Title: Sui Generis (Latin: weird, odd, and bizarre)
Author: Kerttu
E-mail: kukkurkruat(at)yahoo(dot)com
Date: Finished February 2001, modified January 2002, remodified June 2004
Feedback: Welcome, but go slow and tread carefully, this is my first attempt.
Distribution: Any place that enjoys this story. Gossamer yes, Krycek sites yes (if they happen to 
want it, of course)
Rating: R, for ideas mostly
Content warning: gender confusion, angst
Category: MSR, K/M, babyfic (yeah, go figure)
Spoilers: All of the seasons and the movie, I didn't keep track of where I exactly took the 
comments from. And this is AU branching off after 'Requiem' although I've tried to be true to 
general canon.
Summary: Mulder had believed in extreme possibilities all his life. Now he has to live with them. 
Two of them.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, CC has them in iron grip, although I would sell him 
my obnoxious neighbour only to get a glimpse of the insides of those sound stages....
Thanks: To my friends Ebe and Ingrid who supported me through this opus. To my totally 
supreme beta Tarlan, who managed to turn this thing into a legible story. Thank you all. All the 
mistakes that remain are mine alone.

Sui Generis
by Kerttu

Prelude

1st of May, Thursday, 2003
Mulder awoke with a slight headache. Running a hand over his face, he felt the bandage on his 
forehead.
'One should not get thrown out ...or drink SO much...' he concluded and opened his eyes. He was 
on his bed - and he was alone.
She was gone. It was to be expected but still, some little part of him had hoped that she would 
have the nerve to stay and wait until he came out of the post-coital coma. Suddenly he 
remembered the look in her eyes, when she had just watched him for a while. He had almost 
thought she would start crying. There had been vulnerability he had never imagined her to have. 
She seemed to be breaking when she reached out and traced his face with her fingertips - and 
then they had been at 'it' again.
'Jeez' Mulder, what have you done?' he didn't grin when he thought that, but then another thought 
crossed his head: what would he tell Scully? 'Oh My God...' He sat up and looked at the bed 
again.
Last night he really had done the unthinkable - he had slept with Alex Krycek.

Developments

30th of April, Wednesday, 2003
Scully hadn't come to work for a week, didn't return his calls and he blamed himself for that. He 
had not been able to save their son and she was grieving having lost William to the woodwork of 
what was left of the Consortium. They had had him for six months, then one night, Maggie Scully 
called and said that William was gone. They and the forensic team didn't find a single trace how 
he was taken from the room next to where Maggie was reading a book.
He and Scully had searched for him feverishly, but in vain.
It was very hard on Scully and as usual, she shut him out.
She had come back to work but sometimes she took some time off and shut him out again.
It was driving him nuts.
Work wasn't helping this time, although the information the bastard Krycek had brought was 
intriguing. He just couldn't concentrate on anything but ... her, his Scully. She was hurting, he was 
hurting and there it was.
Mulder glanced at the clock on the wall - it was almost time to go and meet the bastard again. 
The sewer-rat had promised more information.

Krycek was late, about three hours. Mulder shot a glance around the bar but there was still no 
sign of him. He took another sip of his Scotch and decided that he had enough of waiting. Since 
he was feeling lousy, and he was in a bar... 'One goes with the flow of things' he rationalised.
One double Scotch followed another. His mood got more and more sombre but also more numb, 
thank God.
"Hi, handsome, want to party?" Mulder turned his head. A cheap-looking chick perched on the 
next seat and winked at him. He hadn't realised it was one of those bars.
"Nope."
"Oh, come on, she's not worth it."
"Oh, but yes, she is."
"What she's got that I don't?"
"She doesn't look cheap."
The chick slapped him. He hardly felt it, but he did feel when somebody came and spun his seat 
around. The man looking down at him was, well, he was huge to say the least.
"Mister, if you don't want company, that's fine, but don't go around offending everyone."
"They all say that subtlety is not my strongest asset." He couldn't help it; he had to say it.
"Then your place is not in this bar."
"Oh, it is, I'm waiting for someone."
"And who could that be?" This was the chick again, her voice shrill with anger.
"Me."
Mulder turned slowly. Krycek had finally appeared. Looking a bit out of breath, but unfortunately 
very alive.
"Oh, a pair of faggots..." It was the chick again.
"And we have only kissed once", commented Krycek in a really low voice, but all four of them 
heard it. The chick doubled over with giggles that made her sound somehow really dumb-witted.
Mulder fought the urge to strike at Krycek. However, the mountain of muscles and steroids stood 
between him and Mulder. The rat-shit was safe...
"So this is 'she' who doesn't look cheap..." The chick burst. Hearing this, Mulder looked at her for 
a moment before her words registered. He saw red: how could this stupid tart compare Scully 
with this-this ...?!!
Krycek saw Mulder's eyes to blaze with anger before he started to wreak havoc.
Well, at least he tried to - by attempting to slap the chick. The proverbial Mohammed's companion 
grabbed hold of him and Mulder found the floor coming to face him damn fast.

He woke up in his car - on the passenger seat. Krycek was driving.
"Where are we going?" he coughed and felt that his head was hurting under the heavy layer of 
alcohol. He also felt a strong urge to punch Krycek. Somehow he resisted it - only because 
Krycek was driving, so they both might end up dead.
"Your place. You are in no condition for anything else. And stop touching your forehead, you'll 
start bleeding again."
"So you got me out of the place? Why not to leave me behind like you used to?"
"Things have changed. I need you to use the information." Krycek stopped in the red lights. "I'm 
one of the good guys now."
"Yeah, sure. Saint Krycek. Pope will die laughing."
Krycek didn't say anything until they had reached Mulder's apartment. He hated to admit it, but he 
was so drunk that even Krycek's occasional help to keep him upright was very useful. Mulder let 
himself be navigated to the bedroom and seated on the bed.
"I brought you this." Krycek showed him a computer disc and put it on the nightstand, out of his 
drunken reach. "You look at this when you're coherent again." There was a sigh when Krycek 
saw Mulder reaching under the bed and bringing out a half-finished bottle of something that 
seemed to be whisky.
"You're drunk, Mulder."
"I know." He proceeded to open the bottle and taking a mouthful of the contents.
"I meant - drunk enough." And then the bottle was suddenly in Krycek's hand.
"Hey! Give it back!" He didn't care why Krycek was acting up so nice. He wanted to get so drunk 
that he wouldn't even remember his own name anymore...
"You know that you're going to have a killer hangover tomorrow, don't you?"
"You're not my mother. And I really don't care. Now, give it back!"
Krycek shrugged and put the bottle on his lap. "Go ahead, it's you're funeral." After a moment's 
watching how Mulder downed another gulp of Scotch, he commented:
"At least put something on that gash."
"I'm really lousy with bandages even when I'm sober, so - no way!"
"And you have Scully, who has a degree in bandaging." There was something in Krycek's voice 
that didn't sound quite right but... Mulder blinked and tried to remember what the bastard had 
said. 'Yeah, Scully and the degree.'
"Right." He croaked.
"You should call her."
"She won't answer and I'm tired of talking to her machine. That thing knows me far better than 
she does."
"Then I'll do it."
That finally caught Mulder's attention. His hand holding the bottle sank to his lap.
"What?"
"Bandage you. Otherwise you'll bleed all over your bed. And you're the type A lousy 
housekeeper." Krycek got up. Mulder nodded, feeling nicely indifferent.
"That's true" he complied.

"Ouch! That hurt!!"
"Sorry." Crouching in front of Mulder, Krycek was smoothing the Band-Aid on his ex-partner's 
forehead and doing the best he could to ignore Mulder's body heat. He hated what he had 
become and he definitely hated the bouts of horniness that assailed him sometimes. Today had 
been particularly bad in that respect. He pulled back, noticing that Mulder was looking at him 
thoughtfully.
"Mm. I have been wondering..." The drunken Agent said and stopped.
"About what?"
"That... about that kiss." Krycek swallowed hard in disbelief ('He can't be asking this now?'), when 
Mulder continued: "Why did you kiss me?"
He shrugged and started collecting the medical stuff on his lap. Then he smirked and confessed:
"Maybe I had the hots for you?"
"Had, like past tense? What about now?"
'Shit', he thought and opted for humorous relief: "Look at you - totally sloshed, face bleeding: a 
complete mess. Who could possibly want you? I'm not even mentioning your hair..."
"Don't get personal!"
"Who, moi? Sticks and stones, Mulder, who asked about kissing?"
"Not kissing, a kiss! One particular kiss."
"You're obsessed with it, aren't you? Why? Want another one?" he teased and regretted it the 
next moment because Mulder's eyes went dark and he asked innocently like the whore of 
Babylon:
"Are you offering?"
"I'm not that cheap." Suddenly he felt really offended. Before he could get to his feet, however, 
Mulder had grabbed his wrist. Hard. 'So, are we back to the old routine of violence?' he snarled in 
his mind, but Mulder surprised him by saying:
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to offend you."
"You should have acted that way in the bar. Though coming from you and addressed to me... 
that's new." He tried to get up, but Mulder didn't let go. Instead of releasing him, he pulled Krycek 
closer. 'What the heck are you doing, Mulder?' He was still pulling him closer, he could sense the 
warmth emanating from Mulder's body, and also smell the whisky too well for comfort - and then 
Mulder planted a kiss on him - in the exact same spot he had given his peck.

Mulder watched Krycek jerk back and almost fall on his butt, because he had also released his 
hand. He scrambled onto his feet, and basically run out of the room. 'Curioser and curioser', 
Mulder thought and resumed drinking. God, he wished that someone would make him feel 
better.... about everything.

Krycek had rushed out, because... that was a good question, why? The practical part of his mind 
reminded him of the things he was still clutching against his chest. Yep, he had to put them back. 
That was as good excuse as any. His emotional part on the other hand had a really hard time 
trying to calm his racing heart and subdue the ringing in his ears. He leaned against the wall and 
sucked in a lungful of  air. 'So this is what it feels like to be kissed by Mulder. Mm, correction, to 
be pecked by him...' Krycek found himself smiling, although he also felt angry as hell - now 
Mulder was teasing him, playing with him... 'And you don't know how easy it would be to 
persuade me... Thank God, that you don't know.'
He realised that he should leave right now, grab his jacket and leave. He had delivered the 
information and even taken care of Mulder's sorry arse. Forehead, to be exact. 'But why did he do 
that? To annoy me? To test me? For what? DAMN!'
He was standing on the doorway of the bedroom demanding an explanation before he 
understood what he was doing.
"Why did you do that?" It came out as a growl.
"My sentiment exactly..." Mulder smiled drunkenly and raised his eyes on Krycek. Motioning now 
with the almost empty bottle the Agent added: "You see how odd and... mmm... unresolved it 
felt?"
Something snapped inside of Krycek. "You want the thing resolved? Okay, let's resolve it."

Mulder observed with a mild amusement how Krycek stormed in, pulled him to his feet and - 
kissed him. This time properly on the mouth.

'Oh boy... what have I done now?' he was about to back away, when Mulder grabbed hold of him. 
Perhaps because he needed to steady his intoxicated body or perhaps he wanted to feel a bit in 
control or was just used to holding a partner while he was kissing - whatever the reason, Mulder's 
arms went around him.

Krycek stiffened but Mulder only chuckled shortly. "Scared, Krycek?" Jeez' how his breath stank, 
Mulder could even smell it himself but he didn't care. It made it more fun to see the bastard ruffle 
up, and retort with another almost bruising kiss.

Mulder's response caught him off-guard and the horniness he had barely managed to keep under 
control burst out and he felt his knees going weak. 'Never thought Cher could be right... Lost... 
lost' whined a tiny voice in his mind - because Mulder knew what to do. It was the most 
frightening thing - what do you do, if your life's wish is offered to you on a plate? What do you do?
He didn't know. He couldn't pull away; helpless, he could only hope that Mulder would. Desire 
was in him like a living thing, an erupted lava flow.

Mulder's head was spinning from the booze and the slight concussion. He saw Krycek just 
standing there, he seemed somehow vulnerable and - what was that thing in his eyes? 
'Desperation? Need? So maybe his comment about the kiss was true?' He pulled him suddenly 
closer and although he saw fear flicker over Krycek's face, he didn't fight him when he ventured to 
test yet another thing: Mulder had always liked to kiss necks. 'If you don't approve, then... The 
choice is yours.'

'This is a bad idea, this is A VERY bad idea, very-very bad-' He really hated Mulder right now - he 
had never felt so helpless. 'We're both going to regret this, I just know it... God...' All higher brain 
functions shut down, since Mulder was doing really wicked things to his neck.
Then Mulder's hands started to roam.
They were everywhere. On his shirt, in his shirt, pulling and tugging, sliding and touching, 
caressing and holding, and pushing - until they both fell flat onto the bed knocking each others 
breath out.
"So you did have the hots for me..." Mulder's voice carried a twinge of mockery, but somehow it 
still felt like a caress.
Krycek didn't answer. He couldn't and he didn't want to. Even if Mulder stopped right now, his 
body would remember everything: his weight, his warmth, his hands - for a change not hurting -, 
those lips... He would have a little piece of personal heaven.
And, boy, was he horny now. He felt Mulder's hand coming up, fingers closing around his throat, 
rather tight - Mulder's skin was hot, Krycek felt his pulse drum against his grip - and he almost 
wished Mulder would squeeze the life out of him.

