Title: Seconds
See disclaimers and notes in Part One


Seconds
By Tiramisu


Part Five:



The television was on, but Alex paid no attention to it.  His eyes 
were on Fox, sleeping beside him on the small sofa, head on Alex's 
shoulder.   They'd started off earlier in the evening lazing side-
by-side, but when Fox grew drowsy, he'd pushed Alex back into the 
sofa and burrowed contentedly into him.  And for the past hour, 
Alex had been half-sitting, half-lying, his prosthetic arm loosely 
around his lover and his good hand combing softly through Fox's 
golden-brown hair.


If the world ended right now, he thought with affection, at least 
I'd die happy.  


They'd been together now one week.  Much of it they'd spent in 
exactly this position, just lying together quietly.  When they 
spoke, it was of Fox's recuperation, the aliens, the government.  
The future of the planet, the rest of their lives.   


They rarely spoke of the past.


One shadow they faced,  and one shadow they ran from.  


Fox stirred, murmurred his name, buried his face in Alex's neck.  
Alex nuzzled the soft crisp hair, kissed the other man's temple.


Tomorrow he'd have to get back to DC.  The clone was recovering too 
quickly; it would be released from the hospital in just a few more 
days.   McCarniss must have made plans for it by now, and Alex 
intended to find out what they were.  But tonight...


The familiar roar of the pick-up preceded the bright white lights 
that flooded the living room,  the twin beams growing in size and 
intensity until they merged.  They were accompanied by a shriek of 
tires entirely unlike Smith's usual driving.   As Alex glanced 
toward the door, he felt Fox stir again and waken.  


By the time the pick-up's engine settled into dark silence, both 
men were on their feet.


Smith entered the house, crossing the hall quickly and pausing 
under the archway into the living room.  He began without preamble. 
"Are you watching the news?"


Alex shook his head even as Fox scrambled for the remote control.  
"What's wrong?"


"There was a shooting a few minutes ago," Smith explained, as Fox 
flipped rapidly through the channels.  "In front of the White 
House."


"Who was it?" Fox asked.     


"A man named Salt.  Howard Salt."  He turned to Alex. "He was 
demanding to see the President.  The first report said that he was 
claiming aliens were taking over the United States."


Alex scowled.  "Once upon a time, I'd've written him off as a nut,"  
he mumbled.  To Smith he asked, "Did he say anything more 
specific?"


"There's not a lot of information available..."  Smith paused as Fox 
found a news channel.  Alex crossed to the television and crouched 
in front of it, studying the footage as it aired.  Behind him, Fox 
sat again on the couch and leaned forward, also watching.  


Smith stood in silence as the events were replayed across the 
screen.  Cameras panned the area of White House lawn from several 
angles, but Alex saw nothing unusual.  It was when the video clip 
of one guard was aired that Smith spoke.


"There,"  he said.  "Watch that guard."  


Alex did, but still saw nothing out of the ordinary.  He looked 
over his shoulder at Fox, but the other man only shrugged in equal 
bewilderment.


They glanced in unison at Smith.  


"Wait," the older man directed.  "You'll see it when the camera 
pulls out farther."


Alex did see it, then.  The silver disc, only visible in the 
guard's hand for a moment.  In the rest of the footage, the guard's 
hands were empty.


Alex turned to Fox.  "A CD,"  he said, and Fox nodded in agreement.  
"The footage must be spliced or something."


"Could you see what was written on it?"  Fox asked.


Alex shook his head and glanced once more at Smith.  "*You* did, 
didn't you, Jem?"


"Yes,"  Smith told them.  "In the first bulletin.  The CD was 
labelled 'Fight the future'."


Fight-the-future.  Oh, fuck.  But who was this guy Salt, and what 
was his connection to the Project?


Fox was watching him with curiosity.  Alex rose and returned to his 
place beside his lover. It looked like it was time to fill the 
agent in on a few things.  


"Fight the future?"  Fox prompted,  his eyes shifting back and 
forth between Alex and the older man.  "I take it that means 
something to you?"


Alex nodded. "It's the name of a project," he explained.  "Led by 
the US military, but without official sanction.  There are private 
enterprises involved, too.  They're trying to breed a sort of...I 
don't know, a...,"  he finished with a shrug, "...super-human."  


"A human being with greatly enhanced abilities," Smith clarified.  
"Particularly regarding the ability to recover from injury and 
illness."


"Like you've done in healing me?"  Fox queried.


Smith shook his head.  "You're healed because I healed you.  
Project Fight-the-Future is an attempt to breed a generation of 
human beings who can self-heal as needed. Right from birth.  It 
involves manipulated DNA.  It's still in the experimental stage, 
but there are presently six women carrying fetuses which are 
essentially lab subjects for the project."


The agent threw a quick glance at Alex,  then turned back to Smith.  
"What happens when the kids are born?" Fox wanted to know.


"They will likely be put through a number of tests, in order to 
gauge the success of the experiment,"  Smith told him.  
"Theoretically, the infants should be able to spontaneously recover 
from nearly anything. Starvation.  Immolation.  Exposure to heat 
and cold, viruses and bacteria. Broken bones.  Lacerations..."


"I get the idea."  Fox stopped him, a vaguely nauseous expression 
on his face.  


"As cruel as it may sound, the project leaders view it as a 
necessary evil," Smith continued.  "The future of the human race 
may well depend on it.  You're fighting a species that is much more 
difficult to kill than you are."   


"Look at the way the shapeshifters recover instantly from almost 
anything," Alex pointed out,  "unless the healing center in the 
brain stem is damaged.  That's why the only definite way to kill 
them is with a puncture wound to the stem.  If humans were as hard 
to kill, our chances of winning this war would improve."


The agent's hazel eyes examined Alex with distaste.  "You aren't 
trying to *defend* it, are you?"


"I'm only telling it like it is."  When his lover's appalled look 
remained, Alex sighed.  "Fox, look.  We have to be willing to 
sacrifice some, or we're going to lose it all.  We can't fight this 
war by the rules of  the Geneva Convention.  The other side isn't 
human.  We'd never win."  He turned his gaze toward the floor, 
adding, "I've seen worse things done."


"Worse than torturing children just to see how they heal?"


"Yes," Alex admitted. He couldn't bring himself to raise his gaze, 
afraid to meet the accusation in his lover's eyes. 
  

The room was silent, but for the drone of the television reporters.


Smith took a seat near the window and gazed out into the darkness.  
Alex picked up the remote control, fingered it absently.


"Okay," Fox finally sighed.  "Just for the sake of argument, let's 
assume that it's the lesser of however many evils.  But if the 
military is the chief sponsor of this project, why would this 
fellow Salt have pulled such a dangerous stunt?  Logically, the 
President would have access to any of the military's files."


Alex shrugged again.  "Maybe he learned something new.  Or maybe he 
thinks the military isn't keeping an accurate record on the 
project."  He returned  the remote to the coffee table.  "Or maybe 
he's just a nut."


"He's not just a nut," Fox argued.  "He had something on that CD.  
He knew that project's name.  He must have felt there was something 
worth risking his life for in that information."


"I suspect you're right, Agent Mulder.  Alex, were you still 
planning to go to Washington DC tomorrow?"


Nodding, Alex said, "Yeah.  And I'm already planning to make a side 
trip to Wiekamp to talk to my contact.  But I doubt he'll tell me 
anything about it.  Whatever that guy knew, it probably didn't 
reflect well on the project."


"I agree," Smith said.  "I was thinking of your other contact..."


"Rohrer?"  Alex shook off the chill that washed over him as he 
spoke the name.   He'd already told Fox about the replicant.


"Why not?" Smith replied mildly.  "He's not aware that you know 
what he is.  He may be willing to work with you.  It's a certainty 
that he'll be working with others who want to find out the contents 
of that disc.  If they consider you an ally, they  may share that 
information with you, should they learn it first.  If you discover 
it before they do, you naturally will not pass it along to them."


Alex nodded soberly. Smith was right, he knew. Maintaining that 
informant relationship with Rohrer was the logical thing to do.  
And Alex Krycek believed in doing whatever needed to be done. But 
it was going to take a hell of an acting job this time. The very 
idea of the replicants unnerved him.  He'd never before come across 
an enemy that he couldn't kill.  Even the black oil could be 
eliminated, though the vaccine was still desperately hard to come 
by.


He looked at his lover.  If Smith weren't there, Alex would've sunk 
into Fox's arms, if only to calm himself and draw on Fox's own 
courage.  But they weren't alone.  And the issue was still at hand.  
He needed to remain cool.  Jaw set, he turned again to the healer.


"Alright," he told Smith.  "I'll meet up with Rohrer tomorrow."


"The hell you will,"  Fox countered.   He stared at Alex in 
disbelief.  "You don't have to do that.  There's got to be some 
other way to find out what's up."  He shifted his gaze to Smith and 
added, "You know what you're asking him to do?  If the replicants 
catch on to him, they'll kill him."


"Possibly,"  Smith answered solemnly.  Alex read the remorse in the 
blue eyes, but he and Smith both understood the truth.  As much as 
he loved Fox, he couldn't protect him from the ruthlessness of it.


"It's like I said before, Fox," he began, his voice low.  "We have 
to be willing to sacrifice."  He swallowed uneasily under the 
agent's angry glare.  "I know you think I can be a cold bastard, 
but you have to know - I wouldn't ask anyone else to go through 
something I won't face myself."


"Why is *this* necessary, though?" Fox asked earnestly.  "We've 
just agreed that the military's project may be cruel, but it's got 
to be.  Why are you willing to put yourself through so much, if 
we're not going to do anything with what you'd learn from it?"


"If it's about the project, it's worth knowing," Alex explained.  
He glanced briefly at Smith, but the older man remained wordless.  
"You'll agree, once you know the rest."  He watched as the agent's 
angry eyes darkened with suspicion.


"What's the rest?" he asked.


Alex said, "We told you there were six unborn children out there 
that the project is focusing on."


Fox nodded.


"So there are six women who are also being used as subjects."


Fox nodded again, as Alex drew in a deep breath.


"One of them is Scully."


***********


Mulder rolled over, reaching out in his sleep but finding the space 
beside him empty.  I'm doing it again, he thought.  He rubbed his 
eyes wearily, blinking at the sunlight filtering into the room, and 
drew himself into a sitting position.


Alex.


He yawned and focused on the figure at the window.


"Hey,"  he mumbled.  "I'm not supposed to be alone in here 
anymore."


Alex glanced at him in confusion, then walked over and sat on the 
bed beside him.  " 'Morning, hon,"  he said softly,  leaning in for 
a kiss.  "What's that you were saying?"


"Nothing," Mulder told him, sheepishly.  He ran one finger along 
the crease in the leather jacket Alex was wearing.  "Leaving 
already?" he asked.


Alex nodded.  "Long drive ahead.  I've got to get an early start.  
I waited until you woke, though," he pointed out.


Mulder smiled.  "I see that.  Thanks."  He pressed his lips against 
the side of Alex's neck in another kiss, while he let one hand 
wander inside his lover's jacket, and under his shirt.


"Keep doing that, and I'm not going to want to leave," Alex warned 
him.  


"Good. I don't want you to leave."  Mulder drew back and gazed into 
the green eyes. "And you don't want to go,"  he stated.  "We can 
figure out some other way to get the information on that disc, you 
know.  You don't have to do this."


"Yeah, I do,"  Alex told him.  "Smith is right.  We can't afford to 
toss away any of our options.  That replicant has information that 
we don't, and it's willing to trade with me.  We can use that to 
our advantage.  I have to do this."


But you don't want to, Mulder thought.  That thing scares you to 
death.  You're only doing this for me.  For Scully.  Because you 
think she matters to me more than you do.  And I can't make you see 
the truth.


"Let me come with you, then,"  he suggested.


Alex refused.  "We can't risk you being seen walking around DC 
while you're supposed to be in the hospital.   It'd be too hard to 
explain."


"So?  I'll wear a disguise."


Alex only shook his head.   "No.  But don't worry," he reassured 
him.  "I'm only going to *talk* to Rohrer, and to stop in on your 
doppelganger and my contact.  I'll probably be home before the 
night's out."


He detached himself from Mulder with obvious reluctance.   As he 
rose to leave, he added, "Oh, I'll probably stop in at your 
apartment, too.  You want me to save anything for you before the 
clone gets to keep it all?"


"My apartment?"  Mulder repeated, curious. "It's still there?"


"Sure," Alex said, pausing in the doorway.  "I figured you'd be 
needing it again, so I kept it up for you.  Since the funeral, I 
mean.   Scully had been taking care of it before that.  But after 
they buried you - I mean the clone -,"  he grinned,  "I took over."


"Thanks,"  Mulder said, returning the grin.  "I appreciate that."   
Especially for giving some of the credit to Scully, he thought.  
But he didn't say it aloud.


Alex waved the thanks aside.  "No problem.  Your aunt wanted all of 
your stuff, but I took care of her.  You know, it's a good thing 
you never made a will, or I'd never have been able to keep 
everything together for you.  Not that it matters now, I guess,"  
he added as an afterthought.  "The clone'll just get it all now."


"How did you take care of my aunt?"


As soon as the question was out, Mulder wished he could have taken 
it back.  It sounded much more harsh than he'd intended, and much 
more emotional.  He watched in dismay as the grin faded from Alex's 
face. 


"I didn't kill her, Fox,"  the younger man sighed,  "if that's what 
you're wondering."  


His tone was mild enough, but Mulder saw the brief flash of pain in 
the green eyes.  


"Sorry,"  Mulder mumbled awkwardly.  God, they had enough things to 
deal with already.  They couldn't let every wrong word become an 
accusation.   "I didn't mean it like that..."


We're going to have to deal with it sometime, Mulder thought 
ruefully.  It won't go away.  God, I just wish I could believe you, 
Alex.  


But he couldn't.  And in Alex's perfect green eyes, he saw that the 
other man knew it.  


"Sorry," he said again.


Alex scowled, but without rancor.  "I talked to her after the 
funeral,"  he explained patiently.  "We worked things out.  I told 
her to keep her mouth shut,  and if anyone asked, to tell them that 
she was keeping up your lease for a while as a place to stay when 
she visits DC."


"She never visits DC,"  Mulder told him.  "She's afraid of the 
place."


