Title: Midnight in Moscow
Author: Dantzi Jean
E-mail: phantom_lass@hotmail.com
Website: http://www.geocities.com/myxfvoice
Classification: X-File, MSR (sort of)
Timeline: During the time of the Tunguska episode, 4th season
Summary: What do you do when you are out of time?
Rating: R
Archive: Anywhere just make sure my name stays on it and let me now the URL
of the site.
Disclaimer: Come on everyone's favorite part! Okay you all know they are not
mine. I'm just using them for my sadistic, sardonic, evil and twisted
reasons and will give them back to CC and company when I am good and ready
to.
Author's Notes: This takes place mid-episode of Tunguska. This as if the
events in Terma did not take place. Warning, character death, and graphic imagery
This is my first ever attempt at mythology fic so just bare with me. Thanks!
Tunguska, Russia
9:04 pm
Mulder awoke in the large room, disoriented and unsure where he was, the
cold wire seemed to touch every inch of his skin, as he looked around him,
many other bodies of men, women, and children were within the mesh covered
tables, some unconscious most awake and moaning, one woman cried.
He tried to free himself but could not find a weakening in the chain links
that covered his body.
He saw the man walking among the bodies. The same man, who had injected
him with a toxin and took him from his cell. He was bald and wore think
rimmed glasses, his expressionless face held no mercy for those he was
torturing on the mesh-covered tables. He stopped and looked down on the
men and women whose lives he was about to take or ruin.
He felt the swab of cloth covering the small-pox scar on his left arm.
His mind raced to the case in which Scully had found the markers in the
scars, and to the boxcar he had been in one year ago, in which the bodies
that were burnt and deformed held one similarity—a smallpox scar. Were
these scars used to gather information about the individuals who bore them?
To use in these insidious experiments?
Screams interrupted his musing and unending questions. Screaming of the
people surrounding him. Loud, deep, resonant screams of the victims. The
agony and terror that lay in the voices of those people inflamed his own
terror. Then, without any warning black slime dripped onto his face. Making
it difficult to breathe without inhaling the black ooze. This dripping
started coagulating forming small worm-like creatures.
The worms slithered up his face, their slick bodies aiming for an opening
to enter his body. He watched as the creatures crawled toward his mouth
and nose, attempting to gain entry to his body. His eyes grew wide and
searching for some kind of escape from the creatures now entering on their
own will into his nasal passages. They slithered and formed again into a
liquid of some kind lining the membrane of his nose and eyes. They slowly
took control of their host, making the body a vessel to feed from. It's life
energy now being slurped and gulped to establish the new being within its
conquered host.
Alive, though in a trance-like state. The man's brain was no longer his
own command center. The being had now found and utilized its power to
control it for their own purposes. The beings settled into that man and
their new-found home.
* * * *
Capitol Hill, Senator Sorenson's office
11:18 am
Dana Scully sat down in the padded chair, she had become used to taking
that chair, it became like a routine that she and Mulder had unconsciously
established. AD Skinner sat to her left. Senator Sorenson had called them in
to question them on the latest findings of their newest case. She listened
with polite interest as the senator asked about the body that had been found
outside Skinner's apartment.
She did not trust Skinner, though he had helped them in the past, Scully could
not help but feel that the man was hiding something within his calm, silent
exterior. The senator then addressed the absence of her partner. She calmly
and roundly answered the senator's questions as to Mulder's absence. This man
was not to be trusted, either.
"Agent Mulder is in the field, endeavoring to find his own answers." She said
with all the professionalism she could muster.
"Where?"
Her silence would save Mulder, if only for a short period of time. Her mind
flitted back to the message on her answering machine and the note Mulder had
left in her e-mail box.
He had gone to Russia, he had taken Krycek with him. Taking Krycek was a
mistake; the man was a murderer and a liar. Mulder trusted him. For now, his
life was in the rouge agent's hands.
Anger and frustration surged within her. The passion of her partner's search
had left him thinking a little irrational. He had taken a passport of government
issue. Though where he got it, he would not tell her.
She hated when he did this to her. The adventurous side of her wanted to be
with Mulder, to find what he has found, to be a part of the treasure hunt.
The protective side of her wanted to follow him and make sure his head was
on straight and that his life was without unnecessary danger. The partner in
her just wanted to have the respect, and not to be excluded from the case.
Whatever he had found, it didn't include her. She understood, though, Mulder
needed to find and see for himself the wrongs done against him since childhood
and she had always been excluded from those memories to spare Mulder further
injury and pain. It hurt, though, just the same.
The meeting was over. She took the first deep breath she had first taken since
the meeting had begun. She walked to the parking lot, her stiletto heels
clicking on the surface of the pavement. She walked to the car and drove to
NASA Goddard Center where she was to do the examination of the infected biologist.
* * * * *
FBI headquarters
3:23 pm
She peered in the microscope at the organism found in the research biologist
during the time of his examination. It resembled a cluster of organisms, they
seemed to be feeding on the pineal gland, draining the gland of it's hormones
and proteins, taking in the endocrindonic secretions the gland produced.
The organisms appeared to be in the larval stages of development, multiplying
and growing in size. This organism acted like a cancer, destroying the brain's
natural material and replacing it with it's own.
Her scientific mind raced with possibilities, causes, reasons, and sources.
The sickness of the pathologist occurred when dissecting the rock specimen.
At the scene, researchers found the residual spray emanating from the rock,
itself. The key was the rock. Where did it come from? What was it? Who knew
the answers to these questions? Scenarios, questions and nagging fears ran
through the mind of Dana Scully. The disease had come from the sample rock.
Where that rock had come from nobody really knew, only that it was not of
this world.
Mulder had received information to the specimen's original location, and
had found a lead in Russia. She had not heard from him since the airport
when he had been on his way to Russia. Where was this pouch going? Why
did the government have it? And why if it they were such a well guarded
secrets were they spending their time of Mulder's location? Unanswered
questions and fears continued their fast pace through her mind and finally,
she arrived at a conclusion. She would have to go to Russia find Mulder
and then find out once and for all what's, where's and why's of this rock.
Mulder had said 'source' when referring to the travel information he had
received. She would just have to travel under the FBI regulatory statutes.
Did the rock have something to do with the 1908 crash of the supposed
meteorite that had crashed in Tunguska, Russia? Mulder had landed in
Krasnoyarsk, Russia. Then that was where she had to start looking.
* * * *
JFK airport
7:47 the next morning
"Final boarding call for flight 682 at gate 35," the monotonous voice of
the PA system rang over head as Dana Scully made her way thorough the
terminal to her appointed gate. She had to get to Mulder fast. He could
already be infected with the organism, and possibly others as well. There
was no known cure or treatment for this cancer/parasite. She needed to
find Mulder fast and get him out of Russia. And with that final call
she boarded her flight and set in for the long journey ahead.
Midnight in Moscow
Somewhere in Russia
11:42 pm
Tired, dirty and just wanting to go home, Dana Scully sat in her hotel room
and lay on the bed reviewing in her mind the events of the day. She had begun
with a search of all flight records, making doubly sure that this was the
route Mulder and Krycek had taken. They had landed at 6:15 AM and had procured
a ride from a delivery man to a small area called Tunguska. When she thought
she had a general idea of where they were, she employed a local hackney driver
to take her there the next morning.
After talking to the driver she checked into a local motel and slept for a few
hours until she knew it was time to leave.