"You really want this, don't you?" Mulder couldn't believe it. He also couldn't believe that Krycek  
of all the people! - allows him to hold him by throat. 'As if waiting meekly for me to - What, kill 
him?' The thought send adrenaline rushing through his system as he realised the situation: he 
was in control. This night he could do everything he wanted. Nobody had given him the total 
control, not even Scully when they had been together. Somehow, risking everything and going 
against all odds, Krycek had surrendered to him. Completely. No questions asked.
It felt good.
It felt damn good
It was the first good feeling he had experienced that night.
Damn, it was the first good thing he had felt for days.
The power of it made him feel giddy.
And Krycek still hadn't moved. Hadn't answered. "Do you want this?"
"Can't you tell?" The answer was forced as if he couldn't master his voice anymore.
Mulder could tell, as a matter of fact. He recognised the desperation, the craving for relief for the 
freezing loneliness. He recognised it all.
His hands were removing Krycek's shirt before he realised it.

The second week of May arrived with Scully returning to work. She still kept her distance, but she 
returned his attempts to joke and she smiled. Faintly, but a smile nonetheless. Mulder couldn't 
kick himself enough about the horrendous event. 'How could I do that? Would, please, someone 
explain it to me?'
Of course he tried to hide his dilemma from her, but there was nothing she wouldn't finally sense. 
And then, God forbid, confront him.

15th of May, Thursday, 2003
On Thursday evening the doorbell rang. Scully stood there, carrying his favorite take-out and 
Mulder knew that he was in trouble.
The shit hit the fan after the second cup of coffee.
"Mulder," she said and paused making him focus on her. "You've been acting..."
"How?"
"Qualmish." She paused for an emphasis. "For a week. What's the matter?"
He closed his eyes. 'Here we go...' Although he couldn't make himself to look at her, he still could 
talk. 'Mulder, now or never.'
"Scully, I have a confession."
"Yes?" She wasn't sure, did she like the sound of that.
"Did you see the last movie Kubrick made? With Kidman and Cruise?"
"Mm, yes..." 'Still don't like this.' Scully watched him struggle for words.
"You remember the scene where they make out in front of the mirror?"
Scully rolled her eyes, but nodded - trust Mulder to remember such scenes. He continued:
"Do you remember the song accompanying the scene, Chris Isaak'c 'My Baby Did A Bad, Bad 
Thing'?"
"Your point being?" She didn't like it at all...
"I feel exactly like that... I've done a bad-bad thing."
"Stop stalling. What was it?" 
"I slept with Krycek."

She sat there. She hated to be right. She didn't like this.

Mulder waited.
She sat with her face blank and then she rose and Mulder flinched. 'Right, Mulder. Smooth, 
Mulder. Now she walks out of here and that is the end of our relation- damn, this kills even our 
friendship. Nice, Mulder, real nice.'
But she didn't.
She walked to the closet, where Mulder kept his 'emergency whisky' stashed, opened it, took a 
glass, and filled it to the rim. With two swallows it was downed. Then she poured herself another, 
closed the bottle and the closet, and came back to the couch.
"How? And if you can explain it, why?"
"I honestly don't know why I did it... As for how.... I know that it is no excuse, but I was really 
drunk." he was fiddling with the pair of chopsticks that came with the takeout.
"And he did what?"
"She."
"What?" she thought she heard wrong.
"She. Krycek was a woman."
"No..."
"Yes." he stopped fiddling and looked up, having the patented guilt-ridden-Mulder expression.
In a way she felt relieved: Mulder wasn't too weird. All the time she had feared - when they had 
started to get really close - that there is something in him that is too dark, something that could 
stand between them. He had now obviously confessed something that for him was the worst he 
could do and although she really disliked the fact, it had been only a one-night stand. With 
another ... woman?!
"Krycek is a woman?"
"Yes, she is. I have first hand knowledge." He stopped abruptly and rushed to correct himself 
"Scully, I didn't mean it like-"
"Yeah, sure...." She sipped her strong drink. "So, what happened?"
He sighed, but then told her: about the meeting in the bar, about his head-wound, about their talk.
"And then one thing-"
"Lead to another. Right. Why did ... she do that? What did she say?" She wanted to know, call it a 
scientific curiosity.
"He... She said nothing. But I suppose she was damn lonely. And perhaps-"
"Perhaps...?"
"Perhaps she wanted me." Mulder stretched his back and neck. "Now, when I think of it, there has 
been some kind of tension ... on his-her part." Scully was giving her suspicious brow-look. "I 
never thought about him like that, Scully!"
"Kind of hard to believe it now."
"It's true!"
"Okay. I'll settle with your word. You know you have to go and get tested, don't you?"
Mulder's shoulders slumped. "God, I didn't think about that..."
"It seems that you didn't think much at all... But drunkenness usually does that." Scully leaned 
back on the couch. The whisky was making her tipsy. 'No way I'm going to crash in Mulder's 
place, definitely not after this news'. Then she realised that she was no condition to drive home. 
'Perfect'. She glanced at her watch. She had to go, but she didn't want to risk to be pulled over. 'I 
can see Skinner's look...'
"Scully..."
"Mh?"
"I'll drive you home." 'Blessed be Mulder's perceptiveness'. She nodded and slipped her shoes 
back on - which she hadn't even remembered taking off. 'Mmm, perceptiveness... Mulder's 
perceptiveness... What if he's right? What if Krycek really-'
"Where's the keys?"
"Here." She reached inside her coat pocket and handed them over. Mulder took them and then 
took her hand as well. She stopped and looked at him.
"Do you believe that I love you? That I would never want to-"
"I do believe that you love me. The other matter... I'll just have to risk and trust you." He had, 
indeed, sounded sincere. 'As long as his VD tests came up clean!'
Mulder smiled and hugged her. "Thank you", he whispered into her hair. The touchstone of his life 
was solid again.

7th of July, Monday, 2003
'What is this?'
Krycek clutched the side of the toilet having dropped to his knees and fought with the spell of 
faintness. It was afternoon and until now three times before in this week he had found himself 
unsteady and nauseous. It came and went, came when he seemed to get really hungry and then 
the feeling stayed with him about two hours.
'Is this the first sign of cancer?'
He sat onto the floor. He didn't want to die. He really didn't. 'Okay, Krycek, think. What else this 
could be? A bug, an usual little bug, that messes with your digestive system ... they usually make 
you nauseous, but not unsteady... Food poisoning? It would not last for so long... or if it did, I 
would be dead by now. What else? What would make a strong survivalist guy - correction - girl, 
so sick with no apparent reason?' He laughed silently at his own words - he had to force himself 
to think about being a 'her'.
'Krycek, what makes women sick-' His laughter died away. 'No... this can't be!! No, no...' But he 
thought back at the single night that meant something to him and he remembered that they had 
had raw sex in the first and literal sense of the word.
They had used no protection.

'Oh my God...'

There weren't many people in the local store, but Krycek still had the feeling that everybody 
glanced at him when he dropped the home-pregnancy-test among his other groceries. The shop-
owner was a nice old man but right now Krycek dreaded his usual way of commenting something. 
However, he had been a good client this far and he didn't want that to change.
The constant itching on his phantom arm didn't make his mood better either.
When he put his things on the counter, he hoped that the storeowner would let the box go by 
unnoticed. No such luck. The old man smiled happily and said:
"Hoping for someone?"
Krycek wished to vanish but he smiled, too and answered: "Well, yes, me and my girl-friend..." He 
let the sentence hang in the limbo thanking God that he could still pass as a man.
"Good-good, I hope you two have some good luck!"
He knew that the old man had meant no harm, but he really wanted to kill him. 'However, some 
good luck would be welcomed, indeed.'

The blue stripe appeared - and brought along no stars. 'No happy American end for me...'
He sat on the bed and stared at the tiny crappy item that had given him the answer he didn't 
want. He threw the test back to the table and snarled. He couldn't hope that the test lied, those 
things had been basically tuned to be foolproof. 'Safe and comfortable' like the text said on the 
box. 'Safe indeed.'
'How could I be so stupid!' Krycek hit the wall. He hadn't suspected anything, he hadn't even 
thought about this possibility. Yet, he was trapped now. Not as bad as the silo but pretty close. 
Very soon.
'There are private hospitals', he thought staring angrily at the wall. 'If you pay enough and give 
false ID, there won't even be questions... so don't panic. Just don't.' Alex noticed that his fingers 
were trembling. 'Calm down. Tomorrow you'll go and find a nice white hospital, where they can 
take care of your problem. And then you are free...' He got up, made himself a big strong drink. It 
made him feel better, not much, but better nevertheless. He could even lay down and rest some, 
but he couldn't sleep, though - he was too shocked. The stump itched again, too. Real bad. So he 
just lay there and waited for morning to arrive.

9th of July, Wednesday, 2003
He woke up in intensive care, the machines all around him. And he was TIRED, like in 'dead-
tired'. The nurse, who had sat nearby, got up, smiled at him, and went to fetch the doctor, before 
Krycek could utter a word. By the time the doctor got there, he had managed to free himself from 
the oxygen line.
"You're awake..." The doctor wheeled the stool nearer, looked at him, ignoring the missing 
oxygen line. "How are you feeling?"
"Like shit. What happened?" His voice was odd. 'Right, an anesthesia.'
"You... went into a cardiac arrest."
"I... died?" It hurt to talk.
"Yes. Your blood pressure dropped, your heart-"
"The child." he rasped. 'Priorities...'
"I'm sorry, but we couldn't do the procedure. As soon as the endoscope got near to the fetus, 
your vitals dropped. We tried three times. The last time you flat-lined."
"So.. it's still there?"
"Yes."
He felt cold panic - he somehow knew that he could go to another place but he wouldn't get what 
he wanted. The child would kill him, before letting him kill it.
"How long do I have ... to stay here?" Krycek knew that he shouldn't stay there at all, but he had 
to put on some front.
"24 hours. To see that the electrical shock didn't do any harm." The doctor patted his arm and 
stood. "Now, get some rest."
He actually slept three hours, before switching off the machines and sneaking away. He was still 
tired like hell, his knees wobbled, but he managed to leave.

Two weeks and two cardiac arrests later he gave up.
In the solitude of his motel-room he fell flat to the bed and felt how he was shuddering all over. 
'Trapped... Christ, what a shit...'

17th of August, Sunday, 2003
The doorbell rang again. Scully moaned and opened her eyes. Alarm clock showed the third hour 
of a new day. "This'd better be good..." Shrugging on the bathrobe, she patted to the door, 
picking up her gun on the way, though. Even if it's only Mulder, one should not be too careful.
"Who's there?" she inquired when a glance through the peephole didn't give her any clues.
"Krycek. I need your help."
Scully slumped against the wall and stared in space for a while. 'The nerve this bastard has...'
"Please, Scully..." 'That's unheard of- Krycek actually saying 'please'.'
"What's wrong?"
"I got shot."
"Go to hospital."
"And get reported to police. Thanks, but no thanks." A short pause. "Please."
"I'll unlock the door, and you can come in, but try something and-"
"I get the idea."
Scully drew a breath, cocked the gun and clicked the lock. "Come in."

The first thing Krycek noticed was the barrel of the gun. 'And what did you expect, Alex? Open 
arms?' He stumbled in, his head spinning because of the pain. 'Shit' he thought when his vision 
blurred. Somehow he managed not to faint.
"You are a mess."
"Tell me about it." he hissed.
"Bathroom. You won't pay my carpet cleaning bills anyway."

Everything in Scully's bathroom manifested: Here lives Scully the most precise and pristine of 
Special Agents of the Bureau. Krycek, who was seated on the toilet, felt out of place. But he felt 
out of place in most places. He had let Scully to disarm him and take his jacket off. His only arm 
throbbed and he saw blood slowly wetting his shirtsleeve. 'Shit-shit-shit.... Who asked me to go 
and snoop around once again? Look, what you have to do, to whom you have to turn to...' Scully 
came back, holding a hypo.
"What's that?" he gasped, feeling weakly alarmed
"A local anaesthetic."
"I'm supposed to believe you?"
"I let you in, didn't I?"
"Whatever..." He actually didn't care whether Scully gave him a painkiller or a dose of poison, or 
whether he would get arrested or not.
He felt his arm go numb, observed how Scully destroyed his shirt and cleaned the entrance area 
of the bullet. The wound wasn't that bad, but he couldn't do anything with his fucking prosthetic 
replacement. He wasn't wearing it, either. It didn't seem to fit anymore.
He closed his eyes when Scully put on her glasses and started to dig the bullet out. Finally came 
the metallic clank. "Got it."
"Why do you have all this stuff at home?" Krycek had half-hoped that she would, but to witness 
that she did, made him curious.
"Mulder equals trouble equals wounds equals-"
"You patching him up." 
"Yep. So it is handy stuff to keep around." Scully found herself relaxing - Krycek was pale and in 
pain and wasn't trying to attack her. "Why did you come here?"
"I knew that you could help me... if you choose to. I also brought you- Look in my jacket's right 
upper pocket." Scully did. It was a computer disc. "I also had nowhere else to go."
"Why not Mulder? The disc would mean more to him."
"No..." Krycek dreaded the thought that he would have to face Mulder again. "No." He shook his 
head. "And not this disc. It has medical records from the beginning of 1960's. Might throw some 
light on things for you both."
Scully nodded and didn't push the Mulder-issue, although she wanted to. After a moment she 
finished. "You should change it, at least once, you know."
Krycek looked at the bandage. He nodded, but commented: "It's going to be tricky."
"I'm sure you'll find a way."

