Richmond, Virginia
8:25pm
* * * * * *
How did I get here? Somebody pushed me. Somebody must have
set me off in this direction and clusters of other hands must have
touched themselves to the controls at various times, for I would
not have picked this way for the world. --Joseph Heller
* * * * * *
Krycek had remained as silent and still as a lizard sunning itself on a
rock ever since he cut the engine off. Dagen couldn't understand how the
man could stay so damn still. He couldn't stop moving. The seat was too
uncomfortable, the car too quiet, the air too dense. It was as tangible
as a cotton blanket wrapping around him claustrophobically.
And it was too easy to think about all that could go wrong. He glanced
behind them to see if there was anything suspicious. "Stop it! No one
could know yet." He needed something, anything to distract him.
Dagen leaned forward and switched the radio on. Anything to block out
the silence. Before his hand made its return trip back to his lap,
Krycek had turned the radio off.
"Hey--" He began before he edited himself. Krycek didn't need to say
anything; he just cast Dagen a warning look.
Krycek's posture may have seemed indolent, but to Dagen he gave off the
impression of a reptile lying in wait, constantly watching for an
opportunity to strike. Dagen acknowledged that comparing him to a
serpent was based solely on his unmitigated dislike of the man. To say
nothing of being unfair to serpents.
Dagen leaned back in his seat, his frustration reaching his upper limit,
but unable to do anything about it. How the hell had he gotten involved
in this mess? Sitting in a parking lot of a damn 7-11, in the middle of
the night, waiting with a common thug for two women to arrive. One, the
new heir apparent to the vast underworld of evil doers, turned good; the
other a FBI agent. One who had been kidnapped, had various highly
unethical (to say the least) experiments preformed on her, and who was
now in the process of being 'liberated.'
Some liberation. Out of the pot, into the fire. Isn't that how that
saying goes? And, to top it all off, add some aliens and a planned
Armageddon into the mix, and one has quite the 'situation.'
And what a situation it was.
Dagen sighed, debating whether he should speak or not. At least his own
voice would drown out the quiet for a moment or two. "How are we doing
time wise?"
"Just as planned."
A thought suddenly occurred to Dagen. "And how can we even know if she
is successful?"
Krycek reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small
transmitter/receiver. "She has one of these. Both have an automatic
alarm system." He lightly fingered the large red button in the center.
"This button has to be pushed every 30 minutes, or else it triggers an
alarm to go off in the other. If this one goes off, it means she ran
into difficulties. If hers goes off, she will know something happened to
me." Krycek looked at it for a moment longer before hitting the button
and pocketing it again. "Relatively simple technology, but quite
effective."
"Tell me about Allen."
Krycek looked at him, irritation written on his face. "Allen? What about
him? I've already told you about him"
"I want to know more about him. This is his plan after all. I need to
know how he knows it'll work. I'm just as much a part of this as you
are, and I deserve to know."
"Are you?", was Krycek's only reply. They held eye contact, each
carefully studying and appraising the other. Dagen was the first to look
away. Only then did Krycek speak again. "I guess you are. After all, we
wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Scully wouldn't be in her
present condition, and we would still have a good ten years before the
invasion." His eyes narrowed. "Right?"
Krycek's words could not have been more devastating if he had welded a
lance and used it to pierce his heart. No, that would have been a better
alternative, at least that way he would be out of his present misery.
"I...it wasn't..." Dagen stammered, obviously shaken.
Krycek leaned back in his seat, a satisfied smile on his face, and
watched guilt wash over his face. After a moment he spoke, saving Dagen
from further explanation. "Why are you so interested? I told you that
we were fighting against invasion. What else do you need to know?"
"It's just... Well, I heard about the things that they do... the
fires...."
"And what about the things you were a part of? You tell me which is
worse? The syndicate's methods or the resistance's?"
Dagen didn't answer.
The sardonic grin Krycek gave Dagen was triumphant, gloating,
suggestive. Krycek laughed. "Just as I thought..."
* * * * * *
South I-95
Virginia
8:30pm
It had really been rather anti-climatic, their escape. There was no
signs or hints that they had been seen. The unnamed road they traveled
bordered numerous industrial complexes, many in the same state of
abandonment as the first. In the 20 minutes or so of traveling, not a
single car had passed.
