Chapter Two
Mulder's cell phone rang. He wiped his bloody hand on the tail of his shirt, and answered it.
"Mulder."
"Mulder, it's me," Scully answered. There was background noise that Mulder couldn't identify, but it sounded like an engine of some kind.
"Where are you?"
"I'm on a powerboat. Krycek and I were just ambushed back at the motel by what looked like someone's private army. He thinks they were working for the consortium, but it looks like we're safe for the time being. Can you meet us-"
"Don't!" Krycek's voice in the background sounded very insistent.
"What?-" began Scully.
"Your phones are bugged. They know where you are and what you're saying."
"How does he know that?" asked Mulder.
"How do you know?" asked Scully.
"I bugged them," replied Krycek.
"Okay. Mulder, I'll call you from a landline when we dock," said Scully.
"I'll be at the place we passed on our way into town, the one you made a joke about..."
"The duck joke?" asked Scully.
"Yeah."
"I know where you mean. Make sure you don't have a tail, though, they must have followed us to the motel, and they might still be following you."
"Got it... are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Mulder," replied Scully.
"What about Krycek?"
"He looks okay," said Scully.
"Um, Scully..." Began Mulder.
"Yes?"
"I crashed your car."
"Are you hurt?" asked Scully.
"No, but my tie will never be the same," replied Mulder.
"I'll call you when we get to shore."
Scully pressed 'end' and Krycek took the phone away from her, then threw it overhand out into the lake. It sailed through the air and landed with a 'scplish' somewhere off the starboard bow. Scully looked at him.
"It was bugged, remember?" said Krycek. Scully sighed, and nodded.
Water surrounded them. It was overcast, and a light mist clung to the lake's mirrored surface. It was also biting cold. Scully was steering the boat, and Krycek was sitting in the bow, facing her. He didn't seem to mind the cold much, he just turned the collar of his jacket up and put his hand in the right pocket. Scully was freezing.
"Krycek, could you see if there's a blanket or something in that locker under the thwart?" asked Scully. Krycek had no idea what a thwart was, but he saw a locker under his seat. It yielded a coil of black and orange rope, three lifejackets, a first-aid kit, and a Tupperware tub of navigational equipment with a map of the great lakes. There was a space blanket in the first-aid kit, and Alex gave it to her. Scully thanked him, and Alex took a turn at the tiller while she had a look at the map. There were several towns and harbors across the lake, and Scully thought it would be safer to head for one of those than to double back. Of course heading for a harbor might not be such a good idea either. She took a reading from the compass, looked at the distant shoreline in front of them, and put on one of the lifejackets. It was warmer than just her suit's jacket. She took the tiller again, and changed their course, bearing to the North a few degrees. Krycek looked like hell, and he had taken a seat down in the bottom of the boat.
"Are you okay down there?" Scully asked him.
"I don't think running was such a good idea," Krycek replied. Something inside him hurt, like the kind of cramp you get from running after drinking too much water. He counted to twenty, then fifty, as it faded. When he felt somewhat better, he asked Scully where they were going.
"It's a beach about half a mile from Saugatuck. I thought we could leave the boat there and walk into town without drawing any attention," She looked him over, concerned. "-Do you think you can do that?"
"Yeah, as long as we don't have to run anywhere," Krycek answered. He took out his gun, and held it expertly between his knees as he checked it over, one-handed. He re-loaded the clip, clicked it into place, and put the gun back in it's holster.
A pile of sunflower seed hulls was accumulating on the table in front of him. Mulder wondered if people could track him by following those sunflower seeds, the same way you could tell where the cigarette-smoking man had been by the cigarette butts. At least Sunflower seeds didn't give you cancer. There were enough things that did that running around loose as it was. Scully still hadn't called. The 'Rockin' Robin' was mostly full from the tail end of the lunch rush, and no-one noticed him, sitting alone at a booth near the front counter. He had called Skinner, explained what he could without mentioning that Krycek was pregnant, and then called a cab. He left his cell-phone in the glove compartment of Scully's car, which had since been towed to a garage. Mulder shelled another sunflower seed, and waited.
Restaurants are comfortable places to wait for a call, but they feel better still if you've just crossed Lake Michigan on the brink of winter. Scully and Krycek found a table away from the door, and Scully went to look for a phone. Alex ordered hot tea, and a coffee for Scully, and fell asleep with his head on his arms. Scully found a payphone next to the bathrooms and dialed 411. She got the number for the 'Rockin'Robin', and had it connected. When she told the head waitress who she wanted to talk to, the head waitress said,
"Thank god you called. Mr. Mulder's been picking apart sunflower seeds for three hours, and I think he's scaring the other customers."
"Yes, that's him," confirmed Scully, "-could I speak with him?"
The head waitress got Mulder.
"Scully? Where are you?"
"I'm in a cafe in Saugatuck, across the lake from you. We're safe for the time being, but could you come and pick us up?"
"Yeah, where are you exactly?" asked Mulder.
"The um... Sunrise Cafe. It's about three blocks from the water. Do you want me to get a street name?"
"No, I'll find it."
"Do you want to talk to Krycek?" asked Scully.
"Why?"
"Why aren't you telling him what I found in his file?" asked Scully.
"Why haven't you?" pointed out Mulder.
Scully said nothing.
"Look, he's just getting rid of it anyway, why should I give him the satisfaction of knowing it's mine?" Mulder asked.
"I don't think it would be like that, but you might have a point."
"I called Skinner, and he sent a team to the motel to see what we can find out about the men who tried to kill you."
"That's good. Tell the owner of the motel that we left his boat on the beach North of Saugatuck," said Scully.