"Thanks." Krycek stood at the kitchen door. Scully could barely hear his - 'you have to remember, 
damn it, 'her'' - low voice. She answered with a shrug.
"You took a chance coming here, I took a chance helping you."
"Perhaps you shouldn't have-"
"Perhaps. But I wouldn't have liked to explain to Mulder, why I didn't help his one night stand."
For a moment Krycek went white as a sheet and Scully waited for him to faint. After all, he/she 
had lost a fair amount of blood.
"He ... told you?" he finally stuttered.
"Yes. That's called trust, Krycek. You might have heard about the concept."
"And you still helped me... Why?"
'Beats me', Scully thought but said diplomatically: "I'm a doctor. And I'm curious. Why did you do 
it?" 'Didn't come out very diplomatic, did it, Scully?' she scolded herself waiting at the same time 
anxiously for Krycek's answer.
Krycek stood there, shifting his weight from one leg to another and was visibly torn between the 
urge to run - 'more likely stumble' - away and to stay and end the discussion. Scully watched the 
clock on the wall. She still might get some sleep, if Krycek left now. 'Though, it's unlikely. And I 
have to learn, why he ... she ... did that... thing.'
"Want some tea, Krycek?"
"What?" He had obviously lost the track of Dana's thoughts.
"Tea, a cup of hot tea. I need one. Looking at you I might say the same."
Krycek stepped in the kitchen. "Are you serious?"
"Yes." She had already filled the electric jug. A click and it started to hum almost at once.
"Why?"
"My sleep is ruined anyway. I also want my questions answered." She sat behind the table. "Sit 
and tell me."
"What did he say?" Krycek dragged the stool out under the table and winced - the arm started to 
hurt again.
"I'll tell you later. Now I want your version."
'Did it sound like a threat or am I paranoid?' Krycek took a seat.
"I ... love him."
Scully kept her poker face. "So do I. But I don't jump the people I love." The heating device 
clicked and turned off. She stood to pour the water out.
"I didn't jump him! Did he say that I did? He's such a-"
"Stop. Calm down. The more reason to explain what you did, don't you think?" She put a cup in 
front of her late-night/early-morning visitor. She also heard him-'her!' sigh.
"After being kicked out of the bar - I assume he told you that too (Scully nodded and sat down 
again) I took him back to his apartment, patched him up, since he refused to call you. While I was 
looking for things to help him with, he had carried on drinking ..." Krycek sipped his tea, almost 
burning his tongue, but managed to swallow the hot mouthful. "He kept asking about that stupid 
kiss... Just kept asking and asking... teasing, you know. Telling me - that it's unresolved. So-" he 
took another sip, this time more carefully. Whatever the blend, it was good. "-I resolved it. By 
kissing him." He ended bluntly.
Scully traced with her finger the rim of her cup. "And he allowed you?"
"Yes. He was drunk as a skunk and smelled like one too." Scully was watching him and Krycek 
wished now that he had listened to his instincts and run before the third degree started.
"Then?"
"What do you think?"
"I can imagine, though I'd rather not."
"Then don't."
"Why did he do it?"
"What did he say to that? I bet you asked him."
"Honestly?"
"Yes. Seems to be the mode of the evening."
"He doesn't know. Any ideas from you?"
"No ideas. Perhaps I was there and he was lonely. I know I was."
They ended their teas in silence.

When Scully walked Krycek back to the door, one more guestion begged to be asked.
"Krycek..."
"Mhh?"
"Did it make you feel better?"
"You are one nosy person."
"And you've never been that?"
Krycek smirked and capitulated. And because they had been oddly honest tonight...
"It helped some.... but it also made it worse."
"Why worse?"
"You're supposed to be a bright woman, Scully. Figure it out!" Krycek had got visibly angry. "He 
has you now, he has always had you! From the day you two met, you have had each other. I'm 
never going to feel close to him again..." His anger run out. "It hurts. The empty fucking nights 
and the bleak mornings hurt."
He went to the door, opened it and walked out, not adding anything. Scully stood there wondering 
whether she had heard correctly: it seemed that Krycek had been on the verge of tears. 'Krycek 
and crying. Well, that's a sight to see.'

The next day in the office dragged on like an asthmatic ant. Scully sat behind her computer, going 
through the information Krycek's disc contained. There was loads of material, but she needed to 
start somewhere. A whim made her type Krycek's name on the search, and then she was really 
shocked on seeing a file come up.
"Oh my God."
She looked up - Mulder wasn't in the room, which was good. She had to digest the news she had 
just read. She also had to collect the results from the lab... The ones she had given in that same 
morning.

When she returned, she smelled coffee from the elevator doors and was sure that Mulder had 
returned. She was right.

"Mulder..."
"Yes?" he was pouring himself the second cup of fresh coffee, but he turned around to see what 
Scully had to say. It sounded important.
She was staring at something within a report in her hand. She had the intent 'I'm-kicking-your-
ass-with-science' Scully look and she was gorgeous. She had been getting more and more 
gorgeous, since they had resumed their intimate relationship. 'Which would be about month ago. I 
must remember to give her something nice for our month's anniversary'.
"You know, what you said about Krycek being a woman?" 'And here cometh the iceberg that 
sinketh the Titanic' Mulder sighed.
"Yes..." 'I'm painfully aware' he added, putting the glassy coffee-pot back.
"Well, she's a woman alright. The tests prove it."
"What tests?" Mulder inquired, surprised.
"The ones I took from him, her... and gave in for testing this morning. I had a night visitor." Scully 
sat down behind her desk. "And she's pregnant, too." She looked up only to see Mulder losing his 
grip around the coffee mug. It shattered to the floor.
"Preg... pregnant?" he stuttered.
"Yes. Her blood has the required level of HCG."
"Of what?"
"It stands for human chrionic gonadotropin, the pregnancy hormone. Mulder, you better sit down." 
He did, his knees were jelly anyway.
"How..." he only managed.
"Krycek came to my place yesterday night. He - sorry, she, needed help, because she had been 
shot. It was a clean bullet wound on ... her upper arm, but being one-handed... " Mulder nodded 
absentmindedly.
"So," Scully continued, "I cleaned it, dressed it and drank a very late tea with her."
"You did what?!"
"It was very enlightening... Anyway, I brought some of her blood to the lab, and here are the 
results. Krycek is definitely a woman. And you may relax - she tested totally clean about anything 
venereal."
Mulder seemed shell-shocked. Scully felt sorry, but she wasn't finished.
"There's more, Mulder."
"What?"
"Krycek also dropped off a disc with medical information about human testing. Her own name 
came up. She or he, whatever, was one of the first test-tube babies in the world. If that's true, the 
method was in active use far before than the public knew about it."
"That's yesterday's news."
"I'm just angry that all of my education about medical history is somewhat... wrong." Scully got up 
and fetched herself coffee. 'I have to get Mulder another mug... Something with foxes this time.' 
She sat back. "There were weird things in Krycek's file. The DNA was odd, human, but... I have to 
consult the specialist I know. His, her hormone levels are strange, too. That together with this 
extra-ordinary DNA structure might be the reason for her sex change. If it did happen at all. You 
never saw her naked before-"
"I certainly didn't!! But I have wrestled with him really up-close and... You know." Mulder looked 
sheepish.
Scully smiled and concluded: "I don't but I believe you. If she did change sex during her life... that 
must have been rather traumatic."
"You wish to play doctor?" It seemed that Mulder started to recover.
"I am one, I don't have to play. I just thought... imagine if you woke up on day to find you were 
now a woman. What would you do?"
"Head out to buy some lingerie... Though I'm sure I wouldn't find fitting shoes..."

The autumn in the year 2003 began. In some ways it was the best autumn Mulder had had since 
the childhood. Scully was with him, the upper levels didn't pester them too much and they were 
happy together. They shared really everything now. The hardships they had been through 
together gave only the feeling of security that they never had thought possible.
The one thing that had bothered them, Krycek, had vanished somewhere.
They snatched time each day when there was decent weather and went for long walks in the 
parks of Washington. Mulder could have sworn that the sun had never shone so warm in 
September before, the leaves in the trees been so brightly coloured, and Scully so prone to giggle 
and eat ice cream.

Self-reflections

4th of September, Thursday, 2003
I'm writing a journal, funny, isn't it? An ex-assassin sitting down to write a diary...
But life has it odd ways and I suppose this is one of them. And a definitely extreme way...
I really don't know whether anyone will read this, but to be alone and wait for the 'process' to 
finish and go insane is just not my idea of how to spend my time.
Or perhaps I'm exorcising my demons and aren't there many of them... One of them made me 
what I am and I don't even know who that bastard was. Once I could have found out, once when I 
was still inside the dark system but now...
Maybe I should ask for help- nah, nope, not my style at all.
And reading this thing through I realised I'm rambling like a lunatic. There is no sense whatsoever 
in these lines. Or perhaps somewhere there is. So, to make things clearer:
I used to be a clean-cut fresh eager son-of-a-bitch, who jumped at the mission given to him. How 
I was to know that the supposedly psychologically unstable Special Agent was just too 
determined? And when I quickly re-considered, the wheels were already turning, I had to follow 
the orders or... well, I've met a bomb or two.
Not too intimately, thanks to God.
No thanks to God for making me acquainted with extra-terrestrial life forms, more than one...
Well, back to the history. I did kill couple of people, one of them unfortunately being... You better 
ask your father about that.
Jeez', I just understood for whom I'm writing this crap. Mulder, the father of yours, would have a 
field day and cramps of laughter. But, on the other hand, he's responsible for the situation I'm in - 
sitting here and scribbling because I have to do something to kill the time.
But back to the story of my life.
So I fled when the opportunity showed itself, and basically I've never stopped running. There 
have been worse periods and better ones but I'm still running. Trying to help the ones whom I 
betrayed - or should I say 'had to betray'? Does it make a difference? - it's the only good I have 
managed to achieve recently. The other big change came upon me unexpected and it didn't 
cheer me up.
What would you think, if you'd fell asleep as a man and woke up as a woman? Virginia Woolf 
imagined the situation, but her world didn't include the struggle for the world supremacy. Though 
the book isn't bad... Nevermind, I'm off rambling again.
But it's the truth, I fell asleep as a man, snored for about a week and woke up hungry, thirsty and 
- a woman. Mulder would love to ask me lots of questions but... If we met again, especially now, I 
would have better died in the silo or in the woods of Russia. He doesn't need to have another 
round of ammunition for killing my soul. He has alreay ripped through it.
Yes, perhaps, if you are even half as smart of what he is or at least as smart that I am, you will 
have figured out that I'm talking about your father. He was my partner in my snippet-term career 
in FBI, a most violent enemy (you should have seen the bruises, you really should have!) and 
unfortunately for me the one-night-stand too many.
It seems that I don't love you too much, doesn't it? Well, I've grown accustomed to the situation, 
but to tell you the truth, I'm not at all thrilled by the idea. I don't have the faintest clue, how to deal 
with you or what to do when D-day arrives. I'll cope, though, I have always seemed able to find a 
way. I can only hope that you share the same quality.
I'm trying to flee to some place, where I'm safe for a while. I think I'll go North. It feels a good 
choice. The fewer the people see me like this, the better.

10th of September, Wednesday, 2003
It has been a week, since I wrote the first bit. I noticed that the rambling was not getting any 
clearer.
Maybe this will make the difference?
I'll tell you the story of a love affair.
There was this rather young cocky boy who looked - now I would have to say 'awful', since that 
happens to be true. The appearance I had was a killer - in a bad way.
Anyway, I looked rather innocent. He didn't. His eyes told a history of things one should not 
encounter at all, if one wants to have a happy life and insanity intact. Unfortunately, that was not 
to be his fate. 
And as it turned out to be, I got sucked into the same world: full of death, blood, aliens... I'm side-
tracking again. Should I blame hormones or something?
However, there was one thing about meeting him. The best and the worst at the same time. I fell 
in love with him. The kind of love that makes you weak and doesn't let go whatever you do. By 
'weak' I mean unable to resist that particular person. Flip back and read the comment about 
bruises.
I could hide it, though. Mostly.
Not the bruises, the feeling.
There were the two times, the one that alerted his curiosity about me, the peck I gave on his 
cheek; and the one damned night that... when you came along. There were years between the 
two events and even more years between the first meeting with him. But I'm cursed to love him, I 
have done just about everything short of suicide to ignore it, but the fucking feeling just sneaks up 
on me and jumps at me when it's least expected.
Like last night. I suddenly found myself on this bed, staring at the ceiling and missing him so 
much that it hurt me physically. I ended up sitting against the headboard, hugging a pillow and 
half-crying. Womanly, isn't it? You know, I haven't been able to wrap my mind around the concept 
that I'm actually one. I know I am, I see it every day, but.... 33 years with a male body does have 
its effect, you know.
Anyhow, these are the worst moments, the moments I'd like to pick up the phone, dial his 
number, stored somewhere in the memory, and just listen to his voice. And beg him to come and 
hold me. Hehh, I'm actually sniffling now...
So, one tissue later, we resume. It all got worse after that night. I miss him more, since I know 
what I have lost. If you ever fall in love like this....
I can only hope that the other person returns your feelings. I suppose it should work then.
He never loved me. He wanted me. Once. Why? I don't know the real reason, but I can make a 
relatively good guess. Because I was there, when he boozed, horny and freaking lonely. He 
wanted comfort and, perhaps, a chance to fuck me over, for a change. Sorry about the pun. 
Totally unintended. However, whatever his reasons, he was the best lover I have ever had. The 
only one in this body, but hell, he's still the best.
I read from somewhere that skin compatibility is very important in the case of lovemaking. Well, in 
sex in general. I love his skin. I love his touches (not the punches!!!), I love the uncanny way he 
knew what to do and how to surprise my body. He did something and I came, again and again. I 
think that I came about seven times during that night. Mhh, perhaps that's the only thing I love 
about being a woman. Being multi-orgasmic, that is.
What I hate about being a woman... well, that list would make a phone-directory. My fertility for 
one. I never suspected that I could get pregnant. If I did, I wouldn't have taken the chance with 
him at all, not even when we could have rolled on condoms. Which we definitely did not. You are 
proof of that. Proof of a whisky induced lust and a subdued life-term passion. You have a hell of a 
heritage, don't you? A survivalist mother - did I just write that? - with a steady aim and a quick 
trigger finger and some weird principles of life. A father who has a brilliant mind but unrestrained 
bursts of violence and the determination of a bulldog. And good looks. An assassin and an agent, 
what a pair! Someone might conclude that these things are two sides of a same coin. Mulder 
would certainly disagree. He would disagree with everything I say, you can bet on that. So what is 
going to be your profession? Probably something solitary, since this is a quality we both share.
Not that I want you to be lonely, or even alone. Alone is bad, lonely is the worst. Believe me, I've 
been there. Correction, I am there. Continuous tense, perhaps permanently continuous.
I just hope you will have a better life than I have had... in general. I would not trade the moments 
with Mulder though, not for anything. Okay, you got me, I'd trade the punches but not the rare 
looks he has given me that were not full of hatred.
And definitely not that night. No way.