"Who isn't?" Alex shrugged.  "Doesn't matter, anyway.  Now that 
you're alive again, Scully and that Doggett character have had 
their grimy little fingerprints all over the place.  Which means 
they've spoken to your aunt since they dug up the clone."   Zipping 
his jacket, he asked once more,  "So do you want me to save 
anything, or no?" 


Mulder thought a moment, then nodded.  "Bottom shelf of the 
bookcase, tucked into the front of the almanac,  there's a picture.  
The one we had taken at Lake Champlain."  


He knew that Alex remembered the picture; during the months they'd 
been lovers, it had sat, framed, on that same bookcase.  When he'd 
discovered Alex's betrayal,  Mulder had thrown the picture across 
the room, shattering the glass of the frame.  But he'd never been 
able to bring himself to get rid of the photograph.


As Mulder watched now,  that crooked grin reappeared on the younger 
man's face.  


"You still have that?"  Alex asked quietly.


"Yeah," Mulder admitted, rising from the bed. "And I'd like to keep 
it.  But only if you can collect it with no trouble.  Don't risk 
your life over it."  He reached the doorway, where Alex stood, 
still smiling.  "That photo means a lot to me, Alex.  But nothing 
means more to me than you do.  Not some picture, not the whole 
planet.  Not even Scully."  He drew his fingers along Alex's jaw.  
"So take care, okay? "


Alex nodded wordlessly,  took a silent step backward, and turned 
toward the stairs.


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


The rest of the morning passed quickly.  Mulder spent much of it 
with Alex's laptop computer, researching news stories on Howard 
Salt,  the arrests made at the Montana compound, his own 
disappearance and death.  The mainstream news media had discovered 
the story of the exhumation of Fox Mulder's body, but were at a 
loss to explain it.  The official quotes from the bureau were 
included in the articles, but Mulder didn't see how anyone could 
believe them.   No official story could explain the resurrection of 
a man three months buried.


The arrests at the Montana compound had received little attention, 
but Mulder found the photographs interesting.  He'd heard Alex and 
Smith refer to Absalom, but this was the first time he'd seen 
pictures of the man.  Not quite what he expected, somehow;  the 
calm determination in Absalom's eyes reminded Mulder of Smith 
himself.


One photograph in particular caught Mulder's interest.  In it, 
Absalom was pictured with a handful of followers. There was no 
article attached, but the caption referred to the group as members 
of a UFO cult.  And one of the members, clearly visible in the 
upper corner, was Howard Salt.


Mulder jotted down the URL of the website and continued.


The coverage of Howard Salt himself was still sketchy.  The man 
worked for the United States Census bureau, and had a recent 
history of poor attendance and low performance.  


Not a single article referred to the CD that he, Smith and Alex had 
seen in the guard's hand.  


Damned mainstream media.  Can't count on them to report anything 
properly.


Curious, he began accessing the search engines for any other 
articles or information on Salt.  Story after story reported the 
same handful of details.  It wasn't until he hit an underground 
site that he found what he was looking for.  Salt had granted the 
site owners an interview only a few days ago,  revealing his 
abduction experiences and his suspicions that aliens were beginning 
to take over the United States.  In the interview, Salt expressed 
his frustration with the news media, whom he had approached 
repeatedly with his information.


Odd, Mulder thought.  As far as he had seen, not a single news 
source had mentioned previous encounters with Salt.  Wonder if 
someone's been shutting them up.


Reading further, Mulder was surprised to discover his own name in 
the article. 



' "...the takeover is escalating,"* Salt continued.*  "There are 
people whom we know to be dead, returning to life under the 
possession of the extraterrestrials. That FBI agent, Fox Mulder, 
for example.  Everyone swept that story aside, didn't they? But 
I've got a list of others, as well. People whom it's been verified 
were dead..."


So that's what's on that CD, Mulder figured.  The list.   Salt 
obviously hadn't known the details of Mulder's rescue, or that it 
was a government-designed clone that had been buried and later 
exhumed.  But the majority of his conclusions fit with what Mulder 
knew.  He read on:


" ...but have apparently turned up alive.  The US government has an 
additional database of statistics on these people - samples of 
their fingerprints, voiceprints, DNA.  Their entire genetic 
makeup..."


That may explain the clones, Mulder thought.  But was it possible 
that the government knew in advance who would be abducted,  knew 
which abductees would receive those alien implants and which would 
not?   


His own father had known in advance that Samantha would be taken, 
had in fact chosen her to be an abductee.  That cigarette-smoking 
bastard had known that Cassandra Spender would be taken multiple 
times.  


Alex had known that Scully would be taken.  


Hadn't he?


The rest of the interview yielded nothing new to Mulder.   A quick 
search of the site's archives, and he discovered that there were no 
more articles concerning Howard Salt.  Curious, he scrolled back up 
the alphabetized list for his own name.  A site like this ought to 
have something more on him, he thought wryly.  


He found links to two articles. 


Mulder, Fox: FBI agent revived three months after burial.
Mulder, Fox: Paranormal investigator abducted by aliens?


He was about to follow the first link when his eye caught the name 
just above his own.


Miles, William: OR man revives during autopsy.


Billy Miles? 


**********


Alex scoped the park, his mind automatically scrutinizing and 
categorizing the early afternoon crowd.  Most of them still wore 
jackets, the spring sun not yet warm enough in the chill air.  
Tourists, businessmen and women, packs of children on class trips - 
no one who looked out of place.  


And no sign of Rohrer.


The busy visibility of this location generally wouldn't be Alex's 
idea of a good place to meet with a contact.  But calling to 
arrange a better time and place would have been nothing more than a 
stalling tactic, since Alex knew he could find Rohrer jogging here 
any afternoon.  That the wide open area of the park soothed his 
claustrophobic nerves was only a lucky coincidence.  Nothing more.


"Looking for someone?"


Fuck.


Alex spun around instantly, facing the questioner before the last 
syllable was out.  His hand in his jacket pocket gripped the Glock 
concealed there, and his knuckles brushed the cool metal of the 
pick beside it.   


He didn't remove either weapon.   The man in front of him, dark-
suited and straight-backed, had to be bureau.   But he was alone, 
and he didn't appear ready to pull out the handcuffs.   


"Do I know you?"  Alex asked coolly.  He was still unsettled by the 
way this man had snuck up on him so easily, but he was damned if he 
was going to let the bastard know it.


The man extended his hand to shake.  Alex ignored the gesture;  he 
wasn't ready to sacrifice quick access to his weapons.  


"My name is Crane,"  the agent said, withdrawing his hand.  Alex's 
mind flashed back to a moment, six years earlier, when he'd been on 
the other side of that gesture.  "I'm with the FBI,"  Crane told 
him.


No kidding, Alex thought.  "So?"


"I'm also a friend of Knowle Rohrer's,"  Crane declared.  "He 
pointed you out to me, Mr. Krycek."


So he's around here someplace.  Alex's eyes swept across the 
visible expanse of park over Crane's shoulder.


"Oh, he's not here right now,"  Crane said,  observing the 
movement.  "But he thought I might be able to help you."


"And I'm supposed to believe you?"  Alex asked, skeptical.


Crane shrugged.  "You don't have to,"  he replied.  "But I have 
reason to believe that you and I are on the same side in 
certain...affairs.  The same side that Knowle is on."


"Maybe,"  Alex said gruffly.  His mind was spinning through the 
possibilities.  Was this guy telling the truth?   Did he know that 
Rohrer was a replicant? Was he one, himself?   If he was an 
associate of Rohrer before Rohrer's  transformation, he could prove 
to be a valuable ally.   Assuming he was telling the truth.  


He couldn't chance any of it.  There was too damn much at stake.  
He needed more information.


"Alright, then,"  he proposed. "Why don't we both go meet Rohrer 
right now?"


The suggestion seemed to surprise Crane.  He was silent for a 
moment before he nodded.  "Okay,"  Crane agreed.  "We can go right 
now.  He's on the other side of the park."


So he lied just a minute ago, Alex noted.


"But we may have to wait,"  Crane cautioned as they began walking.  
"He was going to meet with someone else this afternoon."


" 'S okay, I'll wait."  Alex glanced casually at the man walking 
beside him.  If Rohrer really *had* told Crane that Alex was on 
their side, then this man might be willing to share a bit of 
information.  It was worth a try, he thought. "So if we're all in 
this together, how about telling me who Rohrer's meeting with?"


Crane smiled amicably.  "Sure.  It's not an ally, though.  It's 
another agent.  One I work with, myself, as a matter of fact."   As 
they approached the north gate of the park, Crane nodded his head 
in the direction of two men standing by a water fountain.  Rohrer's 
tall form was unmistakable.  The other fellow, Alex reasoned, must 
be the one Crane meant.


It was Agent Doggett.


**********


"So he really didn't know anything?"  Mulder asked.  He watched as 
Alex spread mustard onto a roll and began fixing his third 
sandwich.  He must not have eaten all day, Mulder thought.


"He says he doesn't,"  Alex answered, glancing at the other two men 
in turn.  "He's up to something, though.  He told me he expected to 
find out more about that CD after Doggett looks into the Census 
database.  But I think he's lying.  I think he's setting Doggett up 
for something."


"For what?" Smith queried.  


"I don't know.  All I know is that he's planning to tip Doggett off 
to the passcode for that database. I told Rohrer I'd be back in DC 
in a couple of days to see what he learned."


"So the whole meeting was a bust,"  Mulder grumbled.  "You're going 
to have to do it all over again." 


Alex swallowed a bite of his sandwich and shook his head.  "Not a 
bust,  Fox,"  he told him with a smile.  "I may have gotten one or 
two things taken care of."


Mulder looked at him, curious.  There was a touch of optimism in 
Alex's tone, almost   a sense of self-satisfaction.   "Such as?"


Smith answered for Alex.  "For one thing, we know about Agent 
Crane,"  he reminded Mulder.  "And we know that Agent Doggett is 
associated in some way with Knowle Rohrer."


That was true, Mulder acknowledged with a nod.  He turned back to 
Alex. "Anything else?"


"I think I may have neutralized the threat the replicants pose for 
Scully,"  Alex told him.


Mulder stared, dumbfounded.


"How?"  Smith asked with interest.


"I told Rohrer that the Zeus project had been undermined.  That 
Scully's baby isn't what they think it is - that it's a human-alien 
hybrid."


"*What*?" Mulder asked.  "It isn't, is it?"


"No, of course not,"  Alex assured him.  "But it's better if they 
think it is."  He took another hungry bite from his sandwich.


Smith nodded pensively.  "That's very clever, Alex,"  he agreed. 
"For the replicants, a superhuman is a threat to be eliminated 
before it's even born.   But if they believe that the baby is a 
successful hybrid, they'll do whatever they have to in order to 
protect it."


"Meaning?"  Mulder queried.


Alex explained,  "For the past fifty years, the aliens have been 
waiting for us to create a successful hybrid.  It was part of a 
bargain we struck with them."


"Cassandra Spender,"  Mulder remembered.  "The consortium was 
supposed to oversee the experiments.  That's how they thought 
they'd save themselves."


"And stall the colonization,"  Alex pointed out.  "The aliens 
wanted a hybrid species that would be strong enough to use for 
slave labor."


Smith concurred.  "And they'd still like that."


"So you think they'll leave Scully alone now?"  Mulder wanted to 
know.  He wasn't so sure of that, himself.


But Smith and Alex both nodded.  "For the time being, at least,"  
the older man said.  "Unless they have reason to think that she'll 
abort it.  They won't let her hurt it herself, either."


No problem there, Mulder thought.  She's wanted a baby for too 
long.  


"Why just Scully?"  he asked Alex.  "Why didn't you tell Rohrer 
that all six of the babies were hybrids?"


"Couldn't risk it,"  Alex told him.  "Some of them might be born 
before Scully's kid is.  If they have time to find out that I lied 
to them..."


"...they'd be back to going after her,"  Mulder finished for him.  
And they'll kill you as well, he thought.  Oh god, Alex.  You've 
got to stop doing this... 


"Better that at least *one* of the kids is safe from them,"  Alex 
said.  That earlier light had faded from his eyes, though, and 
Mulder cursed himself for asking the question.


"Clever,"  Smith reiterated, rising from the table. 


Mulder nodded in agreement.  "It is, Alex,"  he said.  The younger 
man looked at him from under those thick dark lashes, making Mulder 
smile in spite of himself.  "And thank you,"  he added quietly. 


Alex shrugged it off.  


Placing his coffee cup in the sink, Smith said, "I'd better be 
getting over to the compound.  Unless there was anything else..."


"Nope,"  Alex told him.  "That's about it.  McCarniss told me 
nothing, except that he's having Mulder's double reinstated at the 
bureau. Scully and Skinner had already submitted a request, so 
McCarniss only had to pull a few strings there.  He says he doesn't 
know anything about Howard Salt or that CD."


Smith nodded.  "Well, we expected that."  He crossed the kitchen 
archway and took his windbreaker from the closet.  "Good-night, 
gentleman,"  he said.


"Good-night,"  Mulder answered, pushing his own chair back to rise 
from the table.  He dumped the last of his cold coffee into the 
sink.  "Drive carefully,"  he cautioned.


Alex only mumbled, " 'Night, Jem,"  through a mouthful of sandwich.  


Pulling on the light nylon jacket, Smith let himself out the door.


Mulder waited until the roar of the pick-up had dimmed before 
speaking again.  He crouched alongside the other man's chair,  
facing him.  "Alex?"  


"Hmm?"  Alex swallowed the last of his sandwich with a hard gulp.  
"What is it, Fox?"


Mulder reached over, taking Alex's chin lightly in his hand, 
drawing Alex's gaze to him.  


"Look,"  he said, "I know that there are things we haven't talked 
much about -"   


He broke off as Alex pulled back.  His hand slid from his lover's 
jaw to the back of the man's neck, holding him firmly in place.   
"No, let me say this, okay?"


The green eyes darkened, but Alex said, "Go ahead."  


"I just need you to understand this,"  Mulder said simply.  "I 
don't care anymore what you did in the past.  It's just not worth 
losing you again."  He paused, but his lover only stared wordlessly 
at him.  "Well, I just wanted you to know that. Okay?"