Reluctantly, she rose and started to pack for roughing it in the hinterland
Of Russia. She worried about Mulder but had reserves about following him. She
had nowhere near the passion he had for his work. She followed him out of a
curiosity for what they were searching for, and he had some sort of hold her
that bound her to him. The magnetic surge of power that two individuals can
have on each other was really just too much for the mind to comprehend, ever
to begin to understand. But there it was, in plain sight, with her and Mulder.
She grabbed the backpack, holding the few possessions she thought she might
require on the journey and walked downstairs. She checked herself out of her
hotel and walked to the curb headed for what she hoped was her partner.
* * * * *
Tunguska, Russia
Mulder's cell
10:11
Groggy, and in pain, Mulder awoke on a hard floor instead of the black
leather couch he was so used to. He heard a man's voice in the darkness of
his cell.
"How long have I been unconscious?" Mulder asked, examining a wound on his
arm. The wound was located where his small-pox vaccination scar lay. He found
a small two inch laceration above the old scar tissue. The type of laceration
performed for some type of biopsy.
"Hours," came the unknown man's voice from the other end of the hard brick
wall.
"What happened to me?" He asked as he briefly remembered the hard wire
covering his body before slipping into oblivion. He remembered nothing of
the test.
"The test."
"Do they do this to you too?" Came the voice from his own throat.
"Yes, they do the test to everyone..." the man went on to tell Mulder why
he was here, when the original rock was found, and the research done since
then on the contaminants of the rock.
A voice of curiosity made him mention Krycek, who orchestrated this scheme.
For what purpose or agenda was unclear to Mulder. The man who was basically
his only ally in this establishment handed him a make-shift knife. He gave
the knife a once-over and asked the man where the knife came from.
"I made it--to kill myself. It took me two months," he said with a cynical
laugh, "By then I had lost desire." Revenge and death was on Mulder's mind
tonight, all he had to do was wait until morning. All that was clear in the
mind of Fox Mulder was that he had to survive, Krycek had to die and he
hoped to God that he would not be a continuing subject in the "test" these
men were conducting.
* * * * *
North Road, 30 miles from Tunguska forest
12:13 am
The man, from which Scully had received a ride and a location of Mulder and
Krycek, was a very congenial man. Though he never gave her moment of silence,
and felt the need to talk to her the whole way there. She was very tired but
grateful to this man. But right now all she wanted was sleep.
The man drove Scully through a very dense growth of trees, hundreds of years
old, from the width of the trunks. Finally, the car rolled to a stop and the
man proclaimed, in heavily accented Russian, that this was his stop and he
would go no further. Scully could read the fear in the man's eyes, she knew
he feared this forest, she couldn't help but question, as to what would make
this man so terribly afraid. What dark secret was being harbored in this
forest? What had motivated her partner to come here searching for the answers
to his questions?
She climbed out of the truck and began to walk into the woods. The man indicated
that to the south there was an "establishment" that might have taken Mulder and
Krycek.
She trudged through the woods and mud. It must have recently rained in this area,
judging from the moisture gathered in the dirt and plants. The area was beautiful
and green, but something dark resided here. Something not natural.
She walked for about a mile and a half, stopping every few seconds trying to
get her bearings and find out where she was. During this trek, she had a lot
of time to think. She wondered why this thing, whatever it was, was crucial
enough to kill for.
Mulder ran through her mind, as well. Her partner was a brilliant man, but he
has placed himself in danger for more then one stupid scheme in his career. He
was an impossible, insufferable man, and yet she followed him. A familiar idiom
her grandmother used to say ran through her mind. 'Who is more the idiot? The
idiot, or the idiot that follows the idiot?' She laughed in spite of herself
and continued her trek through the terrain of Russia. She would follow Mulder
to the ends of the earth, if need be. His quest had not only become her life,
but her love as well.
She topped a ridge, and came to a clearing. She brought out her night vision
glasses and peered through the night. She saw about seven armed guards
standing around some sort of perimeter. She had come upon some sort of prison
or mining camp. She saw a few men on horseback riding out the electrified gates.
Apparently, whoever these men were, they did not want whoever was in there to
become free. Deep down, inside herself, she knew that Mulder was somewhere
within the walls of this camp, and in pain.
She placed the glasses inside her pack and began moving slowly outside the
gates of the camp. She walked until she found what she was looking for.
A deep impression in the ground. A hole.
From what she could tell of the shoe prints the way the dirt still appeared
loose, she determined that the hole was dug about 48 hours ago and though
the rain had obscured and filled in the hole a little it was still visible.
She clawed through the mud, not minding the dirt that accumulated on her hands.
Mulder was here, she was certain of it. Why he was here, though, was a
complete mystery to her. She dug until the hole was large enough to
encompass her small frame, then she pulled herself through the opening.
She brushed the dirt from her pants and hands. And stood to get a better
look, and find out where she was. There was about another mile to the
buildings where she presumed the prisoners were housed. She wanted to get a
better look at the grounds before maneuvering a rescue attempt.
She walked to the east side of the "establishment". She had been fortunate
enough to not been detected by any of the guards or men that canvassed.
Then she heard the sound of horses neighing, and she turned around to see
a few guards, she ducked low into the bushes to escape their awareness.
She watched them from her hiding place, by the sound of their voices the
guards were off duty, and having fun. They seemed to be teasing one another,
but then she noticed the other men standing about the horses, but these men
did not look like guards.
The men had the bent-over postures and expressions of those who had worked
strenuously for the most part of their lives. Oppression and sadness hung
in the air like a tangible thing. She knew instantly that these men were
the prisoners and that the guards who appeared to be teasing one another
were really tormenting the prisoners. Whatever that was here, these men
required a multitude of slave laborers to carry out the agenda for which it
was used.
She walked, cautiously through the brush and almost fell when the ground took
a sharp curve downward into a make-shift cliff. She backed up a few steps and
glanced downward toward fissure into which she had almost fallen.
"Oh my God." She breathed when she saw that, it was a crevice that fell about
50 feet downward.
She walked along the outer rim of the crevice and it appeared to be bowl shaped
and rounded. She looked at the surrounding shrubbery and observed that all the
trees had been flattened and some pulled from the ground. Of course, she thought
to herself, of the meteorite that hit in the middle of Tunguska forest. This was
the impression left by that meteor. Mulder had found that that rock specimen was
part of the meteor that had fallen and impacted with earth over 80 years ago.
But where was that rock today? And most importantly, what had caused men to set '
up a prison labor camp around the impression?
Mulder, she was sure, held the answers to these questions. But first she had to
find him and then get him out of this hell hole and find out what was going on here.
Midnight in Moscow
Tunguska forest
2:00 am
Globs of encrusted dirt and mud clung to her boots, slowing her progress
through the forest. Scully took a cautious glance behind her, making sure
she was not being followed. She glanced at the horizon, dawn was just a few
hours away.
As she came closer to the prisoner's quarters, she heard the drunken ribaldry
of the guards, probably over-indulging on duty. She rounded the corner of
the brick structure and the shouting lessened. She crept against the wall
and spied a few small windows near the ground. She dropped to the ground
and peered through the closest of the windows and sure enough one of the
prisoners was asleep on the floor.
She gauged the window to be maybe a foot length-wise and knew she could
not possibly fit through one of them. She stood and looked at the wall again.
More windows lined the top of the wall. She walked and looked into each of
the bottom windows until she came to what she was searching for--Mulder.
He was awake and staring at something shinny in the darkness of his cell.