Scully had not said a word since she entered the car. Diana, thankfully,
left her alone. So much to get organized in her head. Ok, obviously
she'd been taken again, for what reason, it was not yet clear. God, had
she really said two weeks? More time simply stolen from her life. Under
each eye, a tear clung defiantly to her lashes. "NOT, in front of
her."And Mulder...and...oh god! Her mother! Her poor mother. "I'm so
sorry to put you through all of this again." A tear slipped, and she
turned to face the dark outside. She welcomed the darkness. There was so
much she didn't want to see. Scully closed her eyes.
Scully could feel Diana next to her. Her outward appearance displayed
the confidence of a women in control of the world, but Scully could find
the fear in her. Rather, the fear found Scully. It filled the tiny space
of the car and Scully could feel it being added to her own. The tension
rolled off Diana in waves and she was caught in the torrent.
No, not waves, not that slow. It was heartbeats. Heart pumping
rhythmically and with a great force. But it wasn't pumping blood, no, it
was fear. Diana was pumping fear into the small confines of the car.
Scully gasped for air as the fear bore into her and she felt her own
heart rate increase to match Diana's. Her tension was infusing her, and
nearly filled her to breaking.
What the hell was going on?
Scully closed her eyes and mentally erected a shield against the
onslaught. The beats changed, became irregular before finally stopping
all together. She could breathe again and she took in oxygen greedily.
What was Diana so terrified of? This, Scully needed to find out. "What
is going on? Why have you done this for me?"
"You weren't ever supposed to be taken again. I'm simply correcting a
mistake that has been made." Eyes were carefully avoided.
"And just who was it that took me? How do you know these people?"
Scully's voice began to change; she spoke in an accusatory tone.
"I used to work with them, but I suspect that you already knew that." A
pause as she met Scully's eye. Scully found no satisfaction in her
admittance. Diana continued. "I worked with them and I came to know them
as well as their plans for you. I believe that they were... misguided,
and now I'm doing what I can to fix the problem."
"And why now? Something tells me that your *association* with this group
did not happen recently."
"I had the chance to fix--" She stopped, and corrected herself. "Up
until now, I believed in what was being done, that there was no other
way. When I found out that I was mistaken, I acted."
"Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure." Scully muttered under her
breath.
There was a long pause before Diana spoke again. "Look, no matter what
you may think you know you don't know the whole truth. You can judge me,
blame me, but I believe that what was done was absolutely necessary for
our survival."
"Necessary for whose survival?" Scully's voice began to rise and to take
on a shrillness that made herself cringe, but she didn't care. "The
women that were taken? The women whose lives were destroyed by the
things so casually done to them?"
Diana's lips flattened to a hard line. "I didn't rescue you to discuss
this. I will not defend my actions."
Scully stared at the impassive form of the woman next to her. If she
didn't know the fear that was in her, Scully would have been certain the
woman not capable of that emotion. "Know? I don't really 'know,' do I?
It can't be possible..."But her inner voice lacked force. She trusted
Diana, at least in this moment, that she was doing what was best. And
why did she trust her?
"Because I read her mind."
And Scully knew, she 'knew,' that this was true.
Scully could feel hysteria knocking at her door. She began to laugh.
The laugh began as a half-vocalized chuckle under her breath, but
quickly became much more. Bordering on hysterical, Scully's shrill laugh
both surprised and frightened her and caused Diana to glanced worriedly
at her. "Are you... What is so funny?"
"I believe you," she was able to spit out before the rest of her words
were lost in a mass of giggles. A half-minute passed before Scully could
form intelligible words past her betraying mouth. She wiped the tears
from her eyes as the last of the mirthless laugh disappeared. She felt
suddenly empty, as if she'd given blood.
"I was just thinking," good, she had regained control of her voice,
"that this is *not* what I wanted to be when I grow up."
Diana was still worried. She chose her words carefully. "What didn't you
want to be?"
"A mind reader."
"Oh." There didn't seem to be anything appropriate to say to that
comment. So Diana chose the first thing that came to her mind. "You
know, I always wanted to be a firefighter when I grew up."
