Title: Fleeing the Great Bear
Author: Waddles52
Rating: PG 13
Classification: MT
Spoilers: Fill in the blank for Terma. Brief
mention of The Host and End Game.
Summary: We didn't get to see how Mulder managed to
escape and make his way back to civilization. This
fic is my take on that.
Disclaimer: Not for profit. Just for fun. Since
this episode had such a gaping hole in it, I felt it
was my duty to fill it in. I did borrow some of the
dialogue from Terma, written by Frank Spotnitz and
Chris Carter.
Archives: Please ask, but I usually say yes.
Thanks: To Lisa for the beta and the title and to my
husband for putting up with me while I watched and
rewound my video a kazillion times to get the opening
scene just right.
The big, bearded man kicked the door open and threw
the defenseless man into the simple hut where he
landed in an undignified heap on the floor. "This
son of a bitch ruined my truck!" The man shouted
vehemently in Russian, disgust and anger evident in
his voice.
A woman quickly moved from the table where she had
been reading by the light of a kerosene lamp and
helped the unexpected visitor stand and make his way
to the table where he slumped into a chair. "Be
careful with him. He's hurt." The woman admonished
the man, her gentle hands checking him for injuries.
Fox Mulder caught his breath and was thankful that he
had at least been thrown into a building, allowing
the slightest bit of warmth to seep into his body in
many hours. He was surprised to be there at all. He
had been sure that the irate truck driver would take
him directly back to the gulag as soon as he had been
pulled from his hiding place under the dead leaves on
the forest floor.
The bearded man continued to speak as the woman
fetched their visitor something to drink. "We can't
keep him here. They're looking for him."
"You shouldn't bring him here if you don't want me to
take care of him." The woman looked at the shivering
man sympathetically as he drank greedily from the tin
cup.
"He's not staying!" The man walked outside and
angrily slammed the door.
"Kak va za voot?" The woman kindly asked what his
name was as she began to examine the wound on his
head.
"No Russian." Mulder shivered.
"American?"
"Tell your husband I'm sorry about his truck." Pain
and exhaustion were evident in his voice.
She examined Mulder's arm, lifting his sleeve to
reveal the needle puncture site. It was red and
inflamed and had been a source of agony since he had
awakened in his cell with the memory of the black oil
pouring onto his face. "The test?"
"Yeah." Mulder was relieved that she could speak
English. He shivered again. Even though they were
inside there was very little heat. He could see
their breath in white swirls as they spoke.
She sighed and shook her head. "They kill everybody
for the test."
"Why don't they kill you?"
"My husband makes deliveries. They spare our lives,
but now . . .no truck . . .he is afraid." The woman
seemed almost apologetic as she answered.
"I have to go now." Mulder knew he must leave and
soon.
"No."
"They'll come looking for me. They'll come looking
for you." The FBI agent knew he was a danger to
them. He didn't know how far he would get in his
present condition, still reeling from the effects of
the test and the truck crash. Throw in a little
exposure and he was feeling decidedly ill, but the
safety of this kind woman was more important.
"No, there are other ways."
Mulder's tired mind couldn't grasp what she was
saying. "I don't know what you are talking about.
What other ways?"
"Grisha!" the woman called. A haggard looking young
boy of about 13 entered from the back room, his shirt
tied in a knot below the remains of his left arm.
"No arm. No test."
Mulder gasped, his eyes growing wide with horror.
"Dear God, no! That poor boy," he thought as he
tried to come up with the words to make her see.
"You don't understand . . .these tests. The smallpox
scar on your arm is some kind of identification. You
have to help me escape. I'll help you escape. You
have to help me get to St. Petersburg."
The door crashed open and Mulder spun around to see
the truck driver standing in the doorway, a large
knife in his hand. A look of fear passed over the
American's face as the man fingered the weapon.
He made his way over to Mulder and threw the knife on
the table. "Since you have stolen my livelihood, my
protection," he spat, "It is only right that you
should also be the one to take my arm."
Mulder's face registered shock. He shook his head no
despite the pain that lanced through it.
"Yuri, no!" The woman scrambled from her chair and
embraced him. "He can help us. Please give him a
chance." She led him to the table where he sank into
a chair, defeat etched in his features.
"What is your name, American, and what can you do to
get us out of this hell hole?"
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Mulder rested on the rickety bed in the back room,
wrapped in a thin blanket thinking that he would
never feel warm again. They had dined on a watery
vegetable stew and the black bread that was common to
the area. Though much better than the roach-infested
gruel at the gulag, it had still fallen short of
filling him up. These people led a hard life made
even more difficult by the fear forced upon them by
the conspirators and their experiments.
He shivered again as he heard Anna and Grisha
gathering the meager supplies they would be taking on
their hastily planned journey. Yuri had talked a
friend into transporting them as far as he felt he
safely could in his battered, old, pick-up truck.
From there they would have to walk a fair distance
until they could catch a train into St. Petersburg.
Yuri came in, urging them to hurry. Mulder took that
as a signal to haul his weary body from the bed. His
head was pounding, whether from plain exhaustion or
the tests he had no idea. He was only aware of the
relentless pain behind his eyes and an ache in every
joint in his body. He stumbled and was surprised to
find Yuri quickly at his side, steadying him as he
tried to catch his breath.
"American, come. We must hurry. The sun is going
down and it is best to drive at night. Bring the
blanket. We will be riding in the back of the
truck."
Mulder wearily followed him out to the truck where
Anna and Grisha were already squeezed into the cab.
Yuri climbed up into the bed of the truck and
extended his hand to Mulder. He gladly took it and
sank onto the pallet that had been arranged in the
bed of the truck. He closed his eyes and Yuri
pounded on the grimy back window. "Pavel, let's go.
The Quadavitch family is leaving this hell hole!"
Mulder heard the roar of the engine and felt the
truck bounce over the rough terrain, rattling his
battered and abused body. Despite the discomfort, he
was sleeping before they had gone a mile, hoping not
to dream of the black oil on his face crawling into
his nose and eyes, a deep shiver going through him at
the thought.
He awoke with a start when he realized the truck was
no longer moving. It was daylight, probably late
afternoon he judged, noting the position of the sun.
He had been asleep for almost twenty-four hours! How
was it that he still felt so weak and tired?
Yuri climbed into the bed of the truck. "American,
come. Pavel must go home now and we must walk to the
train station. Get your blanket and follow me."