He was in the far corner and difficult to see. She made out his shape,
dirty and ragged. He looked in sore need of a shower and a shave. He was
thin and pale, possibly sick. She needed to get him out of here.
"Mulder?" She said making sure her voice could not be heard above the
laughing and shouting of the guards. It was apparently too quiet for there
was no response from the man within the cell. "Mulder!" She cried a little
more urgently. She detected a small movement in the cell. "Mulder." she
called again.
"Scully? Is that you? What are you doing here?" He responded to her crouched
form near the tiny window.
"Mulder? Are you okay?" She asked making a mental inventory of his injuries
once she had enough light to see him.
"I don't know, I'm weak and they've infected me with some kind of virus.
How did you find me?"
"I'm going to get you out of here, Mulder." She said with an air of finality
and then was gone.
* * * *
He sat there still not believing what she had done. She had followed him to
this hell hole. Why? She had disappeared from the window about ten minutes
ago. Had she been captured? Her small form was barely recognizable when she
had come up to his window. That woman still amazed him. She would not let
anything stand in her way. Why had she done this?
He heard the shuffle of feet along the corridor outside his cell. He wondered
if it was guard, or if Scully had actually found a way in here. Then he heard
her voice at the wooden door. "Mulder," she whispered.
"Yeah, you okay? Did you see any guards coming down the hall?"
"No, most of them are passed out in the officer's quarters. If one of them is
stable enough to walk, let alone ride a horse by daylight I'll be greatly
surprised," she said wryly.
He smiled in spite of himself. Oh, Scully how you do amaze me so, he thought.
He listened as she picked the lock at his door, a little trick he had taught
her. Hurry up, Scully, we have to get out of here! The loud click that
resounded from the opened lock told him he was free.
He quickly opened the wooden door and cautiously stepped outside, making sure
nobody was within distance of noticing his escape. Scully stepped around him,
protecting him with her body. Which was an absurd notion, but she did it out
of a protective instinct, which she had harbored for him since the start of
his experiences in his search to find the TRUTH.
* * * *
Mulder and Scully ran to the exit around the corner but their steps quickly
ceased when a guard shouted in crude Russian. He carried a large automatic
rifle at his side and had it pointed straight at Mulder's head.
Scully did not anticipate the guard or his companions, and was surprised to
find that any of them were able to walk. The guard reached out and touched
Scully's hair and softly caressed her face. He said something to one of the
other guards and they laughed at his comment. Scully could smell the alcohol
on his breath and could see the blurriness of his eyes. The man was definitely
drunk. She glanced at Mulder who still held his hands in the air. His nostrils
flared with anger and his breathing came in ragged breaths. He swayed a little
and Scully noticed exactly how weak he really was.
"My, aren't you a pretty one?" The guard said, in thickly accented English.
"What do you think boys? Shall we have a go with her?" He then took a glance
at Mulder and it apparently did not register to the drunken guard that Mulder
was a prisoner. "You can have her too, if you want." This seemed to anger
Mulder even further. His arm twitched as if to hit the guard, but he thought
better of the action, and it remained where it was.
The guard did not notice the anger in Mulder's expression and from his stance
Scully could tell it was keeping every ounce of human willpower he possessed
to keep from hitting the guard.
Scully stared at the guard, who still continued to caress her face. The guard's
hand then lowered to her breast, pinching the nipple with brute force. Scully
did not move during this phase but when she saw the man was thoroughly saturated
with drink and his mind was elsewhere on her anatomy, she sharply brought her knee
into his crotch.
The force of the blow took the guard by surprise. He rolled his eyes back into
his head and clutched that part of his anatomy that was affected by the woman's
sharp assault. He made a pathetic squealing noise and went down to his knees on
the floor trying to gather enough breath to moan.
Mulder had taken the opportunity of the diversion and had already knocked out
one of the other men. Scully pulled her weapon from her hip holster and pointed
it directly and the remaining guard's head.
"What is this camp?" She asked. Needing answers from this man Scully thought of
the only way she knew how--intimidation.
The guard weakly answered the woman, "A mining camp."
"Mining, for what?"
"The rock."
"Why is this rock worth taking innocent life to be used as slave labor?"
"I d-don't know...I only guard the prisoners. They don't tell us why they are
here," he answered meekly.
Through this exchange Mulder was tying the guard's hands behind his head and
to a pipe on the wall of the prison.
"Where can we go?" The question was vague but the guard understood the question
well enough for he answered.
"The Trans-Siberian, there is a station about 10 miles from here."
Satisfied with the answerers received, Scully nodded to Mulder, who then
Promptly backhanded the young guard with the hilt of his gun, which knocked
the poor soldier into unconsciousness.
Mulder threw Scully a look that said, 'Now what?' She nodded toward the exit
of the brick building and without words they headed for the door which led
to freedom.
Knowing now where they were going and how to get there, Mulder and Scully ran
pell-mell to the gate where Scully had dug the hole only an hour ago. Mulder
grunted when his clothing was caught on the wire of the fence. Scully, who
was ahead of him stopped dead in her tracks to help her partner. It would be
no time at all until whoever was in charge of this place, discovered the bodies
of the three guards or they awoke and had the sense to figure out what was going on.
"Go ahead, we have to keep moving." he said as she tried to assist him from
the grasp of the fence. A few seconds later he freed himself of the annoying
snare and ran with his partner through the forest headed for the Trans-Siberian
which went eventually, to Moscow and the American Embassy, and then home.
* * * *
Tunguska Russia
Same time
Within the labyrinth of the camp
Alex Krycek knew that Mulder would escape he was just sitting around
imagining how he might do it. That was the inventive part about Mulder.
That, and the fact that he never seemed to disappoint the expectations
set by the men seeking to destroy him. Krycek threw Mulder into this
situation. Mulder was his little chess piece. All you had to do was put
him on the board and circumstances would set him in the right place at
the right time. A finally, checkmate!
Krycek never imagined that Mulder's red-headed skeptic of a partner
would come chasing after him. Krycek never paid much attention to her,
Mulder was the interesting one. She had somehow managed to escape
detection. He was sure, as he watched her enter the camp, that she
would never make it to the impression of the rock.
He had seen what length Mulder would go for her, but it surprised him
that she would do the same. Those two are a rare breed. Though destined
to remain apart, they managed to stay together.
Krycek would let them go until morning; he would play chess one more
time, maybe this time would be the last.
Midnight in Moscow
Tunguska forest
4:00 am
Mulder was weak from the strenuous work forced on him in the camp, and
a lack of sufficient nutrition. He barely showed his weakness, but Scully
could see he was tiring and fast. She guessed by the surrounding area that
they were heading in the right direction and were about half way there.
Only 5 more miles to go. If they could get that far they could make it
back home.
She stopped and waited for Mulder to catch his breath, they really could
not afford the luxury of stopping, the guards they had assaulted would
either, wake up, or be found in the hallway of the prison.
Mulder slumped down onto a nearby boulder and sat, breathing heavily.
He rose a few minuets later and nodded in the direction they had been
following, indicating that rest time was over and they needed to be on the
move again. She cast a glance at the surrounding area and rose to follow
her partner into the Russian wilderness.
* * * * * *
Slowly, bit by bit, the unconscious guard made his way into consciousness.
He awoke from the alcohol induced pain in his head. How the hell did he end
up on the floor? He thought, as he stood and looked around him. His movements
ceased when a sharp pain in his groin focused his attention elsewhere. As
the spasm of pain eased, he slowly moved to take a step again and moved,
but he was still slow and stiff.
