*****

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

*****

"There's danger on the edge of town,
Ride the king's highway.
Weird scenes inside the goldmine,
Ride the king's highway west, baby."
- The Doors

***

The Compound
September 18
0030 Hours


Krycek had never been a chipotle with his eggs kind of guy. But when in Rome -- or the state of Sonora, and a beautiful young Mexican woman brings you eggs smothered in a deep adobe-brown chipotle salsa, that's what you eat. Heartburn and gas be damned. It was a hazard of the job.

Mexico had never been his first choice for a refuge home away from home, but it was convenient. And it did have a few more advantages. When he needed to lay low, this was a good place to stay on his back. Not in the big tourist cities, but in the small towns. The people there made it a religion to keep their noses in their own business. They had generations of practice.

Then there was avoiding unnecessary notice. Normally hard to do when you're missing an arm. But the people of this region worked the land. And they knew the secret to beating the sun in the fields. The workers always wore long sleeved shirts. Krycek had never fully understood this habit of migrant workers until he had sat in the Mexican sol. He could now appreciate the practice for its practicality as well as for letting him keep his prosthetic arm covered without the strange looks and whispers.

He had been waiting for things to cool down from his latest double dealings before venturing back into the United States. Moving from town to town, from Chihuahua to Sonora, for four weeks when the first hints of trouble blew through on the rumor mill.

It was a mere five days later when Captain Tripps paid his first visit to the town. His first victim was a celebrity -- though not in a good way like, say, Clark Gable. This man with a phlegmy cough and Niagara Falls sinuses was beheld with the awe reserved for curiosities like The Elephant Man. You couldn't help but look, but you sure as hell didn't want to touch.

Krycek knew the Flu for what it was. The beginning of the end. And he was pretty damn sure he knew where it came from. Word was spreading that Mexico and the U.S. were closing their borders. A "quarantine," they said. He started making arrangements accordingly.

Fifty C notes bought him a seat on Pedro Robles small plane. He had used Robles' services in the past, when something needed to be smuggled across the border with no questions asked.

Krycek was concerned when he arrived at the improvised air strip and saw the pallor of Robles' face. The pilot had to be in serious denial not to recognize that his hours were numbered. Krycek did not relish the idea of flying with the sick man, but he had little choice. There was no other way across the border -- and there was no way in hell he was going to be stuck in Mexico as the full scope of the Flu dawned on everyone. He was a gringo from the country that caused the pandemic. Yeah. He was sure the natives would let him live.

They took off with a sputter of engines that were not happy with their fuel quality. They had headed directly west, out over the Gulf of California. Robles turned the plane due north. They were headed straight for El Centro, California.

They almost didn't make it. Robles had them flying so low in the dark night -- and he was coughing up so much mucous and other suspicious fluids -- that they almost didn't clear the last set of rocky crests before the expanse of the Imperial Valley.

Robles didn't even cut the engine when they landed, barely even came to a stop. Krycek had jumped onto the field and the plane immediately did a 180 degree turn and was off.

Krycek doubted the Robles would be able to make the flight back to Mexico. He had watched as the plane bounced across the field, lifting up, touching down, only to bounce back up again. The air finally caught beneath the wings and the plane was aloft. But it seemed to be going up and down, the wings waggling feebly.

Krycek started to run in the opposite direction. He had a feeling. He looked back over his shoulder and knew his gut was right. He slowed his run, unable to take his eyes off the impending disaster. The plane was approaching the hills to the south. The nose was still down. There was no way Robles could gain altitude in time... The fireball lit up the face of the rocky hills.

The dreams had started that night, somewhere west of El Centro. And they would not let go. He no choice but to follow where they led him. Las Vegas. Responding to Flagg's beck and call.

*

He picked up the bottle of Makers Mark from the desk and took a long swig. He had to hand it to Spender. The man had some good booze stashed in the bottom drawer of his desk amongst the cartons of Morleys.

He looked to the monitors on the wall. They were all working. The perimeter alarms and cameras were set. It hadn't taken much work to get everything running again. He had even managed to rig a portable radio to monitor any conversations his prisoners might have. His years of covert work had paid off.

Monitor Three showed the room where his captives were held. Spender and Dr. Parks were securely handcuffed to the bedframe. He zoomed the camera in. Spender's face was pale in his slumber. His wounded hand had probably begun to fester by now. He panned the camera. Dr. Parks was a mystery. She was not happy to be there, but she was keeping her mouth shut and following his orders. Although, she had scowled when he had returned to the room and handcuffed her to the bed. She had wanted to go to the bathroom before he locked her up, but he had refused. She didn't argue with him, or rather, the gun in his hand. Of course, she was only trying to protect her son. The boy was asleep, lying across the doctor's lap. Good. Now if Mulder would just get to the door so he could take care of business once and for all.

