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Krycek stared out the window, deep in thought but alert. If she didn't show within ten minutes, he'd have to bolt. He'd have no other choice. There was heat, especially in this town, and he didn't want to get burned. His fingers nervously drummed on the steering wheel, his eyes remained watchful. Inexplicable, trusting this woman… if he'd had the sense Providence gave an ape he'd have disappeared into the urban jungle and never contacted her. But… Something in his gut compelled him to give her his number. Why? He couldn't pin the reason down. Suffice to say that she'd risked career suicide to get him out of that federal building; he couldn't escape the blatant evidence that this was a biggie for Scully. Based upon his limited experience with her, Krycek knew that when Scully acted out in a big way, she usually had very compelling reasons to do so.

So, he trusted her. This time.

Headlights rounding the corner reflected off the smooth upholstery of his dash; his senses sharpened. Ducking his head, he looked through the small space between his seat and the headrest. It was the right make and model of car, at least. Searching, his eyes detected the flash of red-gold and translucent white in the driver's seat. It was her. Something that had been coiled in his chest slowly released. Had he been holding his breath? 'Sheesh, Alex, lighten up,' he thought. She'd followed his instructions to the letter, backing into one of the outer parking spaces in the northwest parking area, flashing her headlights dim, bright, dim before turning off the engine. She exited the car immediately, and headed toward the door of the imposing Catholic Church. The briefest pause, then she entered the building.

Alex gave it a count of twenty and then exited his own vehicle. It was Saturday night; Mass was on Saturday nights. He thought the choice oddly appropriate for their meeting, he knew she was Catholic… and he'd been raised Russian Orthodox; two religions which shared so much, yet remained in a state of chilly animosity. 'The choice of venue is a perfect fit actually,' he thought as he steeled himself and entered the cool of the sanctuary.

He moved quickly and quietly up the aisle as she'd chosen to sit very close to the front; oddly, the position made him nervous. He entered the pew just behind hers and leaning close to her ear as he sat down he whispered, "Amicus certus in incerta re cernit." She turned slightly and a small smile played at her mouth, "Latin, Krycek?" She turned back around, "Let's see," she paused, "a sure friend from an unsure situation…?" and glanced back at him. He shrugged, "Something like that," he said quietly, "Latin seemed appropriate, being we're in church." She turned around fully in the pew, now, "neither of us should be sure of friendship at this juncture, though," she said, not unkindly. He studied her, measuring his words, "No, I suppose you're right…" looking up at her, "but it's the only Latin phrase I know." She turned her face toward him, and saw the hint of humor on his face; she smiled back, "Ah…well, then…" she cleared her throat, "Cogito sumere potum alterum." He cocked his head to the side, as if to aid him in understanding. She smiled at him and translated, "I think … I'll have another drink." At his grin, she felt compelled to explain, "Lots of Latin in Med School," she smiled, "we came up with some colorful phrases to relieve the overload."

They sat in silence for a few moments. "So… were you just trying out our system, or did you have something you wished to discuss," he said with little preamble. She was taken aback by his guilelessness. "Well… I…yes, actually." He looked at her expectantly, but didn't utter a sound. His calm was slightly unnerving. She was struck again, as she had been when thinking over the events of their escape from the federal facility, at how calm his exterior seemed. She'd decided that it was almost as if he had an inner compass that always, unfailingly pointed north. He was …directed. Unfazed. "I wanted to provide you with some information," she finally said. "In the interest of full disclosure," she exhaled sharply, "think of it as a …trust building… thing." Krycek stared at her for a full minute, shifted in his seat and then leaned forward, elbows on knees, giving her full attention, "Go ahead," he said quietly. "That DAT tape," she began, "the one you beat the hell out of my boss to obtain," she arched an eyebrow at him, "it's full of records, Krycek." He leaned in closer, "what kind of records?" She hunkered down further into the pew, "Mulder came into contact with a… hacker," she eyed him, "called himself The Thinker. He hacked into DoD classified, and found himself face to face with the mother lode."

