fragility of human anatomy. Perhaps his knowledge will help in the fight against the ch'lith'kik'a. Perhaps not." He shrugged. "Either way, it was past time to remove him from the board. He's caused far too much trouble. Now that the colonists know the d'lin Resistance is involved, there was no reason to leave him alone any longer." Mulder nodded somberly. The world around them had changed irrevocably over the past few years, and he was one of the only persons who knew it. And the man he was speaking to, this long-time enemy, the subject of countless nightmares and sleepless nights, was one of the few others. Strange, the links that bound people together. How a man could feel both hatred and kinship at the very same moment. "The Project won't remain in the shadows forever," Krycek said quietly, almost reading his thoughts. "The deaths at El Rico may have slowed the process temporarily, but sooner or later, colonization of the planet will commence. Assuming the d'lin can't stop it first." "The *d'lin*? Why do they care about Earth? They're obviously far more technologically advanced than we are. Why help us against the colonists?" Mulder wondered. "Because by helping us, they're helping themselves," Krycek replied. "The d'lin have been a slave race to the ch'lith'kik'a for centuries, maybe millennia. They're shapeshifters, so the ch'lith'kik'a find them very useful servants in their colonization projects: they can blend in with a local population, where the ch'lith'kik'a cannot. There's been a d'lin Resistance from the beginning, but they haven't had a lot of success. More progress has been made in fighting the ch'lith'kik'a, in these last few years on Earth, than in centuries of struggle before that. That's why the d'lin are so interested." "Progress?" "I can't talk about that. I've already told you more than I was supposed to, as it is." "The vaccine?" Mulder suggested, but Krycek's face was closed, giving nothing away. "So some of the d'lin are helping the colonists, and some are fighting them?" Mulder returned to what Krycek had already told him, wanting to be sure he had it all straight. "No d'lin serves the ch'lith'lik'a by choice," Krycek replied. "Those that serve are controlled by the colonists." "Like what happened to you in Hong Kong?" This time, Krycek couldn't conceal his reaction, and Mulder knew he'd hit his mark. "How do I know which d'lin are which?" "You don't," Krycek said simply. "So try to avoid them all." "And you're working with the Resistance? To prevent colonization?" Mulder was still dealing with the amazing discovery that, for once, some of his questions were being answered. This time, it was Krycek who sighed. "Mulder, did you hear one word of what I said to you in your apartment last year?" <> "I heard every word. I'm only just beginning to understand what it meant though." Mulder studied the other man as though he'd never quite seen him before. Which he hadn't. Not like this. "Resist or serve, Alex?" "That's right. Eventually, the d'lin may require a human liaison, to acquaint the rest of humanity with the situation and handle communications between humanity and the d'lin. I suggested you. The d'lin Council concurred." "And that's why I was allowed to witness the Smoker's abduction." Mulder gnawed at his lower lip. "Why me?" "You knew most of it already. It wasn't that great a leap for you to learn the rest. And you have a position of some legitimacy, as well as a reputation in certain circles." "As a nutcase," Mulder muttered. "Not in ufology circles," Krycek observed. "And once the truth is known, you'll have far greater legitimacy for having seen it coming long before the rest of mankind." He chuckled darkly. "Besides, the Terran liaison to the d'lin will have to work with me, so I have a certain vested interest." "You're crazy! How could you possibly think that I would work with you?" Mulder argued reflexively. <> "Why me, for Chrissakes?" he added lamely. "You'll work with me, because you'll have no choice. As for why you -- primarily because I know you. You're already broken in, Mulder. I know how you think. I can predict your reactions with reasonable certainty. I know when you're lying to me -- you lie badly, Mulder. And I know all your weaknesses. With someone new, I'd have to learn all that as we go. This way saves time and effort. Also, you're a believer -- even before today. Scully might have been a reasonable alternative, but apart from the fact that she was potentially subject to ch'lith'kik'a control, her rigid belief system was also a hindrance." "But we hate each other," Mulder protested weakly. "That doesn't matter. You hated me before, and we still went to Tunguska together. Your feelings toward me don't matter, Mulder. This isn't a game, and it isn't a popularity contest. Get over yourself." Mulder went quiet, thinking. "Scully." "What about Scully?" "What your friend -- Dee -- did. The colonists can't control her now?" "That's right. Essentially, he created a jamming field within her brain that is sensitive to the brainwave patterns used by the ch'lith'kik'a. If they try to contact her, the device will activate and jam the transmission." "Why, Krycek? Why do that for her?" "I didn't do it for Scully. I know your weaknesses, remember? Scully has long been a point of vulnerability for you; I realized that in the first twenty-four hours we were partnered together. The Resistance is going to need you, Mulder, and we can't afford to have you compromised. As long as Scully was susceptible to ch'lith'kik'a control, you had a weakness they could exploit. Now you don't." "Thanks just the same," Mulder