The guard looked over to the corner and noticed his friend Ivan Tratskivski
lying on the ground with his hands tied behind his head on the wall. His
head was lolled to the side and his legs were spread-eagle on the cement
floor of the prison.
"Ivan, man wake up," he said nudging his friend's shoulder. Ivan bolted to
attention, surprised by the suddenness of his waking.
"W-w-what?" Ivan said groggily.
"What happened? How did you get like this? And how the hell did I end up on
the floor?" He asked as he started untying his friend's bonds.
"You don't remember, huh? You took an apparent interest in a woman who at
the time was helping an escaped prisoner, but of course nobody noticed this
until she whipped out her gun and pointed it at my head." He said a little
ruefully.
"Where did they go?"
"They asked me how to get out of here, I directed them to the train station
a few miles from here."
"Do you know how she got in here?"
"I don't know, but she was part of some government agency, the gun at my head
was US government issue." Ivan said, standing up and rubbing his wrists, trying
to let the circulation of blood flow through them once more.
"The prisoner she took was in special care of Comarade Krycek. He has to know
about this."
The two officers trudged down to the office of their superior to tell him of
the escaped prisoner, leaving behind their third companion, who was still
lying on the floor unconscious.
* * * * *
Tunguska train station
5:30 am
Mulder and Scully had made it to the railroad station just as the sun
was coming up above the Russian horizon. They gained passage to Moscow
with government money.
Mulder was weak from the wounds on his arms and from exhaustion he had
suffered in the camp. They shared a single cabin on the train. Mostly,
for privacy, and for the fact that they would stand out less if only
one cabin was being used.
Scully glanced at Mulder, who had taken the bed in the cabin and had
fallen asleep as soon as their passage was taken care of. He was pale
and deathly thin. She must remember to make him eat something when he
awoke. She took this time to check Mulder for wounds or abrasions. She
carefully stripped him and folded his clothes in a pile next to the bed.
His fist was clenched tightly around an object. She slowly opened his
hand, and was surprised when her gaze fell upon a home-made knife in
his grasp. She looked at his face, still relaxed in sleep and she
removed the small knife and laid it in the pile with his clothes. He
had a fever and he might be also sporting an infection on that arm. For
now he slept; rest in the midst of a terrible nightmare. When they
reached Moscow, the nightmare would end and life, as it was, could
resume. But only when they reached Moscow.
* * * * *
Alex Krycek followed the two agents as closely as he could, without
being detected. He lost them during the day, when stopping to catch
his breath and gain his bearings, he came upon a group of forest men.
He looked from one cold face to another. They were simple men, men who,
at one time or another, had families and jobs of their own. They looked
at this newcomer with suspicion and mistrust. He looked at them and
instantly ascertained that they could help him.
He had all the men convinced that he was a poor American tourist who had
wandered from a tourist group and was lost in the forest, when a group of
men from the prison camp seized him and charged him with spying for the
Americans.
The leader of this small band of men quickly ran his eyes over Krycek's
Body. He did not notice any amount of bodily torture, which he knew the
men of the camp inflicted upon the subjects of their tests.
After convincing the men that he was indeed an American tourist and his
story was the truth, he sat, enjoyed a rough dinner, and warmed himself
by the fire. It was not until after this dinner that he noticed that all
of the men that he had come upon, young and old alike, were missing
something--their left arm.
Mulder and Scully would not get very far, he quickly assured himself.
Mulder was lame, and Krycek knew that he was going to be very sick—on
the edge of death. He had made sure to order that particular test for
his pawn.
Scully was the other problem. Mulder was her little red button and all
he had to do was push it too far and then, boom, an explosion. Scully
had rescued her partner from the vise-like grip of these Russians, and
succeeded, much to the surprise of anyone who knew about it. That little
red-head could go a long way when her life's love was at risk. Yes, he
knew that she loved her partner. Sometimes it seemed too easy, and yet
anyone who got near those two, died in very compromising circumstances.
Krycek vowed that he would not do that to himself. He had to look out
for himself, and that meant not getting himself killed.
Before he knew what his next thought was, Krycek was next to the fire,
sleeping soundly. He awoke to a heavy weight on his body and his eyes
flashed open to see the leader of the one-armed bandits, coming toward
him with something that glowed bright red against the blackness of the
night sky.
The heat was strong enough for him to feel away from the blade. It
radiated from the blade of the knife that was heading for him. He
struggled against the men who held him to the Russian terrain. Fright
poured out if him and formed a puddle next to him on the ground.
"No...No!!" he screamed.
No one, of the mob of bandits, came to his rescue. His cries fell short
of the ears of any who might give a damn.
He saw the crude blade for only an instant before it hit his skin.
Light and dark spots danced in the back of his mind, as his seeing eyes
fixed upon a single star in the night sky and just felt. Then white, hot
searing pain ripped through him. He screamed as if the God above had no
mercy upon his tortured body. Over and over again, thrust and slice came
the noise and feel of the blade ripping delicate flesh. No other sense
registered in his tortured mind. The feel of the men gripping his appendages
and the ripping pain of the sharp pain in his upper torso. He heard the
blade hit bone and felt the crack and break of it.
The blade had sliced cleanly through, severing the arm from the host
from which it originated. The pain never seemed to stop, he must have
fainted half-way through because he was doused with water and when
struggling to escape his tormentors the pain began again, fresh with
new and hard thrusts. If this is death, let it be quick. He thought as
the pain started again. He no longer had any coherent thought past
the pain in his arm and then... darkness.
* * * * *
Living a life where no soul can be trusted, is a hard and difficult
life. This man has lived this life and continues to live in it.
Surrounding himself with those who hold not trust in his eyes. Only
the trust of his own person could he hold, and even that was not
absolute.
Not one detail could escape this man's notice. If any of the pieces are
missing from the puzzle, many lives could be lost. Ironic, that this man
could consider the lives of many, when in the mundane push and pull of
life, he trusted not one of the persons he is trying to protect.
He saw a spark of brilliance in the young man he had employed. But, as
always, he was not to be trusted. Giving this young man small powers,
had made that spark glow into a bright ember. The man must be careful,
the young man knew not the power of the knowledge he held, or could
posses in the future. He spied the threat of betrayal on the young man's
shoulder.
The last communication he had received told that, the patient is sick
and the doctor has come to heal. Coding letters had always been much
easier in this man's line of work. It saves time as well as buys it.
The message meant that the Mulder's partner has rescued him out of
Russian hands.
The man had meant the union of those particular individuals to act as
a virus, killing the healthy cells of progress. In effect, killing the
X-files. The virus, he had meant was really a vaccine against it in
disguise. Still, watching had proven to be an amusing and prideful
experience over the years.
He had taken the necessary precautions to make sure that his virus was
effective now, Mulder and Scully could not leave Russia. Given time,
Mulder would learn to utilize the power he would have. Not yet, but
with a little push and a little influence, Mulder could know everything
he was thirsting for, all in just one drop of the well of knowledge.
The young man had failed, and though he did not realize it. The young
man's success would be entirely dependent on one he never knew of.
The other would not fail, he was sure.
Midnight in Moscow
Somewhere in Russia
Mulder slept through most of the next day, only tossing and turning
when the small bed would not accommodate his 6 foot length. On the
evening of the second day, he awoke. It took him a few minutes to
take in his surroundings and figure out where he was and how had come
to be there.