Krycek interrupted her, "Scully, it might be a mother lode, but the encryption is impossible," he shook his head, "I've never seen anything like it." She lowered her voice even more, "Krycek, it's Navajo." He didn't miss a beat, "How do you know?" She explained to him that she had come across the subject of Navajo Code Talkers during research for an undergraduate course. "I recognized some of the letter combinations, checked it out, and sure enough," she smiled, "Navajo." She studied him for a moment, thinking. If she was going to get something out of this 'partnership' she knew she'd have to make some good-faith investment in it first, "that disk you were after? It contains a database of names," she took a deep breath, "the name of the man who translated it for us, and the names of the twenty elders with whom he shared the information," she seemed awed with the importance of her information, "all encrypted, of course." Krycek was pensive, said slowly, "And these men can all recite the information on that DAT tape," it was more a statement, than a question. She nodded in the affirmative.

Krycek sat thoughtful for a long moment. "So… this information is at the FBI's disposal as long as the identity of those men is kept under lock and key, yes?" She nodded again and made her appeal, "it is absolutely imperative that these men receive the highest degree of protection the agency has," she looked pointedly at him. He understood immediately and countered, "But … you are not above some … unofficial assistance, are you?" She was asking for his help. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. He'd have to ponder it later. "What's in it for me, Scully?" he asked abruptly. Again, she was taken aback, "Well… for one thing," she said, "I don't find that DAT tape." He smiled, "You wouldn't find it, anyway, if I didn't want you to…" She looked momentarily shocked, but then nodded her understanding, "True, true… You've proven yourself invisible on more than one occasion…" she let her voice trail off as her eyes drifted back to the front of the sanctuary.

He studied her profile. She had surprised him repeatedly in the last few weeks of their new association. That wasn't an easy thing to do. Krycek was rarely pleasantly surprised by anyone. But in this case, he had to admit, it was true. She was taking a huge chance – 'as am I,' he thought – just by being in the same physical space as him. She'd know that, of course. Something occurred to him, "Why are you offering me this DAT tape, Scully?" He studied her expression as she turned towards him, "What's in it for you?" he asked abruptly. She looked full in his face, then, "I'm offering to lose it to you, because I know the difficulty of translating it," looking away, "and I'm not willing to pay the price of having it in my possession." Scully shuddered at the memory of the recent, frantic cross-country journey. She forcefully put it out of her head. "It's important enough and obscure enough…" she changed directions, "Let's just say I think whatever shady plans you might have for the tape… well, I am beginning to understand that sometimes, you have to work outside the rules to do good." Her eyes dropped to her hands, "and I'm not able… I'm not quite there, yet, Krycek."

It was difficult to hear her even with his chin almost resting on the back of her pew. He understood her confusion, though, loud and clear. She'd probably never been one to color outside the lines even when she was a kid. He knew the pain of losing your innocence, little by little and she'd had hers forced from her in shocking jolts. He vaguely felt a stirring of pity for her. "Scully, I'm going to do what it takes to get leverage with that tape," he looked up at her, "you know that, don't you?" Now she smiled tiredly at him, "of course, Krycek – that's why I'm turning my head." He felt suspicion curl up within him again, "I can't figure your angle…" he sat back a little, narrowed his eyes, focused, "and that bothers me." Mentally, he went through possible motivations; nothing seemed remotely tenable. "Your partner hates me, the bureau probably has a price on my head…" he leaned forward, "and I'm a sucker if I allow myself to believe that your motives are all sweetness and light." He raked a hand through his hair, "You've got to give me more."

Scully moved around the pew and took a seat next to Krycek. She mirrored his posture, leaning her elbows on her knees and turned her face to his, "In this case, Krycek, my motives are straightforward. The encrypted tape has inherent safeguards and built-in roadblocks to the access of the information contained therein," she leaned toward him, urgent, "I'm not a true believer, Krycek; I don't buy the story that is detailed on that tape. Because of my experiences of the last four years, I am absolutely convinced that the conspiracy is man-made, and the files on that tape are an elaborate smoke screen designed by unscrupulous men to cover the truth." She rubbed her eyes, "That information is embarrassing to certain quarters, though, and they would stop at nothing to suppress it." Krycek began to see where she was going with this, "And you want to ensure that the names on that database stay invisible." She seemed relieved, "Yes, Krycek, that's it exactly; you take that DAT tape, we keep the database." She sat up abruptly, "During the war, those men performed a dangerous service to a country that had broken many promises," she looked at him pointedly, "the translation of those files was predicated upon a promise, Krycek," she let out a shaky breath, "a promise of complete invisibility. I can't allow that promise to be broken."