15th of September, Monday, 2003
Another five days gone. And you freaked me out when you moved. Why couldn't you have given 
me a warning or something? I almost dropped my coffee, you know. I'm still gasping and - 
checking - yep, sweating too. This whole thing is scary as hell. Not so scary as the mind-
controlling body-ruling oil-shit with a single purpose of getting home (my one close encounter of 
the third kind... Spielberg did no justice of the eeriness of that kind of closeness, not even close! 
Believe me!). Okay, so I woke up as a female but this change, however freaky, is not a health 
threatening condition.
Mhh, at least I hope so.
Anyway, try losing about two days from your life and waking up in an underground hellhole with a 
UFO by your side and with the feeling that your guts are trying to come out from you through your 
eyes and nose and every other place, too. I don't recommend it.
THAT was an understatement of the millennia!
Truth was - I was scared shitless, fortunately not literally. I was hungry (again!); I was locked up, I 
was expecting to die. I screamed my head off and cried, I banged at the door... After two days, I 
passed out. And when I came to, the door was unlocked. I still don't know who - or what - opened 
the door. I half-walked, half-crawled out.
There was a tap on the wall. I really didn't care what came out of it; I just had to drink something. 
It was water. And I survived. Once again.
So, in retrospective, I shouldn't have reacted to you like I did. I have studied this 'condition', I 
knew that I would feel something but... It is certainly one thing to read about it and other to 
experience it. I'm not sure, will I ever get used to it.
You really had to move again now, didn't you? Are you having a conversation with me or 
something? You'll have your say when you arrive, not before, got it?
So where was I? Or, yeah, my weird dark life, as usual- damn, stop it! This is not funny, you 
know! Or are you angry that I'm not describing here how much I love you? I'm not doing it, 
because I don't know what I feel about you- and this, what you just did, didn't improve my mood, 
either. I'm stuck with you, that's all. And I suppose you're stuck with me. One thing is clear: I'm 
not your usual type of a mother - I wrote it again, didn't I? - So you'll have to be a tough thing to 
survive with me. If we survive at all...

3rd of October, Friday, 2003
Sometimes I hate to dream. I see good things happening to me, I see people being nice to me, 
loving me... I have even seen him loving me.
That really-really hurt.
Or telling me that he once did. Which, somehow, feels even worse.
I have seen him smile in real life, but he has never smiled at me.
I saw him smile at me this night. It was so... heart warming. Can't write more....
Been crying non-stop for about two hours. Never thought I could...
Haven't eaten for a day. Yes, I should eat something, but why? Why should I go on?

6th of October, Monday, 2003
I packed my stuff, and off we go. Time to change the scenery: Washington DC for Washington 
State. Will be one hell of a drive but I've been through worse.
And, you, stop it! I just came out of the toilet!
So why am I feeling like Linda Hamilton at the end of the "Terminator 1"? At least I don't look like 
her. Yet.
But at least I have goal now.

9th of October, Thursday, 2003
I have not told you everything I do. You know it anyway. All the things I have written are true, but 
these are the moments when I feel brave enough to plan or just to live. To share myself with this 
paper and you.
There are other times. Harder ones. When I wake up sweating and shivering, when I drink till I 
drop - and I know it is not good for either of us - when I find myself wishing that I could cut my 
veins... Or eat my gun. Would be more appropriate and faster too...
I'm afraid. I'm afraid of everything: the change, the world, the future, you... And him. You killed me 
couple of times. He kills me every single day. If I heard that he's dead, I might be free, although 
dead inside. The insane hope, that he would like me at least, keeps me hanging on. Tell me 
about obsessions...
Or about abysses. I meet them in my mind daily. It gets harder and harder to find even a toehold 
for dragging myself through yet another day. Or night. Or the grey morning hours. Or everything.
I wrote that I hate dreaming about good things. That's true, I do. I definitely hate nightmares. Like 
the one when I'm caught again by this bastard whose stench can be tracked from miles away... if 
you happen to be a dog.
I'm not, but he treated me like I was. I wish I were. I would like to rip out his throat with my teeth - 
not very sane talk, is it? That department is not strong, I must say. Your father has been in a 
mental hospital. I haven't, but the boundaries of sanity have blurred for me too.
The last sentences are good examples of how one thinks while heavily drunk. You know that too. 
That I drink now... But I was telling another bedtime story.
The bastard who hired me - why does it remind me of a Bond movie "The spy who loved me"? - 
anyway, that bastard would like nothing better than to torture me. Even if it's only mental torture. 
And the situation I'm in now, would lift his mood enormously. One's renegade agent turns out to 
be knocked up by his/her worst enemy...
I dreamed that I was in those dark rooms with wood panelling, the way I will look in about two 
months and.... They had this diary, they read it out aloud, they laughed... It was awful.
And I'm afraid that most of my stories, bedtime or otherwise are like that. You have to have strong 
guts for my stories, kiddo.


Mulder celebrated his birthday that year in a small bar Frohike had booked. And God forbid, also 
decorated. It was even cute in a hideous kind of way. Scully danced a lot - some dances even 
with Frohike - laughed a lot and drunk a lot. Which resulted in crazy things happening in Mulder's 
bedroom. And being very late the next morning.


13th of October, Monday, 2003
It's his birthday. I found myself looking at the flowers and wondering which ones he would like. 
Really pathetic. I'm sure Scully bought him some. Or more likely her gift is practical, more 
sensible. She was always very sensible.
But flowers are nice. I wish someone had ever bothered to give or send me any.
My parents gave me sensible presents, too. Perhaps that's the reason why I dislike sensible 
people... Yes, I used to hate Scully. Now.... I don't anymore. She helped me. She probably would 
again, if I asked. Maybe I should? Dial her number, say Hi, and wish her happy Mulder's 
birthday... Okay, you can call me mean, I'm aware of having my moments.
I won't though, they would probably try to trace the call and if he comes to the phone and tries to 
win time they might succeed. For a good word from him I'd trade my feeble freedom. I would, 
sincerely. That's love, "I'm guilty of love in first degree..." Yeah, you are witnessing your mother 
going not so slightly mad.
Be smart and don't fall in love.


25th of October, Saturday, 2003
Mulder stretched on his bed and smiled, seeing Scully by his side. She had been staying in his 
place quite frequently. She was asleep on her back, her hair all over the pillow. She was 
magnificent.
The intense staring, however, made her wake. She shifted, peeked at him, and rolled closer.
"I had a most peculiar dream, Scully," Mulder raked fingers through his hair and turned to slip one 
hand around her waist. She yawned and mumbled half-sleepily:
"A good one or a bad one?"
"A weird one. You were driving a car-"
"Very peculiar indeed..." she smiled when he pulled her closer and kissed her behind her ear.
"In your pyjamas," he whispered. The smile on her face widened.
"That certainly qualifies." Now the top of her head was under the assault from his kisses.
"On the front seat," Mulder continued, "there was a baby, I'm still not entirely sure whether it was 
totally human: it had whiskers and a tail, hairless and long..."
Scully was fully awake now: "Are we getting anywhere near rodents, Mulder?"
"You're psychic. Yes. Krycek was on the back seat, he-"
"She."
"Well, she was holding two foot stools, one big and one small. She insisted that the baby got the 
small one, since... Jeez, how was it..." Mulder struggled to remember. "Oh, yes. 'This is the only 
motherly gift I bought for my child'."
Scully snickered: "You're not serious?"
Mulder smiled. "I am."
Scully snickered even more and laughter could be heard in her voice. "This is totally ridiculous."
"I'm more than aware of that." They laughed some more.
"Do you ever think that... this thing we have," Mulder motioned a wide gesture. "That it's too good 
to be true?"
"We fought for this for too many years. We deserve this."
"I know, just..."
"Being paranoid?" Scully looked up to him.
"Perhaps. You know, just when you think that you are comfortable, something happens?"
"Party pooper."

Mulder was right, though. Something did happen.

"Mulder..."
Scully had the important-stuff tone again.
"Yes?"
"I'm pregnant."
He took his glasses off and came up to her. "What?"
"I'm pregnant. I went to see a doctor and did the home test."
For a couple of minutes the basement office was really quiet. A dropping pin would have set off 
an avalanche of files.
Then Mulder hugged her, very gently and very tightly. "I'm happy." That was all he said, but 
Scully felt a desperate need for a tissue.
"Damned hormones..."

They went for a long dinner that day. The question 'how did it happen?' surfaced.
"We used protection all the time," Scully commented and reached for the napkin.
"I think so... unless... Do you remember what we did after my birthday party?"
"No, to tell you the truth. But my knees were weak for a half a day later, so we must have fucked 
like crazy."
"Then that must be the date. I don't remember using anything, you don't either, chances are that 
we didn't." Mulder watched Scully to calculate. She did look somewhat different...
"It can be." She sighed. "I still would have wished our child to have more sober start."
Mulder laughed but fell suddenly silent.
"What is it?"
"I just realized that I'm almost into the habit of heavy drinking and unprotected sex."
"Krycek..."
"Yep." Mulder agreed.
They were silent for a moment.
"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" inquired Scully.
"I'm afraid so... What if I am-" Mulder halted but Scully ended his sentence.
"The father of that child too. My idea exactly."
"Until we meet her again, there is no way we can determine that."
"And since we don't know where she is, we better concentrate on more urgent issues. Like what 
to say to Skinner?" Scully almost laughed when she saw the expression Mulder made.
"Nothing about exactly how we got into this situation."

13th of November, Thursday, 2003
The preparations for the Holiday season are on full swing... Although it is illegal... There are some 
five days to go till they could officially advertise any Christmas goods... And then the sales go 
up... Do you know that the suicide rate goes booming, too, at the same period of time? Should we 
go along? Booming like a rocket on New Years Eve?
Yes, you understood correctly, your mother has been taking a long thorough look on the bottom 
of the vodka bottle. Kick what you will, I don't care today. My legs hurt, my back hurts, I'm having 
a real hard time trying to appear just beer-bellied instead of simply pregnant and... Ah, never 
mind.
There is one good thing after all... Somehow I've been able to write around it... My arm is growing 
back. I don't know how it happened or why, but it's growing. It itched three months like crazy and I 
was about to turn to doctors when I noticed that the stump had changed, and it has been growing 
ever since. It has elbow now... It's so strange to move it.
So, no bad without good, eh?
Yes, I think that I'm harming us, but... Even if the hand grows back - as it seems to be doing, 
drinking or no drinking - my life as I knew it, would be over. Can you imagine yourself being a 
fugitive with a newborn? Not very likely. Me neither.
I've been living here for a week. Nice, quiet, full of snow. Thank God for cold and big fluffy parkas. 
I can still go around and appear almost normal, because here everybody looks heavily over-
weight because of the clothing. I just fit in. Sort of.

25th of November, Tuesday, 2003
I took a long look of myself in the mirror and came to an inevitable conclusion - I'm not passing as 
a man anymore. No man has a stomach big enough to drink so much beer... So I have to move 
again... To be 'officially' pregnant. Jeez... How in a hell all of this happened? Would, anyone tell 
me? Please?

28th of November, Friday, 2003
How can one contain so much salt water? I don't know what pushed me into crying - been doing 
just fine without you, the tearfolks, thank you! - but...
Today started nice, you were quiet, I felt relatively normal - looking like a tanker but not worse. 
The first surprise came in the bathroom.
The old couple keeping the store told me yesterday that I must have found a new sweet-heart - 
yeah, that line is getting really thin really fast - anyway, they said that, I asked why and they 
commented with polite smiles that my eyes were full of energy and light. Feeling myself like a 
beached whale, I tried to appear shy and happy, wanting to confirm their impression.
But a look in the mirror this morning did confirm their words - about my appearance. I'm fucking 
glowing!! If this doesn't pass over, I don't know how I'm going to keep my act together.
And the crying fit occurred when I saw two young things really in love and kissing just across the 
road from my window. They were beaming, too. I just wish I had a similar reason...
Here we go again....

9th of December, Tuesday, 2003
Scully yawned, and smiled. She was alone in Mulder's big bed and the mirror on the ceiling 
showed one very satisfied Dana Katherine Scully spread underneath the sheets. She felt happy 
and she looked happy. She stretched and rolled over to look at the clock. There was still some 
time before she had to leave. She smiled again, one of the pillows in the crook of her arm.
Mulder's apartment was quiet, only the plumbing made some noises, somewhere somebody was 
washing their dishes or something... Nice domestic noises.
Mulder had gone for his morning-run, although she found it somewhat astonishing that he was up 
to it after last night's session of bed wrestling. She stretched again, sat up and hunted for her 
blouse. It had dropped over the end of the bed, which was no surprise: the act of undressing had 
been rather hasty... to say the least. She was on her second month, had some of the dizziness 
but the whole load of the horniness a pregnancy can bring along. She wouldn't have got up from 
the bed, if she could have arranged things that way...
'Skinner wouldn't approve...' Scully grinned, got up as she was and headed for the shower. She 
had to get there before Mulder. Skinner had hardly kept himself from shouting at them, when they 
had confronted him with her 'condition'. There had been a lot of paperwork, and he had 
mentioned that they might even be reassigned to separate posts for a while, but since Skinner 
had promised to keep their relationship a secret just between them three, they could still work 
together until.. well, until things were too obvious to ignore. Until then they would keep their usual 
low profile and live as happily as they could.