He ran his left hand through his hair, pausing afterward to stare as he flexed his fingers. After a life of doing a fairly good job of watching out for number one on his own, had he made the right decision? It was hard to know. His thoughts had become muddled. His *own* thoughts were muted. When Flagg had appeared and offered his *gift,* all Krycek had felt was rage. A need for the arm. He couldn't refuse. It had been physically impossible to resist.

Now he wondered if Flagg had manipulated his decision. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Every time he thought of Flagg, the rage returned. All he could see was his own hands wrapped around Spender's throat, the bones in the old man's spine cracking, his windpipe popping. He could feel the blood on his hands as he plunged his knife over and over in Mulder's body. He could hear the wind being sucked from the agent's lungs, the grunt as he fell to the floor.

He took another swig of bourbon and gasped as it burned down his throat.

He glued his eyes to the monitors. Just a little more time.


***
0400 Hours


They moved slowly, ever aware of the security cameras. Mother Abagail, God, Fate, or Lady Luck had led them to this dirt road yesterday afternoon.

Scully was surprised when Mulder had pulled the Suburban to a halt on the highway, turned off the engine. He hadn't said a word. He just pointed to the side of the dusty road. The motion sensors were carefully hidden between rocks, but they were still visible to a wary eye.

She had pulled out the binoculars. It had taken some searching, but soon they spotted the cameras that dotted the roadway. Yeah. They were in the right place. Mulder pulled the car a little further down the road, just to be safe. They hunkered down and waited for the cover of darkness. Few words were exchanged. Neither of them had the vocabulary or the energy. All they could do was hold one another.

Now they were trying to take advantage of the statistics that had been used on countless battlefields before -- the human senses were at their worst during these twilight hours. Guards were not alert, night shift workers were at their lowest productivity. All Mulder and Scully needed was a little inattention and a lot of luck.

They stayed off the road, traveling behind the line of cameras. At least this way they were only exposed to half of the eyes. They kept on the alert for motion sensors.

**
0600 Hours


The deceptively small building was just ahead. They circled around it, choosing to approach from behind. Mulder crept around one side, his pistol in hand, while Scully did the same on the other side. They met on either side of the door. The high-tech key pad told them they were in the right place.

"Whaddaya think the odds are this is unlocked?" Mulder whispered, as they both examined the pad.

"Oh, I'd say slim to none, Agent Mulder," Krycek called out as he stepped out from behind the building with his MP-5.

Mulder and Scully both raised their guns, but Krycek was faster. He laid down a row of automatic fire that bit into the sandy ground at their feet.

"Drop the weapons. Now." Krycek demanded.

A litany of curses passed through Mulder's head. He considered ignoring the order, but realized the idea was fatal. They complied, dropping their guns to the ground.

"Kick them away."

The agents obeyed.

"And, now, Mulder. Get lift those pant legs up," Krycek barked.

"Damn. And I didn't shave today," Mulder complained. Inside, he cursed. There went his backup weapon. As he lifted his pant leg and removed the snub-nose .38, he couldn't help himself. "I never would have pegged you as a leg man, Krycek. Ass man, maybe..."

"Only when the ass is Scully's. Toss it over there," Krycek responded coolly. He pointed with his left hand.

*Oh, shit,* thought Mulder. He felt Scully stiffen behind him. Krycek had two arms. There was only one way that was possible. Flagg.

Krycek smiled as he saw their recognition. "Like the new model?" He waved his fingers at them. "Rather handy to have." He laughed at his own joke, then stopped suddenly. He reached to the small of his back and drew out a set of handcuffs. He tossed them at Scully. "Pick 'em up and put 'em on. One cuff on you, one on him."

The agents had no choice but to do as told. Scully started to snap one cuff around her right hand...

"No way!" Krycek stopped her. "Put the cuff on your left hand. Cuff Mulder's right." Nothing was slipping by him today.

The cuffs were on.

"Up against the wall," Krycek instructed them. "Hands on the wall. Feet back. Further. Spread your legs."

Mulder cursed. In this awkward position it was physically impossible to take any action. And he was aware that his longer right arm was pulling the cuff on Scully's left.