Mulder did as he was told, dizziness nearly knocking
him to his knees when he jumped off the truck. Once
again, Yuri was there to steady him. "We must walk
until the sun goes down. Are you able?"
Mulder nodded yes wearily and followed Yuri into the
forest where Grisha and Anna waited. They rose when
the two men entered the small clearing. Without
another word they began to travel west.
When it was almost dark Yuri finally called a halt to
their trek for the day and Mulder was grateful. He
slid to the ground beside a huge tree and propped
himself up with the trunk as a backrest, feeling the
last ounce of strength leaving his body. The FBI
agent could only remember one other time when he was
this exhausted.
Waking up in the hospital in Alaska had been
catalogued with his good memories. Scully had been
by his side and he recalled the huge smile plastered
on her face when he finally came out of the coma.
They shared a few words before he was overcome with
unbearable fatigue. Now, he was experiencing that
same feeling without Scully and her smile. Oh, how
he missed her!
"American!" Mulder's thoughts were interrupted when
Yuri pushed a hunk of bread into his hands. Next
came a jug of water. He drank greedily and once
again rested against the tree, picking off small
pieces of the bread to eat. He was almost too tired
to swallow. He put the bread in his lap and a small
groan escaped before he could even think about
stopping it. Anna was immediately at his side, her
soft, warm hand taking his in concern. With his eyes
shut for a second he could almost believe.
"Mulder?"
"Mmm." He couldn't get his mouth to work. All his
body knew now was the relentless pain from his head,
his aching joints and the fire of the injection site.
He wrapped the blanket tightly around his body as he
shivered, more from his fever than the cold.
"Drink this," Anna ordered, putting a small jar of
clear fluid in his trembling hand. He tilted it up
and swallowed a small sip, surprised at the liquid
fire traveling down into his stomach.
Vodka! Very strong vodka! He began to choke and
sputter, then relaxed as a warm feeling took over his
entire body.
"Thanks," he managed as Anna felt his forehead.
"You have fever."
Mulder shook his head in agreement. That effort cost
him as shards of pain sliced through his head.
"Another swallow." Anna pointed at the jar of vodka.
He complied, this time managing to get it down
without choking. With shaking hands he returned the
jar to her, amazed that he hadn't spilled it. He
watched as the kind woman spread a blanket on the
ground and beckoned him to lie down.
Mulder accepted her invitation and moved over to the
pallet. Surprise registered on his face when she sat
beside him and began to massage his temples. Yuri
and Grisha looked on knowingly as he began to relax
under her ministrations. Soon the pain was more
manageable and his eyes began to close, the vodka
still warming him from the inside helping to wash
away some of the discomfort.
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If he thought he was tired the night before, he
quickly realized how wrong he had been. After
walking since dawn with only a few brief stops, he
found a whole new meaning to the sensation. Yuri
called a halt when the train station came into view.
"American, we'll catch the first train out, but we
will probably have to wait until morning. Do not
talk out loud. You'll draw attention to us. Just
pretend to be ill and let Anna take care of you."
Mulder nodded carefully. He wouldn't have to act.
He was ill.
The station was small, furnished with six long
benches. Anna motioned for him to lie down and put
his head on her lap. She whispered to him soothingly
in her native tongue as Yuri and Grisha went to
purchase the tickets. "We had a few coins saved and
Yuri begged our friends for the rest. We have good
friends," she smiled as she switched back to English.
"I'll repay you when we reach St. Petersburg," the
exhausted man whispered back.
"Rest. We still have a long journey on the train."
When she looked down the man's eyes were closed. She
felt sorry for him, but he'd been lucky to escape.
He would be weak and ill for a while from the
testing, but it could have been much worse. Many
died the first time.
Anna couldn't help but wonder what would become of
them when they reached St. Petersburg. She hoped she
hadn't been wrong in trusting the American.
After Yuri and Grisha returned with the tickets, Anna
left Mulder to find a place of her own to sleep on
the hard bench, first making sure he was as
comfortable as possible, careful not to disturb him
as she moved. She needn't have worried. The
American slept the sleep of the dead.
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Where had the nighttime hours gone? Once again
Mulder found that he had slept straight through and
still felt like hell when he woke up. He looked
around, hoping to locate the facilities, and found
Yuri pointing outside, a huge grin on his face. The
truck driver motioned for him to follow and Mulder
soon found himself outside facing the foulest
smelling outhouse in the world. The flukeman and the
sewers of New Jersey paled in comparison. Yuri
motioned for him to go first and the FBI agent soon
found himself inside, vomiting everything that he had
put into his stomach since the gulag.
The nausea had been threatening off and on since the
gulag, and the heaving of his stomach brought the
headache back full-force. Explosions of pain burst
behind his eyes. Weakness finally overtook him and
he sank to his knees, still vomiting. Mulder felt a
large pair of hands on his shoulders, holding him
steady. Yuri! Who would have thought that the
angry, tough truck driver image was really a cover-up
for a kind, compassionate man?
When the stomach spasms eventually stopped, the
Russian helped the federal agent to his feet and
practically carried him to the train where Anna was
pressed back into service as a nurse.
"You must seek a doctor when we arrive in the city,"
she ordered, reaching to feel his forehead.
"No," Mulder answered softly, trying to make himself
comfortable in their private car. Thank goodness
Yuri and his friends had enough money to splurge on
the last leg of the trip.
Anna rummaged around in her bag and came up with some
water. Mulder turned down her offer and pulled the
blanket around his shoulders as tightly as he could.
His stomach began to roll again and he swallowed,
barely managing to keep it under control.
The shivering began in earnest again as the train
blew its whistle and began to slowly build up speed.
A doctor in St. Petersburg was beginning to look
better and better. "How long . . .Petersburg?" A
particularly violent chill shook him, taking some of
his words.
"About 30 hours with many stops," Anna supplied.
"Sorry, but it's the only train available."
"Don't apologize. It's fine, better than I expected.
Would've died . . .without . . .help." Little black
dots began to swim in his vision, followed by a
roaring sound in his ears. Mulder knew that feeling.
He managed to choke out a strangled plea for help
before he slumped over, landing limply in Anna's
arms.
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The train was still moving but the motion wasn't
bothering him as much as it had at first. His mouth
felt like it was full of cotton and the injection
site on his arm was sending out sharp pain signals.