Scully, he remembered, had taken him away from the hellish prison camp.
She had come after him and his foolish crusade. He knew he did not deserve
so worthy a person in his life. Scully was really too much for him at times
and, at those times was when he pushed her away. He pushed, for her own
protection. At the thought of his knight in shining armor, he quickly
scanned the room, assessing the fact that she was nowhere to be seen. His
mind raced into panic mode, and he made a move to stand. He felt a little
light-headed and a trifle sick, he allowed himself to regain his sense of
balance before looking again at the cabin window.
As he rose his head, he spied Scully walking, through the throng of
passengers, toward the cabin with a tray of food in her hands. His
stomach grumbled in protest, at the thought of food. The sight of
the delicious morsels on the tray made his mouth water, but a week
without food could do a number on one's stomach. He lay back down on
the bed, grateful he did not have to stand any longer. Scully opened
the cabin door to discover a very alive, very awake Mulder staring at
her.
"You're awake," she stated, placing the tray on the bedside table and
coming over to inspect him.
"How long have I been out?" He asked, as she smoothed his hair away from
his forehead, feeling it for any sign of the fever she had seen before.
It was a little too warm, but that was to be expected.
"About 36 hours. You were exhausted and running a fever." She calmly
moved about the cabin arranging the food on the tray. "You are to eat
all of this, you are suffering from acute malnutrition." Scully said
in her most doctor-like tone.
He nodded, consenting, and sat up in the bed as she sat beside him to
help him eat.
"So, are you going to tell me how you ended up in that prison camp in
the middle of nowhere, Russia?" She asked, after a while.
Remembering his mission, Mulder grew excited to tell her the story,
like a little boy telling his mother how he had received a black eye
on the playground.
"It was there, Scully. The rock that crashed there in 1908, left some
trace evidence of a virus or pathogen. After a few of the geologists
who discovered the rock, had died, they thought it was a local transient
who was responsible for the deaths. Upon examination, they discovered
evidence of a pathogen. It placed the affected into suspended animation
or a comatose state until further use to the virus.
"The camp was established to learn more about it, to infect some with
the virus and gage it's effects on the body. They did it to me, Scully."
He said indicating to his present state of affairs. "The small-pox scar
is the identification key, to know the effect on a particular subject."
He explained.
Scully looked at him with interest and with the look of a mother with a
wayward son.
"Why, Russia?" she asked peering at the wound on his left arm.
"The diplomatic pouch, which started the whole charade, was to be sent
to that prison," he added, ruefully. "They are trying to bury it, Scully.
They don't want that rock, or what it contains to be found!" He had to
convince her, otherwise all was lost and all they had been investigating
would turn into a case of mistaken identity.
"Mulder, whatever is in that rock, it's possibly in you, as well. The
biologist I examined, has a parasitic organism growing and feeding off
the enzymes produced by the pineal gland. If you were exposed to that
same virus or parasite, it could have serious consequences. We don't
know what this substance or life-form is capable of. You need medical
attention the minute you get off this train," she reasoned. "We can go
to the American Consulate in Moscow and tell them all that is going on
here. For now...you need to rest." She said effectively ending the discussion.
* * * * *
The other spied the man and woman talking. The two made an impressive
pair, and a cute couple, had they been one. At the thought of the two
in the small train car becoming or already being a couple, jealousy
surged through the other. She watched the close proximity of the two
agents, how the woman's hand brushed along the man's forehead and upper
arm, how they spoke with their heads bent toward each other's.
The other wanted to tear at the woman's face and replace the woman's
hand with her own. The other gave herself a shake, she could not allow
personal feelings to get in the way of her mission. The other had a job
to do and she needed it to succeed, no matter how much it might pain her.
* * * * *
Dana Scully sat across from her partner, Fox Mulder. She felt her own
fatigue gaining it's fast steady pace on her body. She realized that
she had not slept in over 76 hours. She glanced at the clock face on
the opposite wall of the cabin, there was at least 15 hours left on
the train.
She cast her partner a glance and found him in deep thought. She
examined him with her eyes, a habit she gotten into during their many
years of working together.
When she had examined him, she had noticed a small pink scar over the
long-healed scar of a small-pox inoculation. It appeared as if an
incision was made in the surrounding tissue, and partly, on the scar
itself.
Mulder was dirty and tired from his confinement, but still a splendid
Specimen of manhood. His rakish hair stood out from his head, proof of
his continuously running his hands through it, a sure sign of mental
fatigue. His nose, long and aristocratic, showed signs of his battle-
worn years with the bureau. The few lines around his eyes, showed the
toll of the stress of the last few days. As she contemplated his looks
and physical flaws, she knew that she would follow this man to the ends
of the earth.
She felt the weariness in her bones, sinking through her skin. She turned
over and faced the wall of the cabin and fell into a dreamless and much
needed sleep.
Mulder stood, growing restless in the small space the cabin provided for
him and his partner. The nausea of his earlier encounter with standing,
not returning to him made him feel reckless. He paced the small cabin for
a time and then grew bored. He acted very much like the caged animal, of
which he felt.
He stalked to the cabin door and swung it wide open with the satisfaction
of a decision made. He was an escaped fugitive from a Russian prison camp,
and in a world where his credentials didn't mean anything to anyone.
Trapped, he felt trapped.
He paced the train car, his mind jumping from one theory to the next. He
saw a sea of faces--faces he didn't know and didn't care to. He pivoted
on his right foot, absorbed in thought. Mulder looked up, for a second,
and saw a flash of a face. He turned his head in the direction of the face.
He peered into the car ahead, he saw someone, but not the someone he had
thought.
Sitting in a chair about half-way between his car and the next car was
One of the guards from the Russian prison. The guard was in his late
twenties. He was in civilian clothing, obviously trying not to be noticed.
With a practiced eye, Mulder surveyed the younger man, a small bulge
could be seen on the man's lower leg. Mulder guessed the weapon to be a
small-caliber automatic. From the way the man surveyed the small train
cabin, Mulder guessed he was not alone. Could they be looking for him?
Who were they working for?
Mulder managed to duck out of the man's sight range, when the guard
turned his head. Slowly, Mulder stood and looked, again, into the
small compartment. The guard's companion had now joined him. Mulder
had to get to Scully. He didn't know how many more of these men were
on the train, but he knew that he and Scully had to get off of it.
He pivoted sharply on his heel, only to feel a sharp stab of pain
ricochet through his body, reminding him that he was still injured.
He grabbed the railing along the side of the train to keep from
falling on the floor. Scully was his first and only thought, at that
moment. He jogged through the myriad of cars and cabins to reach
his destination.
He threw open the door to the cabin reserved for Scully and himself, to
find Scully sleeping soundly on one of the small cabin beds. Mulder stopped
and looked back in the direction from which he had come. Mulder knew that
the men had not seen him, still he felt the need for escape. He looked at
Scully and considered leaving her here, after all they didn't know who she
was and she was in more danger with him then without him. In a second, he
pushed the thought away. He couldn't do that to her--he just couldn't. Fox
Mulder sat opposite his partner, weapon in hand and watched--watched for the
men of which he was escaping, watched his partner sleeping soundly not five
feet away from him. Mulder felt helpless, but that was all he could do at
that moment--watch.
* * * *
The thing knew he was being watched. He could feel the eyes of the man
he sought like a spider making its way slowly, inch by inch up the base
of its neck.