The search began. Krycek started with Scully, making sure that Mulder saw that his gun was pointed directly at the base of Scully's skull. All Mulder could do was feel relief that at least Krycek didn't take the opportunity to cop a feel. He was all business. And he didn't miss the knife at Scully's waist or the handcuff key in her pocket. *Damn.*

Krycek was just as thorough with Mulder. Ammo and two knives hit the ground. His handcuff key went into Krycek's front pocket. Mulder thought it was over when Krycek stepped back. But Krycek had other ideas. He just couldn't resist.

He balled his hand into a fist and punched Mulder in the kidneys.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Scully yelled as Mulder fell to his knees, dragging her arm down with him.

"Payback's a bitch," Krycek shrugged. "On your feet! Time to join the rest of the gang below."

Scully helped Mulder to his feet. Krycek kept his weapon trained on them as he punched the code into the keypad. The door opened with a hiss.

Then they were inside.

***

Roberta was abruptly awakened when the door flew open. A man and a woman stepped inside, followed by Krycek and his gun. The man and woman were handcuffed. *Shit.* This had to be the two agents Spender had been waiting for. The reason she and Matthew had been held here. She prayed that her cover wouldn't be blown. If it was, she had no doubt she would be joining Scotty out in the hallway.

She saw the flash of recognition...*Relief?*...that passed over the woman's face when she saw Matthew. She knew the woman wasn't Matthew's mother. What was she to him? Matthew was rousing in her lap. *Oh crap.* She pulled him up with her free hand and held him to her chest, trying to keep his eyes away from their new company.

"Dr. Parks, meet Agents Mulder and Scully," Krycek gloated.

Krycek pushed the couple forward, forcing them toward her. He tossed the handcuff key to Roberta.

"Unlock your cuff from the frame."

She obeyed, struggling to hang onto Matthew.

"Now hand the key to Scully." At Roberta's puzzled glance, he pointed to her. "The chick," he commented.

Roberta handed the key to Scully. Krycek then motioned for her to lock her cuff back on the bed frame down at Spender's end. She complied, sinking back to the floor. She watched as he made Scully unlock her cuff and toss the key back to him. Then she threaded the cuffs through the bedframe and refastened the cuff around her wrist. Mulder pulled at the cuffs in anger. None of them were going anywhere.

Krycek relaxed his stance. He was firmly in control of the situation. "Now. I've got a few things to do. Gotta have everything ready." He turned to Roberta. "Give me your son."

Roberta's eyes widened. In her peripheral vision she saw the shocked reaction of Scully. "No way," she refused.

Krycek strode over to her and grabbed Matthew's arm. "Give him to me now. I have no reason to hurt him unless you all misbehave while I'm gone, now do I?"

Roberta still was not giving up without a fight. Krycek finally got tired of arguing and he kicked her in the side. He pulled the boy away and strode toward the door. He turned at the open door. "Remember. You all behave and the boy will be fine." He exited and slammed the door shut.

"No!" Scully exclaimed as she fought against the cuff. But Mulder quickly quieted her. He was just as confused as she was, but he didn't want them to make a mistake.

Mulder turned to Spender. "Are there ears in here?"

Spender nodded and pointed to the air vent in the ceiling.

Roberta silently watched. Without a word, merely a nod, Mulder and Scully got to work. It only took her a moment to realize their objective. Krycek had used hinged cuffs to secure them to the metal frame. Big mistake.

She winced as she watched them maneuver their wrists against the frame, first his, then hers, then back again. She knew it had to hurt like hell, but it was necessary. Hinged handcuffs were excellent at limiting a suspect's mobility -- it was very hard to maneuver your hands under your feet to the front your body, and it was next to impossible for the suspect to try and pick the lock. But their weakness was in their tensile strength. She had once arrested a large man who had managed to twist and break three sets of handcuffs before they got him into booking. She had added three charges of destruction of property to his list for his efforts.

She watched as Scully's cuff drew first blood. Not surprising since she didn't have as much padding around her wrist bone. What was surprising was the teamwork. It was hard enough for one person to do, let alone two people trying to coordinate their movements. She caught the quick glances Mulder gave toward Scully, the worry, the pain each time she bit her lip to stifle a complaint. But she saw the look on Scully's face. There was no way in hell that woman was going to stop. Roberta seriously thought that Scully would gnaw her own arm off to get Matthew away from Krycek.