Krycek searched her eyes, looking for a 'tell,' a sign that she was deceiving him. He saw nothing but fear, urgency… and, quite possibly, sincerity. He couldn't be sure; it'd been so long since he'd actually come in contact with any. "So the identity of the translator and his, uh, friends… that's more important to the bureau, than the actual files themselves?" She was mildly irritated, "Yes, absolutely." He cocked his head at her, "Scully – the smoking man tried to kill me over this tape, and now you tell me that you're just going to let me walk with it?" he scoffed, "I'm not buying it." He stood up abruptly, barked at her, "Get up." Fear pushed at the edges of her eyes, but she stood mutely. "Hold your arms out," he almost growled, and began a systematic, impersonal pat-down. "If you're wired, Scully-," she pushed his hands away instinctively, "No! No I'm not – no one knows I'm here, Krycek. This," she hesitated, "this is a personal mission." He glared at her, "It's all personal, Scully." They stood in tense stand-off for an eternity, it seemed. A sudden sound at the front of the sanctuary and two heads whipped around, alert. The rector entered quietly, preparing for the evening's Mass.

"Party over," Krycek whispered and roughly grabbed her elbow, propelling her swiftly to the back of the church. Once out of the sight of the rector, she wrenched her elbow from his grasp, "Stop it, Krycek. I didn't have to give you this. I'm trying, as I said, to build trust," her eyes pleaded with his, "don't lump me in with your other associates; give me the same level of faith that I've offered you." Her eyes became flint, "you owe me that much." His lips twisted cruelly and he lowered his face within an inch of hers, "Make no mistake, Scully; I owe you nor your partner, nor anyone anything. I've given up a great deal to accomplish certain objectives," his breathing ragged, "I've more than paid the price of admission, and you'd better believe I'm going to collect something in return." Suddenly, his eyes were searching hers. Like a shock, Scully thought he might be going to kiss her. In an instant, she recognized the absurdity of the thought. He backed away quickly, "Here's my offering to you," his jaw working furiously, "don't trust anything, don't trust anyone," his eyes bore into hers, "take whatever comes your way and figure out how to use it later when you've got the luxury of time. You'll stay alive longer." He started for the door, but looked back, "I won't purposely double cross you, Scully, but I do what I have to do. You need to remember that. Stay out of the cross-fire, and maybe we'll be able to make this thing work."

He ducked out the door and into the night, leaving her dumfounded, staring after him. 'Good,' he thought. He was unnerved by her, had felt the small moment of electricity between them when his face had been only an inch from hers. The swell of fear in his gut at the sudden irrational desire to kiss her… Hoping against hope she didn't realize. He didn't need that kind of distraction. He sank heavily into his seat; sat watching from his dark vantage point as she exited the church door, impossible thoughts torturing his usually steely resolve. He beat his hand on the steering wheel, 'Dammit!' he hissed, 'I will not be responsible for you, Agent Scully.' But even as he said it, he recognized the falsehood. He was already caught with little chance of escape.

end chapter 8

AN: A couple of things; first, notice the Cyrillic letters at the top of chapters 4- 8. They are my best effort at providing some Russian color in my titles (since Krycek is a Russian agent… we think?) I arrived at them by putting the English versions into Yahoo's Babel Fish. They probably would make a real Russian language speaker laugh uproariously, but that's okay. As Mr. Bennet says, "For what do we live, but to make sport for our neighbours, and laugh at them in our turn?" Just so you don't have to look them up they are: Chapter 4: Begin at the Beginning, Ch.5: What Fresh Hell, Ch6: Arranged Without My Consent, Ch7: Separation Anxiety, and Ch8: Resist the Future.

Next, thank you, thank you, and thank you! To everyone who is taking time to read, and to those of you who have given reviews. It means a lot. I am frankly surprised by how MUCH. Delightful, really! Solard