The host from which the thing's newly acquired mobility came was an
unusual source. Everyone around the thing was trying to kill it. To
stamp out its existence like a dead bug. The thing could not let that
happen. The thing's mate joined it, and stood by it's side. Not
acknowledging anything, just knowing. The thing must wait--wait for an
appropriate time to extinguish the life, which threatened its very
existence. Only then, could the thing live in peace.
Midnight in Moscow
Scully woke to Mulder's gentle nudging. The train was no longer
moving, was the first thing she noticed, the second, being that
Mulder looked terrible. The stresses of the trip had taken their
tool on him. His eyes were strained and small; dark circles were
forming under them. She noticed the small stoop in his posture,
when he walked; a sign of fatigue. She also knew that she did not
look much better, but she was also in perfect health. Mulder, on
the other hand, had suffered from malnutrition and medical experimentation.
"Scully, we're here," he whispered in her ear and shook her shoulder.
"We need to move." His movements were fast and urgent, attesting to
the fact that there was need for alarm.
"Mulder? What is it?" she asked sensing his need for urgency.
"We're being followed."
"By whom?"
Instead of words he nodded toward the other end of the train car. She
glanced in the direction in which he indicated, and saw what he meant.
Two men, in civilian clothing were slowly scanning the train and its
inhabitants, presumably for them. She recognized one of the men as a
guard from the prison, he had been a companion of the two guards Mulder
and she had assaulted.
What was strange was that when she had last seen guard she would have
sworn his eyes were a deep shade of blue, and now they had turned to
a brown, almost black color.
Scully then looked at Mulder and understood his need for urgency and
escape. She nodded and quickly moved about the cabin, readying to exit
the train. They had brought no luggage, save Scully's pack. And with
that they exited the train hopefully, leaving behind this nightmare.
Mulder woke his partner and prepared to get off the train, a restless
night had not hampered his need for escape. Mulder watched the two guards
until the steward had told him that their stop was coming shortly, then
the guards had moved. The two men were slowly making their way closer
to the cabin where he and Scully resided.
He did not notice earlier, when he had seen the guard, but he noticed
Now, that his eyes were dark and black. Mulder had seen that look before.
He didn't know exactly what had happened to the guard, but the virus was
inside of him. The life-form created by the virus had somehow taken control
of his body, and was using it for mobility. These men were not guards
looking for an escaped fugitive, but looking for a man who threatened
their existence. They had more at stake then their jobs. He needed to
get away from them as fast as he could, and Scully with him.
* * * * *
The other was prepared to move, Moscow was the agents' final step in
their journey. She knew they were going to try to contact the American
Embassy.
A miniature Space Race was happening, between the men the other worked
for, and the Russian scientists. Despite the fact that they were political
allies, they were enemies in the name of the project-which must be protected
at all costs. Mulder, the man the other was hired to watch, could unlock
the long-held, dearly-kept secrets, her job was to make sure that didn't
happen. Mulder and Scully could not make it to the American Embassy.
The other, and the men she worked for, could not risk exposure. Now,
Mulder, the man which had dedicated himself to finding the proof of
the existence of the project and its guardians, had become all the
evidence he would ever need. They could risk the jihad for truth, the
deed would cause, but not exposure--that never could happen. The
other steeled herself for the performance she was about to put on for
the men she was to work with. She cast a last glance at the man and
the woman who could change and destroy something so tenuously held
in a grasp of desperation.
She walked to where she knew the thing would be waiting. She saw it, or
rather its host. A man, she knew. The thing's host was a prison guard
from the camp. She looked over the thing's choice in a host and then her
eyes traveled up to its face. She saw the eyes of the thing and her breath
was robbed from her body, black and alive, the thing's eyes seemed to move
of their own volition. The oil of the thing's existence was shown in those
black, murky depths.
She realized she was staring at the thing and came to her senses. She
held out her hand, knowing what was coming forth. The thing placed in
her hand a syringe filled with black liquid. The virus, genetically
mutated to bring about certain death. It was peril for the thing to
carry this as it could destroy it, as well. The other knew her job
and was expected to perform it with perfection. She must continue
with a plan that contradicted everything she had ever held dear, and
do what she must for survival.
* * * * *
The thing registered the being as a fellow conspirator. The thing did
not trust, even those who have been charged with the continuation of
its race. Within its host, the thing moved languidly through the throngs
of beings escaping the moving object. Beings served as hosts, and though
peculiar, hosts is all they would ever be. This being, it knew, could
never be controlled by one of his kind, for it was completely off limits,
it was to help him, to carry out its mission with him and for him, so that
they could survive.
The thing approached the being with whom it was told to co-operate. The
being's face was stoic, and female. The beings came in two genders,
personally, the thing preferred the male beings, they made far better
hosts.
The being slowly looked up and down the thing's host, assessing it's choice.
A sardonic smile lifted the beings lips. The thing stared back at the being.
Her gaze swept over it's host until she reached it's face and then it's
eyes, her breath caught in her throat, and it was the thing's turn to smile.
She was quickly composed and placed a hand between them, silently asking for
what she knew the thing could give her. The thing reached its host's hand
into the layer of protective covering and brought out the instrument of
reproduction. The tool to create life would be effectively used to end one.
The thing smiled and walked with the female being toward the future of
the thing's race.
* * * * *
Mulder and Scully walked out of the Russian train station and headed
toward to city. Mulder shielded his eyes from the light, and looked
around trying to get an approximate location, as to where they should
be heading.
Mulder, not knowing one word of the Russian language, looked to Scully
for some help. She had been able to find him in the depths of a Russian
hell, why not maneuver down-town Moscow? Scully stared back at him, she
looked tired and drawn, this excursion had been a breaking point for both
of them. She reached into her pack and pulled out her Russian/English
dictionary and proceeded to look up the necessary phrases they would need
for the continuation of their journey.
Mulder scanned the crowd for anyone who could offer assistance in
leading them in the correct direction. A look of confusion crossed
his features as he looked back at his partner and she looked at him
with the same look. They stood there, helpless and neither knowing
what to do next.
Mulder exhaled loudly and looked over to a corner where the street
turned abruptly and was made into a small alleyway. Then, he saw the
face he had seen on the train. The face he knew all too well. He
placed a hand on Scully's shoulder to move her out of the way. She
looked at him with questioning concern in her eyes. Scully opened
her mouth to say something, but thought better of it when she caught
the sight of Mulder's attention.
Mulder stared and turned white, by what was before his eyes. He had
never expected to see her. The pieces of the puzzle now fell into
place, she had been the face on the train, the one who had been
following him. She was the key, and Mulder knew she had answers.
* * * *
The other walked toward Mulder and his stunned partner, eyes fixed
straight ahead, the other knew that they saw her. She took time with
her approach, making sure that they had seen her and letting the
knowledge sink into their heads.
She was still a block away, and as she stopped for a passing car,
she looked straight at Mulder, and she knew that she could perform
the task at hand.
Mulder stared at her with such a shock and a look of utter disbelief
that the other's ego was boosted with this. The other wore a scowl as
she stared at the woman by Mulder's side. Scully, she had heard Mulder
refer to her as, was small woman and she wore a look of a business
professional, but there was no mistaking the interest and curiosity
in the steely blue gaze. Scully looked over at her partner, whose
attention was rapt with the sight of the other.
The other reached the spot where the man and the woman stood. She
briefly touched the small syringe, concealed within her pocket,
for courage and stared at the man, who had by this time composed
himself for the confrontation.