"I'll do that. -And I'll see you sometime early tomorrow morning," said Mulder.
"See you then."
"Bye Scully."
Scully hung up the receiver and went back to their table. Krycek was slumped over the table, and for a moment's panic, Scully thought he had been shot. There were no holes in his jacket, though.
"Krycek?" Scully shook his shoulder. Krycek was immediately awake.
"What?..." he looked around quickly, scanning for enemies.
"There isn't any danger, you just fell asleep," she reassured him. Alex rubbed his eyes, and folded his arms on the table in front of him, using the right to position the left. He was very good: if she hadn't known about his arm, she probably wouldn't have caught that. The hot drinks arrived, and Krycek put his fingers around the mug of tea, to warm them. Scully added cream and sugar to her coffee, and let it warm her from the inside out.
After a while, they both began to felt better. Outside the cafe's front window, the sun set, and the windows became polarized from the darkness outside. Scully bought dinner, and they waited. And waited. And then the cafe closed. They moved to a picnic table out in front of the cafe, and Scully decided,
"Next time I go anywhere with you, I'm bringing a coat." Krycek nodded his agreement, then noticed a bar down the road about half a block, that was open.
"We could wait in there," he suggested.
"No, it's going to be hard enough for Mulder to find us as it is. We should stay near the cafe."
"Whatever," Krycek shrugged.
They sat in silence for a while, and then Alex felt something inside him move. It scared him less now than the first few times it had happened, mostly because he knew it wasn't an alien, but it still wasn't something he wanted to dwell on. Again... this time it was a gentle push. He got up and started pacing. Moving around made it stop sometimes. He willed Scully not to ask him any questions.
"Where are you going, Krycek?" asked Scully.
God hates me, Alex thought.
"I'm pacing. It's cold," snapped Krycek.
"You're telling me," agreed Scully.
"Why don't you go down and wait in that bar, and I'll keep watch for Mulder?" offered Krycek. Scully looked at him dubiously. "-You don't trust me," Observed Krycek.
"No, I don't," answered Scully truthfully, "-but I am freezing," she took an old receipt out of her pocket, and wrote,
'We got cold, so we're going to wait in the bar down the street. -Starbuck'
Scully weighted the note with a fist-sized rock, and left it on the picnic table.
"Shall we go?"
The bar was dimly lit, and the walls were done in wooden paneling. Boat tackle was draped here and there on the walls, and wound around the beams holding up the glasses rack over the bar itself. Krycek wondered if the tackle had ever been used by a drunk to keep from falling down on the way to the door. Probably. There were three guys dressed in sea-gear over by the bar, and a young couple necking in the corner. Scully was far overdressed for the place, but had the good grace not to notice. The bartender had with two earrings in each ear and a hair-metal T-shirt. Krycek guessed that it was the young man's parents who actually owned the place. They took seats at the bar, luxuriating in the warmth of the room, at least as far as temperature went. None of the boatmen did more than note their arrival and pointedly ignore them.
"What'll you have?" the bartender asked, kindly.
"Do you have hot chocolate?" asked Scully. The boatmen stopped talking and watched her.
"Uh... yeah, I think so," answered the barman, sounding a little puzzled. He drew her a cup of hot water, and poured the contents of a hot chocolate packet into it. He handed the cup to her, then remembered the spoon and got her one.
"Thanks," said Scully.
"So... are you folks staying here in town?" asked the barman. One of the boatmen rolled his eyes at the barman's question, but none of them commented.
"No, actually, we were just waiting for a friend of ours, but he's late," Mulder wasn't actually late, but it seemed like as good an explanation as any of why they were getting picked up in a strange town after midnight. "-He didn't want to come on the boat, so he drove around," she added.
"No sea-legs, eh?" commented one of the boatmen. Scully shook her head, smiling. He chuckled at her answer. Krycek listened to the conversation, and it soon became clear that Scully knew quite a bit about boats. The boatmen turned out to be captain Gary Rikks of the 'Goldie', and his crew, Lawrence and Jean. Jean was Canadian, and Lawrence revealed that the ship had been named after Goldie Hawn, upon which he was elbowed by Gary. Alex was content to watch the drama unfold, but during a lull in the conversation, Captain Rikks pinned him with his eyes, and asked,
"So who are you?"
"Alan Fisher," replied Krycek without blinking, and offered his hand to the Captain. Captain Rikks shook it, and seemed to be satisfied with this. Scully made a mental note to ask him who Alan Fisher was.
Mulder opened the door, and saw Scully sitting in a dim, smoky bar, talking animatedly with a group of locals. Krycek was watching, but he noticed Mulder immediately, as did one of the men Scully was talking to.
"Are you the one who stranded Dana, here?" Captain Rikks called over to him. Mulder blinked. Play along.
"I got hung up in Chicago," explained Mulder.
"Thanks for coming," said Scully. She looked like she really meant it. Mulder kissed her forehead, and asked,
"Are you ready to go, honey?"
"Uh, yeah," she turned to the crew of the 'Goldie', "-bye, guys, it's been nice talking to you." They bid her farewell, and captain Rikks added,
"See you around, Alan."
"Who knows?" said Krycek. They left.
When the car was in motion, Mulder asked,
"'Alan'?"
"That's what it says on my driver's license," said Krycek, "-you don't think I make a habit of slinging my real name around in front of strangers, do you?"
"So Alex Krycek is your real name," deduced Mulder.
"You can think that," shrugged Alex.
"I don't know about you two, but I'm dead on my feet," announced Scully, "-where are we going, Mulder?"
"I don't know yet."
"Let's go to Canada," suggested Krycek.