Alex was still for a moment.  "Okay,"  he agreed quietly.


Mulder pressed a light kiss against the other man's forehead.  
"So," he said, rising, "are you finished with supper, or do I have 
to wait a while longer before I get you into bed?"


"I'm done with supper,"  Alex grinned, "but you can't go upstairs 
yet.  There's one more thing to take care of."  


Intrigued, Mulder asked, "What is it?"


"Checkbook pocket of my jacket,"  Alex told him.  "Go look."


Mulder raised an eyebrow.  "Ooh, brought me a surprise, did you?"


"Hardly,"  Alex answered.  "You asked me for it this morning."


Mulder was on his feet instantly.  His lover's soft chuckle 
followed him across the hallway to the closet door.   It was a nice 
sound, he thought as he plunged his hand into the deep pocket.  He 
knew what he'd find, even before his fingers identified the cool 
smooth surface of the small sheet.


He withdrew his hand, pulling the little photograph along with it.  
Staring up from the picture were three smiling faces - his own, 
Alex's, and a plastic replica of Champ, the sea monster.  Mulder 
smiled back at them.


/continues in Part Six/


**********


Title: Seconds
See disclaimers and notes in Part One


Seconds
By Tiramisu


Part Six:



Mulder stirred his coffee restlessly, eyes scanning the list of 
websites Alex had left with him.  This had become his morning 
routine now, checking for updates on this handful of sites and 
bulletin boards that Alex and his associates used.  At first, 
Mulder had appreciated the assignment, both as a palliative to 
boredom and as a gesture of trust from his lover.  But as the days 
passed and the agent's strength returned, Mulder found himself 
anxious for more of a role in what Alex called 'the war'. With the 
laptop in front of him on the kitchen table, he began skimming the 
morning's news.  


Howard Salt's death had been replaced in the headlines last week by 
Absalom's death, and Mulder had found himself with the opportunity 
to learn a bit more about Scully's new partner, John Doggett.  He 
knew that Alex still considered the man an unknown quantity;  
Doggett's association with Rohrer troubled him, and the agent's 
disbelief in the conspiracy made him unpredictable and 
untrustworthy.  But Alex did admit that Doggett's concern for 
Scully seemed genuine, and Mulder found himself predisposed to like 
the man for that.  And he had seen the news coverage of Doggett 
after Absalom's death.  Whatever John Doggett believed about the 
conspiracy, he clearly found it abhorrent that Absalom had been 
killed the way he had.  In time,  Mulder suspected, he could be 
made to understand the truth.


He swallowed a mouthful of the lukewarm coffee, grimacing at its 
bitter taste. Across the table from him, Jeremiah Smith glanced up 
from his newspaper, about to speak, and smiled instead.  "That bad, 
is it?"


Mulder shook his head, embarrassed.  "I just let it get too cold," 
he admitted. Nodding at the newspaper under Smith's hand, he asked, 
"You find something there?"


"Possibly,"  Smith told him.  "I don't suppose Alex has made it all 
the way to Wiekamp yet?  He may be able to look into these while 
he's there."


"He only left a couple of hours ago,"  Mulder reminded the other 
man.  "He's probably still on the highway.  What have you got?"   
he asked, leaning over the table to see headline of the story in 
question.   Smith pushed the paper toward him helpfully, turning it 
around for Mulder's benefit.  Then he reached for one of the other 
newspapers on the chair and placed it beside the first one.


"Go ahead,"  the older man said.


Mulder looked at the two articles, picked up the first one.


" 'Arlington Woman Killed in House Fire',"  he read aloud.  He 
skimmed the short article.  The woman was alone in the house, 
asleep, at the time.  The fire was attributed to faulty wiring; she 
and her husband had recently had their home renovated in 
anticipation of the birth of their first child.


So?


"Was she one of the six?"  Mulder wondered aloud.


Smith nodded.  "Yes.  Due any day, as well."


"I take it you don't believe this was a simple accident, then."


"I don't know,"  Smith confessed.  "But it bears looking into.  
Alex's contact at Wiekamp is involved in the project at Zeus 
Genetics.  He may be able to tell us something."


Mulder frowned, scanning the story a second time.  "It doesn't make 
sense, though,"  he pointed out.  "Why would the military kill one 
of their own experiments?"


"I don't know that they would,"  Smith acknowledged.  "Although 
there's a chance that they want to test the viability of an embryo 
not carried to term.  The story does not actually mention the state 
of woman's pregnancy, nor the condition of the child."


Skeptical, Mulder handed the newspaper back to Smith.  "The 
military doesn't need to kill the mother,"  he argued.  "They could 
just arrange for her to be hospitalized, and then take the baby, 
claiming  complications.  It seems more likely that the replicants 
are  responsible for this fire."


"That is a possibility, as well,"  the older man agreed.   "I'm 
hoping Alex can find that out."


A flash of resentment struck Mulder, and he opened his mouth to 
object. He didn't like the idea of all of this being put upon his 
lover.  Alex had too utilitarian a view of his own life as it was.


But Smith merely nodded his head at the other newspaper, still by 
Mulder's hand.


Sighing, the agent turned to the second article.  " 'Oil Rig 
Blowout Turns Deadly',"  he began.


Oil?


Mulder shot a glance at the healer, but Smith said nothing.  Mulder 
turned back to the article and continued reading aloud:


"The body of one of two men who disappeared Tuesday following an 
explosion on an oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico has been recovered 
off the coast of Texas.  Simon de la Cruz worked for GalPex 
Petroleum from 1999 until his death Tuesday on the GalPex rig, 
Orpheus.  De la Cruz, a Mexican national, was found with flash 
burns covering more than 90% of his body..."


Mulder paused,  an uneasy thought creeping into his mind.  He'd 
seen thisbefore.  And if Smith has singled out this article as 
well, he reasoned, then this is not just paranoia.


He looked up and met the older man's somber blue eyes.  
"Radiation?"  he asked.


"I think it may be,"  Smith confirmed for him.  "According to that 
article, GalPex had just recently tapped in to a new supply of oil 
in the Gulf of Mexico, and..."


"...and you think it's black oil,"  Mulder finished for him.


"I think there's a chance of it, yes."


Mulder considered the possibility, skimming the rest of the 
article.  The facts certainly fit.  And if that oil got loose.... 
"Any idea how GalPex stumbled on to this oil?"


Smith shook his head.  "Could be coincidence, I imagine.  Or it 
could be that they were led to it.  I've got people looking for 
abductees all the time, but we don't find them all. The ones that 
transform into replicants can blend in to society quite easily.  
There may be one or more of them working at GalPex.  At other 
refineries, too, for that matter.  It would be a logical field for 
them to penetrate, when you think about it."


Mulder rested his head in his hands, the enormity of that 
possibility sinking in.


We're not going to win, he thought.  They've got too much of a head 
start on us...


"...if Alex can learn something from his contacts,"  Smith was 
saying.


Mulder glanced up with a start.


"What?"  he asked.  Without waiting for an answer, he said, "No.  I 
don't want Alex anywhere near that rig."


"I have no intention of asking him to go down to the Gulf, Agent 
Mulder,"  Smith assured him.  "I am well aware of Alex's previous 
encounter with the oil.  No, I would only send someone who has 
already been vaccinated against it.  If I can't find anyone 
appropriate, I'll go myself."


Mulder nodded, mollified.  But how many options did that leave?  he 
wondered. How many of Smith's assorted contacts were vaccinated, or 
could be vaccinated on such short notice?  As far  as Mulder knew, 
the vaccine was still only being produced in Russia, and very 
little of it there, according to Alex.  No, there couldn't be too 
many people available with the prerequisites to handle this 
situation.


Mulder studied the healer thoughtfully.  If Alex were here right 
now, he'd veto instantly the suggestion Mulder was about to make.  
But Smith understood the necessity of the risks;  he might be 
willing to allow it.  If not, Mulder would just have to do this on 
his own.


"Smith..."


The older man looked at him curiously.


"*I've* been vaccinated."


**********


Alex sat across from General McCarniss, his expression carefully 
neutral, pondering the general's request.  As assignments went, 
this one would be easy. It required little time, no extra 
traveling.  No extra contact with the replicants.  And it gave him 
yet another contact, one which would be right there on the scene 
with Scully.


Yeah, Alex thought.  He could accept this assignment.  The entire 
arrangement suited him well.  But he wouldn't let McCarniss know 
that too soon.  He wanted more information first.


"Why do you need a second operative in there at all?"  he quizzed 
the general.  "You've already got Mulder in place.  I thought the 
whole point of these clones of yours was to protect those women."


"It is.  But Agent Scully is due to give birth within the next few 
weeks,"  McCarniss told him.  "We want to make absolutely certain 
that nothing will go wrong.  And Mulder has been behaving somewhat 
unpredictably lately.  We don't want to take any chances."


Alex shook off the uneasy prickle those words caused in him.  
Sitting back, he asked mildly, "Unpredictable, how?"


The general studied him for a moment,  then leaned forward across 
his desk. "We have reason to believe that he stole information from 
Howard Salt's computer,"  McCarniss confided.  "There's a chance 
that he has begun to work with, or for, someone else.  We don't 
actually know who's side he's on anymore."


Oh, fuck.


"We already have people looking into it, but if there's a need for 
your particular skills,"  the general smiled in a conspiratorial 
manner, "I'll let you know."

 
Maintaining his disinterested look with effort, Alex asked, "Do you 
think there's anything to worry about with him?"


"Let's just say that we're keeping an eye on the situation."


McCarniss rose.  His perfectly straight back and direct eyes would 
have betrayed his position as a military man, even if he hadn't 
been in uniform.  Most people found him intimidating.


Alex stretched and stood up leisurely.


"Come along,"  the general told him.  "I want you to meet your new 
colleague. She's not military, but she has handled similar 
assignments in the past.  She's also an excellent scientist,"  he 
added.  "I assume you agree to serve as her back-up if necessary?"


"Yes."  Alex followed McCarniss out the door and along the sterile 
corridor.  He couldn't afford not to agree, now.


Who could the clone be working with?


The general strode aggresively, his heels clicking rhythmically on 
the tile floor.  Alex, walking alongside him, was soundless.


They came to a stop outside the laboratory door.  "We're going to 
try to get her into position as soon as we can,"  McCarniss told 
Alex.  "With luck, we'll have her in place by the end of the week."  
He pushed open the lab door, leading Alex inside.


The redhead at the long table hardly looked like a scientist,  but 
Alex had long since ceased to be surprised by appearances.  He 
stepped forward as the general introduced them.


"Lizzie, I'd like you to meet Alex Krycek.  He'll be your contact 
during your next assignment.  Krycek, meet Elizabeth Gill."


**********


The sunglasses were comfortable, but the hat felt strange to 
Mulder.  Neither,  in his opinion, formed much of a disguise.  But 
Smith had insisted on them; they were, he said, enough to hide 
Mulder's face from the airport cameras while subtle enough not to 
draw attention to him.


"I feel like a cologne advertisement,"  Mulder quipped.  His 
traveling companion led him to a pair of seats near the window, 
away from most of the passengers.


Smith gave him a gentle smile.  "You're fine,"  he assured him.  
"We need to keep you unrecognized, though, until you get on board 
the Orpheus.  This is the simplest way to accomplish that."


Mulder stared out the airport window, watching the 727 as it 
approached the docking gate.  "You know,"  he told Smith, "you 
really don't have to come along. I can handle this.  I may be 
rusty, but I do know what I'm doing." 


"I know,"  Smith admitted easily.  "I won't be following you onto 
the oil rig. But I'd like to be nearby, in case I can be of use.  
Besides,"  he added without emotion,  "I rather think that if I 
return to the house without you, Alex won't allow me to live."


To his surprise, Mulder felt a blush creep into his cheeks.  He 
ducked his head and turned to watch the progress of the plane out 
the window.


So Smith did know about them, he figured. He wasn't really 
surprised; he and Alex weren't always as circumspect as they might 
be, and Smith wasn't a particularly na=EFve individual.


Well, at least it doesn't seem to bother him, Mulder thought with 
relief. 


He returned his gaze to the healer.  "How long have you known 
Alex?"  he asked.


"Hmm? Oh, quite a few years,"  Smith told him.  "Since he was in 
his teens.  He and Jeffrey Spender were schoolmates.  He stopped by 
to visit Cassandra once when she was in the hospital.  I happened 
to be visiting her at the same time."


Mulder frowned, interested.  "Did he know about the aliens, back 
then?"


Smith considered the question.  "He knew that Cassandra believed 
herself to be an abductee.  But he didn't know about the 
conspiracy.  He's been learning about that in stages, over the 
years.  As you and I have."


"As *you* have?"  Mulder repeated, dubious.  "You know a lot more 
about it than I do,"  he pointed out.


"Not really," his companion corrected him soberly.  "I'm only 
trying to fight them, just as you are."


The two men paused as the attendant called their flight.  Rising, 
Smith said, "Come along, Agent Mulder."  He picked up the overnight 
case that held both men's clothing and toiletries, then turned and 
studied Mulder, appraising him once more. "Are you sure you're up 
to this?  If you feel..."


"No, I'm okay,"  Mulder assured him as he stood up. He looked down 
at the ticketin his hand and a surge of adrenaline flooded him. He 
was back in the game.


"Let's go."


**********


The pick-up was gone when Alex pulled into the driveway.  In 
itself, that wouldn't be unusual; Smith often headed over to the 
compound early in the evening, since Fox was almost fully 
recovered.  But the house itself was completely dark, and that was 
unusual.  Even if Fox had gone to bed early, he would have left a 
light on for Alex or Smith.


He let himself into the house and stood, listening, just inside the 
doorway. The house was empty, that much he knew.  He'd learned long 
ago to trust his instincts on such matters.  Nevertheless, moving 
to the base of the stairs, he paused again and listened for any 
movement.  


Silence.


Alex climbed the stairs soundlessly, his eyes peering through the 
darkness into the open doorway of the room at the top of the stairs 
- the room he and Fox now shared.


The bedroom was empty, the bed made.  He checked the other upstairs 
rooms, but found nothing.


Returning to Fox's room, Alex switched on the bedside lamp.  Where 
the hell ishe?  he wondered. He wouldn't have just left, would he?  