The other nodded in Mulder's direction, "Mulder," she said with no hint
of feeling in her voice.
Mulder nodded, in confirmation of her acquaintance of him, "Diana," he
returned.
Midnight in Moscow
Scully surveyed the new arrival. She looked skeptically at the woman,
then in surprise with Mulder's next words.
"Diana," Mulder said with complete lack of emotion. Scully's mouth
practically dropped to the ground on which she stood, and she was
glad Mulder nor the woman had not turned away from each other to
regard her in this state.
Suspicion dawned on Scully's face. She had never seen the woman
before, and she didn't know how Mulder could have, either.
"What are you doing here, Fox?" the woman asked as she regarded Mulder,
like a naughty child who needed punishing. Why would this woman call
Mulder by his first name? How well do they know each other?
"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." Mulder responded, with
his customary dryness. He crossed his arms across the expanse of his
chest to further accent his impatience. "What do you want from me,
Diana?" He asked, coming to the point.
She laughed a sardonic laugh and made an attempt to roll her eyes, but
didn't quite make it. "Well, no 'Hi, hello?" With a glance at Scully she
shifted her gaze back to Mulder. "Are you going to introduce us or just
sit there pouting?" She said a little sarcastically, and Scully could
have sworn that she saw pain in the other woman's eyes.
"Dana Scully, this is Diana Fowley, Diana this is my partner Dana
Scully." Mulder said, not dropping the impatience from his tone.
Scully looked at the other woman, and smiled at her. The other
woman took her hand and shook it in a friendly gesture.
"Hi," said the other woman, and looked at Scully as if she were a bug
that needed squashing.
Mulder stood back and let the two women shake hands, then he stepped
foreword, not saying a word, but waiting for an answer to his question.
Seeing the look Mulder threw her, the other woman responded by crossing
her own arms. Looking as if she were preparing for an argument and a verbal
war, Scully mused.
"I'm serving as escort to Ambassador Thomas." She responded dryly,
letting Mulder take his chances and believe her or not.
"Now answer me my question," She told him.
Mulder looked at the woman and came up with a convenient lie. "We're
following up on a lead."
"In Russia?" The woman asked in doubt.
"Where else?" Mulder answered with his dry humor.
Mulder then turned to Scully and motioned for her to head down
the street, "C'mon, Scully we need to find a motel...or something."
He added remembering where he was.
Scully walked ahead of Mulder and left the unknown woman behind.
He ushered and practically pushed her to turn on the next block.
Perturbed by her partner's strange behavior, Scully looked at her
partner and forced her arm out of his grip. She stopped in the middle
of the street and forced Mulder to look at her by pinning him with
a steely gaze.
"So, are you going to tell me what the hell went on, back there?"
She said raising an eyebrow for emphasis.
Mulder regarded his partner with annoyance and impatience. "It's a long
story, Scully. I'll tell you later. Now, we need to get out of here."
Mulder's gaze shifted from Scully's face to behind her. Scully was
still staring at him, wanting and expecting answers to what was an
undoubtedly confusing confrontation. He looked past her and his eyes
focused on the object behind his partner.
About ten men were gathered at the end of the block, they were marching
in military fashion and carrying very large, very deadly weapons. Mulder
doubted if they were even legal. Panic hit Mulder with a start when he
realized and recognized the leader of the small militia. A small man, bald
and with glasses. He was, what could be referred to, as the warden of the
prison camp, where Mulder had spent the last few days being tortured and
experimented upon. All of these heinous acts were preformed under the
orders of this man. The group of men were searching for something, or
rather, someone, and that someone was him.
The small man saw he and Scully standing at the end of the street and
ordered one of the closer guards to fire at the two agents. Mulder watched
the man and stared into his eyes. The man had a Napoleonic ordering system,
short, but enough power to conquer a empire.
Mulder's FBI training immediately took hold of his motor functions, as
he pushed Scully to the ground and grabbed the home-made knife that the
prisoner at the camp had given him and held it in front of himself,
readying to defend himself against these men.
Scully's protestations at being rudely pushed to the ground stopped when
she saw her partner's face. She cast a glance in the direction his knife
was pointing and pulled out her own weapon in response.
The guard who had been ordered to shoot had not yet fired, and the
crowed which had gathered in the bustle of the Russian mid-day, had
dispersed with the silent war between a fugitive and a slave driver.
Mulder locked and held gazes with the guard who had the gun pointed
straight at his head. From this distance, the bullet would do harm
but would probably leave him alive. The guard was young, maybe 18 or
19 in age, his hair was blonde with highlights of something darker,
his face still held the roundness of childhood, and his eyes held the
bright determination and stupidity of a teenage boy.
Mulder wanted to avoid death of any kind, if he could. He had been
forced by his occupation to kill and wound many men, but not once
did he want to pull that trigger. Ironic, that when your life is
being threatened you think about the lives you have taken. Nonetheless,
if the boy shot at either he or Scully, Mulder would be forced,
once again, to end another life.
The boy was a soldier and he followed orders. The sound of the weapon
being fired resounded off of the many buildings in the area. The bullet
missed Mulder and entered into the stub of a tree, planted in the middle
of the walk-way. Indignation surged on the boy's features as he saw where
his shot landed and that his target was still very much alive.
He fired another shot, that again came short of it's mark. The young
soldier regarded his commander to find what he was doing wrong. Scully
fired off one shot and hit the young soldier in the right shoulder,
leaving the boy crying out in pain. The boy dropped to his knees,
more in shock then in actual pain, he looked at his comrades who had
continued to stand where they stood, watching the scene before them
with complete detachment. The boy looked at Mulder and tried, once
again, to fire upon him, when an apparent firebrand of pain hit his
shoulder, making him drop the knife he held.
The leader of these soldiers of men was shouting obscenities in
Russian to the young man. The short, bald man picked up the young
soldier's disregarded weapon and fired a single shot into the boy's
chest.
Scully watched this scene with horror and disgust for the man who
would end a boy's life, because he missed a shot. Scully fired on
the leader and hit him in the lower leg. Another loud obscenity
was expelled from the man's mouth and more soldiers were ordered to
fire upon the two agents.
Scully took one last look at the teenage boy whose blood now stained
the pavement of the Russian street a bright red. His life-less eyes
registered shock and death. Scully pitied the boy and said a quick
prayer for the boy before Mulder pushed her behind him and started
running away from the small army of men.
* * * *
The other watched the scene, with a look that said 'all had gone along
with the plan', she looked at the woman who was her lover's partner. She
hated the woman. Mulder seemed very protective of her, she watched, when
he pushed his small partner down on the ground. Her heart lurched when
she had witnessed the protective nature of this man and his partner.
She watched as Scully fired upon the soldier who had fired upon Mulder,
she hit the young soldier in the shoulder and the young boy immediately
collapsed in pain.
The other touched the small syringe hidden within her clothing again.
Touching it seemed to give her the strength to face what she must do,
to reconcile the fact that she was about to kill her once-lover.
Seeing the man and woman together now, she felt renewed courage that
she could do the job ahead of her.
The other sensed a presence behind her, and turned with her gun drawn
toward the sound of footsteps in the darkened alley way. She saw him,
the man she had despised from the moment she had started this assignment.
He was slumped over in a stooping position, he still wore the sling from
their earlier encounter.
The young man smiled when he caught sight of the other and motioned for
her to place her weapon back in it's holster, where it had originated.
"Diana," the young man said.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" the other said on one breath,
seeing who it was she was talking to.