said. Krycek stopped. They had reached the trees a minute earlier, and were now standing in the shadows beneath the tall pines, completely concealed from the others waiting by the cars. "I don't want or need your thanks, Mulder. I did what was necessary in the circumstances. That's all." "Do you always have to be such a hard-ass, Alex?" Mulder wondered. He was beginning to wonder how much of the antagonism between them arose not as a result of Krycek's actual deeds, but because of Krycek's constant, deliberate attempts to provoke him -- and the fact that he continually, unthinkingly, allowed himself to be provoked. "It keeps me alive." If Krycek had noticed Mulder's use of his first name, he didn't react to it. Just as well. Mulder didn't know why the other man had suddenly become *Alex* again anyway. "Speaking of which -- do make an effort to keep yourself alive, won't you? It would be a pity, after we've gone to all this trouble, if something happened to you and we had to train a new liaison after all." Mulder snorted. "Your concern for my welfare is touching, *Krycek*." <> Krycek grinned and gave him a casual wave; then fingered the controls of his alien bracelet and disappeared as the others had done. For a long moment, Mulder stood and stared at the emptiness where Krycek had stood moments earlier. Then, with a sigh, he slowly trudged back to face the curious eyes awaiting his return. ****** ****** // Two days later -- Skinner's office at the FBI // Things were slowly getting back to normal, or as close to that unreachable, idealized state as they ever got where Mulder, Scully and the X-Files were concerned. There had been two days of OPR hearings, and one more was scheduled for the following week. It now appeared all but certain that Mulder and Scully's formal reassignment to the X-Files was only a matter of time and bureaucratic wrangling. In the interim, Mulder had reclaimed his old office and started making himself at home once again, aided and abetted by Scully. Diana Fowley was gone. Mulder's former partner on the X-Files had abruptly tendered her resignation from the FBI, moments after submitting her investigative report into the massacre at El Rico Air Base. Mulder had been shocked and more than a little hurt by her sudden defection. Skinner had muttered something cryptic about suspecting that Krycek had a hand in her decision, but when pressed by Mulder and Scully for details, he clammed up tight and refused to say another word. Reluctant and almost ashamed, the AD had finally explained to his two most trusted agents how he had been blackmailed by Krycek. They were understandably appalled, and Mulder began to regret that he hadn't bashed Krycek's head into a tree while he had the chance (conveniently forgetting that he'd never really had that chance). For Skinner's sake, the agents agreed to keep the matter private, but in return they extracted a solemn promise from their boss that he would let them know instantly if Krycek tried to manipulate him again. They had been meeting in Skinner's office, to go over Mulder and Scully's final report on the Jeffrey Spender matter. As usual, the truth had been buried under a truckload of misinformation and outright lies. The deaths at El Rico were being attributed to an unfortunate accident during the test-firing of a new Air Force missile, a representation of events that was supported by Agent Fowley's report. Mulder and Scully's reports on the attempted assassination of Jeffrey Spender and the subsequent disappearance of CGB Spender were politely received and instantly rejected as totally implausible. Since Mulder, Scully and Skinner had expected this, they consoled themselves with the fact that they, at least, had an accurate account of events in their own files... and with the fact that, due in large part to their efforts, Jeffrey Spender, at least, would be able to resume a normal life. After the events of recent days, Spender had elected to return to his apartment and rest for some weeks before deciding what to do with the rest of his life. His parents' wills had been discovered, and he was going to be a very wealthy young man. However, he had already professed a desire to contribute all of his father's money to charity, not wanting to be associated in any way with the man or his blood money. Fox Mulder could certainly identify with that sentiment. He too endeavored to rid himself of the tainted money from his own ill-gotten trust fund inheritance as quickly as he received it by contributing the bulk to charity, saving a small portion to spend expensive suits and other trivialities, knowing how much that would have irked his father. As for Alex Krycek, he had disappeared once again. He hadn't been seen since the day he disappeared into the woods with Mulder at his side. Mulder reported that he'd still been standing there when Mulder left. He didn't really feel up to confessing the truth. For the same reason, he'd been very sparing of details about his own personal experience during the "missing time" episode. He wanted to figure out for himself how he felt about what had happened before he described it to anyone else. Besides, he knew that no one would believe him anyway. "Want to grab some coffee?" his partner invited as they left Skinner's office. "Sure," he agreed, and they strolled together toward the exit. Scully. There was no sign that she'd been affected in any way by whatever it was the alien, Dee, had done to her. Mulder hadn't told her about it. He'd wanted to, but couldn't find a way to bring up the subject that wouldn't raise more questions than he could answer, and