"Serious?" Scully asked, dabbing the tears from her eyes with the corner
of her shirt.
Diana nodded. "I always thought it was so brave and dramatic. I remember
when I was young going to an awards ceremony for my uncle. He was a
firefighter, and he saved a little girl from a fire. A girl that was
about my age." She smiled at the memory. "I remember thinking that he
was so brave. He went into the burning building after her when he
discovered that she'd been left behind. By the time he found her, she
was unconscious and he took off his own oxygen mask and gave it to her.
He ended up staying in the hospital for weeks with burns in his lungs,
but the little girl was fine. When I saw him on the stage, when I saw
the mayor give him his award, I wanted it to be me."
Diana had not looked at Scully the entire time she told the story, but
she looked now. Scully was smiling, but she had a slightly puzzled look
on her face. Diana felt embarrassment flare through her. "The things
that you think when you're a kid."
"I wanted to be a fighter pilot."
Diana's eyebrows raised slightly. "Really?"
"My father was a captain in the Navy and I didn't see him that much. I
figured that when I grew up I could fly the planes that landed on his
ship, and I could see him everyday, and at night I could fly home to see
my mom." The two women smiled.
Diana turned back to the road, and her smile disappeared. "It is funny
how life turns out." There was no humor in her voice.
"Yes it is."
"Fate can be a cruel mistress sometimes."
The mention of fate startled Scully. She and Mulder had just spoken of
it the other night. "No, not the other night. That was two weeks
ago." She felt the pang that came with the missing time as she
corrected herself. Out loud she asked, "You believe in fate?"
"To a certain extent. Life sometimes feels far too contrived without it.
What is it that they say about fate? It deals the cards, but it is up to
us how we play them?"
"That is what they say." Scully agreed.
"And we try to chose the best course, try to make the best possible
decision from the choices given to us."
Their eyes met briefly, and Scully slowly nodded, showing that she was
beginning to understand. "I think that we all try to make the best
choices."
Diana held the gaze a moment longer before turning her attention back to
the empty road ahead of them. She seemed to be contemplating something.
Scully felt the seat belt tighten across her chest as Diana abruptly hit
the brakes. The car briefly skidded several feet, the tires unable to
fully grip from the deceleration. "What?" Scully asked alarmed. "Is
there something wrong?"
"Not any more." The car began to move again as Diana made a sharp U-turn
and headed back in the direction they had just came. "I was about to
make the wrong choice, but not any more."
* * * * * *
Richmond, Virginia
8:50pm
Silence. Dagen had finally shut the fuck up. God, he hated working with
those damn scientist types, they always had to know every damn thing.
Time was passing at an infinitesimal rate. Every time he glanced at his
watch he thought that at least ten minutes had past, when in reality it
had only been a tenth of that. Hated waiting; absolutely hated it. And
she was late. Not late enough to be worried, but late enough to cause
some... 'concern.' In five minutes he would worry.
He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the receiver, to
check in once again, seeking its reassurance. Working fine, and it
hadn't gone off, so everything should still be going well. His thumb
caressed the button momentarily before he hit it himself.
He looked away from the receiver and stared without seeing through the
windshield to people outside. They were the common folk, no worries more
pressing that what to fix for dinner, or which condoms to pick up-
ribbed or non-ribbed? He noticed a small group of adolescence boys
outside the entrance. For them, their biggest worry was over whose fake
ID would be most likely to get them a pack of beer.
Krycek glanced at his wrist. In four minutes he would worry. Damn it!
Damn her and her plan. She had insisted on doing it her way, that it was
the only way, but she only did it to be in control.
Dagen said that he believed her, he trusted Diana to get this done. He'd
been the one to convince Krycek to use her to get Scully. And why the
hell did he trust Dagen? Krycek looked to the squirming man sitting next
to him Dagen nervously shifted uneasily and glanced behind the car.
"Just a lab rat. As if he could be capable of telling a lie." No,
Dagen was hardly a worry. Besides, Allen had personally picked him and
said he was to be trusted.
Another glance. Three minutes and he would worry.
Krycek could still remember that moment he'd first seen Allen, three
years ago.