Roberta pulled once more against her own cuff. Damn chain-linked cuffs. There was no way she could ever break them. The chains were too strong. Damnit. She wanted to get into the bathroom, grab the gun, and start filling Krycek with holes, preferably starting in the groin area and working her way around in a random pattern. If only she had been able to get the gun earlier...she had even begged him to let her *use* the bathroom. But it would have been a mistake. Matthew was in the line of fire and Krycek had searched her when he handcuffed her. And if she had gotten it earlier, there had been nowhere in the room to conceal it. She had decided then that she had to be patient. That an opportunity would present itself later -- when Matthew would not be in danger. Maybe this was the beginning of that moment?

The rattle of her handcuff chain made Mulder look at Roberta. From his eyes, she could see that he read her anger and frustration. Her need to protect Matthew. There was very little time to act. She needed to let Mulder and Scully know about the gun in the bathroom. Shit. Charades was never her game. She was always partial to Parchesi. And she had to do this quickly. Krycek might be able to monitor *sounds* from the radio on his belt, but he wouldn't be able to *see* until he reached a monitor.

She held up her free hand and mimicked the form of a gun. Mulder's brow creased. Oh hell. Hadn't he ever played Cowboys and Indians without a real gun? She pretended to shoot. His eyes widened in recognition. Then she pointed to the bathroom. He was getting it so far. But how in the hell was she supposed to pantomime a mattress? *The things they don't teach you in the police academy.* She chose the shower mime instead. No easy feat, and he wasn't getting it. He was getting that glazed over, jaw opened look her ex-boyfriend got whenever she talked about shopping. Luckily, Scully glanced up to see what was distracting her partner. By the time Roberta was pretending to shave her legs, Scully got the message. *The gun is in the shower stall,* Scully mouthed. Roberta nodded in relief.

The agents got back to working on the cuffs. They just needed enough time.

Five minutes later, the hinges were beginning to give. Sweat was trickling down Scully's back. Both of their wrists were raw, bruised and bleeding. It occurred to Scully that they might cause permanent nerve damage to their hands, her hand was already achy and her fingers were numb.

The first hinge snapped apart. They adjusted their angles to work on the remaining hinge. So close...

***

Krycek had been an assassin for a long time. It was a part of his job description. He had been a kind of sergeant in the Consortium's army. He had done many things on the job. But there was one thing he had never done. One thing of which the very idea made him ill. Rape. Rough sex, yeah. But never with a completely unwilling partner.

But today he could not shake the thoughts from his head. There was no better way to make Mulder suffer than to take Scully. He was growing hard just thinking about it. He'd even leave the doors open so Mulder could hear Scully scream.

He tugged the boy down the hallway to the room he planned to use. He needed to get it ready. Make sure everything was in place. Duct tape, handcuffs, a gag, a bed with clean sheets -- because he didn't want to be rolling around on dirty linen.

He stopped at the doorway and rubbed his face. Took a deep breath. The nausea was building in the pit of his stomach. What the hell was he doing? But just as quickly, the nausea fled. His eyes could only see red. Anger and revenge. He would do this. He would enjoy every minute of it. Flagg would want him to do it.

***

The door to the room flew open and banged back against the wall. Krycek entered, holding Matthew's arm with one hand, his gun with the other.

"You," he pointed to Scully. "You're coming with me."

"Like hell she is," Mulder growled.

Krycek spoke to Scully. "When I give you the key, unlock your cuff and hook it to the frame."

"What the hell do you want, Krycek? Take me instead!" Mulder argued.

Krycek laughed. "I don't think I'd enjoy that nearly as much," he said as he grabbed his crotch. "You just don't turn me on as much as Agent Scully."

"You son of a bitch!" Mulder yelled. He almost jumped to his feet, revealing the state of their handcuffs, but Scully stopped him.

"Alex," Spender entered the conversation. "I would have thought such an action beneath even you. You have what you want. We're all here. There is no need for you to stoop to something so disgusting."

"Go on over to your mom, kid," he snarled as he nudged Matthew toward Roberta. "Time to take care of some other business." He pointed his gun toward Spender.

But little Matthew was confused. He knew the other lady, too. he recognized her red hair, her kind eyes. He knew her name. The mean man had said it. He took a step toward Scully.

Scully wanted to shake her head. *No.*

"Aunt Da-na!" He shouted and ran toward her.

"What the fuck?" Krycek shouted in surprise. They had *lied* to him. The rage built in his chest, rising to his head.

Krycek raised his gun...

But as he fired, the klaxons from the perimeter alarms suddenly sounded and everyone jumped.