Mulder saw a sign for a motel, and turned off.
"Are you nuts?" protested Krycek, "-they're probably still looking for us."
"I got rid of my phone, and this is a rental car, and nobody's following us. Unless something else is bugged, we should be relatively safe for now."
"If they find us, I hope they shoot you first," said Krycek, without much malice.
Mulder woke up first. He slid out of bed carefully, to avoid awakening Scully, who was asleep with her back to him. He crossed the room, and slouched into an easy chair next to the phone. He wanted his cell-phone. Mulder got a piece of paper, and began making notes to himself. Sunlight had snuck into the room sometime earlier that morning, and the air smelled warm and too dry. Last night it had been dark, save for a small bedside lamp. Too dark to see much detail. Mulder had elected to share a bed with Scully rather than Krycek, since the room they got had two doubles. As little as he trusted the man, he was fairly sure that Krycek wouldn't leave, or attack them in the middle of the night. It wasn't in his best interest. Krycek was still asleep, and Mulder remembered the sound of Krycek's breathing when he slept. That sound had been inked deep into his memory in Tunguska, lying in a cold prison cell. Krycek didn't snore, but the sound of his breathing while he slept was deeper, somehow.
Mulder put the pen down, and padded over to Krycek's bed. He stopped four feet away, and looked into Krycek's face. He looked stressed, and exhausted, and about twenty years old. What was it about sleep that altered a person's apparent age? Guess nobody will ever know exactly how old I am, thought Mulder, smiling. Mulder sat on his heels, and watched Krycek. Krycek was lying on his left side, right arm draped around his stomach in a gesture that could be either self-conscious or protective. Krycek protected things poorly, from secrets, to his own body. He always did just well enough to stay alive, though. Mulder watched Krycek's face for a long time.
Mulder had to blow his nose after a while, and he got a Kleenex from the bathroom. His sinuses had a fair amount of dried blood in them from his nosebleed the day before, and the bits felt sharp and painful when he sneezed them out. He threw away the Kleenex, stuffed a fresh one in his pocket, and went back to the chair by the phone. Nothing came to him to write down, though.
A couple hours later, Scully sat up sleepily, and looked around the room. She noticed Mulder, who was watching her amiably from a chair in the corner. He waved, but didn't speak. He was trying not to wake up Krycek, she realized. That was interesting. She got up and used the bathroom, then joined Mulder.
"Morning, Scully," Mulder whispered to her.
"Hi," she whispered back. Her voice was upbraided by sleep.
"Where do you think we should go today?" asked Mulder.
"Either we keep running or we find someplace relatively safe," said Scully, "-personally, I think we should go back to D.C."
"What about Krycek?" objected Mulder. Scully rubbed her face with her palms.
"I don't know, Mulder. I was barely willing to chance operating on him when we had a safe haven and I had all the necessary instruments and equipment. As things stand now, it's too risky."
"I doubt he's going to accept that," said Mulder.
"Mulder, I am a doctor, and as such I am sworn to do my best not to harm or needlessly endanger any of my patients. I can't operate on him if I think it's going to kill him, and in this case, I think it might," Scully explained.
"What happens in four months?" asked Mulder, quietly.
"Hopefully we will have worked something out by then," replied Scully, "-what I do know, is that I can't do a procedure like this one in the rough."
Mulder took a long breath, then sighed.
"-Okay."
Alex woke up feeling like shit. His muscles were stiff, he was sick to his stomach, and his back hurt. He'd also slept in all of his clothes except for his jacket, and they smelled like unlaundered Alex. He wanted a piss, a shower, a change of clothes, and four more hours of sleep. Krycek looked around the room, and saw that Scully was on the phone with someone, and Mulder was channel surfing. Alex locked himself in the bathroom, used the facilities, and washed his face in the sink. That woke him up a bit, and washed the sand out of his eyes. He took his shirt and arm off, and washed up a bit more.
Looking in the mirror over the sink, Alex noted that he should probably shave at some point, too. Independent of his wishes, his eyes told him what the rest of his body looked like from the waist up. He was... ugly. Krycek had been proud of his looks before he lost his arm, had in fact taken the way people reacted to him for granted, which he found out about later. His left arm basically wasn't there anymore, and the rest of him... his face was the same, and his chest and right arm were good, and below that... He wanted to look away, but he couldn't do it. Krycek stood frozen, taking in the full impact of what he now looked like. Then he snapped out of it, and turned away from the mirror. He put his arm back on, adjusting the straps carefully, then pulled his black, long sleeve shirt over his head, and guided his left arm into it's sleeve with his right hand. He put his right arm into it's sleeve, and adjusted his shirt. He didn't look so bad now, but he remembered what he looked like underneath that. Krycek still felt kind of sick, but he thought he would be okay as long as Scully didn't start describing what she was going to do to him in detail. He left the bathroom in search of his jacket. Scully and Mulder looked up at him when he stepped into the bedroom. Their eyes felt like a humiliating sunburn.
"What?" demanded Alex.
"Um, nothing... you're up?" said Scully.
"We need to talk, Krycek," said Mulder. Krycek sat casually on the edge of one of the bed, and shrugged into his jacket.
"What about?" he asked. Mulder and Scully exchanged glances.
"I don't think it's safe to do the procedure under these conditions," Scully began, cutting to the chase.
"You are NOT backing out on me!" snarled Krycek.
"No, I'm not," agreed Scully, "-but I don't think it would be safe to operate on you until we find a cleaner place, the right tools and antibiotics, and we're sure nobody's going to drive up and start shooting."