The water hit her and she leaned into its hot touch. Now she thought about the first child she had 
carried, William.... and Emily.... The sorrow hit her but the warmth helped her to endure it. She 
had been doing this masochistic mood-lowering stuff for a week but it kept her professional during 
the office hours. She couldn't go around, performing autopsies with a goofy grin on her face. 'The 
Spooky Missis has gone over the edge at last' she heard the rumors in her head. No, she needed 
perspective and the lost chances gave her that.
Without any qualms she put on Mulder's bathrobe. She had taken care of him more times than 
she cared to count and it was sort of a payback time: his things were relentlessly used by her 
when she stayed in his place... Not that Mulder minded at all.

'Speak of the devil', Scully heard the keys in the lock and he came in, yelled his 'Hello' and 
headed for the shower. She smiled, no longer so crazily happy but still content and she went to 
make the coffee they both desperately needed in the morning.

"I picked up the mail."
"You have mail, Mulder?" Scully looked at him over the rim of her mug. Well, one of his mugs that 
she had claimed as her own. He was wearing another bathrobe, a dark blue one, and stood there 
- barefooted.
He looked good.
"One newspaper! You smell edible..." he had come close, his arms went around her, just under 
her breasts. She felt him nuzzling her, whispering into her ear: "-although you have raided my 
shower-gel again."
"And coffee... Guilty as charged. Help yourself." Scully felt herself smiling inspite of her mood 
regulation procedure when she saw how Mulder padded across the kitchen to fetch his favorite 
poison. He was so-so .... She couldn't quite find the right word, but she liked him like that. Very 
much so.
She shifted the newspaper closer and opened it. A small envelope dropped from the folds. She 
took it up. It was plain, only Mulder's address on it. Somehow she didn't believe it could be a 
bomb so she opened it.
"What do you have there?" Mulder walked upto the table and took a seat.
"Looks like a Christmas card. Mmm, 'Merry Christmas, Scully, and happy Hanukah, Mulder. K.', 
that's it." She gave the card to Mulder.
"Hmm..." he was eyeing the card and drinking the coffee at the same time. "I have an eerie 
feeling that we both know whom this thing came from.... the one whose name starts with 'K'."
"Why would he-she send you a card?" Scully didn't even pretend to understand.
"Perhaps the Christmas spirit got her? Pregnant women are unpredictable, you know." Mulder 
gave her very suggestive leer. Scully restrained her smile, although she was fully aware of him 
teasing her about the last night's actions. 'Well, did we fuck thoroughly or not?' That thought 
came so abruptly that she burst into giggles before she could contain herself once more.
Mulder was watching her with concern.
"Are you all right?"
"Absolutely.... Just giving you an example of the unrestrained reactions of gestation."

8th of December, Monday, 2003
I did a really stupid thing. The second stupidest thing after going to bed with him. I sent him a 
card.
It became unbearable to look around at people getting happier and more excited about Christmas 
with every day that passed. I've tried to drink less, mostly for my own good. So I had to do 
something different... I was at the same small shop again, there were the cards laid out... 
Somehow it occurred to me that by sending him a card I could remind him that I'm still alive, still a 
stain on his conscience... I wanted to hurt him. And, yes, her, too. She has all the 'cards' now, she 
has him... So I hurt him in the kindest way.
After I had posted it, I regretted it at once. The postage stamp gives my location away, but mostly 
it would be better that he was no longer aware of me being alive at all. What if he found out about 
you? He would just hate me more, that's for sure. Perhaps he could live with the memory of 
spending fucking quality time with one particular Alex Krycek - the emphasis being on the word 
'fucking', of course - but he would kill me, if he knew that the aforesaid 'quality time' had results - 
the results that really are asking for a beating! I'm sick and tired of you doing kung fu or whatever 
it is! STOP RIGHT NOW!
Must be my child, getting people pissed off with it even BEFORE being born... Or actually we 
share that quality, to think of it. He is a real pain - most of the time. So why do I care? Why do I 
feel so bad that I want to hurt him?

11th of December, Thursday, 2003
Maybe I should leave? He might decide to track me down... Scully must have told him about the 
night visit and our discussion. And the disc. Jeez' they seem to share everything!
Why did that hurt now? Heh-heh, stupid me...

17th of December, Wednesday, 2003
Today the blues hit again. Perhaps I should just let go and....
I didn't get up from the bed, there seemed to be no point.
I don't even feel like crying much anymore, just lying here and letting the mood spiral into the 
abyss... It is dark here, hopeless, the story of my life.
I don't want to go through this... I don't want this life, this change, and this child... All I wanted was 
him to like me.
The saddest thing is that he might have liked me. But not now, not with the things we have in our 
past. The word 'doomed' comes to mind, I wonder why.
In my case Shakespeare was right: my love's labour is lost. For nothing than pain.
More pain will come, of course. In another labour.
Unless I get enough courage to end this all....

20th of December, Saturday, 2003
"Mulder, are we going to the dinner on the 26th?"
Mulder sighed and hid his face in the pillow. "I don't know... I'm not that great with people."
Something that bore the weight of Scully and had hands indistinguishable from her climbed onto 
his back and started to tickle him - fortunately through the covers. He squirmed and tried to get 
away, but the pathologist knew exactly when and what to attack and he capitulated:
"Alright, we'll go, we'll go! Just-" A red wave of hair washed over his face and then her lips were 
on top his. He didn't fight off this assault, though.
"So," he said when he got his mouth back. "Who's going to be there?"
"The usual family gathering, brothers, their families.... my mother."
"Oouuhh... are we going to have to be there long?" he laughed when he got tickled again. "Okay-
Okay!! We'll stay as long as Your Majesty of Patholo-" a pillow landed on his face.
"Call me that once more and you'll end up on that table under my scrutinizing eye, Mulder!"
The pillow nodded its approval.
"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" She lifted the assault weapon and found a red-faced Mulder 
blinking at her happily.
"I would be naked under that sheet..."
"Pervert, you'd be cold and stiff and dead!"
"But still naked. And stiff is not so bad, either...." The rest of the conversation didn't require words.

24th of December, Wednesday, 2003
I'm cooking. I can't believe this, but I am. I used to like it. I used to be quite good at it. Time to 
remember how to be good at something.
I cried yesterday, almost wept my heart out... Why?
The old lady from the store gave me a home-baked gingerbread and wished me 'Merry 
Christmas'. I saw and felt that she meant it.
Nobody had ever given me anything from the pure goodness of their heart. There was always a 
price attached. And she gave me something just because she thought I was worth it...
Jesus! I'm hunting for another tissue...
I hardly got out of the store, I couldn't see, because of the water leaking out of my traitorous eyes. 
Me, traitor, had been given a gift... I felt like sitting down on the pile of snow and weeping on the 
spot like a small child. 'Shameless' is the word for this, I guess. I can't remember the last time 
somebody was nice to me. Made an extra effort for me.
Mmm, actually, I do. Scully. The Mad Patcher's Tea Party. Though there was a price - she 
wanted information, she got some. The tea was extra, though.
The lady, however... She really thought that this barn-like being - aka me - was worth of a gift. I 
never realised that pure goodness could make one feel so helpless and whiny. I crawled back to 
my hole and held that fragile piece of candy in my hand and wept and wept on the bed until the 
pillow was soaked.
That gingerbread is sitting on the shelf in front of me. A remembrance of my worth and people's 
good will.

25th of December, Thursday, 2003
Been drinking again.
Hope, damn it, is hard to kill.
I've hoped to get free from this...
Every time when I've not seen him for a while, I start to feel better. Hope for immunity, wishing it 
done.
Not this time, though. You take care of that.
Each time I see him - the feeling is back. A thousandfold worse: a raw throbbing ache that just 
won't dull. Each time.... 
The food, the things I made, were good, been eating the leftovers. Somehow oat cookies and 
mustard on smoked bacon have been favourites for a long time now...
Food cravings? Moi?
Well, drunk and pregnant, then why not also food cravings... Then why not the tickling feeling in 
the left arm that somehow is back... fingers don't move very well yet, but... Should be happy 
about it...
Nope. Just checked. Not happy at all.
Instead of that... Miss him. Like crazy. Getting on pop-music flashbacks again...
Talking about flashbacks: there was one moment in that night when he actually held me. He was 
tired of - you know. Perhaps he forgot to remove his hands but for the brief moment he was 
holding me and I felt.... safe.
Call me nuts, but I did.
Even loved, when his breath was warming my shoulder.
Of course I'm fooling myself. He is with Scully now. Drinking eggnog and exchanging gifts...
Envious? Sure.
Though what gift could I wish for? A bullet with my name engraved on it? I'm sure one is out 
there, along with Mulder's precious truth.
Me... sad... drunk... very drunk... Looking occasionally at the gingerbread - shaped like a heart, by 
the way - sitting now on the nightstand under the lamp. Cradling in one arm the box of tissues, in 
the other the bottle. Notebook sits on top of you.
Not the way an expectant mother should spend her time.
Doesn't help. Still miss him. Sorry about the water marks on the page....

26th of December, Friday, 2003
Mulder closed the bathroom door and sighed aloud in relief. Finally alone, although only for a 
brief moment.
They had arrived at 'Maggie's' - as Mulder had so elegantly put it and almost got punched for that 
- three hours ago. After the usual exchange of 'hellos' and 'how are yous' with Maggie - and after 
Scully had given away something she had been mysteriously cradling in her arms while they 
drove out here - they were shown to the livingroom.
And the rollercoaster of hell started. Both brothers were very much there, they both wanted to get 
to know the 'strange' man who has claimed their sister. Well, Charlie wanted to know, Bill just 
stood there like a big dark cyclone ready to come down hard on him.
The fact that they are co-workers with Scully went down smoothly, Charlie was also happy to 
learn that they were partners - "So you protect her well, don't you?" had Charlie said and Mulder, 
his mouth full of hot punch, nodded trying hard not to think back to the abduction. Bill raised his 
eyebrow - 'that gesture must run in the family' - but kept his silence. At least Maggie was 
fortunately out of the hearing distance.
He had to describe some of their assignments, he made an effort and talked about the funny 
things - like the cockroaches and the mobile home vampires.
Thank God, they both laughed.
Then came the first round at the table. The female horde - Maggie, Scully and the two wives - 
carried to the table so many dishes that Mulder felt almost seasick. But blessed be Scully, who 
sat quickly next to him, secretly patted his knee and smiled so brightly, that he forgot all about the 
others. She even had to nudge him to eat something and not just sit there being happily unaware.
The brothers noticed his doting, of course. There was a conversation between them that Mulder 
didn't quite catch but felt alarmed about.
When Scully had left with her mother to do something in the kitchen, and the wives - who 
somehow didn't give him any impression whatsoever - tended the three children who were 
running constantly around, Charlie leaned closer to him and asked:
"She is amazing, isn't she?"
"Yes, she definitely is," Mulder agreed.
"So, are you partners in the whole meaning of the word?"
Mulder paused before answering the common double-entendre. He was almost sure, that he still 
wouldn't qualify as a proper son-in-law, well, in Charlie's case, brother-in-law, but he also had the 
eerie feeling that he shouldn't lie. Bracing himself for the later argument with Scully, he nodded.
"Good, you two know each other long enough... But if I hear anything that suggests that she is 
unhappy...." Charlie concluded and both of the brothers gave him looks that could have 
frightened even aliens.

Before the coffee and cakes occurred a break - and now he was looking at himself in the 
bathroom mirror and wishing feverishly that he could leave with Scully and make her happy, 'so 
about three times in a row'.
Eventually he had to come out or Scully would say something about desk-jobs and constipation. 
He definitely didn't want that. His name in this family was tainted anyway. Mulder sighed, dried 
his hands and stepped out from the door - only to almost bump into Scully who was carrying 
some tray again.
"Watch-" she only shouted when the tray went sailing towards the floor. Somehow they managed 
to save it from crashing - both on their knees.
"You really must watch were you're going", she scolded half-seriously. She took the tray when 
she stood up.
"Then what would I need you for?" Mulder smiled and, then noticing that they were alone, he 
leaned in and kissed her quickly.
"For kissing and keeping you honest?"
"Touch. But what is this thing anyway? Smells nice..." he tried to poke at the a bit out of shape 
dark mush on the tray but it was snatched away.
"Something I made."
"Perhaps the mysterious package in your lap?"
"The same. How perceptive of you."
"And it is...?"
"A mystic reminder of Old World... Christmas pudding." She smiled at him and walked to the living 
room. Mulder started to follow but stopped - the brothers and wives and children were there too... 
He didn't want to confront the Hydra of Scullys... his own red head was quite enough for him.
Scully found him still standing in the corridor.
"Why don't you go back to the living room, I heard that Bambi was quite a hit..." she teased.
"Mmm..." made Mulder. Noncommittally, he hoped. No such luck.
"Haa, you are scared, aren't you?"
"Scared?"
"I understand, Bill is a big man and Charlie isn't that small either... And the wives... and 
children...." she was really enjoying this.
"May I say that the teasing is useless. I'll go wherever I want, whenever I want."
Scully snorted, amused. "That's real man's talk... Are you enough of a man to come and help me 
in the kitchen, then? Until the time comes, when the man wants to go to the living room again?"
"Okay." The-Man-Mulder said at once.