The ever-present headache seemed to have improved a
bit. He decided to try and sit up but only managed a
pitiful groan when the pain assaulted his joints.
"Mulder, you mustn't try to move."
The agent managed to pry his eyes open and found that
his head was once again in Anna's lap. "What
happened?"
"You passed out. Your fever has been very high. How
are you feeling now?"
"A little better."
"Yuri searched the train for a doctor and found one
in the next car. He said you have to drink. You
have an infection in your arm and something with your
head, a cushion, I think." Anna looked exasperated.
"My English . . .sorry, I don't know all the words."
"It's fine. The word is concussion. Must've got it
when I crashed the truck."
"Mmph." That was evidently still a sore point with
Yuri.
"The doctor put an injection in your hip and left
these tablets to take." Anna shook a white tablet
into her hand from a small envelope. "He says it is
most important to take them. Without . . .you could
lose your arm or worse."
Since he didn't like either alternative, Mulder took
the pill and drank a good portion of the water that
was offered by the Russian woman.
"Now, rest. We still have many hours before we reach
the city."
"Yuri, thank you."
"Don't worry about it, American. Just be sure to
carry out your end of the bargain."
"I will." Mulder's eyelids began to droop and no
amount of effort on his part could keep them open.
Later Anna once again expressed her worry about
Mulder to her husband. Yuri admitted that he was
worried too, not only for the man's health but also
for their own well-being. If the American was unable
to help them, the little Russian family was stranded.
There was no turning back.
His wife chided him for thinking that way. "He is a
good man. I can feel it."
Mulder shifted in his sleep and moaned, but didn't
wake up. Anna felt his forehead once again. "His
fever is still high. Look in my bag, Grisha. I need
a handkerchief. Yuri, would you soak it with water,
please?"
She took the wet cloth from her husband and began to
bathe Mulder's pale, sweat soaked face.
"Sc . . .Scully?" He appeared disoriented as he
looked around. "Where? Scully?"
"Shh, you're safe, Mulder. We're on our way to St.
Petersburg."
"Anna?"
"Yes, it's Anna. How are you feeling?"
"Feel bad . . .cold, thirsty."
"Yuri will get you some more water." She continued
to bathe his face until her husband handed her a
water bottle. "Here, take a few sips."
Mulder tried to raise his head and found that he was
too weak to manage it. Yuri reached over and held
him up while Anna tilted the bottle so he could
drink.
"Thanks."
"More?"
"Not now."
"How is your pain?"
Mulder took a quick inventory and found that there
wasn't much improvement. "Same . . .hurts."
"You should rest some more. We are about half-way
there and you will need your strength when we reach
the city."
"Our money is almost gone. We will have to walk to
your embassy," Yuri supplied, watching his wife
minister to the stranger.
"'Kay, I'll make it."
"Yes, you are a strong man to escape the gulag, but a
little more rest wouldn't hurt," Anna decided.
Mulder agreed. He was going to need a lot of rest
just to make it off the train.
Several hours later Anna shook Mulder awake. "It is
time to take more medicine."
He made a face but dutifully took the tablet and
swallowed almost half a bottle of water. "Thanks.
How much longer?"
"Maybe ten hours. You still have time to rest."
Mulder shook his head no and pushed himself up. "I
need to sit up for a while." He looked around and
saw that Yuri and Grisha were gone.
"My men were restless. They went for a walk." She
reached up to feel the agent's forehead. "Your fever
is better."
"I feel a little stronger," he volunteered, flexing
his left arm with a wince. "Still sore, but
improving."
"That is good. Have you thought . . .what your plans
are when we reach the city?"
"If you have enough money for a pay phone I can make
a call, get us some transportation."
"We have enough," she assured him, rubbing his
shoulder in a comforting, yet familiar way.
He found her world-weary eyes and held them with his
own. "Anna, I know you're worried, but I wouldn't
lie to you. I can get someone to help you start over
in a different place."
"America?"
"I can't promise that, but somewhere nice where you
won't have to worry about the tests." He hoped there
was such a place.
"How will we support ourselves?"
Mulder was forced to smile at her persistence. She
reminded him so much of Scully.
"You'll take on new names and identities. A job or
training will be provided, but until you're ready to
make it on your own you'll receive assistance in the
form of food, money and transportation."
Anna looked relieved and her eyes held a flicker of
hope, but she was still curious. "Do you think I
could become a nurse?"
He gave her a tired smile. "I don't see why not.
You're a natural." The agent's voice was getting
weaker, the conversation sapping his strength.
Anna quickly recognized his distress. She took him
by the shoulders and helped him ease down until he
was flat on his back once again. "Sorry," he gasped.
"You say sorry too much." She tucked the blanket
around him and smiled.
"Sor . . .right, I do."
"Rest now."
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Mulder woke to the sounds of anguished screams. He
attempted to look around, to figure out where he was,
but found that he was unable to move. Something was
pressing down on him, holding him in place. The
wails grew louder as a black substance began to drip
from a pipe above. Shit! He was back at the gulag!
What had happened to Anna and Yuri? He found himself
praying that they would leave Grisha alone.
A drop of the black, oily substance landed on his
nose. He tried to avoid the liquid, struggling
against the chicken wire holding him in place to no
avail. Soon his screams joined with the others.
Something heavy clamped onto his shoulders, forcing
him to open his eyes and see what new torture was
being inflicted on him. His vision was blurry due to
the black oil that had fallen into his eyes, but he
thought he could make out several figures. They were
talking but sounded far away. His heart racing,
breath ragged in his ears, he forced himself to
listen to what was being said. Someone was shaking
him and he tried desperately to avoid his grasp.
"Nononono!"
"Wake up! Mulder! You are worse?" Yuri questioned,
quickly withdrawing his hand upon seeing the sick
man's distress. His eyes were wild, his breath
labored, obviously somewhere else entirely. It
wasn't too difficult to guess what dreams held the
pale American in their grip.
Mulder took a few seconds to orient himself before he
answered. "Bad dream." He pushed up from his
reclining position, tearing away the blanket that was
cocooning his body. He wiped the perspiration from
his face with a corner of the cover. "Hot."
Yuri handed him a bottle of water. "Don't drink too
much. That is the only bottle left."
Mulder took a couple of gulps and screwed the top
back on. "Where's Anna?"
"With the boy trying to buy some food."