"Well, this... this... I should have expected this," Alex laughed humorlessly, "-let me tell you something. You two are not the only people who can help me out with this, you're just the ones I thought came with the fewest strings. If you're not going to do this, tell me now, and stop fucking around!" Krycek's gun was in his hand and had it on Scully before either of the FBI agents noticed that he was going for it.
"Put it away, Krycek. She's just trying not to get you killed before you can tell us where the other disk is," growled Mulder. Mulder was cursing himself for not having anticipated this.
Alex eased up on the trigger a little, but kept the gun trained on Scully. He thought that Mulder would take that more seriously than any personal threat. He was right.
"Krycek, I-" began Mulder
"Tell me something I don't already know," interrupted Krycek. Mulder swallowed, and went for it.
"I found out who the baby's father is. It was in your file."
"I thought you said it was ME!" a look of panic crossed Alex's face. He was on his feet now, "-who is he, Mulder?"
"Put your gun down first, okay?" Said Mulder.
"No," Krycek shot back, "-YOU put your guns on the ground!"
Scully got her gun out, slowly, and put it down in front of her.
"-You too, Mulder," ordered Krycek. Mulder swore under his breath, and put his gun on the ground.
"Now... who?"
"I'm not saying anything until you put your gun down," said Mulder, carefully. Krycek looked like he was going to shoot him for a minute, then he smiled, and put his gun on the edge of the bed, within easy reach.
"Stubborn son of a bitch," Alex commented, "-tell me."
Mulder opened his mouth, then closed it, and started over.
"The baby doesn't have a mother, in the genetic sense. It has two fathers, and you are one of them," Alex waited, and tried to be prepared for the worst, "-the other is me."
"..."
So much for being prepared for the worst. Krycek was floored. He fumbled behind him for his gun, knocked it off the bed, and lunged at Mulder empty-handed. Alex slammed Mulder up against the wall, and held him there by his neck, one-handed.
"You did this to me?!" Mulder shook his head emphatically, and fought not to have his windpipe crushed. Scully snatched her gun off of the floor, and held it on Krycek.
"Let him go!" yelled Scully, "-he didn't have any more say in this than you did."
"How do you know?" demanded Krycek.
"Because I saw his face when HE found out about it," said Scully. Krycek looked into Mulder's eyes, and whatever he found there, he let him go. He got his gun off the floor, and put it back in it's holster. Then he went into the bathroom, slammed the door, and was sick.
Mulder leaned against the wall where Krycek had released him, and muttered,
"Oh, god..."
"Are you all right, Mulder?" Scully handed him his gun, and he holstered it without looking at it.
"I bet somebody asked Burkowitz that," said Mulder.
"What a mess," sighed Scully.
"You called Skinner?"
"Yes."
"What did you tell him?" asked Mulder.
"That we're still alive, and we're going to try to work something out with Krycek. Skinner wants us to come back to DC, and put Krycek under protective custody."
"Is he nuts? Krycek wouldn't last a week," objected Mulder.
"That depends on who knows he's in town," pointed out Scully.
Krycek walked out of the bathroom, his expression daring either of them to comment. He took the chair by the phone, and asked,
"Anything else I should know about?"
Mulder looked out the window, and said,
"No, that's about it."
Mulder's fish were very happy to see him. He flipped the lights on, and draped his coat over the computer chair. Krycek closed the door.
"So, I assume you know where everything is?"
"It's even easier with the lights on," nodded Alex. He stopped, and inspected the contents of the fish tank. "-When did you get the new fish?"
Mulder came over and saw which fish Krycek was pointing to.
"That's miss September."
Alex smirked.
"At least you're consistent," he took his duffel bag into the bedroom, then returned and turned on the computer, moving Mulder's coat onto the couch.
"Don't bother. I keep all the good stuff at work," said Mulder, returning from the kitchen with a bowl of macaroni and cheese in hand.
"I wanted to see my file," explained Alex.
"Didn't you keep a copy?"
"Of course I did, but you have the file here, don't you?"
"You're right," Mulder produced the CD from the pocket of his coat, and looked at it in alarm. It had snapped unevenly in half, along with it's clear plastic case. "-Must have happened in the crash," he guessed, looking at the halves in his hands unhappily.
"That's good Mulder. That's really good."
"I didn't know I was getting into a car accident," said Mulder, apologetically.
"Were you driving on the wrong side of the road again?" asked Krycek.
"I was distracted."
"By what?"
"I was thinking," said Mulder.
"What about?" asked Krycek. He was sifting through Mulder's computer files, and hoping Mulder wouldn't notice.
"The price of the truth," answered Mulder.
"Did you figure it out?" Krycek opened a .gif file.
"Yes, but it wasn't my call," Mulder glanced at the dark screen of his computer for a moment. "...I'm going to go take a shower."
Krycek watched him leave, then looked at the computer speculatively. He searched through the desk, including the underside and backs of the drawers, and came up with three floppy disks, one black, one gray, and one red. Then he looked under the computer, and felt along the top of the light gray hard drive tower. He found something fuzzy, but it turned out to be one of those cotton-balls-with-eyes things. Krycek set it back on top of the tower with distaste, then slid the black disk into the A-drive, and looked at the contents. It was a diary, of sorts, that contained Mulder's case notes and ramblings from the cases he had in '94. Not especially useful. Alex ejected the black disk, and put in the red one. It opened to a picture of three naked, buxom women doing see-no-hear-no-speak-no-evil against a red velvet backdrop, and there was a password prompt at the bottom of the screen. Krycek guessed 'kinky fox' but it didn't pan out. The computer refused to return to the main directory, or even let the mouse move, so he ejected the red disk, and pressed control-alt-delete. The system booted up back to normal just as Mulder walked in, clad in jeans and a T-shirt. He noticed the disks, and swept them casually back into the desk's top drawer.