It had been an intense feeling of warmth had awakened him in the cold
Russian forest. The warmth had begun in his left arm and had moved
rapidly through his shoulder to the rest of his chilled body.
When Krycek had opened his eyes, he had been positive that he was seeing
an angel. He, Krycek, a man who had not believed in miracles, or a God,
or anything of that nature for over twenty years, was absolutely
positive he was witnessing a miracle.
The sun was directly overhead and beams of light filtered through the
forest and seemed to cast a halo around Allen's black hair. Krycek then
heard the words that changed his life. In his mind, Krycek heard the
voice. "You'll be the one that helps me. But first, you sleep. You'll
be fine." Krycek fell asleep immediately, the pain and the frigidity
of the Russian winter no longer bothering him.
Krycek awoke at dark and found the man who had healed him sitting across
a fire and could have sworn he was dreaming. Allen sat cross-legged near
the fire, whittling a small stick with a knife. "Sorry I couldn't save
your arm," he paused and motioned to a large black dog sitting next to
him, gnawing on some meat, "but Pyka here got to it first."
Pyka. Russian for arm. Krycek realized with a sickening sensation just
what kind of meat the dog was eating with such gusto. He had to turn
away. "Where did the others go? Did they just leave me here to die?"
Krycek asked, his eyes closed.
Allen shook his head, his long dark hair smoothly sliding over his
shoulders. "They didn't seem to like the way I looked when I first
arrived. I think that Pyka here was far too distracted to be afraid of
me." As he spoke he began to change. His body grew, became more stocky.
His face also began to shift, to lighten from its deep tan to pale
white, as the forehead and chin widened to form a more hard look. His
long black hair shortened and lightened as well into a near blond.
Krycek recognized the face as well, and could understand the people's
fear because he felt it himself. He was facing the bounty hunter. Allen
spoke again. "I understand now, why they were afraid." Allen looked
thoughtfully at Krycek. "You do not need to be afraid of me. I am not
the man you fear. This is simply the form that we all take for any
interactions with your kind. I don't much like it myself." His form
changed again, once more to the one of before. Krycek guessed his form
matched that of an Native American descent.
"But you are one of them, aren't you?"
"I'm not one of them, at least not any more." Allen's distaste was
clear.
"Why did you save me?"
"I need your help."
Krycek had been full of disbelief. How could someone with his obvious
powers need his help? "My help? For what exactly?"
Allen smiled, the firelight dancing on his face. "You will be a great
help to me."
Krycek shook himself free from the memory. Two minutes.
Yes, Allen had needed help. He sent Krycek all over the world, getting
the people Allen sent him to get. Getting the supplies, the buildings,
damn near everything it seemed. Krycek was Allen's link to the outside
world. Allen would have been useless without Krycek, but it was always
Allen's show, and Krycek never really knew exactly what was happening,
but Allen always protected him. He'd been the one to warn Krycek of the
toasting the Consortium attended those short weeks ago.
Things were defiantly coming to ahead in the past few weeks. The list of
duties had been long, and Krycek didn't have a long time to complete all
of them.
One minute.
Get Dagen. Check. Kill the smoking man. Check. Mulder had taken care of
that for him.
He paused. Mulder. Something tickled in the back of his head. Something
about Mulder...but it was lost. Krycek moved on.
And most importantly get Scully. She was the key, that much he knew.
Allen was always careful to give Krycek enough discretion on what would
be the best way to complete his objectives. As long as they got done
that was all that really mattered.
But this time Krycek wished that Allen had given him more direction. He
didn't like using Diana on this, he didn't have Allen's assurance that
she could be trusted.
He looked at his watch one final time. No time left. Now he was
officially worried. Where the hell was she? And then the tickling in the
back of his mind came back, along with her words. "Did you locate
him?...There will be time." And then Krycek knew why he was worried and
why she was late.
He turned the engine on with one smooth motion and pulled the car out of
the lot and into the street. Dagen sat next to him, struggling to get
the seatbelt fastened. "What the hell are you doing? We are supposed to
meet them here."
Krycek spoke through gritted teeth. "She has gone to get him. The
fucking bitch has gone to get him."