And all hell broke loose.

And, with one final tug of desperation, so did Mulder's and Scully's handcuffs.

Spender grunted in pain as the bullet struck.

Mulder rushed Krycek while Scully grabbed Matthew to shield him. Roberta reached over to check on Spender. Blood was gushing from a nick in the femoral artery in his left leg. Without thought, she shoved her palm down hard, trying to clamp off the artery.

Mulder broadsided Krycek, his hand knocking Krycek's gun to the floor. The two men wrestled, Mulder driving Krycek back against the wall, his left forearm across the man's chest. Mulder raised his right arm and punched Krycek in the face. Krycek barely felt it. His anger had numbed him to pain. He drove his knee into Mulder's groin.

Scully needed to help Mulder. She scooped Matthew up into her arms and practically threw him into the bathroom, over by the shower stall.

As Mulder fell, Krycek tried to scramble for his gun, but Scully had different ideas. She charged and threw herself into his side, driving back him into the wall. She elbowed him hard in the gut and could hear him wheeze.

But Krycek wasn't giving up. He brought his fists together and brought them down with all his force on Scully's back. She fell to the ground. She tried to push herself up, but Krycek was ready. He reared back, then kicked her in the side of the head. She fell and rolled to the side, dazed and bleeding.

"Scully!" Mulder roared. He launched himself once more at Krycek.

But Krycek had already managed to pull out his knife. The Mexican dagger blade gleamed under the fluorescent lights. As Mulder charged, Krycek lashed out. Mulder tried to turn and hit the brakes, but the blade still found the flesh of his left arm. As his body flinched instinctively from the injury, Krycek kicked out, his foot hitting Mulder squarely in the chest.

Mulder fell flat on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs. Krycek jumped on top of the agent, straddling him before he could react.

"This was too easy, Mulder," Krycek grinned.

Krycek's arm came down in an arc from above, the tip of the knife headed straight for Mulder's throat.

"Mulder!" Scully screamed.

A blinding glint of golden light flashed in Krycek's eyes as he drove the blade home. He jerked slightly.

The blade made contact with something hard, it bounced from his grip. Mulder grunted underneath him. Krycek's right hand scrambled to reach the knife while he held the wounded agent down with his left arm. His fingers found the handle, he lifted it up...and froze. The blade tip was completely bent. It was useless.

He looked down. Instead of seeing a mass of blood, all he saw was the cross around Mulder's neck and the rage in his eyes. Mulder arched his back, throwing Krycek off to the side.

Scully pushed herself up, trying to focus and find some kind of opening, some way to help Mulder. She saw that Krycek's gun was laying on the ground a few feet away. She grabbed it and pointed it at Krycek. She squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. *Damnit!* The impact with the hard floor had jammed the clip causing a double feed. The gun would not fire. She frantically tried to clear it by ripping out the magazine, but the release would not work.

Suddenly, a small movement caught her eye. Matthew was standing in the bathroom doorway, holding something in his hands.

"Matthew! No!" Roberta screamed.

As Mulder and Krycek wrestled on the floor, Krycek had regained the upper hand. He repeatedly punched Mulder in his injured arm. He wrapped his hands around Mulder's throat. As he squeezed, he pounded Mulder's head against the concrete.

Everything was moving in slow motion. Scully staggered toward Matthew. The world was still fuzzy, but the dark object in his little hands had taken shape. Gun!

She reached the boy and grabbed the weapon from his hands. With her sore still-cuffed hand she shoved the boy back into the bathroom as she spun around to face Krycek, raising the gun with her good hand.

She took aim.

Mulder strained for air, the blood to his brain was being cut off. The world was growing dim.

Krycek delighted in the feeling of the flesh beneath his fingers. His strength knew no limits. Foam frothed from the corners of his mouth.

The gun fired.

"Payback's a bitch," Scully muttered as she fell to her knees.

Mulder watched as the red mass exploded from Krycek's brain. The man's face froze in an "Oh!" expression. Mulder pushed him off and Krycek slumped to the floor.

He struggled to sit up, finally settling for moving on his hands and knees to Scully's side. He reached out and pried the gun from her fingers.

"Mulder?" Scully whispered, his face finally coming in to focus before her.

"Yeah. It's okay. I'm okay. Krycek's dead," he soothed.

Scully scanned him from head to toe. It was impossible. She had seen Krycek plunge the knife down. "But...he stabbed you. I saw..."

Mulder grabbed Scully's hand and brought it to his neck. he placed her fingers on the cross.