Somewhere inside, Alex knew it was possible.  Sooner or later, he'd 
told himself, Fox was going to come to his senses and Alex would 
lose him.  It was only a matter of time.


But would he have left *now*?


He stared across the room at the top of the painted bureau.  There 
was nothing on it.  The picture of them at Lake Champlain was gone.


This morning, before Alex had left, Fox had again told him that the 
past didn't matter. It had become a daily mantra for his lover; 
spoken in Fox's deceptively unemotional voice, it was that man's 
offer of love and trust, his promise of forgiveness.  But it was 
always delivered in the context of Alex's attempts to keep Scully 
safe, and at heart he knew that the forgiveness only extended that 
far.


Fox had stopped accusing Alex of William Mulder's death, but that 
didn't mean the issue had gone away.  Not to Alex, at least.


He stood there now, beside the bed they'd shared this past month, 
and turned to face the door of the closet.  If Fox had left, he 
would have taken at least someclothes with him.  Swallowing, Alex 
took the two steps to the door, looked into the closet.


It didn't look as though anything was missing.  Possibly his grey 
pullover, but that could be sitting in the laundry bin downstairs. 
Certainly, not much else was missing.


He checked the dresser drawers.  Nothing missing here, either.


Alex let out a deep breath.  Alright, he thought, so maybe Fox 
hasn't left me. 


Where is he?


Fumbling in his pocket, Alex drew out his cell phone.  With his 
thumb, he punched in the numbers for Jeremiah Smith's line and 
headed downstairs. Maybe Fox had accompanied Smith to the compound.


But the voice that greeted him over the phone was not his friend's. 


Alex paused on the step, listening in disbelief as the telephone 
recording played through.


Out of range?  Where the hell would Smith go that was out of range?


Damn it.  Where were they?


Reaching the lower landing, he flipped on the switches for the 
overhead hallway and kitchen lights. He glanced into the kitchen, 
knowing he'd find no one there.


It wasn't until he turned on the desk lamp in the living room that 
he saw the note.


Alex -
Smith and I will be gone for a couple of days.  Don't worry,  
everything's fine.
Fox


Fuck.


Don't worry, everything's fine?  Alex crumpled the note angrily.  
What the hell were they thinking?  If anyone spotted Fox and the 
clone in different places at the same time, Fox Mulder's life was 
over. Hell, from what McCarniss had said today, even if Fox were 
believed to be the clone, he could become a target. 


And now I'll have to make sure the clone is occupied all day 
tomorrow, he thought.  

Damn.


Setting his cell phone on the desk, he shrugged out of his jacket.  
The Glock fell out of his pocket as he tossed the coat onto the 
sofa, and he picked it up, feeling suddenly very weary.


They could have told him where they were going.  They could have 
trusted him that far.


He wandered tiredly out to the kitchen and grabbed the bottle of 
orange juice from the refrigerator.  On the table he noticed his 
laptop, along with the morning's papers.  The newspaper on top was 
folded back as though someone had focused on that article.  
Curious, Alex picked it up and read the headline.


And felt the blood freeze in his veins.


**********


He hadn't realized how much he'd come to think of the little house 
as 'home' until he drove up to it two days later.  He'd been away 
from the house before, of course; he often accompanied Alex to the 
supermarket,  and twice now they'd gone into Reading for clothes 
and supplies.  But he hadn't been far away, and he hadn't been gone 
for one night, let alone two.


And he hadn't slept away from Alex since they'd gotten back 
together last month.


It was amazing, he thought, how quickly you could get used to 
having someone there beside you at night.


As he steered the pick-up into the driveway, Mulder spotted Alex on 
the porch.  Barefoot in a pair of well-worn jeans, he was sitting 
on the porch step, his head resting against the railing.  His 
flannel shirt hung loose, unbottoned.


He didn't move as Mulder stepped out of the car.


Well, Mulder figured,  it's not like you didn't know he'd be upset.  
He crossed the drive , approaching his lover on the porch 
hesitantly, wary.


"Hi,"  he said softly, greeting him with an uncertain smile.  "Am I 
still welcome?"


His lover cast expressionless eyes on him, asking him quietly,  
"Are you alright?"


"I'm fine,"  Mulder assured him.  He sat beside his lover on the 
step and brought his hand to the back of Alex's neck, taking him in 
a gentle grip.  "Are you angry?"


"Yes,"  Alex told him.


"Will you forgive me?"


Alex nodded solemnly.  "For anything.  But you shouldn't have done 
it, Fox. We're supposed to be in this together.  You should have 
told me what you were up to."


"You would have fought me on it,"  Mulder pointed out.  "You 
wouldn't have let me go."


"Damn straight,"  Alex agreed vehemently.  "That black oil is 
serious shit.  I don't want you anywhere near it."


Mulder scowled.  "It's because it's serious that I *had* to go.  We 
both know what that oil is about.  Someone had to contain it to 
that rig..."


"That someone didn't have to be you, dammit!"


"Why not?"  Mulder argued reasonably.  "It made a lot more sense 
than letting *you* go."


"The hell it does,"  Alex countered.  "I've got more experience 
with this stuff than you do."


"But I've been vaccinated against it and you haven't,"  Mulder 
pointed out. "Alex, that oil's been *in* you.  We don't know what 
any further contact with it would do to you."


He broke off as Alex paled, staring at Mulder.


"I couldn't let you take that chance,"  Mulder said quietly.  
Shedding his jacket, he tossed it onto the railing.


His lover drew a deep breath, let it out slowly. "You knew about 
that?"


Mulder shrugged.  "I was there with you, Alex.  We rode the whole  
flight home from Hong Kong together.  You think I didn't notice?"


Alex shook his head, uncertainty behind the natural defiance in his 
eyes. Mulder reached out, stroked the man's hair.


"It's why you won't let Smith heal your arm, isn't it?"  he 
questioned gently. "You're afraid it'll bring it back or wake it up 
or something."


Alex nodded.


"And Smith doesn't know what it'll do, either."


"No."


So you just live with it, Mulder thought.  All this time...


"Then don't you see why I couldn't let you go?  Why I didn't want 
to let you risk it?"


Alex shrugged.  "I could have handled it,"  he maintained.


"But you didn't *have* to,"  Mulder insisted,  frustrated.  "You 
said yourself, we're in this together now.  That means we look out 
for each other.  It doesn't mean you just take care of me."


"I don't want you to get hurt again,"  his lover told him softly.


Mulder brought his hand to Alex's face, lightly tracing the curve 
of the stubbled jaw with his thumb.  "I know.  But you can't take 
on all of the dangerous work yourself.  If we're partners, we share 
the risks.  And, plain and simple, it was less dangerous for me to 
go."


He took Alex's face in both hands, leaned forward so that their 
foreheads touched, rubbed the tip of his nose against his lover's. 
"Hey,"  he murmurred, "we haven't seen each other in two whole 
days.  Are we gonna spend all afternoon fighting, or can we go 
inside and make up now?"


And before Alex could answer,  Mulder leaned in and kissed him.


**********


"It was still a stupid thing to do,"  Alex argued into the phone.  
"The least you could have done was check with me first..."


"Neither of us felt that speaking with you about it would have been
constructive, Alex,"  Smith told him patiently.  "You tend to let 
your feelings get in the way where Agent Mulder is concerned - "


Alex glared across the kitchen at Fox, who stood fixing sandwiches 
at the counter.  "And don't call him 'Agent' anymore.  Thanks to 
the two of you and this stupid frigging stunt, Fox Mulder's been 
fired from the bureau."


The silence on the other end of the line told Alex that he'd made 
his point. "The damned clone was already aggravating the guys at 
Wiekamp,"  he informed the healer.  "You two may have sealed its 
death warrant."


"Does 'Mr' Mulder know that?"  Smith asked.


"Oh, sure,"  Alex answered tiredly.  "He knows.  *He's* so bothered 
by it all, he's making *lunch*."


Fox turned to glance at Alex,  giving his lover a fierce grin.  
Alex scowled in return, and Fox's grin quickly faded into 
uncertainty.


"Look, Smith,"  Alex continued, "are you going to need a ride back 
here tonight, or you want to wait until tomorrow?"


"I think I'll remain at the compound tonight, Alex,"  Smith 
replied.  Alex heard the trace of amusement in the placid voice.  
He told the older man angrily, "Fine, then.  Call in the morning 
when you're ready to go."  Closing the connection abruptly, he 
slammed the cell phone onto the countertop.


Fox winced at the sound.


"You know,  great sex usually puts you in a better mood than this,"  
he joked. He put a plate full of sandwiches on the table and sat 
opposite Alex.


The younger man selected one of the sandwiches and bit into it 
without a word, his eyes meeting his lover's with a reluctant 
smile.


Fox raised an eyebrow expectantly.  "It *was* great sex, wasn't 
it?"


"Yeah, it was,"  Alex admitted.  "At least we have that going for 
us."


**********


The porch faced east, like their bedroom window upstairs.  In the 
afternoons, with the heavy growth of trees around the house, the 
porch often appeared to be in twilight even while the rest of the 
house still glowed with sunlight.


The porch was darkening now in the late afternoon, but Alex made no 
move to come in.  So Mulder finally decided to step outside.


"You're looking thoughtful,"  he spoke,  pushing open the screen 
door.  "Mind some company?"


Alex leaned against the railing,  staring out at the dirt road in 
the direction of the compound.  If he moved his head, Mulder didn't 
see it.  Crossing the threshold onto the porch,  Mulder stood 
beside his lover, leaning against the railing, leaning into Alex.


He slipped one arm around Alex; drawing his body up against his 
lover's, he pressed his lips to the other man's neck with a slow, 
deliberate pause to graze his cheek against Alex's stubbled jaw.
Alex didn't pull away, but he didn't press in against Mulder as he 
usually did.


"Still angry?"  Mulder asked him.


"I'm not angry, Fox,"  Alex spoke tiredly.  "I'm just trying to 
figure out what to do."


Mulder nodded, more to himself than to his lover.  "I was thinking 
about that, too,"  he told the younger man.  "If my double really 
is reporting to someone other than your contact, maybe I'd be in a 
better position than you to find that out.  If I go back to DC..."


"If you go back to DC," Alex stated flatly,  "you're as good as 
dead."


Mulder shook his head.  "Not necessarily.  If you can keep the 
clone out of the way, then maybe no one will know that I'm not 
*it*.  You can tip me off to what your contact expects, and I can 
play out the rest of it myself."


"Fox,"  Alex sighed, "my contact is not the only one who knows 
about the clone. All of the people involved in that project know 
about it.  And I don't know who all of them are, or how many of 
them there are, or what they may be watching for."


Mulder thought about that.


"Well," he suggested,  "you may be able to find out from your 
contact..."


"My *contact*,"  Alex reminded him harshly, "is on the verge of 
having that clone eliminated.  Whether they think you're the clone, 
or know that you're you, they're still likely to kill you. And 
you're not going to be much good to anyone if you're dead, so 
forget it."


Mulder swore under his breath. Turning from Alex, he gazed off past 
the fringe of trees, out to where the last of the sunlight still 
struck the road. The hell of it was, Alex was right.


"You know,"  he told the younger man,  "you can't expect me to just 
do nothing while you handle everything yourself."  With a glance at 
Alex, he asked, "*Are* we partners or aren't we?"


Alex didn't answer.


Mulder turned, examining the other man curiously.  


"Alex?"


His lover shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted.  "I want us to be.  
But I'm beginning to doubt if it will work.  There are too many 
things we don't talk to each other about..."


Mulder let out a soft, frustrated sigh.  "If this is about my going 
down to the Gulf - "


Shaking his head, Alex said, "It's not.  Not *just* that, anyway."  
He  hands and face grew animated as he tried to explain.  "Fox, 
we're fighting aliens that can change what they look like.  
We're...we're fighting replicants that we haven't even found a way 
to kill.  We're fighting our own government.  We *can't* be 
fighting each other."


Mulder stared, puzzled.  Alex's eyes narrowed as his voice grew 
more intense, more desperate.


"Don't you see?  If we're going to work together, we've got to be 
able to trust each other completely.  Believe in each other.  Right 
now, I don't think we have that.  You'll do things without keeping 
me posted, thinking it's better that way, but it's not. So I won't 
be able to count on you.  And you already feel that you can't count 
on me, because you don't believe what I say..."


"Damn it, Alex,"  Mulder countered angrily,  "you *can* count on 
me.  If you would agree not to shut me out of the fight, we'll be 
able to talk next time - the way normal partners do.  But that's up 
to *you*.  You're not laying the blame for that at *my* feet."  He 
heard his voice resounding in the quiet afternoon;  taking a 
breath, he forced himself to calm down.  "Don't you think you can 
offer me *that* much to work with?"


He waited until Alex gave a reluctant nod before continuing.


"And I've already told you a dozen times that I *do* trust you now.  
I see how hard you're trying to protect her.  But you still don't 
believe me, do you?"


The bowed head was his only answer.


Damn, he thought, exasperated.  We've *got* to get past this.


"Alex."  Mulder gripped Alex's chin, forcing the younger man to 
look at him. "Listen to me.  We can't carry this with us forever - 
it'll tear us apart.  And I can't lose you again.  I won't survive 
it. Whatever your part in her abduction, it's long since in the 
past.  And I've let it go.  I don't hold it against you any more.  
Would you please tell me what the *hell* can I say to make you 
understand that?"


"I do understand that, Fox,"  Alex spoke quietly.  "You've put 
aside what's happened to Scully."


Alex broke away from Mulder's grasp and crossed the porch.  
Reaching the side railing, he gazed out past trees, to the fields 
beyond.  His back was to Mulder.


"Scully is alive, Fox,"  he said.  "It's easier to forgive what's 
happened to her.  But what happened to her is not all there is."


Mulder blinked at the back of Alex's head, startled by the 
implication.   He'd known they'd have to address it sooner or 
later.  They both had known that.  But he didn't expect Alex to be 
the one to decide to broach it.  Normally, he shied away from the 
past.


The past couple of days had been difficult, the flights to and from 
the Gulf long and tiring.  Earlier this afternoon, he and Alex had 
made love, but Alex's mood was still dark.  Mulder really didn't 
want to deal with this now.   He just wanted his lover to get past 
this current argument, past the hurt he was feeling over Mulder's 
handling of the oil rig situation.