* * * * * *
8:25pm
* * * * * *
How did I get here? Somebody pushed me. Somebody must have
set me off in this direction and clusters of other hands must have
touched themselves to the controls at various times, for I would
not have picked this way for the world. --Joseph Heller
* * * * * *
Krycek had remained as silent and still as a lizard sunning itself on a
rock ever since he cut the engine off. Dagen couldn't understand how the
man could stay so damn still. He couldn't stop moving. The seat was too
uncomfortable, the car too quiet, the air too dense. It was as tangible
as a cotton blanket wrapping around him claustrophobically.
And it was too easy to think about all that could go wrong. He glanced
behind them to see if there was anything suspicious. "Stop it! No one
could know yet." He needed something, anything to distract him.
Dagen leaned forward and switched the radio on. Anything to block out
the silence. Before his hand made its return trip back to his lap,
Krycek had turned the radio off.
"Hey--" He began before he edited himself. Krycek didn't need to say
anything; he just cast Dagen a warning look.
Krycek's posture may have seemed indolent, but to Dagen he gave off the
impression of a reptile lying in wait, constantly watching for an
opportunity to strike. Dagen acknowledged that comparing him to a
serpent was based solely on his unmitigated dislike of the man. To say
nothing of being unfair to serpents.
Dagen leaned back in his seat, his frustration reaching his upper limit,
but unable to do anything about it. How the hell had he gotten involved
in this mess? Sitting in a parking lot of a damn 7-11, in the middle of
the night, waiting with a common thug for two women to arrive. One, the
new heir apparent to the vast underworld of evil doers, turned good; the
other a FBI agent. One who had been kidnapped, had various highly
unethical (to say the least) experiments preformed on her, and who was
now in the process of being 'liberated.'
Some liberation. Out of the pot, into the fire. Isn't that how that
saying goes? And, to top it all off, add some aliens and a planned
Armageddon into the mix, and one has quite the 'situation.'
And what a situation it was.
Dagen sighed, debating whether he should speak or not. At least his own
voice would drown out the quiet for a moment or two. "How are we doing
time wise?"
"Just as planned."
A thought suddenly occurred to Dagen. "And how can we even know if she
is successful?"
Krycek reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small
transmitter/receiver. "She has one of these. Both have an automatic
alarm system." He lightly fingered the large red button in the center.
"This button has to be pushed every 30 minutes, or else it triggers an
alarm to go off in the other. If this one goes off, it means she ran
into difficulties. If hers goes off, she will know something happened to
me." Krycek looked at it for a moment longer before hitting the button
and pocketing it again. "Relatively simple technology, but quite
effective."
"Tell me about Allen."
Krycek looked at him, irritation written on his face. "Allen? What about
him? I've already told you about him"
"I want to know more about him. This is his plan after all. I need to
know how he knows it'll work. I'm just as much a part of this as you
are, and I deserve to know."
"Are you?", was Krycek's only reply. They held eye contact, each
carefully studying and appraising the other. Dagen was the first to look
away. Only then did Krycek speak again. "I guess you are. After all, we
wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. Scully wouldn't be in her
present condition, and we would still have a good ten years before the
invasion." His eyes narrowed. "Right?"
Krycek's words could not have been more devastating if he had welded a
lance and used it to pierce his heart. No, that would have been a better
alternative, at least that way he would be out of his present misery.
"I...it wasn't..." Dagen stammered, obviously shaken.
Krycek leaned back in his seat, a satisfied smile on his face, and
watched guilt wash over his face. After a moment he spoke, saving Dagen
from further explanation. "Why are you so interested? I told you that
we were fighting against invasion. What else do you need to know?"
"It's just... Well, I heard about the things that they do... the
fires...."
"And what about the things you were a part of? You tell me which is
worse? The syndicate's methods or the resistance's?"
Dagen didn't answer.
The sardonic grin Krycek gave Dagen was triumphant, gloating,
suggestive. Krycek laughed. "Just as I thought..."
* * * * * *
South I-95
Virginia
8:30pm
It had really been rather anti-climatic, their escape. There was no
signs or hints that they had been seen. The unnamed road they traveled
bordered numerous industrial complexes, many in the same state of
abandonment as the first. In the 20 minutes or so of traveling, not a
single car had passed.