"Mother Abagail made me promise..." Mulder choked out, his fingers kneading hers as she saw.

In the middle of the cross, there was the mark of the knife.

As Mulder took Scully into his arms, the reason for the still sounding alarm revealed itself.

Fluffy came bounding into the room, despite his limp. He was ready for action and seemed disappointed when there wasn't any. But he was overjoyed to see Mulder and Scully. He ran over to them and showered them with barks and tongue.

"Did me miss everything?" J.D. stood in the doorway, a gun in each hand.

***

1200 Hours


The first minutes after the arrival of J.D. and Fluffy had been a flurry of action as Scully shook off her own injuries and tried to save Spender's life.

Whatever her mixed emotions, she couldn't watch him die. Not when they still needed answers. Not when he had just inexplicably put himself in harm's way to keep Krycek from raping her.

She sighed as she looked at the tourniquet on his leg. There was little she could do for him, except prolong his life for a few hours. Even with the medical supplies and equipment in this facility, she couldn't repair a damaged femoral artery. The tourniquet was the only thing keeping him alive. If she loosened it, he would bleed out within a minute or two.

The temporary fix was painful as blood collected above the tie. She had given Spender a small dose of morphine to give him some comfort. He had refused more. He insisted he wanted to retain some alertness. Nevertheless, he had been in a drug-induced sleep for the past two hours.

She looked up as Roberta brought in a tray of food from the commissary. "I thought you guys might be hungry. It ain't much, but J.D. seems to be okay in the kitchen."

"Thank you," Mulder offered as he crossed over to check out the food. He nodded his approval. Chicken soup with cheese toast. It would be the best meal they had eaten since leaving Boulder.

Scully joined them by the small table and rested her hand on Roberta's shoulder. "Thank you." She meant more than just a thanks for the food. She had seen Roberta's protectiveness of Matthew.

Roberta nodded, still unsure of what to say. "Matthew's running around with Fluffy in the commissary. I think Matthew is trying to teach him how to play baseball."

Mulder laughed. Scully ducked her head and smiled. It was hard not to cry with relief. The ordeal was over.

"How's he doing?" Roberta nodded toward Spender.

"I'm doing much better, thank you, Officer Parks," Spender replied from his bed. His voice was soft, but strong.

"Officer?" Mulder questioned.

"It's a long story...we'll talk later," she replied. "I think you probably need to talk to him first." Mulder nodded. "I'll be with the boys if you need me," she said as she left the room.

"We don't have much time," Spender feebly motioned them over to him with his good hand. The agents walked to his bedside.

"We're here," Mulder stated. "Feel like filling us in on what's going on?"

Spender nodded. "It's a long story. I ask you to please just listen. Let me start from the beginning. I'll tell you as much as I can."

Mulder and Scully were doubtful, but they agreed. Mulder pulled up two chairs and they sat beside the ailing man.

"You know some of the details. The nature of the group of men with whom I worked..."

They nodded. Spender fumbled in his shirt pocket, trying to find something. He looked up at Mulder and the agent knew what the man wanted. He reached for Spender's jacket and pulled out the pack of Morleys. Despite Scully's disapproving look, Mulder handed Spender a cigarette and then lit it for him.

"Thank you," Spender coughed on the first drag. He saw Scully's frown. "Agent Scully, would you deny a dying man his last cigarette?" She didn't respond.

"What you don't know about is the divisions within the Group. While some of my colleagues tried to negotiate a way for the survival of a few select people, and a few more tried to find a way of defeating them..."

"With the vaccine." Scully interjected.

"Yes. The vaccine. While they pursued their own agenda, I and a precious few of my associates chose to pursue a more practical route. They already had too many soldiers in place. They had infested our people at an alarming rate and trying to administer a vaccine was too impractical. How could we possibly manage to reach every man, woman, and child on Earth? The soldiers would never allow it to happen.

"No. It had to be on a much larger and immediate scale. And I knew there would be sacrifices necessary in order to save the many."

"What do you mean, 'sacrifices'?" Mulder hissed.

"What do you think I mean, Fox?"

Mulder winced at the use of his given name.

"If a ship is sinking and it only has lifeboats for fifty of the one hundred people on board, do you save that fifty? Or you do you make everyone go down with the ship because you have some so-called moral objection to having to choose life for only half of the passengers?" Spender took a drag on his cigarette. His shaking hand was the only sign of the pain he was feeling.