He wanted to know that Alex wouldn't leave him again.


But as he followed Alex to the other railing,  the bleak look in 
the green eyes changed his mind.  He had done something to this man 
when he took off on his own.  Whatever fragile hope Alex had begun 
to have in their relationship had been damaged.  He had to handle 
this now.


Leaning against the railing, his back to the outside world,  he 
tried once more to reassure the younger man.


"Pay attention to me, Alex," he began carefully, "I said it's *all* 
in the past. All of it.  And I mean that.  You knew long before I 
did that we were in a war with them.  That there would be 
casualties.  Maybe it just couldn't be helped..."


"You don't get it,"  Alex interrupted, turning to face Mulder 
directly.  "Look at you.  You can't even say the words now.  When 
you were mad at me - when you hated me - you could look me in the 
eye and accuse me.  It hurt you, but you could do it."


Alex's eyes locked on Mulder's.  "I hated the way it hurt you.  I 
tried for years to get you to believe that I didn't do it.  That I 
didn't kill your father.  But you wouldn't let yourself believe it.  
And with good reason,"  Alex told him ruthlessly.  "Because you 
knew me.   Because you knew the truth."


A peculiar twinge of fear struck Mulder, but he pushed it aside.  
He held the other man's gaze steadily.


"Is that what it would take, then?" he asked.  "Is that what you 
want me to say? That I believe you didn't kill my father?"


"No." Alex's eyes met Mulder's,  relentlessly.  "No, Fox.  I want 
you to say that you love me even though I *did*."


And in that one brief moment, Mulder felt the world turn upside-
down.


He had always known it, he told himself.  He had *known*...


But always, in the back of his mind, Alex's denials would replay 
themselves. And over the past month, sleeping beside this man, 
making love to him,  he'd let himself hear those denials, and 
believe a little bit.  He'd forgiven the rest of it.  He thought 
he'd forgiven this, too.  But had he only taught himself not to 
believe it?


He stared at Alex now.


"*Did* you?" he murmurred.


"Yes."  Alex admitted, meeting Mulder's eyes with a touch of 
defiance.


Yes.


And in the midst of the anguish that word caused Mulder, he saw the 
fear in the other man's eyes.  Alex wasn't only demanding absolute 
acceptance, absolute trust; he was offering it.  In that one word, 
Alex had placed his entire life in Mulder's hands.  While most 
people find it terrifying to commit their hearts to another, Alex 
had handed his over, along with every tomorrow he would have, to a 
man who at any moment of the rest of their lives could choose to 
send him to the gas chamber with that confession.


He had said it to Mulder once before - he'd never ask of anyone 
else a sacrifice he wasn't willing to make himself.


Damn.  Even in a demonstration of trust, Alex Krycek played with 
fire.


His father hadn't been a good man, Mulder knew.  He'd been a 
traitor to every cause he claimed to believe in.  He'd been a 
sponsor of horrendous experiments on innocent people.  He'd sold 
out his own daughter, handed her over to the enemy.  And he'd let 
his son carry the burden of guilt for it.  But he was his father.


Alex had killed him.


Alex stood away from him now.  "You can't say it, can you?" he 
asked quietly.


Mulder opened his mouth, trying to speak.  He wanted to say it.  He 
had to say it.  But no words came out.  I need time, he thought.  
Just give me a little time...


Alex hung his head, turned,  walked past Mulder toward the steps.


Don't leave again.  God, don't let him leave again.


Mulder spun around, grabbed his lover's arm, instinctively reaching 
for the right one.


"Alex."


Alex stopped.  Head still bowed, he peered up at Mulder through 
thick lashes.  Mulder brought his hand to the younger man's face, 
cupping the chin and gently guiding Alex's head upright.  Alex 
never took his eyes off him.


"I love you, Alex."


Mulder stared into the green eyes, determined to meet that gaze 
without looking away.   He had to be able to say this, because Alex 
needed to hear it.  And because he meant it.


"I love you, Alex,"  he repeated softly, his voice shaking.  "Even 
though you did it.  Even though you killed my father."


The tears began then.  And he was on his knees, Alex holding him, 
sobs wracking his body as they hadn't in years.  He cried for his 
father, for Scully, for Melissa.  For Samantha, gone from him 
forever now.   And he cried for Alex, and for the six years they'd 
lost.


They were still there long after the sun went down.


/continues in Part Seven/


**********


Title: Seconds
See disclaimers and notes in Part One


Seconds
By Tiramisu


Part Seven:



He used to think of himself as an intellectual. Dispassionate, 
collected, open-minded.  Oxford-educated and Quantico-trained.  
Dedicated to the pursuit of the truth.  Beyond the influence of the 
mundane and the physical.


He used to think of himself that way, years ago.  


But that was before he discovered that every synaptic connection in 
his brain could be overridden by a pair of sleepy green eyes in the 
morning, that logic and reason gave way under the pressure of warm 
wet kisses.  Before he learned that the right words in the right 
voice could persuade him to do or say or forgive anything.


Before Alex.


Last night, Alex had confessed.  Of all the things that Mulder 
suspected Alex to be capable of, Alex had confessed to the worst.  


It should have changed everything.


But Mulder lay there, propped up on one arm, tracing the pattern of 
the early morning sunlight on his lover's skin,  knowing that he 
just couldn't lose this again.


It should have changed everything.


But it changed nothing.


*******


The chirp of a cell phone pierced his sleep.  But before Alex could 
reach for the offending object, the shrill sound stopped, and the 
phone was resting against his ear.  From behind, Fox drew him 
close, spooning their bodies from shoulder to toe.  The older man's 
hand held the phone in place as Alex spoke.


"Yeah?"  


Smith's voice came through the phone line to him.  "Good morning, 
Alex.  Did I wake you?"


"Yeah,"  Alex admitted.  "But that's okay.  What time is it?"


"Ten minutes past nine,"  Smith told him.  Fox's voice murmurred 
the same answer into Alex's neck, following it up with a soft bite.


Alex angled his head back, encouraging more of the same.


The healer was still speaking into the phone.  "If you or Mr. 
Mulder could bring my pick-up over here, I'd appreciate it.  I have 
some errands to run this afternoon."


Alex yawned, then made a vague affirmative noise into the phone.  
"We'll be there in half an hour or so, Jem.  You need a change of 
clothes?"


Smith accepted the offer with thanks, and closed the connection.  
Alex shrugged his shoulders to bump the phone from his ear.  
"Thanks, Fox,"  he mumbled.  "Hang up for me?"


Fox did, asking, "Why'd you tell him we'd be there so soon?  I've 
been waiting for you to wake up for a hour now, just so we can grab 
a shower."


With a chuckle, Alex rolled onto his back, settling his head in the 
crook of his lover's arm.  Smiling,  he gave a leisurely stretch.  
"We still can,"  he told him.  "Smith just wants us to run the 
truck over there so he can get some errands done.  We'll have the 
place to ourselves all afternoon."


He studied the other man's hazel eyes thoughtfully, recognizing in 
them a peace he hadn't seen in years.  A peace he felt in himself 
for probably the first time in his life. 


"We're alright now, aren't we?"  he asked, though it wasn't really 
a question to him.  The clear gaze in Fox's eyes had already 
answered that for him.


Still, he grinned more broadly as the other man nodded.  "Yeah,"  
Fox told Alex, leaning in to kiss him.  "We're fine."


*********


You could learn a lot about someone by combing through his 
possessions, Mulder discovered during that week.  When they'd first 
become involved, six years earlier, Alex had owned only a handful 
of personal effects - his watch, his wallet, a number of pens and 
pencils to go with the little pocket notebooks he had carried back 
then.  His clothes, like most of his belongings, were generic 
store-bought items.  Nothing for the profiler in Mulder to latch 
onto; learning about Alex demanded more from the soul than from the 
mind.


His belongings were still small in number, but they reflected the 
strange and sometimes harsh turns Alex Krycek's life had taken.  
Heavy workboots, expensive shoes, worn jeans and Italian silk 
shirts, an assortment of keys and currency.  Maps and guidebooks, 
an almanac, an atlas.  Tubes of gel for his artificial arm.  The 
laptop.  And weapons.


A hand-held computer device drew Mulder's attention, and he tossed 
it onto the bed to ask Alex about later.  They had agreed that 
there would be no more secrets, and Mulder intended to hold Alex to 
that promise.


He looked around the room,  satisfied.  All of Alex's things were 
now in here with his own few possessions.  He'd framed the 
photograph of them, replaced it on the bureau with a pensive smile.  
He'd taken it with him to the Gulf - for luck, really - but he'd 
never expected Alex to notice its absence, much less to have been 
hurt by it.  He'd thought of it as his, that picture;  now, like 
everything else in the room, it was *theirs*.


***********


"No, just get out of there, then,"  Alex was saying into the cell 
phone.  Mulder paused in the bedroom doorway, but the younger man 
heard him.  Alex turned, extended his hand for Mulder to take.  
Crossing into the room, Mulder took the offered hand and let Alex 
draw him close.


Into the phone, Alex said, "Yeah, okay...I'll check with you 
later."  Disconnecting the line, he tossed the cell phone lightly 
onto the bed and turned his attention to Mulder.


"That didn't sound like good news,"  Mulder remarked.  His arms 
slid loosely around Alex's waist.  "What's up?"


Alex shook his head.  "That was Lizzie.  Scully fired her."


"For what?"  Mulder wanted to know.  "You said she was doing fine 
there."


"Scully caught her switching pills on her."


"Switching pills?" Mulder repeated, suspicious.  "Switching what 
pills? I thought she was only there to keep an eye out for 
trouble."


"She was," Alex assured him.  "But the folks at Wiekamp had her 
substituting some kind of enhanced supplement for whatever vitamins 
Scully's taking.  It's perfectly safe,"  he added with confidence.


Mulder doubted that, but he didn't want to get into another 
argument with Alex about Scully.  If the pills had been issued by 
the Wiekamp people, they weren't likely to be dangerous.  The 
military scientists there had too much reason to want to keep 
Scully - or at least her baby - safe and well.


He looked into the troubled green eyes of his lover.  "So what 
happens now?"  


"I'm not sure,"  Alex admitted.  "Right now, Lizzie is being 
interrogated by Agent Doggett.  Your double is there, too, keeping 
an eye on things."  That should be reassuring, thought Mulder, but 
the disturbed look remained in the other man's eyes.


"And...?"  Mulder prompted.


"And Doggett still trusts Rohrer and that Crane guy,"  Alex pointed 
out.  "If he passes along the wrong information..."


Mulder didn't need to hear the rest.  If the replicants were tipped 
off to the truth about Scully's baby, they'd kill her before she 
could give birth.  And Rohrer would kill Alex for the lie.


"Is Jem still downstairs?" Alex asked.


"Yeah," Mulder told him.  "He's waiting on a phone call before he 
heads to the compound."  


Alex took Mulder's hand and led him out of the room.  "Come on," he 
said.  "We need to figure something out.  The way things are going, 
this whole thing is going to blow up in our faces."


********


Smith stood at the window, his back to the other two men.  There 
were times that Alex envied the healer's utter calmness during such 
chaotic times.  But then, he reflected, maybe it was easier to 
remain calm when you possessed the ability to change shape or to 
heal.  Hell of a lot more calming than the gun in Alex's pocket, 
anyway.


"Scully's baby is the *only* one who's currently safe,"  Smith 
reminded them.  "The replicants are not going to allow anyone to 
interfere with that baby coming to term, as long as they believe it 
to be a hybrid."


"Right,"  Alex agreed, "But at this point, who knows how long that 
will be?  Doggett trusts Rohrer and Crane.  For all we know, he'll 
tell them everything Lizzie's just told *him*.  Who knows what the 
hell can happen."  He glanced at Fox, reading the concern in his 
eyes.


Smith turned, studying first Alex, then Fox. "Do either of you 
think that you can convince Agent Doggett to believe you if you 
speak to him?"


Alex looked at Fox, who shrugged.


"Well, I don't know how well he *thinks* he gets along with me,"  
Fox answered.  "I've only met him on the Orpheus, but he's been 
interacting with the clone for weeks now.  But I can try to talk to 
him."


Smith nodded, and turned to Alex.  "Your run-ins with Agent Doggett 
haven't been very productive so far, have they?"


"I haven't killed him yet, if that's what you're worried about."  
Alex scowled, but he had to admit to himself that it was true.  And 
Smith himself wouldn't be able to talk to Doggett;  the healer's 
face was still on a Wanted poster, since the arrests in Montana.


Fox, glancing again at Alex, had apparently followed the same train 
of thought.  With that strange gleam in his eye that always 
unsettled Alex, Fox said, "Well, then.  I guess it's me.  I can 
head down to DC right now..."


"Hold on, doll," Alex warned.  "You're not going anywhere right 
now.  Not alone, anyway."


But to his surprise, Smith was already walking toward the coat 
closet in the hallway.  "Actually, gentlemen,"  he declared, "I 
think it would be best if we all head down there."


Alex and Fox looked at each other, then at the older man.  Grabbing 
his jacket from the back of the chair, Fox said, "Alright, then.  
Let's go."


***********


Mulder was at the wheel, the once-familiar streets feeling 
strangely surreal in the wet night.  He hadn't realized before just 
how comfortable he'd become with the peaceful dark nights of their 
temporary Pennsylvania home.  


Beside him Smith rode, eyes closed, though Mulder knew the man 
wasn't asleep.  In the back seat sat Alex, leaning forward, eyes 
intent upon the DC landscape.


The J. Edgar Hoover building lay just ahead. Mulder guided the 
Lexus into the lower level of the parking garage,  drawing up into 
one of the many spaces left vacant in the early evening.  Ahead of 
him, a concrete pillar identified this area of the garage as 
North2.  The surveillance camera attached to it hummed harmlessly.  


"You're sure those things aren't working?"  Mulder queried, 
pointing to the camera.


"Positive,"  Alex assured him.  "They've been down for a month now.  
It wouldn't matter, anyway,"  he added.  "The head of security 
answers to me."


Mulder raised a suspicious eyebrow at his lover through the rear-
view mirror.  "Nanobots?" 


Alex shrugged lightly.  "I do what I have to, Fox."