Scully had not said a word since she entered the car. Diana, thankfully,
left her alone. So much to get organized in her head. Ok, obviously
she'd been taken again, for what reason, it was not yet clear. God, had
she really said two weeks? More time simply stolen from her life. Under
each eye, a tear clung defiantly to her lashes. "NOT, in front of
her."And Mulder...and...oh god! Her mother! Her poor mother. "I'm so
sorry to put you through all of this again." A tear slipped, and she
turned to face the dark outside. She welcomed the darkness. There was so
much she didn't want to see. Scully closed her eyes.
Scully could feel Diana next to her. Her outward appearance displayed
the confidence of a women in control of the world, but Scully could find
the fear in her. Rather, the fear found Scully. It filled the tiny space
of the car and Scully could feel it being added to her own. The tension
rolled off Diana in waves and she was caught in the torrent.
No, not waves, not that slow. It was heartbeats. Heart pumping
rhythmically and with a great force. But it wasn't pumping blood, no, it
was fear. Diana was pumping fear into the small confines of the car.
Scully gasped for air as the fear bore into her and she felt her own
heart rate increase to match Diana's. Her tension was infusing her, and
nearly filled her to breaking.
What the hell was going on?
Scully closed her eyes and mentally erected a shield against the
onslaught. The beats changed, became irregular before finally stopping
all together. She could breathe again and she took in oxygen greedily.
What was Diana so terrified of? This, Scully needed to find out. "What
is going on? Why have you done this for me?"
"You weren't ever supposed to be taken again. I'm simply correcting a
mistake that has been made." Eyes were carefully avoided.
"And just who was it that took me? How do you know these people?"
Scully's voice began to change; she spoke in an accusatory tone.
"I used to work with them, but I suspect that you already knew that." A
pause as she met Scully's eye. Scully found no satisfaction in her
admittance. Diana continued. "I worked with them and I came to know them
as well as their plans for you. I believe that they were... misguided,
and now I'm doing what I can to fix the problem."
"And why now? Something tells me that your *association* with this group
did not happen recently."
"I had the chance to fix--" She stopped, and corrected herself. "Up
until now, I believed in what was being done, that there was no other
way. When I found out that I was mistaken, I acted."
"Out of the goodness of your heart, I'm sure." Scully muttered under her
breath.
There was a long pause before Diana spoke again. "Look, no matter what
you may think you know you don't know the whole truth. You can judge me,
blame me, but I believe that what was done was absolutely necessary for
our survival."
"Necessary for whose survival?" Scully's voice began to rise and to take
on a shrillness that made herself cringe, but she didn't care. "The
women that were taken? The women whose lives were destroyed by the
things so casually done to them?"
Diana's lips flattened to a hard line. "I didn't rescue you to discuss
this. I will not defend my actions."
Scully stared at the impassive form of the woman next to her. If she
didn't know the fear that was in her, Scully would have been certain the
woman not capable of that emotion. "Know? I don't really 'know,' do I?
It can't be possible..."But her inner voice lacked force. She trusted
Diana, at least in this moment, that she was doing what was best. And
why did she trust her?
"Because I read her mind."
And Scully knew, she 'knew,' that this was true.
Scully could feel hysteria knocking at her door. She began to laugh.
The laugh began as a half-vocalized chuckle under her breath, but
quickly became much more. Bordering on hysterical, Scully's shrill laugh
both surprised and frightened her and caused Diana to glanced worriedly
at her. "Are you... What is so funny?"
"I believe you," she was able to spit out before the rest of her words
were lost in a mass of giggles. A half-minute passed before Scully could
form intelligible words past her betraying mouth. She wiped the tears
from her eyes as the last of the mirthless laugh disappeared. She felt
suddenly empty, as if she'd given blood.
"I was just thinking," good, she had regained control of her voice,
"that this is *not* what I wanted to be when I grow up."
Diana was still worried. She chose her words carefully. "What didn't you
want to be?"
"A mind reader."
"Oh." There didn't seem to be anything appropriate to say to that
comment. So Diana chose the first thing that came to her mind. "You
know, I always wanted to be a firefighter when I grew up."