"Enjoy the show?" Mulder asked.
"You need a hobby," said Alex. He abandoned the computer to Mulder, got his duffel bag from the other room, and took his turn in the shower. It felt good to be clean again, and Krycek turned the water up as hot as he could stand it. He used Mulder's shampoo, and was in the process of rinsing it out of his hair, when the baby moved. Alex almost slipped. Every time this happened, it was like someone bumping his elbow unexpectedly. He knelt on the floor of the shower to finish rinsing the shampoo out, then got out, and toweled off hurriedly. The baby was getting stronger, he could really feel it now. It turned over once, then pushed again, and turned over the opposite way. This was getting really weird. Alex put on a fresh pair of black jeans from his duffel, and added a gray-blue sweatshirt. The jeans were new, and they fit, for now. Under his skin, it was still moving, independent of his will.
Alex raided the fridge, and came to the conclusion that he would have to go shopping some time in the near future. Mulder dealt with food on a cash-and-carry basis, but Krycek already knew that. You don't spend six months as Mulder's partner and keep any illusions that he cooks. He eventually gave up, and discovered a quart of caramel/walnut ice cream in the freezer. Alex scooped up a taste of it with his thumb, and found it to be wonderful. He got a spoon, and finished off the carton.
Over the next couple of days, Krycek didn't ask questions about when Scully would get around to dealing with him, but he was getting impatient. Scully had said the holdup was location and safety, but it had been two days, and if the consortium was still interested in killing him... Wait a minute. Why would the Englishman bother with this pregnancy business if he was just going to kill him? Could there be factions of the consortium at war with each other? -It wasn't like that was unusual or anything. Whoever it was that had attacked him (or had they been after Scully?) might or might not have power in DC. Maybe he should get in touch with the Englishman and ask him what the hell was going on. Not that he would trust his former mentor's answer, but it might tell him where to look. He might also find out why this was done to him in the first place. Fox Mulder... Alex hadn't credited the Englishman with a sense of humor, but apparently he had been wrong. Mulder was gone at the moment. He said he was meeting Scully somewhere. Maybe he could get a call to the Englishman without having it tracked here. He was good enough, he knew that.
Krycek got online under one of his own accounts, and typed in the url for the CIA rerouting program. It had been one of the many useful illegal tricks he had picked up along the way, and he had committed it to memory long ago. He set the signal to reroute through a dozen different cities on the eastern seaboard, and looped it through New York at the end. Track that, you nosy bastard, Alex thought. He dialed the number, and waited. It rang twice before the Englishman picked up.
"Hello?" The old man sounded both bored and professional.
"It's Krycek." said Alex. There was a pause.
"I had been wondering when you would call," said the Englishman. There was a tone in the old man's voice, a tone that Alex didn't like in the slightest. It was almost... mocking? smug? He had heard a voice like that before, in Russia. There was a woman...
He remembered that day with sickening clarity. It was snowing, but not hard. He had acquired an assortment of guns, and was trying to sell them as quietly as possible. That sort of deal wasn't difficult, but he preferred to meet his business associates in a place that was warm and served drinks. The man he was meeting was a face, they never got around to exchanging names. He took a seat next across from Krycek, and Krycek noticed that one of the whores at the bar took one look at the guy, grabbed her coat quickly, and left. His associate had laughed at her quick departure, and boasted that he had 'broken her in'. Krycek hadn't been in much of a mood to listen to the man woolgather, so he had suggested that they agree on a price for the guns. When the deal was closed, the man had said,
"I love this town, you can make money doing anything."
"Tell me more." Krycek had said. The man pointed to the door.
"Take Illiana for example. Her pimp used to be a doctor. He does black-market abortions now, and the ones who can't pay him upfront pay him back in trade. He paid me to rape her. Now that's what I call easy money."
The memory shattered in rage, and Krycek slammed the phone back into it's cradle, breaking the connection. He shut down the Internet rerouter, then shut the computer off entirely, and went to sit on the couch in silence.
Alex Krycek had a long history of having to go along with other people to get what he wanted, and he was good at it. It your back's to the wall, all you have to do is give them what they want, and they let you live. He'd been playing the game, trying to make himself too dangerous, and too valuable to kill. It worked sometimes. There were setbacks though, like the black oil, and getting double crossed by Marita. The black oil had cost him his first big win, and Marita had indebted him to the Englishman. Whatever he owed the Englishman he had paid back long ago though, and he thought they were square, when he quit. He didn't want to play the Englishman's chauffeur forever. He must have screwed up somewhere, though, or he wouldn't be in this mess.
The Englishman had led him to believe that he was teaching him, that he liked him. That was probably the mistake right there, assuming that the Englishman liked him enough to let him quit. The Englishman had wanted to own him. He thought back to their first meeting, in the hold of the Russian ship, after being double-crossed by Marita. He had been handcuffed to a steel pipe, and the Englishman had come, and demanded the vaccine. He had been power-tripping from day one. He probably saw Alex's quitting as an open insult, a peasant rebellion.
So he'd basically raped him. Alex clawed at his own logic, but it held. He wondered what had become of Illiana. Was she still working the streets of Moscow, or was she free? Krycek knew how the rules of the jungle worked. Either you were the hunter, or you were the hunted, and he would be damned if he would let himself be hunted like this. He had to prove what he was, before people forgot altogether.
Mulder came home late that night, and Krycek was asleep on the couch. He woke up when Mulder closed the door.
"Hi, Krycek. You miss me?"