Mulder nodded his understanding and suddenly felt
uncomfortable when he found Yuri staring at him.
"Yuri, what's wrong?"
"You told Anna she could be a nurse. That has been
her dream since she was a girl. You do not tell her
lies about that?"
"No, Yuri. I didn't lie. If that's what she wants
to do I'll make sure she has a chance to go back to
school."
"I'll hold you to that. She has made many
sacrifices. Too many. It is time for her to have a
good life."
"I couldn't agree more," Mulder assured him, lying
back against the seat with a sigh.
The door began to open and both men tensed, expecting
the gulag goons to have found them. Both sighed in
relief as Anna and Grisha walked in. He held several
sandwiches in his remaining hand while Anna brought
up the rear bearing oranges. The men smiled and made
room for the scavengers.
The sandwiches were simple fare, some kind of fruit
preserves on buttered bread. The oranges were a true
delight. Plump and juicy, they were just sweet
enough to leave them wanting more.
"Sorry, but I had to keep back money for the phone.
I couldn't afford more."
"That's okay, Anna," Mulder smiled. "We'll have a
good meal in St. Petersburg. This will tide us over
nicely."
"How are you feeling? The fever is better?"
"Yes, I think so. My arm feels better and I don't
ache as much." He made an effort to stand up but
sank back weakly.
"Guess I feel worse than I thought," The FBI agent
sighed and tried to regain his footing once again.
This time Yuri was there to steady him.
"You need the restroom?" The big Russian had noticed
Mulder's fidgeting while they ate.
"Yes, I do."
"Then I will go with you in case someone tries to
speak to you. Your Russian is not good."
"My Russian is non-existent," Mulder grinned.
"I was trying to be polite," Yuri grinned back.
The walk through the train helped to clear some of
the cobwebs from his head. Though still somewhat
weak, Mulder realized that he was feeling much
better. The fever was gone and the joint pain was
just a dull ache. He winced as he moved his left
arm. It was still pretty painful, but bearable.
Right now he'd almost kill for a shower, but that
would have to wait.
When they returned to their compartment, Grisha began
to ask Mulder questions in halting English. Shy at
first, after a few minutes the Russian youth was
bombarding him with inquiries about food, sports,
clothing and any other thing he could think of
concerning his new life.
"Grisha, I hope you get to live in the Washington,
D.C. area because I'd really like to take you to some
college and professional ball games." The FBI agent
smiled kindly.
Grisha nodded his approval then a wistful look took
over his features as he looked at what remained of
his arm. Mulder noticed the change of expression and
could tell that the boy was thinking of all the
activities that he could never experience.
Before saying anything else, Mulder took a few
moments to choose his words carefully then decided
that he didn't need to be so cautious. His father
had left the major portion of his estate to him and
he would make it happen,period! A warm feeling
spread through his chilled bones at the thought.
Something good would come of this whole, evil mess if
nothing else.
"Grisha, as soon as you get settled, no matter where
you live, you will be the owner of a new, state-of-
the-art prosthesis." There, his promise was out in
the open.
The little Russian family looked confused. Although
their conversational English was quite good, their
vocabulary was rather limited. "What that means is
that Grisha will have the finest artificial arm
available."
The looks of confusion turned to cries of joy as Anna
hugged Mulder tightly. Yuri clapped him soundly on
the back while tears of happiness flowed from
Grisha's eyes.
Mulder noted sadly that it was the first time he had
seen them truly happy since he had met them. He
hoped that he could be responsible for keeping that
grin on their faces. That money was just sitting
around drawing interest. It was only right that his
inheritance should be used to help right some of the
wrongs his father had caused, even if the older
Mulder hadn't been directly involved.
"Mulder, you're sure?" Yuri asked cautiously.
"You have my word," Mulder promised solemnly.
The next few hours were spent resting. Mulder first
listened to their excited chattering in Russian then
nodded off. He felt someone gently shake his
shoulder, rousing him. "Wake up, Mulder."
The tired traveler yawned and stretched as Anna's
face came into focus. "What? Is it time?"
"We will be there in about an hour," Anna informed
him. "How are you feeling?"
Once again he took stock of his physical state. The
omni-present headache had faded to a dull throb
behind his eyes. Once so stiff and sore that every
bounce of the train had caused intense pain, his
joints were almost back to normal. No fever, chills
or nausea could be detected leaving only one more
area to analyze, his left arm. After cautiously
flexing it, the American smiled. "Everything is much
better. Thank you for taking care of me. I think I
would have died if you hadn't taken me in and nursed
me back to health."
"Perhaps it wouldn't have been that terrible on your
own, but we were happy to assist."
The last hour of travel was spent planning what he
would say to his United Nations contact, Marita
Covarrubias. Normally able to make his wishes known
to others quite easily, Mulder realized that the
wellbeing of his rescuers depended on his ability to
convince his contact that they deserved asylum.
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Mulder leaned back and relaxed for the first time in
days. Of course, the luxurious limousine made that a
lot easier. He opened the bar and looked over the
offerings. Settling on bottled orange juice, his
thoughts went to the Quadavitch family. They were
traveling in another fancy car heading for a
different embassy.
Even though his U.N. contact had promised eventual
relocation in the United States, she felt it would be
much safer to split up at the train station. He
sighed and twisted the cap off the orange juice and
drained it in a few swallows. He really needed the
Vitamin C after his adventures. Disposing of that
bottle, he quickly searched the bar for another. His
illness had left him slightly dehydrated and his body
was demanding that its fluids be replenished. The
cold liquid went down easily.
Hopefully it wouldn't take him too long to reclaim
his ID and passport from the American embassy.
Mulder's body was reminding him of the lack of proper
food, water and sanitary conditions that he had
suffered through over the past few days.
Krycek entered his thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome.
He vowed to find that son of a bitch and punish him
for all the indignities he'd suffered since his
arrival on Russian soil and after that he'd punish
him some more for killing his father and the part he
played in Melissa's death and Scully's abduction.
Scully. How he missed her. He couldn't wait to get
back to D.C. and give her a hug, grateful that he was
still alive and had two arms to do it. There was so
much to tell her.
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Three months later Mulder entered the basement office
after raiding the snack cart upstairs. Scully hung
up the phone as he laid a bagel in front of her.
"That was security, Mulder. It seems that you have
some visitors," Scully stated.
"Oh? That's odd. No one ever visits me. Did the
officer give a name?"