"You tell me, Fox. When you rescued Agent Scully from Antarctica, how many people did you leave behind in those pods to die?"

"You bastard," Scully's fists shook beside her. "How can you even compare what Mulder did to your actions?"

"How can you not? It's exactly the same dilemma. Or is your life so much different and more important than the clerk who scans your groceries at the corner market?" He paused. "For the record, in hindsight, I agree with Agent Mulder's decision."

Mulder moved in front of Scully to deflect Spender's personal attack. But neither of the agents could respond to his comments. Spender, in his disgusting way, was right. The only thing that surprised Mulder was that Spender was not gloating about it. On the contrary, he seemed to hold some kind of deep sadness or regret.

"What did you do?" Mulder asked, his voice low and, this time, non-accusatory. Scully placed her hand on his back when she heard his tone.

Spender thought for a moment before he answered. He also noticed the change in Mulder's demeanor. He was surprised. But grateful that maybe he would have the chance to explain what had been done to someone who could appreciate the entire picture. Not appreciate in a "you did a great job" kind of way, but with some understanding of how difficult it was to do something that had to be done. This is what he had been hoping for from the moment he knew Mulder and Scully were on their way to his lair.

"There was only one thing that could be done. In one motion, we had to kill off those who had already been infested with the *aliens,* and we had to make the remaining population an unviable option for those who still sought to invade us."

"The Super Flu," Mulder surmised.

"Yes. That was part of it. We developed a strain of flu that was fatal to 99.95 percent of the population. But we also developed a serum that could protect humans from the flu. A serum that could be delivered on a massive scale without the notice of the enemy. Most importantly, the serum was eventually fatal to the invading parasites. Once administered to our population, we would be safe from the planned invasion. Our bodies would not be acceptable as hosts. And those who were already taken, they would be dead, one way or another." Spender watched the smoke rise from his cigarette as he thought of what should have been.

"So what happened?" Mulder asked.

"An idiot in the lab, sabotage," he shrugged. "We can never really know for sure. The only reason there were any survivors beyond those naturally immune to the flu is that we had performed a few trial disseminations of the serum on the general public."

"What trials?" Scully moved from behind Mulder.

Spender pointed for his jacket and Mulder picked it up from the chair by the bedside and handed it to him. Spender reached into the pocket and held up the answer.

"Lifesavers?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"One of our doctors had a morbid sense of humor," Spender admitted. "Operatives replaced one serum laced candy in a roll. Never more than one or two in any locality. Just a few to test the viability. We had plans for other foods and beverages to be used when the real time came. Things like flour and bottled water for foreign nations. And, because of our American eating habits, we planned to use more fattening foods in the United States. My personal favorite was using that cereal shaped like flying saucers..."

"Quisp? Is that your idea of a joke?" Mulder was indignant.

"I'm surprised, Agent Mulder. I thought you, of all people, would appreciate the use of the product. As I recall, it used to be one of your favorites," Spender replied.

"So. How many human guinea pigs did you kill to get this serum?" Scully demanded.

"Agent Scully. We followed proper protocols as much as circumstances allowed. There was too much at risk. We had to know. We included animals in our testing. The thought had occurred to us that the alien parasites could choose to infect the higher brained animals among us if they could not infect humans. So, we checked the effects upon apes and canines. It was very effective among dogs, although, there were very few immune survivors of the tests when the flu was unleashed, pardon the pun."

"Mulder...Fluffy?" Scully asked.

"You tattooed the dogs, didn't you?" Mulder asked.

"Yes. I believe they were marked with some shortened form of their DNA codes. We used dogs marked for military and law enforcement use. Their routine physicals made it easy for us to monitor their health. And they were implanted with an identifying chip..."

"The same as the one in my neck?" Scully murmured, her hand straying to the mark on her neck.

"No. Your chip was only needed in special circumstances."

"What do you mean?" Mulder prodded.

"Those circumstances were not under my control. But, why do you think I wanted you to come here? Why it was so important?"

"One last jab for old times sake before you killed us?" Mulder mused.

"Quite the opposite, Agent Mulder. Agent Scully, how has your health been this week?"

Mulder frowned and looked toward Scully.

"I feel fine," she answered with determination. But both Mulder and Spender heard the catch in her voice.

"Let me guess," Spender said as he dropped his used up cigarette to the floor.

Mulder stepped on it in disgust.

"You began experiencing headaches, nosebleeds, and other nefarious symptoms shortly after the Flu had run its initial course. After all the power, all the communications had failed.