"Yeah, right," Alex re-curled himself on the couch, "-what did Scully want?"
"Your medical file. I gave the disk to some friends of mine, and they should be able to salvage it in a day or two," said Mulder, loosening his tie.
"The Lone Gunmen," smirked Krycek.
"Is nothing sacred?"
"No," said Krycek. Mulder ordered a pizza, absolutely no mushrooms, and turned on the TV absently. Mulder liked to leave the TV on, but most of the time he didn't bother to watch it. He left it on the oddest channels too, anything from BBC to porn. Tonight he flipped to the news, then forsook it for 'Earth: final conflict.'
Later, over the remains of the pizza, Alex caught Mulder watching him.
"What?" Alex demanded. Mulder shrugged.
"Just thinking."
"Well out with it, you've been staring at me like that a lot lately," said Alex, annoyed.
"Sorry..."
"What do you want, Mulder?"
"What is it like to be pregnant?" asked Mulder. Krycek put his hand on his stomach self-consciously.
"What, do you wish they had used you for this or something?"
"No, I- -I want to know," said Mulder.
"No you don't," said Alex.
"What's so bad about it?" asked Mulder.
"You can deal with truth being 'out there'. Stick to what you know," advised Alex.
"Can you feel it when it moves?" asked Mulder.
"You're fucking sick, Mulder!" snapped Alex.
"A lot of people say that," sighed Mulder.
"Ever think there might be a reason?" Alex considered Mulder for a moment, and added, "You've probably fantasized about this, haven't you?"
"I tried to imagine what it would be like," shrugged Mulder.
"Why? You like the feeling of something moving inside you?" asked Krycek, scornfully.
"Is that an offer?" asked Mulder, deadpan.
"You want to know what this feels like?" snarled Alex, "-this feels like having you inside me. It's weird, and annoying, and I can't get away from it!"
"Does it trust you?" asked Mulder. The question caught Alex off guard, and his first thought was, 'it probably doesn't know any better'.
"How the hell should I know? It's probably not even conscious."
Mulder thought about that. Krycek gave him a last angry look, and went into the bedroom. Mulder turned the TV and the lights off, and lay on the couch in the darkness. The green leather was warm to the touch, from Krycek's body heat. Mulder stared at the ceiling, wondering if he had pushed Krycek too hard in his curiosity. He'd wanted to know so badly... was he looking for something that simply wasn't there to be found, or was Krycek the one who was missing the wonder of the situation? In the midst of psychoanalyzing himself, Mulder fell asleep.
Krycek woke up from a nightmare about the black oil. It was still dark, and it felt like about three in the morning. He brought his hand up, and touched his eyelids, shakily. Not oily. Then he realized why he had been dreaming about the black oil, as he felt the now sickeningly familiar movement in his belly. A hand, maybe... It slid along the inside of his skin, mapping, exploring. He shuddered. He could feel it tracing his insides, never going over the same spot twice, oh god, it was remembering. Alex turned over, and willed it to go to sleep. It squirmed around a bit, then stretched. Alex put his hand to the spot that was being pushed, and discovered a smooth bump under his skin. It disappeared a moment later. Alex wondered how long it was going to be before he went mad. It was just too weird. The movement came again, another stretch. This time he felt the bump form beneath his fingers, and then disappear inside him two heartbeats later. It was terrifying. Krycek wondered how Mulder would handle something like this. Knowing the FBI agent, he'd probably be taking notes. Alex smiled at the thought in the dark. His smile evaporated with the next stretch. This should have happened to Mulder. -Mulder wasn't an international wild-card who had more people who wanted him dead than fingers. It wasn't fair. Alex hated hating this. He hated being afraid every time he felt it move, and he wished, just this once, that he could see the world through Mulder's eyes.
He got up, and went silently out into the living room. Everything was painted in blue light and winter-shadow, even Mulder's sleeping face. Krycek shook Mulder's shoulder, just enough to wake him up.
"Krycek? What-" began Mulder, sleepily.
"Give me your hand," said Alex, quietly. Mulder sat up, and asked,
"What's going on?" in the same tone Krycek had used.
"Just give me your hand," Krycek whispered.
Mulder put his hand out towards Krycek cautiously. Krycek took Mulder's hand, and placed it on his stomach, palm down. Mulder looked up at Krycek, eyes wide open in surprise. Hadn't Krycek just been yelling at him a couple of thoughts ago? Twenty heartbeats passed, measured by his breathing, and Krycek's. When he felt the movement begin against his hand, Mulder gasped softly. It was inside Krycek, it was Krycek, and yet it wasn't... It disappeared, then came back a moment later. Mulder stroked the bump softly, with his thumb. It disappeared again. Mulder smiled faintly, unconsciously, and put his cheek against Krycek's stomach. He could hear Krycek's heartbeat, this close. The touch was different this time, it was a hand, sliding over the inside skin, but almost not pushing outward at all. The tiny hand explored the line of Mulder's jaw, curiously. Mulder giggled. There wasn't any other word for the sound. Krycek's hand, which had been resting on Mulder's shoulder, tightened. Mulder looked up. Krycek drank in Mulder's expression, his fascination, his delight, and most of all his sweet acceptance. It felt like letting go, and winning, and plunging a burn into cold water.
Krycek released Mulder's shoulder, and slid his hand around the back of the agent's head. He could kill him now, if he wished. Instead, he drew Mulder's head back to where it had been on his stomach. Mulder pushed Krycek's shirt up, and felt the next touch skin-to skin, on his face. It pushed against his cheek experimentally. Mulder clenched his jaw, flexing the muscle just below his ear, pushing back into the questioning hand. It pushed again, right against the muscle that had moved. Alex could feel the stubble on Mulder's face against his stomach. Mulder tightened his jaw, relaxed it, then tightened and relaxed it again. The baby pushed back once... and then twice.