"He said it was the Smirnoff family and they spoke
with heavy Russian accents."
Mulder's eyes lit up. "Scully, come with me. You've
got to meet these people. They're the ones who
literally saved my life in Russia. My contact came
through and managed to get them to the states and get
them new identities."
"I'd love to meet them, Mulder." Scully rose from
her seat and pulled on her jacket. "I'd like to
thank them for bringing you back to me." She smiled
broadly and cupped his left cheek with her hand,
savoring his beautiful eyes and smile, realizing how
close she had come to loosing him yet again but for
the kind people they were about to meet. Several
emotions sifted through his gaze and then she smiled
again
Mulder paused then opened the door for her. Their
hands met unconsciously, the light pressure of her
squeezing his hand suddenly made his face break out
in a smile too. "I'm so glad they did."
The agents made their way to the elevator, Mulder
gently guiding Scully with his hand at her back.
End
Author: Waddles52
Rating: PG 13
Classification: MT
Spoilers: Fill in the blank for Terma. Brief
mention of The Host and End Game.
Summary: We didn't get to see how Mulder managed to
escape and make his way back to civilization. This
fic is my take on that.
Disclaimer: Not for profit. Just for fun. Since
this episode had such a gaping hole in it, I felt it
was my duty to fill it in. I did borrow some of the
dialogue from Terma, written by Frank Spotnitz and
Chris Carter.
Archives: Please ask, but I usually say yes.
Thanks: To Lisa for the beta and the title and to my
husband for putting up with me while I watched and
rewound my video a kazillion times to get the opening
scene just right.
The big, bearded man kicked the door open and threw
the defenseless man into the simple hut where he
landed in an undignified heap on the floor. "This
son of a bitch ruined my truck!" The man shouted
vehemently in Russian, disgust and anger evident in
his voice.
A woman quickly moved from the table where she had
been reading by the light of a kerosene lamp and
helped the unexpected visitor stand and make his way
to the table where he slumped into a chair. "Be
careful with him. He's hurt." The woman admonished
the man, her gentle hands checking him for injuries.
Fox Mulder caught his breath and was thankful that he
had at least been thrown into a building, allowing
the slightest bit of warmth to seep into his body in
many hours. He was surprised to be there at all. He
had been sure that the irate truck driver would take
him directly back to the gulag as soon as he had been
pulled from his hiding place under the dead leaves on
the forest floor.
The bearded man continued to speak as the woman
fetched their visitor something to drink. "We can't
keep him here. They're looking for him."
"You shouldn't bring him here if you don't want me to
take care of him." The woman looked at the shivering
man sympathetically as he drank greedily from the tin
cup.
"He's not staying!" The man walked outside and
angrily slammed the door.
"Kak va za voot?" The woman kindly asked what his
name was as she began to examine the wound on his
head.
"No Russian." Mulder shivered.
"American?"
"Tell your husband I'm sorry about his truck." Pain
and exhaustion were evident in his voice.
She examined Mulder's arm, lifting his sleeve to
reveal the needle puncture site. It was red and
inflamed and had been a source of agony since he had
awakened in his cell with the memory of the black oil
pouring onto his face. "The test?"
"Yeah." Mulder was relieved that she could speak
English. He shivered again. Even though they were
inside there was very little heat. He could see
their breath in white swirls as they spoke.
She sighed and shook her head. "They kill everybody
for the test."
"Why don't they kill you?"
"My husband makes deliveries. They spare our lives,
but now . . .no truck . . .he is afraid." The woman
seemed almost apologetic as she answered.
"I have to go now." Mulder knew he must leave and
soon.
"No."
"They'll come looking for me. They'll come looking
for you." The FBI agent knew he was a danger to
them. He didn't know how far he would get in his
present condition, still reeling from the effects of
the test and the truck crash. Throw in a little
exposure and he was feeling decidedly ill, but the
safety of this kind woman was more important.
"No, there are other ways."
Mulder's tired mind couldn't grasp what she was
saying. "I don't know what you are talking about.
What other ways?"
"Grisha!" the woman called. A haggard looking young
boy of about 13 entered from the back room, his shirt
tied in a knot below the remains of his left arm.
"No arm. No test."
Mulder gasped, his eyes growing wide with horror.
"Dear God, no! That poor boy," he thought as he
tried to come up with the words to make her see.
"You don't understand . . .these tests. The smallpox
scar on your arm is some kind of identification. You
have to help me escape. I'll help you escape. You
have to help me get to St. Petersburg."
The door crashed open and Mulder spun around to see
the truck driver standing in the doorway, a large
knife in his hand. A look of fear passed over the
American's face as the man fingered the weapon.
He made his way over to Mulder and threw the knife on
the table. "Since you have stolen my livelihood, my
protection," he spat, "It is only right that you
should also be the one to take my arm."
Mulder's face registered shock. He shook his head no
despite the pain that lanced through it.
"Yuri, no!" The woman scrambled from her chair and
embraced him. "He can help us. Please give him a
chance." She led him to the table where he sank into
a chair, defeat etched in his features.
"What is your name, American, and what can you do to
get us out of this hell hole?"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Mulder rested on the rickety bed in the back room,
wrapped in a thin blanket thinking that he would
never feel warm again. They had dined on a watery
vegetable stew and the black bread that was common to
the area. Though much better than the roach-infested
gruel at the gulag, it had still fallen short of
filling him up. These people led a hard life made
even more difficult by the fear forced upon them by
the conspirators and their experiments.
He shivered again as he heard Anna and Grisha
gathering the meager supplies they would be taking on
their hastily planned journey. Yuri had talked a
friend into transporting them as far as he felt he
safely could in his battered, old, pick-up truck.
From there they would have to walk a fair distance
until they could catch a train into St. Petersburg.
Yuri came in, urging them to hurry. Mulder took that
as a signal to haul his weary body from the bed. His
head was pounding, whether from plain exhaustion or
the tests he had no idea. He was only aware of the
relentless pain behind his eyes and an ache in every
joint in his body. He stumbled and was surprised to
find Yuri quickly at his side, steadying him as he
tried to catch his breath.
"American, come. We must hurry. The sun is going
down and it is best to drive at night. Bring the
blanket. We will be riding in the back of the
truck."
Mulder wearily followed him out to the truck where
Anna and Grisha were already squeezed into the cab.