The kitchen was full of smells, the strongest being cinnamon and custard and something alcoholic 
that Mulder couldn't quite place. 'Scully would... and give the list of its chemical properties as well 
- and all from the top of her head.'
"Mulder, it's good that you came." Maggie grabbed his arm and dragged him near to an oven that 
radiated heat. "The cinnamon buns will be ready in a minute. Here're the gloves, don't burn 
yourself... I have to -" And she rushed from the kitchen again carrying something. Scully was 
putting some cherries on top of- something - that looked suspiciously like an ice-cream cake. The 
way her fingers moved over the creamy surface gave Mulder a rush he never thought he could 
have from the simple act of decorating a cake.
"Earth to Mulder!"
"Yes?"
Scully waved towards the oven, couple of cherries still in her palm.
"The buns! Take them out!"
He obeyed, and didn't even burn himself as he placed the hot plate near to the sink. "You haven't 
told her about the other bun, have you?" Mulder looked at Scully who finished the dressing and 
raised her head.
She shrugged "No, not yet. I think I'll wait until we can be alone with her. It would be better than 
turning this family gathering into a surprise party." She walked closer and pushed a cherry into his 
mouth. "You seem to really like me doing household-chores, don't you?" Her voice had changed; 
it was the tone that drove him crazy. Munching at the cherry, he mumbled:
"Don't tease me..."
"Where's the man now?" Scully chortled as she referred back to their recent conversation.
"The man is still very much here..." Mulder pulled her into a tight embrace and when she didn't 
fight, he gave her the Casanova back bow while kissing her.
Half of that cherry ended up in her stomach.

12th of January, Monday, 2004
Guess, what?
I'm drunk. After two days of total soberness. Not that it matters to anyone.
I must say that the constant visits to the local liqueur store must have caught the attention of the 
locals. They probably think I'm an alcoholic...
Perhaps they're right, I can't tell the difference anymore.
They probably think I'm someone whose sweetheart left her in this distressed and disgraced 
condition... In a way, they're right.
I would feel so much better if you hadn't happened, if I hadn't met him.
If I wouldn't love him.
Yeah, right... As if I truly believed any of this I just wrote. It's the alcohol talking, it seems to make 
more sense than I do.
Yeah, an alcoholic mother tops it all, doesn't it, kiddo? With all the other nice qualities you 
inherit... you'll be a smash.
One thing must be said though - alcohol surely helps to bear pain. And loneliness. And fear...
Somehow there has been a lot of fear in me lately. I'm alert all the time, can't sleep properly. 
You're behaving yourself quite nicely, but I still fear something... Started to sleep with the gun 
under my pillow again.... Not that it seems to alleviate any of the sense of dread I have.
Just spent two hours reading and sipping vodka. I used to love Bradbury before the dark side of 
my own story started - you know, the aliens, the feelings, all that crap.
Now I hate him. Even found it totally eerie to read over the "Little Assassin". Would you grow up 
to be one, or would you try to kill me, as that child in that story?
Me being rather prone to drinking by now - I would be an easy target. Very easy.
That thought frightened me.
It really did.
I have to stop drinking.
If anyone wants my head, I should at least be aware of the threat. Right now it means - I have to 
be sober.
And afraid. 
Fuck that, I've been afraid for most of my life. I'm well acquainted with that feeling. Time to 
embrace it again. Still better than nursing a 'healthy' slow brain damage.

16th of January, Friday, 2004
Mulder woke with a start.
He had been having that nightmare again. The same one for three consecutive nights. Not that 
having nightmares would be anything new but it was still a personal record for one and the same 
thing to come up three times... in a row.
He sat up, slipped his feet to the floor and looked around. It was very early. He didn't bother to 
look at the clock, the darkness outside said it all. 
The dream kept nagging at him. He sighed, stood, stretched, went to kitchen for a drink.
It still nagged at him, when he returned and fell to the couch. It nagged at him as if asking 
something, but because he never remembered what he saw - just knew that it was always the 
same - he couldn't figure out what it wanted.
'Damn dreams...'

In the morning, after taking the usual jog around the blocks, Mulder grabbed his newspaper and 
pounded upstairs. While holding the paper between his teeth to open the door, he suddenly 
understood one thing about the nightmare: it had happened in a place full of snow.... in a cold 
place. At first he thought about Antarctica - a place of some acquaintance - but it didn't feel right. 
'Has to be the Northern Hemisphere, then.'
He threw the paper to the table - and found himself waiting for an envelope to drop out. 'The last 
envelope that didn't contain bills was....' He realised that it had been Krycek's. 'Just what you 
need, Mulder, to think about that thing you did, that's really good for your sanity.' He scolded 
himself but he couldn't stop either.
'Where's the damned card any way? Did I throw it away?'
Mulder found the card underneath of a pile of folders beside his computer. The card was the 
same as always. It hadn't sprouted legs or hands. Just a piece of printed paper with a few words 
inside.
'So why does it feel so important?' Mulder stared at the card. The card stared back at him, 
probably hoping to turn blank again.
A minute ticked by.
'The envelope... There must be a stamp.'
It took a lot longer to find that thing. Mulder thanked himself of not being better housekeeper, 
because the trashcan the envelope had ended up in was overflowing and a proper housekeeper 
would have thrown the contents away weeks ago.
There was a stamp. A quick search on the computer and Mulder became aware of three cities of 
that particular name existing in the States. Only one of them was in the northern part of the 
country. In Washington state.
'She's long gone... she wouldn't stay in a one place, so you could track her down, Mulder!' But he 
couldn't shake off the feeling that he had found a vital piece of a puzzle - one to unlock his 
nightmares.

Two more nights with the unnerving unremembered frightening dreams and then came the last 
straw, the one to break Mulder's fragile patience.
Scully was nuzzling his neck and making herself really comfortable in his lap - and he had finally 
managed to forget about the nagging voice - when the computer beeped. Mulder had been able 
to shut his machine up so that it bleeped only when something of interest came up.
Scully sighed, she was aware of that arrangement, too.
"You want to look at it now?" she asked, her tone carefully neutral. He shrugged but she knew 
him better. Kissing him sweetly, she slipped off his lap and leaned back on the couch, making the 
leather creak. "Go and look, perhaps it will ease your mind from whatever has been bothering you 
lately..."
"You noticed?"
"As if we hadn't been working side by side for years. Of course I noticed. Now go and check your 
mail!" and she kicked him gently, the impact on his thigh almost convincing Mulder that he really 
shouldn't get up.
But he did and after tugging the mouse he saw that the e-mail was from the Gunmen. "Mmm. 
Let's see what the unwholesome trinity has found this time."
"Gunmen?"
"Yep."
Scully smiled, hoping to hear something really odd and funny, but Mulder, after couple of 
chuckles, grew silent. Scully bore the silence for a while, but then stood and walked over to 
Mulder, who sat there, scrolling the news.
"What's the matter?"
"There has been a massive UFO sighting in Washington State. Actually, frequent sightings... Five 
nights in a row."
"So?" She put her head on his shoulder and he leaned in, feeling her warmth and the softness of 
her hair tickling his neck. He continued to read, now out loud.
"These brightly colored lights are centered around the little city of - oh my God..."
"What's the matter?"
"It's the same city-" Mulder's hand snaked inside the paper pile that in Scully's opinion had no 
order whatsoever, but he managed to catch the thing he wanted and pull it out without tipping the 
wobbly pyramid over. With a twist of his fingers the envelope turned the right side up for Scully to 
read it. "-where this thing came from."
Scully took the envelope. "So what are you saying then?"
"That we should go there and check it out."
"IT out? Are you referring to her as 'it' now?"
"I meant the UFOs."
"But there is something more." Scully put the envelope down. "You're relieved now. What's been 
bothering you?"
"I've been having these nightmares... I don't recall the content but... The envelope seemed to be 
important."
"Seemed to be? And because it seemed to be important and there might be UFOs on that place, 
you want to go out there? It's very cold there, you know."
"I know. And somebody out there is really afraid."
"What?!" She considered getting angry, but Mulder met her eyes and there was pure desperation 
in his. He had been experiencing fear, that was obvious.
"It is the only thing I can recall from the nightmares. Somebody fears for its life."
"And you assume that IT is Krycek."
"Would be logical, considering the co-incidence of the locations."
"Why would she even be there? If anyone wants to hide, why in a one place for so long?"
"Who would suspect a pregnant woman?"
"Like she would advertise it..." Scully went back to the couch. "I've thought about her life, she 
wouldn't show herself at all."
"You've thought about her?"
"Yes. If she changed - and I emphasize the 'if' - she doesn't want anyone to know about it. She 
used to be a killer, a thug... Think what would happen when this kind of information leaked out?"
"I'd rather not."
There was a moment of thoughtful silence. "Do you still want to go, Mulder?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Because of the UFOs, or Krycek, or even because of the child?"
"Scully!"
"You must have thought about that, Mulder. What if it's yours?"
"I-... I don't know. I really don't know." He came to sit on the couch, placing his elbows on his 
knees. He was a sorry sight when he mumbled: "I can fuck up my life so easily..."
"True. But what if it yours? What if you have a chance to ask her and she says it's yours?"
"Why assume that she is even pregnant anymore? In her place... wouldn't you have had an 
abortion?"
Scully looked puzzled for a split second. "Well... yes. In her position and with her background, I 
think that would be a viable choice."
"But you're not convinced that she did."
"I'm certain that she didn't."
Mulder blinked. "Why?"
"Call it a hunch. I just know." Scully snuggled closer. "Are you still insistent of going?"
Mulder played with her hair. "I won't, if you don't want me to..."
"But it will nag at you. Okay, let's go. At least the UFOs make it an official X-file."

20th of January, Tuesday, 2004
I've been thinking about the future. Not a thing I usually, or moreover, casually do. Anyway...
I don't know exactly what I'm going to do when the labour starts (I hovered over the l-word for 
about ten seconds before I managed to write it... Am I so afraid of that thing?! I having no 
problems whatsoever pulling a trigger to kill - either human or alien - yet I am struggling with a 
word! Having a real hard time with a word! I can't believe it!)
Back to the main theme. The other thing I'm not sure about, is how to arrange my life after - yep, 
again the same word - after I have had this child. I can't picture myself with a child, I just can't.
I could never picture myself even as a father... Now I'm supposed to be a mother... What an 
irony! Mulder would like it, although in this case he would agree with me - I'll make a terrible 
parent, of whatever sex. He's right this time and I both hate and love him for it. Love him, 
because he can assess people by simply glancing at them and because he is just... him. Hate 
him because I generally hate stating the obvious. Not that I haven't done that in more occasions I 
care to remember.
Me and parenthood are totally contrary things... I wouldn't have the patience my mother had - to 
endure the unruly child - aka me - and to take care of the household and to prepare meals and to 
love her husband. I can see that now - that they really did love each other, my parents, that is. 
Although my father seldom mentioned anything about the work, they seemed to have things to 
talk about. I wish I had things to talk about that wouldn't scare the shit out of the listener... They 
had. Lucky them.
They could also afford to have a child around breaking things. I did some calculations and what a 
cosmic number emerged - all for the items a newborn would need. Children are damn expensive.
You didn't like that, did you? Is that the reason you are trying to make it to the football world cup 
series?
But you are going to be expensive, there is no doubt about it.... Yeah, sure, kick away, my 
intestines have been through worse. Not lately, however.
Hmm, yeah, even a brief thought about Mulder is not good for my mental health - or what's left of 
it. I'm like an addict who knows that there is a dose, just out of my reach. A fix I should have to 
feel whole again... So where are the tissues?
Whole... what would I give to feel mentally whole? Not to feel the pain? The constant withdrawal 
from- Why do I torture myself? Eh, whatever. At least I have acquired physical wholeness - and 
annoying roundness - I have now TWO fully functional arms - real arms with elbows, forearms, 
wrists, palms and ten fingers. If I wasn't as pregnant as hell, I would be feeling like I'd gone to 
heaven. I had tried, and almost succeeded, in making myself believe that the loss of a limb 
doesn't make a difference. Now, having it back, I don't understand how I could have thought that 
way. A person adapts to almost anything, I suppose. When there's no choice, one either bends or 
breaks. I prefer to bend.
Not that I'm really able to do that just right now... Another moment of bitter irony, the kind that he 
likes...
I wish that I could see him once more. If the labour goes well, I might be able to. If there is a 
future.