there was nothing anyone could do about it anyway. So he kept silent and watched Scully like a hawk for signs of unusual behavior, thankfully finding none. They sat in Mulder's office, sipping coffee in quiet companionship, and reveling in a quiet moment to do nothing more than just appreciate good coffee and each other's company. Finally, almost reluctantly, Scully broke the silence. "You didn't say much in your report about what you and Krycek discussed when you took that little walk." Mulder shifted uncomfortably, then reached up to rub the back of his neck. "No. I guess I didn't." "Do you want to talk about it?" Her voice was soft, inviting confidence. "Did he kiss you again?" Very softly. Mulder chuckled and shook his head. "No. Not this time. I told you, he just does that when he wants to throw me off-balance." He shrugged. "There's really not much to say, Scully. It was no big deal. Just another one of our mano-a-mano confrontations." He wondered why he was lying. Was he trying to protect Scully, or Krycek, or himself? <> But was he relieved or sorry? <> "Did you ask him why he wanted us back on the X-Files?" Scully wondered. "No," Mulder replied honestly. But then, he hadn't had to ask. After what Krycek had revealed, he already knew the answer. "There was no sign of him when the bomb squad arrived. They searched the woods thoroughly, just in case there were any more bombs placed around there. He must have had a vehicle waiting for him hidden somewhere." "Must have," Mulder murmured. Of course, he had a pretty good idea of how Krycek had gotten out of there, but it wasn't the kind of thing he could say in his report. He wasn't even sure that he wanted to. "And you haven't heard from him since?" Mulder raised an eyebrow in surprise at the question. "Me? No. Why would you think that?" She smiled slightly. "Mulder, we all agreed that Krycek has shown an unusual interest in you and your activities. It's a fair question." "I guess." Mulder shrugged. "But no. I haven't heard from him. Rat bastard has disappeared into the sewers for now. But he'll be back, Scully. He always comes back." "Mmm," was the only response as Scully sipped at her coffee. Both of them contemplated the one man whirlwind who wreaked so much havoc in their lives every time he made an appearance. Where Krycek was concerned, Mulder didn't know what to believe anymore. Part of him still wanted to strangle the bastard who had so unconcernedly ended his father's life, tormented his boss, and indirectly been responsible for so much of his partner's suffering. On the other side of the equation, however, he was faced with the newfound awareness that Krycek had gotten him immunized against the Black Oil virus; had revealed to him the existence of the alien resistance; and had half-coaxed, half-bludgeoned him through a crisis of faith. Plus there was that half-promise that he might be able to find out what had happened to Samantha. He was also forced to grudgingly acknowledge that in spite of what Krycek had done in the past, there was little doubt that he was on the right side in the approaching battle -- and that his involvement had probably been crucial in obtaining the assistance of the d'lin on humanity's behalf. How Krycek had enlisted their help, he had no idea -- though he imagined it would be a fascinating story -- but it seemed clear they *were* helping, not just themselves, but the humans as well. In reconsidering the events at Fort Marlene and El Rico, in light of what he had learned over the past few days, it was evident that the d'lin had orchestrated the entire scenario. Their specific motives in doing so remained a mystery, but it was probable that by killing the Consortium leaders and Cassandra Spender, they had put a severe crimp in the colonization plans. Whatever those plans were. Krycek undoubtedly knew. He would have some answers out of Krycek the next time they met, if he had to beat them out of his sometime-antagonist, sometime-ally. <> he promised. <> His heart warmed at the thought. But he would have been hard-pressed to explain, even to himself, what he was promising. ****** ****** Safely ensconced once more at the Charlottesville base, Alex stretched out in his chair, taking a short break before putting the finishing touches on his final report. It had taken him some time to get started; the transmat experience hadn't exactly turned out to be the thrill he'd expected. In hindsight, it was just as well that he'd been unconscious during his earlier transmat experiences. The actuality proved little more than a moment of disorientation, a moment of total and shockingly painful and terrifying dislocation that seemed to last an eternity, followed by three solid hours of puking up his guts. Apparently the system wasn't quite optimized for human physiology. At least he hadn't lost any more body parts: when he finally finished emptying his stomach, he'd performed a very thorough inventory. But it had certainly felt as bad as if he had. Hell, he didn't remember being in that much pain when the Russians had hacked his arm off. He wasn't going to be asking for any more transmat rides anytime soon. He only hoped that the Smoker had found his own transmat experience equally enjoyable. At any rate, he'd rattled off a brief preliminary report after a few hours sleep and some soft boiled eggs on hot buttered toast. There'd been questions raised about his preliminary account, so he'd expanded on some sections and added others for the final report. He'd also spoken to Dee about the Samantha problem, and Dee had promised to see the matter raised in the Smoker's interrogation. If