Yuri climbed up into the bed of the truck and
extended his hand to Mulder. He gladly took it and
sank onto the pallet that had been arranged in the
bed of the truck. He closed his eyes and Yuri
pounded on the grimy back window. "Pavel, let's go.
The Quadavitch family is leaving this hell hole!"
Mulder heard the roar of the engine and felt the
truck bounce over the rough terrain, rattling his
battered and abused body. Despite the discomfort, he
was sleeping before they had gone a mile, hoping not
to dream of the black oil on his face crawling into
his nose and eyes, a deep shiver going through him at
the thought.
He awoke with a start when he realized the truck was
no longer moving. It was daylight, probably late
afternoon he judged, noting the position of the sun.
He had been asleep for almost twenty-four hours! How
was it that he still felt so weak and tired?
Yuri climbed into the bed of the truck. "American,
come. Pavel must go home now and we must walk to the
train station. Get your blanket and follow me."
Mulder did as he was told, dizziness nearly knocking
him to his knees when he jumped off the truck. Once
again, Yuri was there to steady him. "We must walk
until the sun goes down. Are you able?"
Mulder nodded yes wearily and followed Yuri into the
forest where Grisha and Anna waited. They rose when
the two men entered the small clearing. Without
another word they began to travel west.
When it was almost dark Yuri finally called a halt to
their trek for the day and Mulder was grateful. He
slid to the ground beside a huge tree and propped
himself up with the trunk as a backrest, feeling the
last ounce of strength leaving his body. The FBI
agent could only remember one other time when he was
this exhausted.
Waking up in the hospital in Alaska had been
catalogued with his good memories. Scully had been
by his side and he recalled the huge smile plastered
on her face when he finally came out of the coma.
They shared a few words before he was overcome with
unbearable fatigue. Now, he was experiencing that
same feeling without Scully and her smile. Oh, how
he missed her!
"American!" Mulder's thoughts were interrupted when
Yuri pushed a hunk of bread into his hands. Next
came a jug of water. He drank greedily and once
again rested against the tree, picking off small
pieces of the bread to eat. He was almost too tired
to swallow. He put the bread in his lap and a small
groan escaped before he could even think about
stopping it. Anna was immediately at his side, her
soft, warm hand taking his in concern. With his eyes
shut for a second he could almost believe.
"Mulder?"
"Mmm." He couldn't get his mouth to work. All his
body knew now was the relentless pain from his head,
his aching joints and the fire of the injection site.
He wrapped the blanket tightly around his body as he
shivered, more from his fever than the cold.
"Drink this," Anna ordered, putting a small jar of
clear fluid in his trembling hand. He tilted it up
and swallowed a small sip, surprised at the liquid
fire traveling down into his stomach.
Vodka! Very strong vodka! He began to choke and
sputter, then relaxed as a warm feeling took over his
entire body.
"Thanks," he managed as Anna felt his forehead.
"You have fever."
Mulder shook his head in agreement. That effort cost
him as shards of pain sliced through his head.
"Another swallow." Anna pointed at the jar of vodka.
He complied, this time managing to get it down
without choking. With shaking hands he returned the
jar to her, amazed that he hadn't spilled it. He
watched as the kind woman spread a blanket on the
ground and beckoned him to lie down.
Mulder accepted her invitation and moved over to the
pallet. Surprise registered on his face when she sat
beside him and began to massage his temples. Yuri
and Grisha looked on knowingly as he began to relax
under her ministrations. Soon the pain was more
manageable and his eyes began to close, the vodka
still warming him from the inside helping to wash
away some of the discomfort.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
If he thought he was tired the night before, he
quickly realized how wrong he had been. After
walking since dawn with only a few brief stops, he
found a whole new meaning to the sensation. Yuri
called a halt when the train station came into view.
"American, we'll catch the first train out, but we
will probably have to wait until morning. Do not
talk out loud. You'll draw attention to us. Just
pretend to be ill and let Anna take care of you."
Mulder nodded carefully. He wouldn't have to act.
He was ill.
The station was small, furnished with six long
benches. Anna motioned for him to lie down and put
his head on her lap. She whispered to him soothingly
in her native tongue as Yuri and Grisha went to
purchase the tickets. "We had a few coins saved and
Yuri begged our friends for the rest. We have good
friends," she smiled as she switched back to English.
"I'll repay you when we reach St. Petersburg," the
exhausted man whispered back.
"Rest. We still have a long journey on the train."
When she looked down the man's eyes were closed. She
felt sorry for him, but he'd been lucky to escape.
He would be weak and ill for a while from the
testing, but it could have been much worse. Many
died the first time.
Anna couldn't help but wonder what would become of
them when they reached St. Petersburg. She hoped she
hadn't been wrong in trusting the American.
After Yuri and Grisha returned with the tickets, Anna
left Mulder to find a place of her own to sleep on
the hard bench, first making sure he was as
comfortable as possible, careful not to disturb him
as she moved. She needn't have worried. The
American slept the sleep of the dead.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Where had the nighttime hours gone? Once again
Mulder found that he had slept straight through and
still felt like hell when he woke up. He looked
around, hoping to locate the facilities, and found
Yuri pointing outside, a huge grin on his face. The
truck driver motioned for him to follow and Mulder
soon found himself outside facing the foulest
smelling outhouse in the world. The flukeman and the
sewers of New Jersey paled in comparison. Yuri
motioned for him to go first and the FBI agent soon
found himself inside, vomiting everything that he had
put into his stomach since the gulag.
The nausea had been threatening off and on since the
gulag, and the heaving of his stomach brought the
headache back full-force. Explosions of pain burst
behind his eyes. Weakness finally overtook him and
he sank to his knees, still vomiting. Mulder felt a
large pair of hands on his shoulders, holding him
steady. Yuri! Who would have thought that the
angry, tough truck driver image was really a cover-up
for a kind, compassionate man?
When the stomach spasms eventually stopped, the
Russian helped the federal agent to his feet and
practically carried him to the train where Anna was
pressed back into service as a nurse.
"You must seek a doctor when we arrive in the city,"
she ordered, reaching to feel his forehead.
"No," Mulder answered softly, trying to make himself
comfortable in their private car. Thank goodness
Yuri and his friends had enough money to splurge on
the last leg of the trip.
Anna rummaged around in her bag and came up with some
water. Mulder turned down her offer and pulled the
blanket around his shoulders as tightly as he could.