Giving the garage a quick scan and noticing nothing unusual, Mulder 
made a move to unlock the car door.  "Just be careful,"  he 
cautioned Alex.  "The people you use those on - they may do what 
you tell them, but they'd be happy to see you dead."


"Let 'em join the club,"  Alex muttered.  


Mulder grabbed the door handle. 


"Wait."  Alex's hand on his shoulder stopped him.  "It's over 
there." Gesturing with a nod of his head, Alex indicated a figure 
emerging from the westside stairwell.  Mulder and Smith 
automatically glanced in the direction the younger man indicated.


Mulder caught his breath, stunned.  He'd known about the clone, had 
heard from Alex just how like Mulder it was; he'd remembered, even 
without Alex's cautions, that he'd have to be careful not to be 
seen at the same time as his double.  


But nothing had really prepared him for this moment, seeing himself 
- *himself* - walking across the FBI parking garage.  It was eerie.


Smith peered in interest out the windshield.  "Looks as though he's 
going somewhere in a hurry,"  he noted.  "If Agent Doggett is 
available, this may be a good time to speak with him."


Alex nodded, catching Mulder's eye.  "Would that work for you?  If 
you'd rather, we can wait until Doggett leaves, then follow him 
home like we planned."


"No," Mulder told him, "I'll be fine. Besides, the sooner we warn 
Doggett, the less chance he has to tip off Rohrer."  Across the 
parking lot, the clone had let himself in to a Ford sedan.  Mulder 
squinted through the tinted windows to see it.


"God," he murmurred. 


Smith gave him a quick, almost amused glance, then turned to Alex.  


"You'd better follow it,"  he suggested.  "I'll stay here and wait 
for Mr. Mulder.  If the clone comes back, let us know."


"Alright."  Alex climbed easily out of the back seat, as Mulder and 
Smith let themselves out of the Lexus. 


Mulder stared for a moment at Alex before stepping aside to give 
the younger man access to the driver's seat.  Behind him, he heard 
another engine start up, and realized that the clone was about to 
leave the garage.


"Good luck,"  Alex murmurred.  Mulder nodded and stepped away from 
the car.  He stood there with Smith as the car backed up and swung 
smoothly down the garage ramp.


"Well, Mr. Mulder,"  Smith spoke, once the Lexus was out of sight.  
"Are you ready to visit Agent Doggett?"


*********


Alex realized where they were going, long before the clone parked 
across the street from the front entrance of Scully's building.  
Not surprising, he figured.  That clone was becoming more 
protective of Scully than Mulder himself was, now.  But then, Alex 
was himself feeling more protective of Scully than he used to.  
Maybe there really was something about babies...


The Ford was parked across the street from the apartment building, 
just in back of Scully's car.  Alex pulled the Lexus up a few 
spaces behind them.  The rain had stopped for the moment;  Alex 
switched off his windshield wipers, but left the car idling as he 
leaned back.  He suspected that he might have a long wait ahead of 
him.


He was wrong.


The entire building suddenly went dark. Alex leaned forward again, 
trying to see what had happened.  None of the other buildings on 
the block were dark; this was no blackout.  It was possible, he 
knew, that something had happened in the building's electrical 
system, something perfectly innocent, but Alex Krycek wasn't quick 
to trust in innocent explanations.  As he stared, most of the 
building's lights came back on.  Scully's remained off.  Alex threw 
open the car door and climbed out.


He stood there, listening.  His trained ears automatically tuned 
out irrelevant sounds, closed in on the clatter of rusty iron. 


Fire escape.


Leaving his vehicle idling, Alex moved down the block, passing the 
front steps of the building, continuing on until he faced the alley 
which housed the back entrance to Scully's apartment building.  


There they were.  Mulder's double was hurrying Scully down the fire 
escape stairs, the cast-iron railings swaying slightly under their 
weight.  Alex guessed that they would head for the clone's car.  He 
glanced both ways along the wet street, ready to provide cover if 
needed.  He withdrew the Glock from his pocket and backed slowly 
along the block.


The form visible in the front entrance hallway wouldn't normally 
have attracted Alex's attention.  Its movement was slow, almost 
leisurely; nothing about it indicated that it was chasing anyone, 
let alone the two figures letting themselves down the final ladder 
of the fire escape stairs.  


But in the dim light from the hall, Alex recognized the face of the 
pursuer.


Billy Miles.


Alex broke into a run back to the Lexus.


It was another long minute before Scully and the clone emerged from 
the alley and scurried across the street.  They ran not to the 
Ford, but to Scully's car, directly in front of it.  Billy Miles 
was descending the front steps, his pace measured and deliberate.


Get in there, Alex thought anxiously. Get in the damn car!


Billy Miles paused on the sidewalk, then continued toward the 
couple.


Scully and the clone were in the car now.  Alex could hear the the 
cold choking of the engine trying to turn over.


Billy Miles continued along the sidewalk.


The car pulled forward, then backward, then forward again, its 
fenders slamming into the vehicles in front and back.  It was 
hemmed in by the other cars.


They weren't going to make it, Alex thought.  They don't have time.


Billy Miles stepped out into the street.


Damn.


Alex shot the Lexus forward and out onto the street in one fluid 
movement.


The body of the replicant wasn't thrown by the impact.  It dropped 
heavily to the ground.  Alex ran the Lexus solidly into it, then 
backed up sharply, taking the tires over it a second time.  


His vehicle was nearly parallel with Scully's.  Lowering the Lexus' 
side window, he leaned forward and peered into the agent's car.


Mulder's clone, its stunned expression so like Fox's own, was 
staring at him.  It looked as though he couldn't quite recognize 
Alex. In the passenger seat, Scully sat dazed.


"We haven't got much time," Alex warned them.  "Get in."


For a moment, neither Scully nor the clone moved.  Alex threw 
another glance at the replicant;  its face was bloody, but it was 
slowly pulling itself up onto its knees.


Scully stared out the windshield, seeing the same thing.  Alex 
could read the uncertainty on her face.  He felt sorry for her, 
really;  all of her scientific platitudes couldn't begin to explain 
away the being in front of her eyes.


"Mulder?"  she mumbled.


Alex shot one more look at the replicant.  In the other car, the 
clone was still staring at him, Fox's suspicious frown on its face.  
Alex's patience snapped.


"Let's go!"  he ordered sharply.


His shout woke the other two from their daze.  Hurriedly, they 
scrambled into the Lexus, Fox's doppelganger taking the seat beside 
Alex. Slamming on the gas pedal, Alex threw the car into reverse 
and pulled away from the replicant.  


**********


Mulder braced himself as the elevator doors parted, but there was 
nothing out of the ordinary in the garage.  He made his way 
silently toward the pillar where Smith waited for him.  The older 
man stepped out of the shadows and greeted him easily.


"Were you able to speak with Agent Doggett?" Smith asked him.


Mulder shook his head.  "He's not in the building, as near as I can 
tell. I've been searching it for the past hour..."


"He arrived just a couple of minutes ago," Smith informed him.  "I 
had no way to reach you to let you know.  You must have just missed 
each other."


That figures, Mulder thought.  


Aloud he said, "Alright.  I'll go back in and try again.  You 
know,"  he added in a tone he knew Alex would recognize,  "I need a 
cell phone.  You and Alex have them.  I want one, too." 
 

Smith opened his mouth to speak, but instead paused and held up a 
hand for silence. Mulder frowned, listening.  The healer nudged 
him, signalling the concrete pillar, and the two men hid behind it 
as an automobile sped through the garage, coming to a perfectly 
aligned stop in one of the empty parking spaces near the elevator 
corridor.  Even if Mulder hadn't recognized the Lexus, he would 
have known Alex's driving anywhere.


He made a move to step forward, but Smith stopped him.  "Wait,"  
the older man hissed at him.  "He's not alone."


Mulder peeked around the edge of the pillar, across the garage to 
where his lover stood.  Smith was right; as Mulder watched, two 
other individuals exited the car.  One Mulder recognized as his 
double, and again the eerie feeling from earlier tonight washed 
over him.  But as he watched, the clone pulled open the rear door 
and assisted a red-headed female out of the back seat.


Scully.


Good God, she really *is* pregnant.


For a moment everything else left his mind, and a rush of happiness 
swept over him.  He'd wanted this for her, because *she'd* wanted 
it so badly.  In that instant, he remembered how much Alex had 
risked to keep her safe - and how he and his lover had argued over 
that - because Alex knew how much Mulder cared about Scully.  It 
was *this* feeling that Alex was referring to, this moment he'd 
wanted to preserve.


God, I love him, Mulder thought. 


But he couldn't go over to him now to say so.  Alex was heading, 
along with Scully and the clone, toward the west-end elevator;  it 
looked as though Alex were going to accompany the other two into 
the building.  To Skinner's office? 


Silently, Mulder and Smith slipped forward, claiming a new hiding 
place behind an unmarked white van.  From there, they could see 
into the short corridor leading to the elevators.  They strained to 
hear, but there was no conversation among the three people they 
observed.


The elevator doors opened with a soft whoosh and a ping that echoed 
across the nearly empty garage to where Smith and Mulder hid.  
Cocky as ever, Alex strode onto the elevator with the agents, no 
sign of his claustrophobic reaction evident.


Mulder glanced at Smith as the doors closed.  "What do you think?"


"I think," Smith told him, "that it's going to be a long night."


*********


Alex glanced over again at Scully.  She wasn't quite ready to fall 
apart, but the strain was definitely taking its toll on her.  She 
looked tired, and frightened.  He felt bad for her.


She was the only one in the room who had that effect on him at the 
moment, however.  Skinner hovered over him, refusing to sit, 
agressively suspicious of Alex.  Feeling safer in a crowd, Alex 
figured.  He dismissed the assistant director with a sneer.


Doggett, leaning against Skinner's desk, had made it clear earlier 
in the evening that he didn't believe anything Alex was trying to 
tell them.  And nothing in his demeanor suggested that he'd had any 
conversation with Mulder.


Directly in front of Alex stood the clone of Fox Mulder.  During 
the drive over here from Scully's apartment, no one had spoken a 
word.  But once they had reached Skinner's office, the clone had 
taken on a more voluble personna.  There were instants when Alex 
would forget that this wasn't actually Fox here with him.


"I don't believe this crap,"  Doggett was saying.  "I don't believe 
you're all sitting around here listening to it even when you know 
this man's a liar. Worse than that."
 

Alex looked at Doggett, annoyed, then turned to the others.  "You 
can believe what you want but I don't think you can take the chance 
that I'm wrong."


No one responded for a moment.   Alex could see the concern in the 
clone's face, though, when he looked at Scully.  There was 
something genuine there.  McCarniss may not be sure how trustworthy 
his pet is, Alex thought, but I have a feeling that Scully can rely 
on this thing.  The thought was almost reassuring. 


But something still had to be done to get Scully to safety.  "There 
is no hospital that's safe enough,"  Alex pointed out, looking from 
Scully to the clone. "She may never even make it out of this 
building."


Doggett interrupted him. "Why don't you just shut up?" 


Alex swung his eyes to the agent; in that instant, he would have 
killed the man.


But Mulder's clone interrupted quickly.  "Agent Doggett." 


Alex and Doggett both turned to the speaker.


"Get on the phone,"  Fox's double ordered. "If we're going to get 
Scully out of here we're going to need some help."  It - he? - 
turned hazel eyes on Alex, and for a moment Alex had the strange 
feeling that this was really Fox, pleased with himself for catching 
Alex as he just had.  


Alex had to turn away.  He glanced back at Doggett.


The agent was still scowling, but he had drawn out his cell phone.  
Skinner looked to Fox's doppelganger with curiosity.  "What, 
exactly, do you have in mind?"


"We need to get her past Billy Miles.  He already knows what Krycek 
and I look like, and he may have seen you and Doggett by now.  We 
need someone from outside."


"Who do you want me to call?"  Doggett questioned.


"Monica Reyes,"  the clone answered him. "She hasn't spent much 
time in DC.  There's a chance that Billy Miles hasn't learned about 
her yet."


Doggett nodded.  "She's in New Orleans, though.  We'll have a bit 
of a wait."


The clone looked at Alex, and again Alex had the sense that this 
was actually his Fox standing here with him, waiting for him to 
agree or opine.  The feeling was unsettling.  He turned his 
attention briefly to Scully, then back to the clone.


"So we wait,"  he agreed, eying the clone warily.


**********


Hours were going by, with no word from Alex.  Mulder began pacing 
the garage.  What the hell was going on up there? he wondered.  Why 
doesn't Alex come down here to fill us in?


He paused near the Lexus.  Turning to Smith, he suggested for the 
fourth time that night, "I think I should go up there and see 
what's going on."  


"You'll only make everything more difficult for Alex if you do,"  
Smith pointed out.  "He's got enough to do right now."


So Mulder waited.


The parking garage covered the full city block; Mulder, during the 
past four hours, had roamed every foot of it. From where he and 
Smith now hid, the entrance and exit ramps were to their right, 
separated from them by nearly three-quarters of the length of the 
garage, but still in view.  The corridor which held the elevators 
and stairs lay ahead of the men.  To their right was another 
stairwell, this one used as a fire exit.


Mulder stared out at the night.  The rain had started again, a fine 
cool mist that chilled him inside his jacket.  


He never used to mind the night.


"Perhaps you should sit in the car for awhile, Mr. Mulder," Smith 
advised.  "It..."


The soft but unmistakeable sound of the elevator doors opening 
carried through the garage.  Both men instinctively pulled back 
into the shadows, hiding behind one of the supporting pillars.  
Mulder had expected, had hoped for, Alex.  But he remained in 
hiding, watching.


The figure that emerged from the corridor turned to his right 
hurriedly, never noticing Mulder and Smith. He headed toward the 
upper level of the garage where, Mulder knew, the FBI fleet of cars 
would be. As the figure moved along the garage and out of sight, 
Mulder turned to Smith.


"That was Doggett," he told him.  


The older man nodded.


Mulder stepped forward.  "This may be my best chance to talk to 
him,"  he said.  "Maybe I can catch him before he leaves."  He 
glanced quickly at Smith.  "You wait here, and I'll be back as soon 
as I can..."


"No," Smith hissed, grabbing Mulder's jacket. He nodded his head 
toward the entrance ramp.  "Someone's coming."