Revisited

23rd of January, Friday, 2004
"Why did she choose a place in the middle of fucking nowhere?" Mulder ranted angrily, as their 
rental Range Rover made a desperate attempt to skid off the road - the third time in the last 
twenty minutes.
Scully, who held on the seat like a bulldog, gritted through her teeth: "For that very reason. And 
Mulder, please let me remind you that these road conditions need a different approach. Like 
being careful-"
The car skidded again. There were two reasons for that - the road was very slippery indeed, and 
Mulder had raised the stakes by using his most reckless style of driving.
"You are going to get us killed, Mulder, if you don't slow down!" Scully's voice hadn't risen in 
volume but Mulder knew that a little more carelessness and he might find himself ditched on the 
snowy road. However picturesque the scenery, it was damn cold out there, so he gave in, slowing 
the machine down. Scully sighed in relief and stopped gripping the seat.
"Why are you so hasty about this, anyway?" she asked, fishing two sandwiches out of the bag. "It 
didn't bother you for a long time..."
"I want to sort this thing out. I want to know why she did what she did and..."
"- and whether or not you are the father." She unwrapped one of the sandwiches and gave it to 
him.
"Yes." He accepted the snack.
"How do you feel about her?"
"I feel nothing. The fact that she might be carrying my child doesn't mean that I have feelings for 
her."
"Perhaps you should have." The latex snapped in her voice: Scully's comment came in a tone 
that she usually reserved for dictating autopsy reports, her hands elbow-deep in somebody's 
guts.
"What?!" He almost lost the control of the car again, because he took his eyes off the road. Scully 
saw them growing wide. 'It was rather unexpected statement from me, I admit that much.'
"You had to like her, at least a little, to do the wild thing with her. You had to be attracted to her."
"Scully!"
"Mulder!" she parroted. "There had to be something-"
"Yes, like booze, an oceanful of Scotch!"
"And her hands on you, smoothing that hurting forehead of yours..." Scully half-teased, then 
gaped before saying slowly. "Like I've done so many times..."
"No, Scully, no. Don't make that connection." It hurt Mulder to hear Scully comparing herself with 
Krycek. They were too different. And whatever had made him to give in to his lowest animal 
instincts, and even made it possible for him perform on that fatal night, now it ate his soul away. 
Scully should never compare herself with anyone. She was in a class on her own. A class Mulder 
respected and loved and was willing to die for.
"Why not?"
"I love you. Don't doubt that."
"I'm not doubting that. I'm just saying that you might have responded physically to a similar touch, 
or to a touch that had a certain degree of similarity, even if only on the mechanical level."
"May I remind you that she was the one who kissed me first."
"Like some years ago. You asked her about that kiss. Don't look so surprised, she told me." 
Scully pushed some strands out of the way of her eyes. "Why did it interest you?"
"I thought... I thought that she was a guy and, well... it was odd, you know."
"Using the adjective 'unresolved'?" she questioned and took the first bite from her sandwich she 
had prudently purchased from the shop next to the car rental.
"I did?"
"Mmmm" Scully confirmed, her mouth full.
"Who the hell knows? I can't remember much more of that night than I have already told you." 
'Only that one expression on her face... The unsuitable and so natural fragility.' That flashback 
hurt him, differently than the other pain from the comparison. 'What am I doing? Feeling guilty 
because I didn't have a burning desire for fucking Alex Krycek? Just because I recalled her facial 
expression?'
"You better remember something. I'm sure when we meet her, she might want to ask you, why 
you went along."
"As if I don't think about it all the time now..." Mulder noticed a sign for a gas station and he 
decided to get them something hot to drink. 'Any distraction is good right now...' "I'm pulling over. 
Do you want something?"
"Burning hot tea."
"Tea?"
"I'm thinking about the future, even if you don't." Scully sighed seeing Mulder's totally puzzled 
expression and explained. "Me, pregnant? Caffeine not very good for the baby?"
"Oh... Okay. Then tea it is." Mulder climbed out of the car, quickly zipped up his parka and jogged 
to the small shop. He still felt uneasy about the emotional mystery he had just experienced. He 
had been able to stop thinking about that night of error. Only the nightmares had pulled it back to 
the surface again... 'So why does her fragility bother me?' He ordered the XL teas and drummed 
the edge of the counter with his fingers. 'And why do I always fuck up my relationships?'

They arrived in the small city very late. The road conditions had gone from bad to worse and they 
had both wished that instead of wheels the vehicle could have had skis. They really needed to get 
there - wherever the 'there' was - in one and hopefully in a living piece.
When they finally had registered and taken their keys - separate rooms as it was proper for 
Special Agents of Federal Bureau - they stumbled to the rooms. They cast off the heavier layers 
of clothing which had provided needed warmth but they still needed extra 'warmth'. The situation 
resolved by them almost simultaneously opening the connecting door - Mulder sensed that the 
door was being held before he opened it.
"So," said Scully, standing on the doorway. "Are we going to break the procedure... again?"
"Rules are, yadda, yadda... Come in, you woman!"

23rd of January, Friday, 2004
It's not so late, but I dozed a little. And I had the weirdest dream this far.
I was a woman there - yeah, I'm quite acutely aware that I'm one now, too.
I mean I was really feminine - slender, my skin was smooth, the kind they call silky, I think. My 
hair was also longish, over the shoulders at least. When I looked at the mirror above, however, I 
could recognize my features in that female face, and how very relaxed the face was... Oh, the 
mirror was above a double bed... and I wasn't alone on it. The feeling was light, happy, something 
I remember from the brief period of my childhood. I felt really happy, satisfied... Yep, it was 
definitely an afterglow of something I'd call a mind-crushing climax. I couldn't quite see him, the 
man who was holding me in a manner, as I was something very valuable and fragile. His face 
somehow blurred but I knew that he loved me. And he wanted me, and we were going to live 
happily forever after.
Can a dream get more corny and Barbara Cartland? Nope, not good old pink Barbara, there is 
never any sex in her books. Never mind.
I - the dream-me, that is - had just had sex. Good sex, and a lot of it. I sat up and saw myself in 
the other mirror. I was pregnant, like I'm now, but he wrapped me into something that was made 
from the finest wool, cashmere... It was so incredibly soft, warm, loving, like his fingers brushing 
my hair from my neck and his lips kissing the skin there....
He was happy about the child, our child and when he finally looked up over my shoulder I 
recognized him. Yeah... Your father, kiddo.
He would never ever like this kind of domestic bliss, and even less so with me. Or the female 
variation of me. But the feeling of lightness is still with me. I should leave tomorrow and find 
another city with a good little ER. Better go and start packing... I wonder how I'm going to get up, 
when I have to collect that second pair of boots from the closet?

24th of January, Saturday, 2004
Mulder yawned and blinked sluggishly when the smell of fresh black coffee reached his nose.
"Hey, my handsome sleepyhead." Scully appeared in his line of vision holding two mugs.
"Hi... Coffee?"
"Yep." Scully scooted next to him and gave him one of the mugs. "Morning is not perfect without 
it."
"But you said that the caffeine-"
"One cup in a day won't hurt her."
"Her? Did the ultra sound tell-"
"I just know the child is a girl. Call it a motherly instinct." She folded her legs under her and rested 
against the pillows.
"I'd call it a type of foreseeing." Mulder mumbled, his nose in the mug.
"I'd call you a workaholic." Scully stared at the ceiling, then sipped her poison of the day. 
"Mulder... We're here to investigate the UFO sightings. There are about twenty people who saw... 
something. But you're not going to come and help me with those interviews, are you?"
"Not before the morning run, no."
"I meant after the run, and shower, and putting on the suit and tie..."
"I'm coming. However tempting the chance to find Krycek is, we have to have something to write 
about in the report that would at least try to explain why the FBI has to cover the travelling costs."
"You're not ditching me to search for another woman? How come?"
"For another woman? Of course not. But give me aliens, implants, secret government cover ups, 
and I'm out of here in a second."

The weekend interviews were exactly what they were expecting - a bunch of nervous locals that 
got even more nervous when they were introduced to the representatives of FBI. The four 
housewives, two teenagers, one truck driver, one bookshop keeper, and two waitresses were 
waiting to talk to Scully. Mulder got two old spinsters, one bachelor - whom he suspected to be 
gay, another truck driver, a carpenter, a local drunkard, three schoolchildren - from the almost 
reasonable age before the teens, and a delivery boy. They all told the same story, although with a 
slight variations - there were lights over the city, under the clouds, going sometimes through 
them, and moving in weird ways - not like helicopters or planes.
"Well, are you finished?" Mulder peeked in to the room where Scully was sitting behind a table 
writing something. She looked bored.
"Yes. I wrapped up the last testimony. Of sorts. And I'd kill for something full of harmful simple 
sugars and fats."
"Mutual understanding is the thing I've always liked about you. Let's raid the local bakery."

The local bakery actually tripled as a small store and a tiny cafeteria with nine chairs and three 
tables. They took the table near the window. They could see out but the two leafy plants 
prevented others seeing them. Scully bought two pieces of cake- one with strawberries and other 
with cappuccino cream. Mulder settled for one but large piece of pie, which had at least apple, 
pineapple and something else in it. It was very good. So were Scully's cakes from which he stole 
a spoonful.
"So we have finished the official part of investigation." Scully dabbed her mouth with the pale blue 
paper napkin.
"Yes, we have." Mulder finished his coffee and looked at the street.
"Where do you want to begin?"
"I think we just got lucky. Look."
Scully turned and forgot to close her mouth for a moment.

It was Krycek; Scully would have recognised her anywhere. From the first look at him, way back 
then, she had committed his features into her memory. The new partner, the one who had taken 
her place... And she had decided to hate him. It wasn't hard, and it got even easier with each new 
fact she learned about him. But now... to see, to really see that she was pregnant... Very 
pregnant, for that matter. She was the embodiment of the phrase 'swollen with new life'.
'I hope', Scully thought 'I won't look THAT round...' It was somehow improper to hate HER now.
Krycek walked on the street, wearing those 'maternity' denim overalls and a longer version of the 
parka. She entered the shop across the street, oblivious of the two pairs of big round eyes 
tracking her movements.
"Oh my God."
Mulder nodded. "I couldn't have put it better." He grabbed his parka and shrugged it on.
"Mulder..."
"Yes?"
"You better use her first name. She's probably here with a false ID and it's easier to explain away 
a nickname..."
"You've thought a lot about this meeting, haven't you?"
"Yes, I have." Scully looked at him, her eyes clear and serious.
"Why?"
"Because you slept with her."

"Hello, Alex."
Krycek turned, not believing her ears.
But there he stood, with his usual placid look on his face, and even one of the infamous ties 
visible under the parka.
"Mulder..."
"Aren't you happy to see me?"
"About as happy as I'd be encountering the personification of a tooth ache. What are you doing 
here?"
"An X-file. Lights in the sky, you know the drill."
"Not here to gloat?" Her voice was low in order not to attract the attention of the other customers 
or the salespersons. 'And I'm standing here with a freaking can of beef in my hands and I'm 
talking to the love of my life and...'
"About what, your longer hair?" Which was true, Krycek's hair was about as long as it had been 
on their first meeting.
Krycek blinked and then almost snorted with laughter. "Hair?! How about how I look like a 
pregnant elephant or that I've now got two arms? Hair! You're just amazing, Mulder, just bloody 
fucking amazing!"
"I just thought you might not like gloating..."
Krycek shrugged and threw the can into her shopping cart with an angry clank. "I knew that I 
should've travelled further... To Alaska, perhaps."
Mulder fingered some package but grinned a little: "Would have been fitting. There are Rat 
Islands..."
"Well, you're definitely NOT here gloating." Krycek glared at him angrily. "What do you want?"
"To talk to you."
"About my hair?" Her light green eyes were dangerously sparkling.
"No. About that night and-"
"We fucked, that's all there was to it!" She really-really hoped that Mulder would believe it. 'I've 
always lied so well...' "So may I go now, Special Agent Mulder?"
Mulder tried to answer, but Krycek didn't wait. She pushed by him, threw some money on the 
counter and stormed out like a supertanker out of control. Mulder could only shrug and jog after 
her.
"Would you wait?"
"Or what? You'll pull a gun on me like you used to? Or maybe you want to slap me around a bit? 
What will it be?"
"Perhaps we all should sit down and try to behave like grown ups."
Scully's voice made Krycek spun around. 'Not her too... Can it get worse than this?'
"Hello, Scully." It came out sounding almost civil, although she wished she could disappear from 
Scully's judging eyes.
"Hello... So how about sitting down?"

The little bakery accommodated the odd group. Scully continued to eat her last piece of cake, 
while the two others kept up a staring contest until Scully had had enough. She coughed.
"How have you been?"
Krycek snorted again. "Pregnant."
"Right, it was a stupid question. But you two have some things to discuss and this is as good a 
time as any to tackle them." She shut up and watched the ex-co-workers shoot each other icy 
looks. "I'll go to the ladies room, but please, don't kill each other while I'm gone. And don't finish 
my cake, Mulder!"
"Do you always steal her food?" Krycek asked innocently, when Scully was out from the hearing 
distance.
"Constantly." Mulder eyed her, half of him struggling with the plain fact in front of him, half of him 
filled with weird peace - he could have his answers now. "Let's use the time, shall we?"
Krycek shrugged. Mulder took it as an agreement.
"Why did you sleep with me?"
"I think it takes two."
"You started-"
"-and you were just lying there and thinking of the FBI! Oh, come on. Even you don't believe that." 
Krycek smothered the yell into a growl. "You took quite an active role."
"This talk is not getting anywhere-"
"Should it?"
Mulder took couple of breaths to calm down. "Am I the father?"
Krycek held his eyes and lied without a blink: "No. Have we finished now?" When Mulder didn't 
answer, she started to get up.
And it came again as it had been happening from the moment she stopped blurring her mind with 
alcohol.

*Danger. Near. Danger.*

She grabbed hold of the chair's back and looked around. No one seemed suspicious.
"What's the matter?"
"Nothing..." but she sounded breathless.

*Danger. Get moving. Now!!*

She started to move towards the door, but Scully, who stormed out of the restroom, blocked her 
way. Her gun was drawn and her eyes seemed as similarly haunted as Krycek's.
"What's going on?" demanded Mulder.
Scully shrugged as if trying to clear her head. "Something ... like an alarm in my head..." She 
dropped her aim and clicked the safety on.
"You heard it?" For a moment Krycek had stopped panicking, because Scully's reaction was so 
bizarre.
"Yes." She turned to face her. "What is this?"
"I don't know-"

*Danger. GO NOW.*

This time Scully snapped out of it quicker. "We better follow the orders."
"What orders?" Mulder was absolutely lost and ignored, but he followed them outside.
"Are you armed?" he heard Scully asking.
"Never leave the bed without it."
He looked at them walking ahead of him and talking... Scully talking to Krycek whom she had 
despised... 'What the hell is going on?'
"Okay," he caught up with them. "What-"
"I have to get out of here," Krycek stated and sped up.
"Scully?"
"You'll love this... Something warned her to leave. It's like a strong feeling of..." Scully searched 
for a word for a second. "..fear, almost palpable urge to run."
"How do you feel it?"
"I'm not sure. But do you know how you saw your nightmares?"
"No..." Mulder kept eyes on Krycek's back, almost hoping she would bolt. It would be easier to 
think of her as a traitor than something else. And a traitor would try to flee... After lying.
"I think it's the same channel of communication."
'Or not', agreed Mulder, unused to hearing that Scully was accepting the unscientific approach 
but he had to be convinced that she was aware of what she was about to do.
"And YOU trust her?"
"This time I do. Her fear is valid. I felt it, too. She's in danger."