His stomach began to roll again and he swallowed,
barely managing to keep it under control.
The shivering began in earnest again as the train
blew its whistle and began to slowly build up speed.
A doctor in St. Petersburg was beginning to look
better and better. "How long . . .Petersburg?" A
particularly violent chill shook him, taking some of
his words.
"About 30 hours with many stops," Anna supplied.
"Sorry, but it's the only train available."
"Don't apologize. It's fine, better than I expected.
Would've died . . .without . . .help." Little black
dots began to swim in his vision, followed by a
roaring sound in his ears. Mulder knew that feeling.
He managed to choke out a strangled plea for help
before he slumped over, landing limply in Anna's
arms.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The train was still moving but the motion wasn't
bothering him as much as it had at first. His mouth
felt like it was full of cotton and the injection
site on his arm was sending out sharp pain signals.
The ever-present headache seemed to have improved a
bit. He decided to try and sit up but only managed a
pitiful groan when the pain assaulted his joints.
"Mulder, you mustn't try to move."
The agent managed to pry his eyes open and found that
his head was once again in Anna's lap. "What
happened?"
"You passed out. Your fever has been very high. How
are you feeling now?"
"A little better."
"Yuri searched the train for a doctor and found one
in the next car. He said you have to drink. You
have an infection in your arm and something with your
head, a cushion, I think." Anna looked exasperated.
"My English . . .sorry, I don't know all the words."
"It's fine. The word is concussion. Must've got it
when I crashed the truck."
"Mmph." That was evidently still a sore point with
Yuri.
"The doctor put an injection in your hip and left
these tablets to take." Anna shook a white tablet
into her hand from a small envelope. "He says it is
most important to take them. Without . . .you could
lose your arm or worse."
Since he didn't like either alternative, Mulder took
the pill and drank a good portion of the water that
was offered by the Russian woman.
"Now, rest. We still have many hours before we reach
the city."
"Yuri, thank you."
"Don't worry about it, American. Just be sure to
carry out your end of the bargain."
"I will." Mulder's eyelids began to droop and no
amount of effort on his part could keep them open.
Later Anna once again expressed her worry about
Mulder to her husband. Yuri admitted that he was
worried too, not only for the man's health but also
for their own well-being. If the American was unable
to help them, the little Russian family was stranded.
There was no turning back.
His wife chided him for thinking that way. "He is a
good man. I can feel it."
Mulder shifted in his sleep and moaned, but didn't
wake up. Anna felt his forehead once again. "His
fever is still high. Look in my bag, Grisha. I need
a handkerchief. Yuri, would you soak it with water,
please?"
She took the wet cloth from her husband and began to
bathe Mulder's pale, sweat soaked face.
"Sc . . .Scully?" He appeared disoriented as he
looked around. "Where? Scully?"
"Shh, you're safe, Mulder. We're on our way to St.
Petersburg."
"Anna?"
"Yes, it's Anna. How are you feeling?"
"Feel bad . . .cold, thirsty."
"Yuri will get you some more water." She continued
to bathe his face until her husband handed her a
water bottle. "Here, take a few sips."
Mulder tried to raise his head and found that he was
too weak to manage it. Yuri reached over and held
him up while Anna tilted the bottle so he could
drink.
"Thanks."
"More?"
"Not now."
"How is your pain?"
Mulder took a quick inventory and found that there
wasn't much improvement. "Same . . .hurts."
"You should rest some more. We are about half-way
there and you will need your strength when we reach
the city."
"Our money is almost gone. We will have to walk to
your embassy," Yuri supplied, watching his wife
minister to the stranger.
"'Kay, I'll make it."
"Yes, you are a strong man to escape the gulag, but a
little more rest wouldn't hurt," Anna decided.
Mulder agreed. He was going to need a lot of rest
just to make it off the train.
Several hours later Anna shook Mulder awake. "It is
time to take more medicine."
He made a face but dutifully took the tablet and
swallowed almost half a bottle of water. "Thanks.
How much longer?"
"Maybe ten hours. You still have time to rest."
Mulder shook his head no and pushed himself up. "I
need to sit up for a while." He looked around and
saw that Yuri and Grisha were gone.
"My men were restless. They went for a walk." She
reached up to feel the agent's forehead. "Your fever
is better."
"I feel a little stronger," he volunteered, flexing
his left arm with a wince. "Still sore, but
improving."
"That is good. Have you thought . . .what your plans
are when we reach the city?"
"If you have enough money for a pay phone I can make
a call, get us some transportation."
"We have enough," she assured him, rubbing his
shoulder in a comforting, yet familiar way.
He found her world-weary eyes and held them with his
own. "Anna, I know you're worried, but I wouldn't
lie to you. I can get someone to help you start over
in a different place."
"America?"
"I can't promise that, but somewhere nice where you
won't have to worry about the tests." He hoped there
was such a place.
"How will we support ourselves?"
Mulder was forced to smile at her persistence. She
reminded him so much of Scully.
"You'll take on new names and identities. A job or
training will be provided, but until you're ready to
make it on your own you'll receive assistance in the
form of food, money and transportation."
Anna looked relieved and her eyes held a flicker of
hope, but she was still curious. "Do you think I
could become a nurse?"
He gave her a tired smile. "I don't see why not.
You're a natural." The agent's voice was getting
weaker, the conversation sapping his strength.
Anna quickly recognized his distress. She took him
by the shoulders and helped him ease down until he
was flat on his back once again. "Sorry," he gasped.
"You say sorry too much." She tucked the blanket
around him and smiled.
"Sor . . .right, I do."
"Rest now."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Mulder woke to the sounds of anguished screams. He
attempted to look around, to figure out where he was,
but found that he was unable to move. Something was
pressing down on him, holding him in place. The
wails grew louder as a black substance began to drip
from a pipe above. Shit! He was back at the gulag!
What had happened to Anna and Yuri? He found himself
praying that they would leave Grisha alone.
A drop of the black, oily substance landed on his
nose. He tried to avoid the liquid, struggling
against the chicken wire holding him in place to no
avail. Soon his screams joined with the others.
Something heavy clamped onto his shoulders, forcing
him to open his eyes and see what new torture was
being inflicted on him. His vision was blurry due to
the black oil that had fallen into his eyes, but he
thought he could make out several figures. They were
talking but sounded far away. His heart racing,
breath ragged in his ears, he forced himself to
listen to what was being said. Someone was shaking
him and he tried desperately to avoid his grasp.