Mulder watched the cab pull in to the garage.  It sped up one 
aisle, turned, and began driving more slowly down the second aisle, 
coming to a stop almost in front of Mulder and Smith.  A tan fleet 
car pulled up alongside it, and Agent Doggett alighted.


The dark-haired woman letting herself out of the taxi was a 
stranger to Mulder.  Doggett paid her cabfare and sent the cab 
driver on his way.  The woman spoke to Doggett, but Mulder couldn't 
make out the words.  He did hear Doggett, though, as the agent 
brought his cell phone to his ear.


"Okay," he said. "Bring her down."


Her.


Scully?


Mulder turned to Smith, intending to ask him.  But the older man's 
eyes were trained on the cab nearing the exit ramp. Or rather, just 
beyond.


Billy Miles.


Before Mulder could speak, the cab screeched and swerved.  It 
looked, to Mulder, as though the cab had struck Billy, but the boy 
continued walking as though nothing had happened. 


It's true, then, he thought.  Billy Miles is a replicant.   Mulder 
watched, horrified but fascinated, as the boy headed for the 
elevator corridor.


"Mulder! Skinner! He's in the garage!"  Doggett's voice broke 
through, startling Mulder into action.  He jumped up, ready to run 
forward. But Smith pulled him back by the arm and silenced him with 
those determined blue eyes.


"He doesn't mean you,"  Smith reminded him in a whisper. 


Doggett was hollering into the phone even as he ran toward the 
elevators.  "Go back!  Go back!"


He wasn't fast enough, though.  Billy Miles reached the corridor 
ahead of him. 


Mulder moved to run forward, but Smith again stopped him.  "Stay 
put!"  the older man ordered.  


"But we can help," Mulder argued, pulling away. 


"If you're seen at the same time as that clone, your life is in 
danger.  And if Alex has to protect you, he won't be able to 
protect Scully.  Leave them be!"  


Mulder stopped, glanced in the direction of the corridor again.  
The woman, whoever she was, was returning to the fleet car.  Mulder 
drew reluctantly back into the shadows beside Smith, as the unknown 
woman steered the vehicle toward the elevators.  Doggett still 
waited at the mouth of the corridor.  The garage fell into silence.  


Billy Miles was somewhere in the building.


With a glance at Smith, Mulder settled into a crouching position 
and waited. 


It was unbearable, hiding in the safety of a shadow while his lover 
was God-knows-where.   


*********


Alex drew a relieved breath as the elevator doors closed.  From the 
relative calm of the fifth-floor hallway, he watched the elevator's 
descent on the register.  


They should be able to get her out of here, then, he thought.  Now 
I've just got to go let Fox and Smith know what's going on.  Fox 
must be going crazy right now, Alex thought with a grin.


He was headed for the door to the stairs when the elevator drew 
back up. 


He turned in time to see the elevator door open, revealing Skinner, 
Scully and the clone.


"Hey, look who's back,"  he began, but Skinner cut him off.


"He's in the building."


No need to ask who 'he' was.  


He's in the building.


Alex felt his blood chill. 


The elevator doors started to close, but the clone reached out to 
prevent it.  His eyes met Alex's.  


Alex swallowed, returning the gaze.  "What do you want me to do?"


"You're going to protect her," the clone told him, pushing Scully 
gently out of the elevator.   The woman stepped past the doors and 
turned, dazed, to look at Fox's double.  But she said nothing.  


The elevator doors closed again.


Alex looked at Scully.  Her usual tough shell was gone;  at that 
moment she was no longer a scientist, a doctor, or an agent.   She 
was just an ordinary woman, frightened for her child. 


"Come on,"  he told her softly.  "We'll get you out of here yet."


*******


It was probably only a few minutes later that Alex emerged from the 
corridor with Scully in tow.  To Mulder it seemed much longer.  As 
he and Smith watched, Alex released Scully, who was assisted by 
Doggett and the other woman to the passenger seat of the waiting 
car.  Even from this distance, Mulder could see that Scully was 
distraught. He wanted to run over and comfort her, talk with her, 
find out what he could do to help - anything.  But he didn't.   He 
couldn't risk it, not without knowing where in the Hoover building 
his double was.  He remained with Smith, hiding.


Alex never looked in their direction.  He stood slightly behind 
Doggett, watching as the dark-haired woman tucked Scully into the 
fleet car and let herself into the driver's seat.   Doggett 
observed the women in silence;  Alex appeared to speak, but Mulder 
was too far away to hear what his lover said.  


The car drove off.


I may never see her again, Mulder realized with a shock.  


Wish I could've at least said good-bye.


Smith's hand on his shoulder broke through Mulder's reverie.  The 
older man nodded mutely toward the exit ramp, where Scully and her 
companion had been brought to a stop.  The man waving his arms in 
front of them didn't appear to be threatening, though; he merely 
kept them waiting a moment as he turned to direct another vehicle 
past them along the street.  From what Mulder could see, it looked 
like a sanitation truck.  


The fellow then waved Scully's travel car along.  The entire event 
would have been unremarkable if not for the tension in the air, and 
in the voice of the unknown man as he ordered the fleet car out 
onto the avenue.


Once the car was out of sight, Mulder returned his gaze to the two 
men near the elevators. Agent Doggett had turned to face Alex, but 
Mulder couldn't tell if any words were exchanged.  As he watched, 
Doggett turned again and walked away from Alex, heading with a 
quick stride for the exit ramp.   Mulder's eyes trailed the agent 
until he was out of sight.


"He's going to talk with Crane."  


Mulder spun around, startled, as Alex's hand touched his arm.  He'd 
forgotten how silently his lover could move.


"That was Crane?"  he asked.  "The one that stopped them?"


Alex nodded. 


Smith frowned thoughtfully, looking off into the direction the two 
bureau agents had disappeared. "Do you know what he intends to talk 
with him about?"  Smith inquired.  


"No,"  Alex confessed.  "But I doubt we'll have a chance now to get 
Doggett alone.  He's going to stay here tonight, along with Skinner 
and your double.  They're waiting to hear from Reyes,"  he told the 
men, nodding at Mulder.   "You two may as well go home.  I'll hang 
around here for the rest of the night.  I've got to head to Wiekamp 
in the morning anyway.  But I can just take a bureau car for that."   


'Take' a bureau car?  Mulder wondered.  He resisted the urge to ask 
the question aloud, instead addressing his other concern.  "Where 
was Scully being taken?"  


Alex shrugged one shoulder.  "I don't know.  Only Doggett and Reyes 
know.  They think that'll keep her safe,"  he explained.  It didn't 
sound to Mulder as if Alex agreed with their suppositions.  Mulder 
himself certainly didn't.


"This Reyes - that's the woman who's driving her?"  he asked Alex.


"Yeah,"  the younger man confirmed.  "She's an agent out of New 
Orleans.  Monica Reyes."


"Is she trustworthy?"  Smith wanted to know.


Nodding again, Alex said,  "As far as I can tell.  She's got a 
decent track record, too.  Investigates ritualistic crimes, mainly,  
but seems open to just about anything.  We may be able to use her 
down the road."


Mulder frowned at the choice of words, but knew that his lover was 
probably right.


Alex yawned.  "Look.  In a couple of hours it'll be light.  Why 
don't you two go on home?  I'll catch up to you tomorrow."


"No,"  Mulder argued.  "Sooner or later we ought to be able to get 
to Doggett.  If he's staying at the bureau all night, then he may 
not have a chance to meet with anyone but you three.  So even if I 
can't catch him until tomorrow, there's still time to convince him 
not to talk to Rohrer."


"He's talking to Crane right now,"  Alex reminded his lover.  "That 
may be as good as talking to Rohrer - I don't know.  But at this 
point, talking to Doggett may not be good enough."


Mulder scowled.  "But it could still do *some* good,"  he pointed 
out. "I think I should stay and try."


Beside him, Smith nodded softly. "I agree,"  he said.  "Mr. Mulder 
and I will remain here until Mr. Mulder can find an opportunity to 
speak to Agent Doggett alone."  


Mulder nodded, grateful for the support.


"But you *do* have a point, Alex,"  the older man continued.  "We 
need to find out what Knowle Rohrer has learned.  If Billy Miles is 
pursuing Agent Scully, it could be either to be sure she delivers, 
or to be sure she does not.  You may be able to find out which it 
is, if you go about it carefully."


"What good would that do?"  Mulder demanded.  "Even if the 
replicants have found out the truth, we've still got no way to stop 
them..."


Smith explained, "We would know that the threat existed.  Alex 
could alert Wiekamp to it."


"Wiekamp already knows,"  Alex reminded the healer.  "That's why 
they've been trying to put clones around these women.  To keep 
guard and tip them off when extra help is needed."  


"Alex, that tactic hasn't been working,"  Smith pointed out.  
"Mulder's clone has been acting on his own.  You said so yourself."


Alex turned his eyes from Smith to Mulder.  Both men knew what 
Smith was about to suggest; both men dreaded it.


"Alex,"  Smith inquired coolly,  "when can you meet with Rohrer 
again?"


Mulder flinched.  He desperately wanted to argue against this.  
Every one of his cells was screaming to put a stop to this.  If the 
replicant has discovered that Alex lied to him,  Alex wouldn't live 
through the meeting. 


But Mulder, like Alex, had agreed now to do what was necessary to 
their cause.  He kept silent and waited for his lover's response.  


Alex closed his eyes,  thinking.  When he opened them again, there 
was no sign of unease.


"Tomorrow,"  he told them.  "When I get back from Wiekamp."


"Good," Smith said.  "Hopefully, he won't have learned the truth 
yet.  We may be fine, as long as he doesn't learn about Scully's 
baby for another day or so."


Mulder frowned.  "Why?"  he wanted to know.


"Because,"  Smith told him, "I was paying attention to Agent Scully 
when Alex brought her down here."


Alex and Mulder glanced uncertainly at each other, then turned back 
to Smith.  


"So?"  Alex asked.


"So,"  Smith explained simply, "I think there's a very good chance 
that by this time tomorrow, Agent Scully may be a mother."


/continues in Part Eight/


Title: Seconds
See disclaimers and notes in Part One


Seconds
By Tiramisu


Part Eight:



"He seemed to be doing exactly what you wanted him to do - keeping 
Scully safe."  Alex told General McCarniss.  "If he's answering to 
anyone but you, at least it isn't interfering with your plans."


"That's not good enough, Krycek."  McCarniss leaned forward on his 
desk, studying Alex intently.  Alex maintained his expression of 
calm disinterest.


"We've had failures with some of the other clones in the past," the 
general informed him.  "They develop a sense of independence.  They 
begin to do whatever they choose."


Alex shrugged.  "They're human," he pointed out.  "What do you 
expect?"


"They're not entirely human, Krycek.  They're designed differently.  
Not all of the wiring works, so to speak."


And just what the hell does that mean, Alex wondered. 


"Their emotions are limited," McCarniss continued.


Alex nodded.  "I've noticed that,"  he agreed.  "Your pet clone 
doesn't get all worked up the way Mulder always did.  But I think 
most of the people around him just attribute it to what he's been 
through."


McCarniss scowled.  "It can't *feel* everything that ordinary 
humans can.  Not for lack of trying to teach it,"  he told Alex 
tiredly.  "But it has no sense of guilt, no sense of remorse, no 
sense of right and wrong..."


Holy fuck. 


"As long as it answers to us," the general went on, "this is no 
problem.  We simply teach it how to behave.  But once it begins to 
stray from our influence, well, it can't be trusted anymore."


"And?"  Alex queried coolly.


"It needs to be eliminated, Krycek.  Before it becomes a threat."


Damn.


Alex shook his head automatically.  "It's not doing any harm.  It's 
just taking care of Agent Scully, like you wanted it to do."


"You're not understanding, Krycek.  We still suspect that Mulder's 
clone is answering to someone else.  We haven't been able to verify 
it yet, " McCarniss reiterated.  "but there's no question that the 
clone is acting against some of our orders.  As long as it is doing 
that, it can become a threat to the population at large. We cannot 
assume that it's motives are benevolent."


So you want me to get rid of it for you, Alex thought with a sigh.


"Alright," Alex nodded wearily.  "I'll take care of it."  


McCarniss said nothing, but that was no surprise; both men knew 
what Alex was agreeing to do.


Alex rising to leave, paused at the doorway.  "Just tell me one 
thing - who is it you *think* the clone is reporting to?" 


General McCarniss leaned back in the oversized chair and looked 
Alex up and down, appraising him.


"It would help if I knew,"  Alex explained easily.  "If I have to 
eliminate a threat...,"  he let the thought hang in the air between 
them.


"Yes, I see," McCarniss nodded.  


Alex waited patiently as the general again leaned forward on the 
desk.  


"Have you ever heard of a man named Knowle Rohrer?"


**********


The parking garage had been quiet since the ambulance pulled away.  
It had been on Mulder's mind the rest of the afternoon, though. 
 

Skinner's unconscious form had been discovered in that elevator not 
long after Alex had emerged from it, striding deliberately across 
the garage.  His lover had talked to him and Smith at the time.


"Billy Miles is in there again,"  he'd warned them, gesturing 
vaguely toward the main core of the Hoover Building.   He led them 
toward the Lexus.  "Come on.  You two are going to come with me to 
Wiekamp.  You can wait in the car while I'm in there..."

Smith had rejected the idea, pointing out that Mulder still hadn't 
spoken with Agent Doggett.  Mulder saw the concern in Alex's eyes, 
knew that the man dreaded leaving him and Smith here while the 
replicant was around.  Knew that Alex's own fear of the replicants 
was intensifying his apprehension.  But he had to agree with Smith.


"Doggett is still in there, isn't he?"  Mulder had asked.


"Yeah,"  Alex told him.  "He was talking to Rohrer a little while 
ago."


"What?"  Mulder and Smith glanced at each other, alarmed.


Alex shrugged, shook his head tiredly. "Take it easy. They were 
only together for a minute, and from what I could see, Rohrer did 
most of the talking.  Anyway, Rohrer could see me through the 
window.  If he felt like killing me, he could have done it then."


He had driven off shortly after, speeding to make his appointment 
on time.  He'd made no mention of Skinner, no mention of anyone 
being injured.  