Krycek lived in a flat on the second floor, which had a separate entrance. The house seemed a bit 
run-down, but probably it suited a person who didn't want to attract attention. 'As if she could go 
unnoticed right now', Mulder thought giving the building a once over.
"I'll go with you."
Mulder turned, forgetting everything - had Scully just implied that she would back up Krycek? 
'This is unheard of...'
"You wait here, don't let anyone pass..." and Scully was climbing the stairs after Krycek, her 
coat's hems flapping. Mulder sighed - now she was ditching him... 'Not that I have any right to 
complain...' He leaned against the closest parked car and waited.

"Is Miss Feldson up there?"
Mulder turned his head. The low voice belonged to a middle-aged woman about Mulder's height, 
who wore dark green parka and well-used denim jeans. "And you are..?"
"Her landlady, she asked to be informed when her car was fixed. Is she home?"
"She is..??"
"The now very round woman." To Mulder's silence she added: "Oh, I thought you didn't look 
familiar, well, she's pregnant, ready to pop, but for some reason she wants to travel... Anyway, is 
she in?"
"Let's go and see." A woman that appeared just moments after Krycek and Scully both had a 
warning premonition didn't feel right. The woman started to climb up, Mulder close behind.
On the landing she rapped against the door. "Miss Feldson?"
The door opened a fraction and Krycek peeked out. "Yes, Betsy?"
"Your car is ready, honey."
Mulder, who stood behind the landlady, felt a click in his head. 'It's Saturday... no garage works in 
a little place like this on Saturday... unless Krycek paid, of course... But it still feels wrong.'
"So soon, good-" There was no time to finish the sentence, because the woman suddenly kicked 
the door open, so Krycek almost fell, staggering backwards from the impact.
Mulder tried to pull out his gun but he was snatched from the back of his neck and hauled inside 
the apartment with such a speed that he landed in the middle of the corridor, losing his gun and 
severely hitting his elbows. He heard the door slam shut behind him and muffled pops, and rolling 
over, he saw Krycek shooting at the lady- who wasn't a lady anymore, she shifted under their 
eyes into a too-well-known bounty hunter. 'That explains the UFO sightings...' Mulder scrambled 
after his gun, being too aware that it would be of almost no use against their enemy. Krycek was 
still emptying her clip into the being, but the bounty hunter was stepping closer to her, only slightly 
annoyed by the bullets that were hitting him in the midchest. And Krycek looked really scared, as 
much as Mulder was able to see.
At that moment a door opened and his brave Scully screamed the usual: "Stop, FBI!"
'No use, Scully, we don't have the means to kill him...' Mulder finally got his gun and aimed it at 
the shape-shifter who had cornered Krycek.
Scully's voice distracted the extra-terrestrial murderer for a moment, he shot a glance at them- 
and then shuddered. Somehow Scully's appearance had been enough of a distraction for Krycek. 
She withdrew the icepick from its neck 'Where did she have that?' and let the body drop. Her gun 
was still frozen in aim at the killer. Mulder got up, and crouched by the body.
There were at least five chest wounds each one leaking the green fluid these things had for 
blood. 'We should be dying... Why are we not?'
He heard Scully stepping closer. "You're Okay?"
"Yes..." Mulder nodded and put his useless gun away. "You?"
"Fine. Are you alright?" Scully asked, looking at Krycek. Mulder raised his eyes. 'Did I hear that? I 
did, didn't I?'
Krycek nodded, although her breathing was heavier than before. She also leaned against the 
wall.
However, her gun didn't waver.
"Is he dead?" she rasped.
"Yeah", Mulder got up, where he had been checking for life signs. Luckily, there was none. He 
looked at his partner.
Scully was still eyeing Krycek. "Are you sure?"
"It's ... nothing, it will pass." She dropped her aim and slumped heavily against the wall.
"What will pass?" Mulder noticed the somewhat surprising worry in Scully's face. He turned to 
face Krycek. The - what exactly? Man? Woman? Hopefully human... - seemed a bit pale and in 
pain.
"These..." Krycek made a nervous waving gesture with her hand, "-pains. They come and go..." 
She started to unscrew the silencer.
"How often?" Scully's voice was precise enough to cut glass.
"Oh, about every ten minutes or so." Krycek raised her head "So what?" The silencer found its 
place in the pocket and the gun in the holster.
"And how long have you been feeling them?" There was suddenly no pleasure seeing Krycek's 
eyes grow wide. With recognition. She swallowed hard.
"What's going on?" Mulder wanted to intervene, but Scully put up her hand to quiet him and 
stepped over the body, moving closer to Krycek.
"How long?" she demanded.
"Most of the day..." her voice faded into a whisper. Mulder could have sworn that he heard fear 
there. She continued: "You're not suggesting that..." Krycek couldn't finish, only swallowed again, 
staring at the shorter woman.
"It's very likely." Scully didn't give any ground and didn't stop staring back, until Krycek averted 
her eyes.
"It can't be. It's not... it's not time." She was afraid, alright.
"Sure. Not until the interval between the contractions is about three minutes."
The word 'contractions' made Mulder gape.
"Scully, you're not saying that she's going to have the child now? Are you?" He sounded a little 
panicky.
After a short pause, Scully answered. With constructive orders.
"You better sit down." That was said to Krycek, who clutched the wall. "And you better help ... 
her-" Scully still stumbled over the unusual pronoun. "- to do that." When Mulder didn't budge at 
once, she added, louder. "Now!"
That made him move. He got to his feet moving and walked up to Krycek. She, too shocked from 
the abrupt revelation, didn't even fight him when Mulder slipped his arm around her waist.
It was weird to touch her... Really weird. Mulder focused again on the task at hand. 
"Let's go."

All three of them walked back to the bedroom, Scully leading the way and even opening the door.
When Krycek was dropped onto the armchair, Mulder and Scully occupied the only seats facing 
her, that is, they sat on the bed.
After a moment full of awkward silence, Krycek opened her mouth to talk.
"So, you think that I'm..." she found that she couldn't bring herself to say IT out loud.
"In labour." finished Scully for her. "Yes, I think you are." She tried hard to sound confident. 
"Couldn't you guess yourself?"
Krycek shrugged. "No.... And it's not the right time." she didn't sound very convinced, however.
"How do you know?" Mulder had finally been able to say something.
"I did my homework." Krycek glanced at him, eyes angry. "When I ... couldn't get rid of it, I ... got 
some books and did the math."
Scully took over again. "And the counted time would have been?"
"The 4th of February." Krycek sighed and undid her uppermost shirt button. She felt hot and was 
sure that she looked flushed. 'Damn hot spells.'
"You did notice in those books that the labour can start two weeks earlier and it's completely 
normal?"
Krycek narrowed her eyes: Scully the laser was doing a great job pissing her off. Nothing like 
during the merciful-doctor's-act.
"Nothing of this is normal to me, damnit! I didn't ask for this!" Mulder raised his eyebrows, but she 
didn't let that distract her: "I didn't want this!"
"But you're stuck with it now." Scully sighed inwardly: once again she had to clean up Mulder's 
mess. At least this time he was there to help, to actually do some things.
Mulder observed how Scully surveyed the room. He could almost hear those medical files 
opening and booting up in her brain.
"This place is relatively safe... And I am almost sure that you don't want to go to the town's 
hospital?" Scully was taking her scarf off.
The glare answered better than any words.
"Right." she stuffed the scarf into her coat pocket. "I'll make some arrangements then." She rose 
to her feet. "Why don't you two get ready for a long evening?" Unbuttoning her coat, she strolled 
out from the room.
The ex-partners listened her going through things, first in the bathroom and then in the kitchen. 
They didn't look at each other, as they heard Scully filling something with water, switching on the 
cooker.
Then a shout: "Is this half-empty bottle of vodka yours, Krycek?"
"Yes," came an angry snap.
There was some mumbling which Mulder interpreted as 'Not really a healthy diet'. Krycek seemed 
to come to the same conclusion, because she visibly ruffled up.
Then Scully's steps got louder and she returned to the room. "You should get to the bed, Krycek."
"I should get to the bathroom first," she retorted and got up, the armchair creaked, when she 
leaned on it for support. "And I can go there fine by myself, thank you." Krycek prevented Scully 
from sending Mulder after her. Since she needed some help, she accepted it, but she didn't need 
unnecessary humiliation.
"Okay, do as you please. But if you need anything..."
"Sure, sure..." and she walked out, feeling their eyes on her back. 'I must look like something 
from a cartoon.... Ridiculous, pathetic and big.'

"So we're helping her?" Mulder stated the obvious.
"Yes." Scully busied herself with the bed. "And don't ask why. She's afraid, we both heard that, 
she's not prepared for this and we're here."
"You're amazing, you know that?"
"I'll take that as a compliment, Mulder. Now help me."
He did. Then he asked another question that had bothered him from the moment he saw the 
green blood. "Why are we still alive?"
"What?" she looked up, shaking a pillow.
"The toxic blood... We should have choked to death almost instantly."
"Perhaps the virus and the vaccine together gave us immunity." She sighed. "It's the best idea 
that comes to my mind right now."
"But Krycek?"
"You told me that he had a similar encounter... that time when we got shoed out from the North-
Dakota silos."
"So we can go around and off the shapeshifters-"
"Sometimes you're such a teenager..."

"I think that Scully might be right."
Krycek's tensed voice made Mulder, who had been sitting in the armchair, turn his head. She was 
back from her very long trip to the bathroom and held on to the doorframe, looking in pain again. 
Her knuckles were white from the gripping.
This time Mulder moved without an order. He was up to support her quickly enough to make a 
sprinter proud.
"Why do you think that?" he asked, while manoeuvering Krycek to the bed. 'Why does this 
situation feel oddly reversed?'
"The water broke... and the pain just got worse." her voice was cracking, since the garrote on her 
muscles hadn't eased yet. When it finally did, she felt limp. 'I hope it doesn't get much stronger....'
"I'll get Scully."
She nodded her approval and closed her eyes. She had wished to see Mulder again, but not like 
this. 'I'd better watch what I wish for...'

"Her water broke."
Scully looked up. "Where?"
"In the bathroom, I suppose. There were no extra-puddles on the corridor when I came here."
"Extra-puddles?"
"The body has started to disintegrate... Lots of nice goo to step into."
Scully gave him a warning look and changed the subject back.
"Is she-"
"She's fine, just had another contraction."
"I'll go and see her." When Mulder wanted to follow her, she stopped him. "Stay here, I need to 
prepare her and I'm fairly sure that she doesn't want you around at that particular time."
"Will you be alright?"
"I'm a trained Special Agent and a doctor." She flashed a brief smile and was gone.

Krycek opened her eyes, when Scully walked in. She looked frightened for moment, and then the 
usual expression took its place.
"What do you want?"
"To prepare you and to talk to you." Scully sat by her side. Krycek turned away and stared the 
wall.
Scully sighed. "I'm not here to hurt you."
A pause. Scully watched Krycek's left hand wrinkling the sheet. She was almost sure that Alex 
herself was not aware of that movement. Then the fingers relaxed and she heard her answering:
"I know."
"So let me help."
"Like you had a hell'va lot of experience!!"
"More than you."
Krycek drew a long angry breath but said nothing.
"You need to get out these clothes. And I have to check-"
"You are not doing that!!"
"Okay." 'Better to give some ground...' "Then just change into something you are not very keen on 
keeping. Some T-shirt or something."
After a moment Krycek nodded and started to get up. In the middle of that she shuddered and 
clenched her teeth.
"Pain?" Scully actually didn't need to ask. She watched her struggle, then reached and rubbed 
the points on her back she knew would help. After a couple of seconds Krycek could breathe 
again.
"What did you do?" she panted.
"A trick I learned in the pre-natal course. Worked for me." She smiled a little. "The interval has 
shortened, right?"
"Yeah."
"Must be the shock. It accelerated the process. I'll get the thing you wanted, where is it?"
"In the closet in the bag." Seeing Scully eyeing her, surprised, she snapped." I felt that I had to 
move again."
"In your condition?"
"I thought I had at least one more week!"
Scully nodded, and went to fetch whatever Krycek wanted but somehow she didn't need to ask - 
when she opened the carryall, she knew exactly what to search for. It was weird but right now she 
didn't have the time to ponder about it. 'No more bizarre than the warning we both felt...'
"Put it on." She threw the shirt on the bed and saw that Krycek was astonished. "A lucky guess." 
Then she tactfully exited the room, closing the door after her.

And bounced into Mulder.
"What are you doing here?"
"Nothing."
"Like hell you are. She is not going anywhere and I'm not in danger." Scully raged but felt the 
feeling melt away when Mulder embraced her.
"I was just afraid that she still might do something to you. You know what she was!" His voice was 
honest and truly concerned.
"She's in labour... I don't think that killing us could be her top priority right now. Especially when 
we just helped to save her life." She allowed herself to indulge in the luxury of his arms some 
seconds more, but then released herself. "I have to go back. Alone." Mulder looked sad, but let 
her go. "Maybe you should check the house."
Mulder smiled, he understood that she was trying to make him feel useful. And he liked that about 
her. "Okay, ma'am, I'll check the perimeter!!"