"Serious?" Scully asked, dabbing the tears from her eyes with the corner
of her shirt.
Diana nodded. "I always thought it was so brave and dramatic. I remember
when I was young going to an awards ceremony for my uncle. He was a
firefighter, and he saved a little girl from a fire. A girl that was
about my age." She smiled at the memory. "I remember thinking that he
was so brave. He went into the burning building after her when he
discovered that she'd been left behind. By the time he found her, she
was unconscious and he took off his own oxygen mask and gave it to her.
He ended up staying in the hospital for weeks with burns in his lungs,
but the little girl was fine. When I saw him on the stage, when I saw
the mayor give him his award, I wanted it to be me."
Diana had not looked at Scully the entire time she told the story, but
she looked now. Scully was smiling, but she had a slightly puzzled look
on her face. Diana felt embarrassment flare through her. "The things
that you think when you're a kid."
"I wanted to be a fighter pilot."
Diana's eyebrows raised slightly. "Really?"
"My father was a captain in the Navy and I didn't see him that much. I
figured that when I grew up I could fly the planes that landed on his
ship, and I could see him everyday, and at night I could fly home to see
my mom." The two women smiled.
Diana turned back to the road, and her smile disappeared. "It is funny
how life turns out." There was no humor in her voice.
"Yes it is."
"Fate can be a cruel mistress sometimes."
The mention of fate startled Scully. She and Mulder had just spoken of
it the other night. "No, not the other night. That was two weeks
ago." She felt the pang that came with the missing time as she
corrected herself. Out loud she asked, "You believe in fate?"
"To a certain extent. Life sometimes feels far too contrived without it.
What is it that they say about fate? It deals the cards, but it is up to
us how we play them?"
"That is what they say." Scully agreed.
"And we try to chose the best course, try to make the best possible
decision from the choices given to us."
Their eyes met briefly, and Scully slowly nodded, showing that she was
beginning to understand. "I think that we all try to make the best
choices."
Diana held the gaze a moment longer before turning her attention back to
the empty road ahead of them. She seemed to be contemplating something.
Scully felt the seat belt tighten across her chest as Diana abruptly hit
the brakes. The car briefly skidded several feet, the tires unable to
fully grip from the deceleration. "What?" Scully asked alarmed. "Is
there something wrong?"
"Not any more." The car began to move again as Diana made a sharp U-turn
and headed back in the direction they had just came. "I was about to
make the wrong choice, but not any more."
* * * * * *
Richmond, Virginia
8:50pm
Silence. Dagen had finally shut the fuck up. God, he hated working with
those damn scientist types, they always had to know every damn thing.
Time was passing at an infinitesimal rate. Every time he glanced at his
watch he thought that at least ten minutes had past, when in reality it
had only been a tenth of that. Hated waiting; absolutely hated it. And
she was late. Not late enough to be worried, but late enough to cause
some... 'concern.' In five minutes he would worry.
He reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the receiver, to
check in once again, seeking its reassurance. Working fine, and it
hadn't gone off, so everything should still be going well. His thumb
caressed the button momentarily before he hit it himself.
He looked away from the receiver and stared without seeing through the
windshield to people outside. They were the common folk, no worries more
pressing that what to fix for dinner, or which condoms to pick up-
ribbed or non-ribbed? He noticed a small group of adolescence boys
outside the entrance. For them, their biggest worry was over whose fake
ID would be most likely to get them a pack of beer.
Krycek glanced at his wrist. In four minutes he would worry. Damn it!
Damn her and her plan. She had insisted on doing it her way, that it was
the only way, but she only did it to be in control.
Dagen said that he believed her, he trusted Diana to get this done. He'd
been the one to convince Krycek to use her to get Scully. And why the
hell did he trust Dagen? Krycek looked to the squirming man sitting next
to him Dagen nervously shifted uneasily and glanced behind the car.
"Just a lab rat. As if he could be capable of telling a lie." No,
Dagen was hardly a worry. Besides, Allen had personally picked him and
said he was to be trusted.
Another glance. Three minutes and he would worry.
Krycek could still remember that moment he'd first seen Allen, three
years ago.