"No 'hi', 'hello'?" he mimicked her earlier comment to Mulder.
The other drew her gun telling the young man she was in no mood for his
games. The young man's face grew serious and his eyes dropped to her
weapon.
"He sent me." He said simply.
"Well, it seems we will have to be working together, just don't let that
happen, again." She said with a touch of malice and a glance at his lower
left arm, which was hidden by the sling and the young man's shirt and
jacket.
The young man regarded the woman with disgust and followed her gaze to
where his arm rested in the sling.
"Don't worry, you'll keep all of your body parts." The man said glancing
at the woman's chest.
Catching the man's glance she smiled, "Don't think about it, prosthetics
don't do it for me."
The young man and the other watched the scene in front of them, the
commander had been crippled and one soldier was dead, everything was
in chaos for the two agents, and yet, everything was going as planned.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Midnight in Moscow
They ran, desperate and hopeless. They ran, faster and faster. Mulder
heard the vain shots and yells of the men behind him. His shoulder
felt a new explosion of pain at each step. Escape, they had to escape.
Headlong, not knowing where they were going, he ran. His hand held
frantically to Scully's. He knew as long as he held her, there was a
chance.
A shot zinged through the air, it nearly missed his head. The soldiers
after them, were frantic, they needed him alive, the needed him to
continue the tests. They had to have him.
Scully slowed down and tried to get off a few rounds at the soldiers
following them, she missed with her first two shots and another bullet
landed in the leg of an unfortunate soldier. She heard his cry of pain
and winced. Mulder should not be moving, but they had to move, they had
to get out. She saw the fresh blood seeping from the wound in his
shoulder, he couldn't keep this up for long. She knew he had to be
exhausted, the sleep on the train was only a short respite for his
tortured body.
They ran through dark alleys, through small passages. Escape was the
only thought. Scully thought she had seen Alex Krycek before the gunfire,
standing next to the woman Mulder had called Diana. She could only
assume he was behind this, that it was orchestrated and planned.
Krycek was the man Mulder had trusted with his life, now that life was
in jeopardy and Scully would never forgive him if that life ended.
Mulder and Scully turned a sharp corner leading to a small alleyway.
Scully heard the sound of men drinking and music playing, but she no
longer heard the footsteps of the men behind her, but she knew they had
to be there. They were following them, everyone was following them.
"Mulder, you have to rest."
He looked at her as if to say 'yeah right.'
Then, without warning Mulder's knees buckled. Scully saw the pain on
his face. He was loosing too much blood. Scully lay him down on the
ground. They sat bolt upright when the sounds of men came to their
attention. Mulder gathered enough strength to sit up and slip into
the darkness, Scully stood along the wall. The Russian soldiers ran
down the alley. Scully held her breath, and Mulder muffled his cry of
pain.
Scully looked down at her partner, and pulled a shirt from her pack and
gave it to him to bite on. The soldiers, still peering in the alleyway
had decided that there was nothing down the alley and had continued to
chase to two renegades. Mulder knew they would be back, there was no
way they could hide.
Scully kept peering down the small alley, making sure the soldiers had
left them behind.
"Don't look, Scully, they'll come back. You have to get out of here."
Scully gave her partner a sharp look. "We, Mulder, we have to get out
of here, and we will get out of here." She bent down and started
inspecting the wound on his shoulder. It was very bad, indeed. The bullet
was still in the shoulder and the scapula was completely shattered.
Mulder's labored breathing, seemed to indicate that one of the fragments
had punctured his lung. The blood was still flowing, and now completely
stained the gray prison uniform he wore. Even as she said the reassuring
words, Scully knew that she was going to loose her partner. Mulder seemed
to know this as well.
Mulder gave a faint smile, but the task of running through the streets,
had enervated him past what his body could handle. His blood mixed with
the fresh rain in the street. Scully took the shirt from his mouth and
ripped it apart, tying the pieces of cloth around the free-flowing wound.
She felt the Mulder's strength being sapped from his body.
"You're going to make it, Mulder. Do you hear me? You're going to make
it. You're going to live. You have to get me through this. Mulder, you
are the X-Files, if you go then it goes. You cannot leave, not yet. You
have too much work to do. You are going to make it through this." As
she spoke, tears formed in her eyes, she grew angry.
"Scully, listen to me. It's over, but you can save me. You can save us
all, get on that plane, Scully. You have to go. Get on that flight,
leave this place and when you save the X-Files, I can live again. I
will live again."
"No! Mulder, you are coming with me, you will come with me. The X-Files
is your crusade. This can't happen, not without you."
"Listen. I'm sorry, Scully. I'm sorry I can't be there. You have to do
this for us, Scully. I'm sorry, I had a job to do, I never meant to fall
in love with you. I didn't want it. I knew it would ruin us, but please,
Scully. Do this for us. You have to do this. Go, Scully, go!"
"No, Mulder. I won't, I can't!"
"Go, Scully, leave!"
Scully looked down at her partner, then as if under a compulsion, she
stood. Her eyes brimming with tears. She couldn't do it. She bent down
and kissed him feverishly, hungrily. She tasted his blood, her tears
fell onto his face and trailed down his cheeks. He held her to him, he
couldn't let her go, but she had to. He pushed her away from him.
"I love you, Scully. Go!"
Scully stood and ran, she ran without a thought in her mind. She ran
without seeing, without hearing. She ran, and not once did she look
back.
* * * *
After a night of searching, she found him. The other looked down at
his body, mottled with blood. He was gone. Her heart felt heavy and
tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. She angrily wiped them away.
She pushed her hand inside her coat and felt the syringe, she took
it out. She approached the body. Rigor mortis had already set in,
setting his features in a permanent state of pain. He died slowly,
and painfully. She placed the syringe into his arm, and injected the
amber fluid. Almost instantly, the oil came out of him, it slithered
from its host and came to a pool on the ground. There is died. Her
lover was no longer the subject of alien invasion. She had saved him,
and he had saved the world.
* * * * *
Washington D.C.
Sentate Committee Hearing
2:43 pm
"I, Dana Scully, swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
but the truth."
The small woman's words resounded through the hall. The men sitting
before her, were prepared to pass judgment on her. They decided her
fate, her will.
"If I many, I have a prepared statement I'd like to read."
"Please do, Agent Scully."
"This committee came to together with one purpose, to bring justice.
I have vowed to carry out that justice. But in regards to the X-Files
justice can never be served. One man, held the key to everything in
those files. Everything he fought for is now vain. For this one man,
was the hero, this man whom you have deemed a criminal from the law,
was the one person who always strived to uphold it. This man, who
fought for the truth, deserves the gratitude of every person here…"
"Thank you Miss Scully…"
"If you may, sir, I am not finished."
"We are only interested in one thing, here, Miss Scully. One thing
which you have repeatedly refused to answer. Where is Agent Mulder?"
Scully paused, she had to hold it together, she would not break down,
not now.
"Agent Mulder, searched for the truth. But now he can't. He can't
because this committee never even tried to bring the true murderers
to justice, and in that way you are all responsible. Agent Mulder is
dead. Now, only I can find that truth. Now, you are my enemy, and I
will make it known to everyone that you twelve men are the murderers,
liars, and deceivers. Mulder's quest is now mine. The X-Files will
live on, and so will Mulder."
* * * * *
The man sat back in his chair, stunned by what the young woman had
just said. He was dead, now his quest has become her crusade. She
is right, he will live. He will live forever.
************THE END*************************