"Krycek..." whispered Mulder, "-this kid is really smart."
"...I know," whispered Alex.
After a few more exchanges with Mulder, the baby seemed to be getting tired, and the pushes stopped. Mulder sighed happily, and nuzzled the skin under his cheek in farewell. Then he drew back a bit, and stood, so that he was on Krycek's eye level. Krycek's expression was unreadable, his face a mask. He pulled his shirt down, put his hand on Mulder's shoulder for a moment, then went back in the bedroom, and closed the door. Mulder sat on the edge of the coffee table, shaken. He looked at the palm of his hand, then touched the side of his face, remembering.
AD Skinner looked up when he heard the door open.
"Have a seat, agent Mulder." Mulder took the chair to the left of Scully's, and waited. This struck Skinner as odd, but he decided to let it pass as progress in the right direction.
"-Scully just finished telling me about her adventure at lake Michigan. The forensics people I sent check the motel came up with nothing of value, but the waitress from the motel diner gave us a good description of the incident. Any ideas on who they were, Agent Mulder?"
"I wasn't there, but I have reason to believe that the hit was arranged by an element within the consortium. That would also account for how they scrubbed the rooms so fast, they've done that kind of thing before."
"Fair enough. How are you coming on the deal with Krycek?"
"Uh..." Mulder exchanged glances with Scully, who's look told him (he hoped) 'no, I didn't tell him about the baby'.
"He's cooperating with the protective custody, but he's only given us half the information-"
"Where is that information, agent Mulder?"
"It's being salvaged. My copy was damaged in the crash the other day, but it's recoverable."
"Do you know what consists of?" asked Skinner.
"It's a list of names and medical data on most or all of the individuals who were abducted for hybridization experiments," Skinner's eyebrows shot up.
"That doesn't sound realistic. What the hell are you trading Krycek?"
"Krycek had a falling out with his former employer, who then inflicted some fairly complex and painful vengeance on him," Scully cut in, "-he's been running ever since, and he can't go to a hospital because of the risk of being caught. Our deal is based on my medical ability to reverse his condition."
"What IS his condition?" asked Skinner. Scully pursed her lips briefly, thinking, then answered,
"He is my patient, Sir. His condition is... very personal in nature," her expression hinted at unpleasantness, "-suffice it to say that without my help he has four months to live, give or take."
Skinner did not pursue the details.
"I want this wrapped up as soon as possible. Give Krycek what he wants, and get the rest of the information. Try to keep a hold of Krycek too, if you can," instructed Skinner
"That's gonna to be tricky," said Mulder.
"Try. I don't expect you got anything done on the Michigan case, did you?"
"No, but it's not a time-critical case."
"I'm giving it to Welling's people. I want you to concentrate on this Krycek situation. Agent Scully, are you going to need access to a private clinic for this?"
"That would be best," Nodded Scully.
"It's done, just don't let this one get away from you. That'll be all."
Mulder and Scully filed out of Skinner's office.
In the elevator, Mulder leaned his forehead against the shiny stainless-steel wall, and closed his eyes.
"Mulder...?"
"What?"
"Are you okay?" Mulder smiled, and didn't answer. Scully sighed. "-Well, who would be?"
"I hate this one, Scully."
"Because of Krycek, or...?"
"History repeats itself... and the part I can't get over is that I understand why now."
"History repeats itself?"
"I think being a lousy father must run in my family."
The elevator door opened, and a woman in a peach-colored business suit got on, then pressed '1'.
Mulder's apartment was silent, save for the bubbling of the fish tank.
"Krycek?" Scully turned on a light in the living room. Mulder checked the kitchen, but Krycek wasn't there. Mulder checked the bedroom, and saw that Krycek's duffel bag was missing.
"Dammit, Krycek!" burst out Mulder.
"He's not there?"
"He's gone," sighed Mulder.
"Maybe he's in the bathroom," suggested Scully. The bathroom was empty, but the mirror was still fogged up from a recent shower.
"Why would he leave?" pointed out Scully, "-was he getting impatient about when I was going to do the procedure?"
"No, no, he hasn't even mentioned it."
"That's odd."
"That's Krycek," Mulder ran a hand through his hair, and looked around the living room for anything else out of place. The computer desk had been searched, but nothing was missing as far as he could tell.
"Maybe he decided to try reconciling with the Englishman?"
"No way, Scully. He hates him."
"How do you know?"
"Well, Krycek said that-" Mulder stopped himself in midsentense, "-oh, god... I didn't just say that I took Krycek at his word, did I?"
Scully nodded.
"Okay... oog... Now why would he... -Of course, the gunmen!" Mulder seized the phone and started dialing, "-if he was looking through my desk, he might have been looking for the CD, in case I had it back from the gunmen and didn't tell him. He knows the lone gunmen have the disk, since I don't, and if he's going back with the Englishman, he can't have loose data floating around like that that belongs to his boss- -come on, pick up!- -because then the Englishman will know he stole it in the first place, and- -Langley?" Mulder gave his full attention to the phone. "-Listen, about that disk I gave you- (pause) -Oh, good,- (pause) -you what...?- (pause) -No, ahh, just don't print it, okay?- (pause) -No, names are bad. What I called to tell you is that I lost Krycek, and he may be looking for that disk. (loooong pause) -I'll let you know," Mulder hung up.
Why was it that consortium heads kept such tight security?