It had been an intense feeling of warmth had awakened him in the cold
Russian forest. The warmth had begun in his left arm and had moved
rapidly through his shoulder to the rest of his chilled body.
When Krycek had opened his eyes, he had been positive that he was seeing
an angel. He, Krycek, a man who had not believed in miracles, or a God,
or anything of that nature for over twenty years, was absolutely
positive he was witnessing a miracle.
The sun was directly overhead and beams of light filtered through the
forest and seemed to cast a halo around Allen's black hair. Krycek then
heard the words that changed his life. In his mind, Krycek heard the
voice. "You'll be the one that helps me. But first, you sleep. You'll
be fine." Krycek fell asleep immediately, the pain and the frigidity
of the Russian winter no longer bothering him.
Krycek awoke at dark and found the man who had healed him sitting across
a fire and could have sworn he was dreaming. Allen sat cross-legged near
the fire, whittling a small stick with a knife. "Sorry I couldn't save
your arm," he paused and motioned to a large black dog sitting next to
him, gnawing on some meat, "but Pyka here got to it first."
Pyka. Russian for arm. Krycek realized with a sickening sensation just
what kind of meat the dog was eating with such gusto. He had to turn
away. "Where did the others go? Did they just leave me here to die?"
Krycek asked, his eyes closed.
Allen shook his head, his long dark hair smoothly sliding over his
shoulders. "They didn't seem to like the way I looked when I first
arrived. I think that Pyka here was far too distracted to be afraid of
me." As he spoke he began to change. His body grew, became more stocky.
His face also began to shift, to lighten from its deep tan to pale
white, as the forehead and chin widened to form a more hard look. His
long black hair shortened and lightened as well into a near blond.
Krycek recognized the face as well, and could understand the people's
fear because he felt it himself. He was facing the bounty hunter. Allen
spoke again. "I understand now, why they were afraid." Allen looked
thoughtfully at Krycek. "You do not need to be afraid of me. I am not
the man you fear. This is simply the form that we all take for any
interactions with your kind. I don't much like it myself." His form
changed again, once more to the one of before. Krycek guessed his form
matched that of an Native American descent.
"But you are one of them, aren't you?"
"I'm not one of them, at least not any more." Allen's distaste was
clear.
"Why did you save me?"
"I need your help."
Krycek had been full of disbelief. How could someone with his obvious
powers need his help? "My help? For what exactly?"
Allen smiled, the firelight dancing on his face. "You will be a great
help to me."
Krycek shook himself free from the memory. Two minutes.
Yes, Allen had needed help. He sent Krycek all over the world, getting
the people Allen sent him to get. Getting the supplies, the buildings,
damn near everything it seemed. Krycek was Allen's link to the outside
world. Allen would have been useless without Krycek, but it was always
Allen's show, and Krycek never really knew exactly what was happening,
but Allen always protected him. He'd been the one to warn Krycek of the
toasting the Consortium attended those short weeks ago.
Things were defiantly coming to ahead in the past few weeks. The list of
duties had been long, and Krycek didn't have a long time to complete all
of them.
One minute.
Get Dagen. Check. Kill the smoking man. Check. Mulder had taken care of
that for him.
He paused. Mulder. Something tickled in the back of his head. Something
about Mulder...but it was lost. Krycek moved on.
And most importantly get Scully. She was the key, that much he knew.
Allen was always careful to give Krycek enough discretion on what would
be the best way to complete his objectives. As long as they got done
that was all that really mattered.
But this time Krycek wished that Allen had given him more direction. He
didn't like using Diana on this, he didn't have Allen's assurance that
she could be trusted.
He looked at his watch one final time. No time left. Now he was
officially worried. Where the hell was she? And then the tickling in the
back of his mind came back, along with her words. "Did you locate
him?...There will be time." And then Krycek knew why he was worried and
why she was late.
He turned the engine on with one smooth motion and pulled the car out of
the lot and into the street. Dagen sat next to him, struggling to get
the seatbelt fastened. "What the hell are you doing? We are supposed to
meet them here."
Krycek spoke through gritted teeth. "She has gone to get him. The
fucking bitch has gone to get him."
* * * * * *