Mulder had been thinking about it all afternoon, all evening.  He 
knew that Alex hated Skinner, that he blamed the assistant director 
for Mulder's abduction.  But did Alex really hate Skinner enough to 
have just left him lying there in the elevator?


There was every chance that Billy Miles had hurt Skinner *after* 
Alex had left.  


But Mulder didn't believe it.


*********


Alex drove, his mind a mass of confusion.  In the seat beside him 
sat Rohrer, calmly looking out at the Hoover building's garage.


"You wait here," he told Alex.  "I'll just be a few minutes."


"I've already met Crane,"  Alex reminded him.


"Yeah, but I've got to meet someone else, too.  He may not want me 
to bring company."  Rohrer smiled.  "Don't worry, pal.  I'll let 
you know what I learn."


Sure you will, Alex thought to himself.


But at least I've learned what I wanted to learn, he thought with 
satisfaction.  Doggett hasn't told Rohrer the truth about Scully's 
baby. 


He watched the replicant cross to the corridor where the elevators 
were, debating whether or not to follow by stairs.  He wanted to 
know who, besides Crane, Rohrer was going to meet with.  And why.


A snap, soft and metallic, alerted Alex.  He glanced quickly in his 
rear-view mirror.


Doggett.


The agent's hand was still on the handle of a car door;  he was 
leaning toward the window, as if talking to someone.  Inspecting 
the car in the mirror, Alex saw the second form.


The clone?


Doggett disappeared from Alex's view, then reappeared off to the 
side, heading for the south stairwell.  Alex turned his gaze back 
to the clone, watching as it opened a cell phone and began talking.


*********


Mulder turned as the Lexus drove into the garage.  Alex was at the 
wheel.


"Who's that with him?"  Mulder asked Smith.  


Smith shook his head.  "I'm not sure.  He looks very tall, though.  
It may be Rohrer."


Rohrer?  What was Alex doing bringing Rohrer back to headquarters?


"Come on," Smith whispered.  "Agent Doggett is following them."


Smith and Mulder worked their way along the garage, staying in the 
shadows of vehicles and concrete pillars.  They positioned 
themselves near the far wall,  hidden behind one of the pillars,  
creating a triangle with the two cars in question. Just behind them 
was the south stairwell.  The elevators, and the west stairs, were 
in front of Alex.


Rohrer let himself out of the Lexus and headed for the elevators.


As soon as Rohrer was out of sight, Doggett stepped out of his 
automobile, leaning in to say something to the clone.  Then he 
turned and headed for the south stairs, passing within a few yards 
of Mulder and Smith's hiding place.  The door closed with a soft 
click.


"Follow him," Smith suggested.  "I'll stay here and keep an eye on 
the clone."


Mulder nodded.


**********


Mulder hugged the outside wall as he followed Doggett up the 
stairs, staying two flights behind.  Doggett's hand was 
occasionally visible on the railing as a guide, but even without 
that, Mulder knew exactly where Doggett was.  The agent wasn't 
making much of an attempt to keep his whereabouts unknown.  His 
feet slamming on the steps echoed down throughout the stairwell.    


Doggett stopped on the third floor, opened the door, then continued 
racing up to the fourth floor.  


Mulder waited, listened.  Silence.  Doggett must have entered the 
hallway on four.


Strange, though, he thought.  Doggett must not know who Rohrer was 
here to see.  Not that there could be many people in the building 
at this hour.


Mulder reached the fourth-floor landing.  Doggett still hadn't 
stepped back onto the stairwell.  As quietly as he could, Mulder 
pushed open the door and peeked out carefully.  Seeing no one, he 
let himself into the hallway.


Doggett was ahead of him, his back to Mulder, attention drawn to 
something going on around the corner from him.  Mulder listened, 
but could hear nothing.  He inched forward soundlessly.


Doggett crouched low and worked his way around the corner, out of 
Mulder's sight.  Mulder continued forward, listening.  


From somewhere ahead of him came the sound of footsteps.  


Shit.


Mulder dove across the unlit corridor, pushing open the door of the 
men's restroom, forcing it closed behind him as Doggett raced past.  
In the silence that followed the agent's flight, Mulder pulled open 
the door a crack and peeked out. Doggett was letting himself back 
onto the stairwell.


Where was Rohrer?


Mulder glanced up and down the dark corridor.  Rohrer or Doggett?  


He was supposed to be following Doggett.  And Doggett had run up 
the stairs;  Mulder had seen that much as the door was closing.  
But what was he running from?  Or to?


Something around that corner had held Doggett's attention.


With a final glance at the stairway door, Mulder turned and 
continued up the hallway.


*********


He couldn't remember the last time he had dreaded something so 
much.


Crouching along the front seat, Alex quietly let himself out the 
passenger door.  He used the car as a shield to hide him as he 
watched the clone for another minute, then began soundlessly to 
make his way across the garage.  Beside Doggett's car was a 
concrete pillar, and he rested against it, bracing himself for what 
he had to do.  Reluctantly he drew his handgun from his pocket and 
stared at it.


Gotta do it some time, he thought.  May as well be now.


In one smooth movement he stepped out from behind the pillar and 
smashed the passenger's window.  The cell phone he snatched from 
the clone's hand, crushing it angrily on the ground.  The gun he 
trained on the creature who was so much like his own Fox.


"Get out of the car."


*********


Damn.


The elevator doors closed as Mulder turned the corner.  In the dark 
of the center hallway, he knew he probably hadn't been seen, but it 
was still careless of him.


Rohrer had been in that elevator.  So had someone else, though 
Mulder hadn't seen who it was.  Someone attached to the bureau, he 
assumed.  Crane, maybe?


He watched the lighted numbers of the elevator register.  Rohrer 
and his companion stopped on the fifth floor.


Well, he figured, at least they're all on the same floor again.  


Mulder headed for the stairwell.


His hand was on the door, ready to push it open, when the thud of 
heavy footsteps met him.  Someone was running down the stairs.


The footsteps didn't stop on four, but kept running.  Mulder 
listened until the sounds faded, then let himself back out onto the 
stairwell.  Leaning over the railing, he looked for the runner.


Skinner.


What the hell was going on around here?


Mulder stood on the fourth-floor landing, debating which way to go.  
He looked again down at Skinner, curious about just where he was 
heading.  But Doggett and Rohrer were both still on five, as far as 
he knew.  He began to climb upward.


He was just about to push open the door to the fifth floor when the 
first shot reached his ears.


**********


That was a gunshot.


Mulder froze on the landing, stunned.  He wanted to disbelieve it.  
A gunshot in the Hoover building in the middle of the night?  But 
his years as an agent had left him well-trained; in his bones, he 
knew that that was a gunshot.


A second shot echoed through the stairwell.


Alex.


And Mulder turned and bounded down the stairs as if the devil 
himself were chasing him.


He shoved open the door out onto the garage, forgetting to take 
care to remain unseen.


But it was Smith who grabbed him.


"Shh,"  the older man hissed.  He dragged Mulder away from the 
doorway, pulled him into a crouching position beside one of the FBI 
vans.  Mulder tried to pull away, his eyes scanning the garage.  
Alex wasn't in the Lexus.  


"Don't make a sound,"  Smith warned in a harsh whisper.  He clapped 
his left hand over Mulder's mouth and nodded in the direction of 
Doggett's car.


Mulder peeked around the corner of the van.  At first, all he saw 
was Skinner's broad back and the profile of the clone.  He leaned 
out a bit further.


And the blood froze in his veins.


Alex.


Mulder struggled violently in Smith's grasp, but the older man was 
terrifyingly strong.  The hand around his mouth tightened, almost 
closing off his air. Smith's other arm closed around Mulder chest, 
pinning Mulder's right arm uselessly to his side.


"Stay still,"  Smith hissed at him. 


Mulder twisted his head to see the healer, staring at the man in 
wide-eyed horror and fighting the iron grip around his mouth and 
chest.


A third shot rang through the garage.


Oh, God.


Skinner shot him.  Skinner shot Alex.


Mulder wrenched free for an instant, but before he could get up, 
Smith had caught him again.  Leaning in close to him, the older man 
muttered, "Just stay still, for God's sake.  Let them leave."


Tears spilled from Mulder's eyes.  His legs gave out, and he fell 
to his knees beside the van.  Staring at Smith, he nodded slowly.  
This man was a healer.  He could heal Alex.  He *had* to heal Alex.


From somewhere behind him, Mulder could hear Skinner's voice.  "You 
just go.  I'll get him."


As Mulder and Smith sat there on the cold concrete, Skinner strode 
toward the elevators.  The sudden muted roar of an auto engine, the 
bright twin beams of headlights, and the clone was gone.  


The garage was silent.


**********


Smith released his grip on Mulder.  Mulder pulled loose and stood 
quickly.  His eyes focused on the dark form lying on the garage 
floor.


God.  Oh God.


Mulder didn't remember moving; he was suddenly there, on his knees 
beside his lover.  


The third bullet had struck the head.


The beautiful green eyes were half-open, but they didn't seem to 
see anything.  Mulder rested one hand on Alex's chest. It rose 
slightly, the faintest breath stirring in the lungs.  Mulder looked 
up at Smith.


"What are you waiting for?"  he asked.  "You've got to heal him."


Smith lowered himself to his knees, as well.  But he didn't reach 
out to Alex, didn't place his hand on the man at all.


"I can't,"  Smith said, his blue eyes looking at Mulder unhappily.


Mulder frowned.  He couldn't have heard right.


"Heal him," he told Smith.  "He's still alive.  You've got to heal 
him."


Smith shook his head.  "I can't.  I'm sorry."  He looked at his 
friend, lying unconscious and bloody on the cold floor.  "I'm 
sorry."


"You're sorry,"  Mulder repeated, confused.  "What are you talking 
about?  You can heal him.  I've seen you heal others."


Smith nodded sadly.  "I know."  He turned his gaze to Mulder.  "But 
Alex doesn't want me to.  He made me promise once never to heal 
him.  Because of the oil."


"No." Mulder shook his head.


He had to make Smith understand.


"He was only talking about his arm," he told him, anguished.  "This 
is his *life*."  Mulder touched Alex's cheek; it was still warm.  
He ran his hand lightly over his lover's hair.  


Smith didn't move.


"You've got to heal him, Smith,"  Mulder pleaded.  "He'd want you 
to - I know he would."  Mulder looked down at his hand running 
through Alex's hair.  The hand was covered with blood.  


Fresh tears spilled from Mulder's eyes.


"You have to heal him," he said again, softly.  "Please."


"I'm sorry."  Smith's voice reflected the sorrow in his eyes.


This can't be real. 


God, please don't take him away.  I've only just got him back. 
Don't take him away again.


Mulder lifted Alex's head, cradled the younger man against him.  
"Alex?" he murmurred.  "Alex, please wake up.  You have to wake 
up."


Thick lashes fluttered over green eyes, but Alex made no sound.


"Alex,"  Mulder spoke, rocking his lover softly.  "Please.  You 
have to wake up.  You have to tell Smith he can heal you."


Alex stirred slightly.


"Come on, Alex," Mulder went on.  "Please?  Wake up..."


A soft moan reached his ears.  Mulder bent his head forward, 
brushing his lips across Alex's temple.  "Wake up,"  he murmurred 
again.


The green eyes opened, squinted against the pain, but focused on 
Mulder.


"Fox?"


"It's okay,"  Mulder told him.  "You're going to be okay.  You just 
have to tell Smith he can heal you."


Alex trembled in Mulder's embrace.  Moaning, he shook of his head.  
"No,"  he mumbled.  "I can't."


"Damn it, Alex, of course you can!"  Mulder cried.  "You have to!"


"I don't know...what it...might do,"  Alex explained weakly.  He 
met Mulder's eyes;  the misery in them mirrored Mulder's own.  He 
wasn't going to let Smith heal him.


Alex held Mulder's gaze in spite of the pain.  "I'm scared," he 
whispered.


You can't possibly be more scared than I am right now, Mulder 
thought.


"I know you're scared, Alex.  So am I.  But we can get through it, 
whatever happens. Okay?  We'll deal with it together.  Just don't 
leave me again."


Alex tilted his head, let it rest more heavily against Mulder's 
chest.  "I love you, Fox," he murmurred.  


"I love you too, Alex," Mulder whispered, stroking Alex's face 
softly.  "Please don't leave me."


There was no answer.


"Alex?"


Alex moved his head once more, a vague nod.


"Okay,"  he mumbled.  He closed his eyes, exhausted.  "Okay, Jem.  
It's okay.  Whatever Fox wants..."  He drifted off.


Mulder leaned his head forward again, pressing his lips against 
Alex's tenderly.  "It'll be alright," he promised.  "Whatever 
happens, it'll be alright."    


Blinking away tears, Mulder raised his eyes to Smith's face.  "It's 
okay now,"  he said.  "You can heal him now."


Smith nodded somberly.


"Yes,"  he agreed.  "It's okay now."


And he placed his hand on Alex's forehead.


***********


It was the sunlight more than the motion that woke him.  With a 
yawn, he nuzzled his face against his lover's shoulder, wincing 
slightly at the soreness in his head.


"How are you feeling?"  Fox asked quietly.


"Okay," Alex answered, rubbing his eyes.  "Where are we?"


"We just passed York."  Smith's voice reached him from the front 
seat.


"York?"  Alex repeated.  He drew himself upright, leaning forward 
and squinting at the road unfolding in front of the Lexus.  A wave 
of dizziness flooded him, but he held on, grabbing the headrest of 
the seat in front of him.  "No. We're going the wrong way," he told 
the other two men. "We have to head south.  They were taking her 
someplace in Georgia..."


"Later, Alex,"  Fox murmurred.  "We'll work on all of that later.  
Right now, we're just going to get you home."  With a gentle tug, 
he brought Alex back into his arms.  


"We have a lot to do," Alex said, but the motion of the vehicle and 
the warm strength of Fox's embrace were making him sleepy again.  
"We have a war to win..."


"We'll win it,"  Fox promised him.  


"You think?"


"Sure,"  Fox assured him.  "What's a planet full of indestructible 
beings, compared to the three of us?"


Smith chuckled, and Alex smiled into Fox's shoulder.  "Right,"  he 
mumbled.  


***********
end
***********