Scully did not reply. She fixed her iron gaze upon him, refusing to acknowledge anything.

The corner of Spender's mouth lifted in a gesture of recognition. Spender often wondered why Agent Scully was so stubborn, but he had always held a certain respect for her grit. "You knew that the cancer that had gone into remission with the return of your *chip* had returned. And it was progressing rapidly."

Again, no response from Scully. But, this time, Mulder's agitation was evident. The agent's knee was bouncing up and down, his body ready to explode.

"But then, as you approached this location, something happened. A different kind of headache, perhaps?" He looked at Scully expectantly. This time, there was a minor crack in her facade. Her eyes always gave her away.

"Scully?" Mulder saw it, too.

Scully cleared her throat. She spoke to Mulder, but kept her eyes on the floor. "While you were in the town, Mulder. It was...like something drained away. I woke up and instead of the usual hangover, I was just tired..."

Mulder reached out and grabbed her arm. "Why didn't you tell me?" He demanded.

Spender rolled his eyes. Sometimes he truly wondered what the woman saw in Mulder. "Now is not the time, Agent Mulder," he reprimanded. "You're missing the point."

"Oh? And what's the point?" Mulder turned his anger at Spender.

"Agent Scully is better. The cancer is once again in remission."

"What are you talking about? That's impossible," Scully whispered.

Spender shifted his leg slightly, holding back his groan of pain. He had gotten this far. He would finish.

"I ask again. Why do you think I wanted you to come here?"

"Again. Because you're a sick bastard," Mulder snapped.

"Agent Mulder. I have never been accused of being an altruistic man. I've craved knowledge and I've used it to achieve power. But, I can say that I have derived more pleasure when my position and power have run concurrently with... programs... that tended to improve the human condition. Because, despite my reputation, I do appreciate justice. I do not delight in the harm of innocents."

"But who gave you the right to divine the innocent from the guilty?" Scully demanded.

"A fair question, Miss Scully. I could say that it was thrust upon me. I could say that I chose it. Or, I could just reply, who gave *you* the right to do the same?"

Scully was quiet. Spender gave in to a grimace of pain.

"I believe I'd like another shot of morphine," he mumbled.

The doctor in Scully could not refuse his request. The request of a dying man who still had answers. She lifted the vial, stuck in the needle. She pushed the syringe into Spender's thigh. He sighed quietly as the drug took effect.

It required great effort, but he forced his eyes open. "Thank you, Agent Scully." She didn't respond. "Much as I'd like to continue our question and answer session, I believe my time is running low. You both need to just listen."

Mulder frowned, but Scully gave him a slight nod.

"Agent Scully *had* to come here. I knew this. Randall Flagg was the one who told me where to find your nephew. I only intended to use him to ensure that you both came here. Unfortunately, Flagg used Krycek, too."

Mulder started to mutter something, but Spender weakly lifted his hand to stop him.

"It's not...what you think." Damn. It was getting harder to form words. To think. "When the satellites failed, I knew the chip in Agent Scully would also fail. Her cancer would return.

"This facility has the only working transmitter that can keep the chip functioning. I knew she would die unless you came here. And, believe it or not, I did not want that to happen..." His words trailed off, his eyes closed.

"Why?" Scully asked, her voice cracking. It was almost too much to believe.

Spender's eyes opened slowly, still drooping. "I already explained this. Please... I knew you and Agent Mulder were the only ones who could act on my information. To make sure this terrible accident wasn't all in vain. *They* are still out there. Even though they have no hope of survival, they will try. You, Agent Scully, are mankind's last defense. You must remain vigilant. Everything you need is here...the labs, the equipment. Use it wisely. The threat will not come today, but it will come in the future."

There was little Mulder or Scully could say.

Spender forced his gaze upon Scully. "But *you.* You must remember that you can never leave this place..."

"What?" Mulder exclaimed.

"The transmitter. It only reaches...about a one hundred mile radius. Leave and you *will* die." Spender's body had fought enough. His eyes drifted shut and he fell into a morphine assisted sleep.

Mulder and Scully staggered to their feet and moved to the bed on the other side of the room before collapsing in confusion and exhaustion. They had no words. All Mulder could do was wrap his arms around Scully and draw her down to lay beside him.

Neither one of them noticed when Spender woke a few minutes later. He turned his head slightly and could see the two agents on the bed. *Good.* His left hand reached under the blanket for the tourniquet on his leg. Loosened it. The blood gushed.

Spender smiled. His mission was complete.

And he closed his eyes and died.