-Probably because of people like me, Krycek smirked to himself. There were two guards, both well hidden, and possibly more that he couldn't see. A security camera covered the door, and two more were hidden in the bushes by the side of the building. That was just the back entrance. Why anyone would try a frontal assault on a suburban townhouse, Alex hadn't a clue. He slipped into the neighbor's yard, and peered through the fence. Yup, it was the same security pattern that he remembered. He watched the house for an hour, and saw someone light up a cigarette. A third guard. For a moment he wondered if it was the smoking man, but he discarded the idea. The CSM wouldn't light up on watch like that, because doing so was dumb if you were trying to remain hidden, and the CSM, whatever else he might be, certainly wasn't stupid. He'd stood that guard position himself once or twice, and he knew that the guards were relieved at one AM. The poor suckers who pulled the next shift would be out until dawn.
Alex waited until the guard changed, then slipped over the fence and behind a bush while the guards from both shifts were talking to each other. Christ! These guys get soft when I'm not around, thought Krycek. He could have told them to stay watchful even when they were changing shifts. Alex stopped to catch his breath, then moved silently along the side of the house to a downstairs window. It had an alarm, of course. Krycek peeked in the window cautiously, saw the library, in darkness, then carefully de-activated the window's alarm. Not many people could have pulled that one off. He would have preferred to simply shoot the guards, but with three, one of them was sure to open fire before being shot, which would be noisy. Alex's gun, of course, had a silencer. He opened the window, and climbed through.
The library held the Englishman's computer, as well as an extensive collection of legal and historical books, which reflected the Englishman's exacting British tastes. Krycek liked this room. So many secrets in one room, you had to wonder which of the myriad books was hollow, and what was inside them if they were? How many sheets of paper, printed with souls and blood, were tucked away between these innocuous covers? He knew for a fact that one section of the shelves concealed a wall safe. That wasn't his target, though. The Englishman believed in hiding things in plain sight, or in this case, just not in the safe. The backups for the files Alex had stolen a month ago were hidden in one or more books in this library, but he wasn't exactly sure which ones. That didn't bother him, though. Alex set the fire-bomb he'd brought with him to go off in three minutes, then tucked it into the bottom drawer of the desk, and slipped out the window. He hid in the bushes, and checked his watch. 2:42 and counting. This would have to be quick. Krycek fired a shot into a garbage can across the yard, and went over the fence while the guards were checking it out. One of them saw him though, and raised the alarm by shooting at him. Alex got away clean, and ran for his life.
He was the only thing that moved on that quiet street, and he had to move fast, because that wouldn't last long. Krycek broke into the basement of a house four houses down the row and across the street from the Englishman's, through a ground-level window. He dropped into the basement, startling some mice, and stumbled on a pile of cardboard boxes filled with what felt like knitting yarn. Alex disentangled himself from the yarn and sat on the floor, back to the cinder-block cellar wall. His stomach hurt like hell from running, and he bit down on the sleeve of his leather jacket to keep silent. There might be people upstairs in this house. Oh, god it hurt... Alex squeezed his eyes shut, and concentrated on his own heartbeat, trying to block out everything else. It had worked in Tunguska, and it worked now, a little.
His concentration was broken by the sound of an explosion, and the basement was lit softly red by the light of the Englishman's burning townhouse. Got you! Thought Alex. It was five minutes before he could stand, and another seven before he cared to try. The cramp, or whatever it was, faded more slowly than it had on the boat with Scully. Krycek hoped it wasn't anything dangerous. He had a look out the window, and saw that the fire department was just arriving. No problem, the backup disks were already history. There was a growing crowd watching the burning house, and several of the neighbors were busily dousing their roofs. Krycek kept watching, and spotted two of the guards asking people questions. That was fine. -It kept them occupied longer. Now to get out of here. Krycek decided not to risk the outside window, since it could be seen from the street, but that left the cellar door. It was locked, but nothing a well-placed credit card couldn't overcome. A television was on, down the hall from the cellar door somewhere, and Krycek heard a man's voice ask,
"Is that you, Carol?" Krycek slipped out the back door as quickly as possible, and climbed over the back fence into the yard of someone on a parallel street. The dog, a rotweiller, heard him climbing and ran over to bark at him until he came within biting reach. Alex shot the dog, and dropped to the grass on the other side. He let himself out the chain-link side-gate onto the new street, and started walking downtown as if nothing had happened. And what had? He'd just gone out to buy a pack of smokes, hadn't he?
Mulder pounced on his cell-phone, and answered it.
"Mulder."
"It's Alex-"
"Where are you?" demanded Mulder.
"I'm in DC," said Krycek.
"That narrows it down," quipped Mulder.
"I called to tell you I'm still interested in the deal, should there have been any doubt."
"Why did you leave at all?"
"Unfinished business with the Englishman. I don't think I'd better come back to your place tonight."
"What have you done?"
"Watch the news, Mulder. It'll be highlighted in red," Krycek hung up.
Mulder dialed star-69, and called him back. Nobody answered. Disgusted, he switched on the TV, and found the news.
There was a traffic jam, more on Monicagate, and an uptown private residence had exploded, killing four people, and putting the owner in the hospital. The fire was being blamed on a bomb, and the police had as yet no suspects. They did have a general description of the perpetrator as being about six feet tall, heavyset, and dressed in dark clothing. That sounded like Krycek, all right. Mulder taped the broadcast, and looked for familiar faces in the crowd. He didn't recognize anyone except a couple of the policemen, though. Krycek was probably well clear by now, and without a better description of him, the police were out of their league. Hell, they would be out of their league even if they had a recent Polaroid, Mulder reflected.
He decided not to wake up Scully.
-tbc-