he could get some answers there... Funny how well things had turned out in the end. They'd captured the Smoker, scared off Diana Fowley, gotten Mulder and Scully reassigned to the X-Files, and even begun the delicate process of acquainting Mulder with the role he was expected to undertake in the new world order. He'd never have dreamed things could work out half so well in that heart-stopping moment at Fort Marlene when he realized the genome was gone before he could retrieve it. When he'd been convinced for a while that his alien allies had betrayed him. <> Mulder. Mulder hadn't quite asked Krycek if he was worried that the d'lin were just using humanity to further their own ends, but it had certainly been implied. And it was something that Krycek had been thinking about a lot in recent days. When he'd driven hell-for-leather back to the base after leaving Fort Marlene, he'd half expected, half feared that the place would be abandoned. Instead, he found out that the Smoker had been up to his usual tricks, secretly arranging for one of his tame scientists to retrieve the genome, and that this had necessitated the abrupt change of plan, with no way to inform Krycek, because he was out in the field. Since then, despite the Smoker's narrow escape from El Rico, things had gone just swimmingly. But the question refused to go away. He sighed, and looked down at his report. There was no answer, really. Only time would tell if his allies had ulterior motives. For the moment, they needed him and the humans as much as Earth needed them. Other matters could wait. The few loose ends had mostly been dealt with by now. The FBI had been handled in the customary fashion. The abortive attack on Jeffrey Spender at the hospital was now being blamed on a squabble between drug lords and a case of mistaken identity. The official FBI report on the incident at the house in Maryland revealed that a terrorist bomb factory had been discovered, the perpetrators having fled the country before they could be arrested. Mulder and Scully's report on the Jeffrey Spender assassination attempt and its aftermath had been "sanitized" at levels above AD Skinner and then misfiled as well; arrangements were in place for Mulder and Scully's personal file copy to *disappear* in a couple of weeks. His influential "friends" at the FBI had also seen to it that Skinner was made aware that discretion by all parties concerned regarding the Jeffrey Spender incident and Alex's part therein was the price of Mulder and Scully's officially sanctioned reinstatement on the X-Files. Jeffrey himself was advised to forget the whole matter and get on with his life by a senior representative of the FBI, who also warned him that the price of ignoring this "friendly" suggestion would be a lot higher than he would want to pay. As for more personal concerns.... The phone numbers he'd used this time around had already been changed. Not that they were traceable anyway -- they were merely routing numbers at dead addresses -- but it still didn't pay to take chances. He also sent a team of Guardians to *borrow* an unconscious Jeffrey Spender the very night after the ambush. With the help of his d'lin allies, it had taken less than two hours to erase all memory of what Alex had disclosed to Jeffrey in the hospital about Bill Mulder and Melissa Scully and to return him to his hotel room, unaware of the excursion and none the worse for the experience. Despite what he'd told Mulder in the woods, Alex felt rather sorry for Jeffrey Spender. Not sorry enough to ever have anything to do with him again, but just sorry enough to go to the trouble of selectively erasing his memories, rather than killing him or wiping his mind completely. The kid would be happier without the knowledge anyway, Alex guessed. So unlike Fox Mulder. The contrast between the two men could not be more striking. He wasn't surprised when his thoughts turned once again to Mulder. The reasons he had given as to why Mulder had been chosen to interface with the resistance were true, but they weren't the whole truth. Nor was it likely they would ever reach a point where Krycek could tell him the whole truth. At least now he understood why, contrary to expectation, Mulder hadn't been a target. The old man had never quite given up on trying to turn his bastard son. Strangely sentimental behavior for the cynical conniver, and doomed to failure from the first. Though it seemed, from what Mulder had said, that he almost succeeded at the last. Not for the first time, Krycek found himself reluctantly grateful to Scully. Just in this she had amply repaid the favor he had done for her without her knowledge in Maryland. Of course, if he were being honest with himself, he'd have to admit that that had also been his way of cleaning up the mess he had helped to create by assisting the Smoker in facilitating Dana Scully's abduction. With the benefit of 20/20 hindsight and a lot more information, he was well aware of what a potentially disastrous move that had been. Now, thankfully, she was free of ch'lith'kik'a manipulation, which meant that Mulder was free as well. And if Mulder felt obligated to him in some small way as a result, that was just the icing on the cake. He smiled, wondering if Mulder would tell her about it. Not very likely. Mulder still preferred to pretend that everything was all right; that life continued as usual. Which it did, for the time being. But not for very much longer. "Soon, Mulder," he murmured to himself. "Soon." Funny how his pulse quickened at the thought. ****** The End feedback gratefully received at lucienlc@ix.netcom.com