"Nononono!"
"Wake up! Mulder! You are worse?" Yuri questioned,
quickly withdrawing his hand upon seeing the sick
man's distress. His eyes were wild, his breath
labored, obviously somewhere else entirely. It
wasn't too difficult to guess what dreams held the
pale American in their grip.
Mulder took a few seconds to orient himself before he
answered. "Bad dream." He pushed up from his
reclining position, tearing away the blanket that was
cocooning his body. He wiped the perspiration from
his face with a corner of the cover. "Hot."
Yuri handed him a bottle of water. "Don't drink too
much. That is the only bottle left."
Mulder took a couple of gulps and screwed the top
back on. "Where's Anna?"
"With the boy trying to buy some food."
Mulder nodded his understanding and suddenly felt
uncomfortable when he found Yuri staring at him.
"Yuri, what's wrong?"
"You told Anna she could be a nurse. That has been
her dream since she was a girl. You do not tell her
lies about that?"
"No, Yuri. I didn't lie. If that's what she wants
to do I'll make sure she has a chance to go back to
school."
"I'll hold you to that. She has made many
sacrifices. Too many. It is time for her to have a
good life."
"I couldn't agree more," Mulder assured him, lying
back against the seat with a sigh.
The door began to open and both men tensed, expecting
the gulag goons to have found them. Both sighed in
relief as Anna and Grisha walked in. He held several
sandwiches in his remaining hand while Anna brought
up the rear bearing oranges. The men smiled and made
room for the scavengers.
The sandwiches were simple fare, some kind of fruit
preserves on buttered bread. The oranges were a true
delight. Plump and juicy, they were just sweet
enough to leave them wanting more.
"Sorry, but I had to keep back money for the phone.
I couldn't afford more."
"That's okay, Anna," Mulder smiled. "We'll have a
good meal in St. Petersburg. This will tide us over
nicely."
"How are you feeling? The fever is better?"
"Yes, I think so. My arm feels better and I don't
ache as much." He made an effort to stand up but
sank back weakly.
"Guess I feel worse than I thought," The FBI agent
sighed and tried to regain his footing once again.
This time Yuri was there to steady him.
"You need the restroom?" The big Russian had noticed
Mulder's fidgeting while they ate.
"Yes, I do."
"Then I will go with you in case someone tries to
speak to you. Your Russian is not good."
"My Russian is non-existent," Mulder grinned.
"I was trying to be polite," Yuri grinned back.
The walk through the train helped to clear some of
the cobwebs from his head. Though still somewhat
weak, Mulder realized that he was feeling much
better. The fever was gone and the joint pain was
just a dull ache. He winced as he moved his left
arm. It was still pretty painful, but bearable.
Right now he'd almost kill for a shower, but that
would have to wait.
When they returned to their compartment, Grisha began
to ask Mulder questions in halting English. Shy at
first, after a few minutes the Russian youth was
bombarding him with inquiries about food, sports,
clothing and any other thing he could think of
concerning his new life.
"Grisha, I hope you get to live in the Washington,
D.C. area because I'd really like to take you to some
college and professional ball games." The FBI agent
smiled kindly.
Grisha nodded his approval then a wistful look took
over his features as he looked at what remained of
his arm. Mulder noticed the change of expression and
could tell that the boy was thinking of all the
activities that he could never experience.
Before saying anything else, Mulder took a few
moments to choose his words carefully then decided
that he didn't need to be so cautious. His father
had left the major portion of his estate to him and
he would make it happen,period! A warm feeling
spread through his chilled bones at the thought.
Something good would come of this whole, evil mess if
nothing else.
"Grisha, as soon as you get settled, no matter where
you live, you will be the owner of a new, state-of-
the-art prosthesis." There, his promise was out in
the open.
The little Russian family looked confused. Although
their conversational English was quite good, their
vocabulary was rather limited. "What that means is
that Grisha will have the finest artificial arm
available."
The looks of confusion turned to cries of joy as Anna
hugged Mulder tightly. Yuri clapped him soundly on
the back while tears of happiness flowed from
Grisha's eyes.
Mulder noted sadly that it was the first time he had
seen them truly happy since he had met them. He
hoped that he could be responsible for keeping that
grin on their faces. That money was just sitting
around drawing interest. It was only right that his
inheritance should be used to help right some of the
wrongs his father had caused, even if the older
Mulder hadn't been directly involved.
"Mulder, you're sure?" Yuri asked cautiously.
"You have my word," Mulder promised solemnly.
The next few hours were spent resting. Mulder first
listened to their excited chattering in Russian then
nodded off. He felt someone gently shake his
shoulder, rousing him. "Wake up, Mulder."
The tired traveler yawned and stretched as Anna's
face came into focus. "What? Is it time?"
"We will be there in about an hour," Anna informed
him. "How are you feeling?"
Once again he took stock of his physical state. The
omni-present headache had faded to a dull throb
behind his eyes. Once so stiff and sore that every
bounce of the train had caused intense pain, his
joints were almost back to normal. No fever, chills
or nausea could be detected leaving only one more
area to analyze, his left arm. After cautiously
flexing it, the American smiled. "Everything is much
better. Thank you for taking care of me. I think I
would have died if you hadn't taken me in and nursed
me back to health."
"Perhaps it wouldn't have been that terrible on your
own, but we were happy to assist."
The last hour of travel was spent planning what he
would say to his United Nations contact, Marita
Covarrubias. Normally able to make his wishes known
to others quite easily, Mulder realized that the
wellbeing of his rescuers depended on his ability to
convince his contact that they deserved asylum.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Mulder leaned back and relaxed for the first time in
days. Of course, the luxurious limousine made that a
lot easier. He opened the bar and looked over the
offerings. Settling on bottled orange juice, his
thoughts went to the Quadavitch family. They were
traveling in another fancy car heading for a
different embassy.
Even though his U.N. contact had promised eventual
relocation in the United States, she felt it would be
much safer to split up at the train station. He
sighed and twisted the cap off the orange juice and
drained it in a few swallows. He really needed the
Vitamin C after his adventures. Disposing of that
bottle, he quickly searched the bar for another. His
illness had left him slightly dehydrated and his body
was demanding that its fluids be replenished. The
cold liquid went down easily.
Hopefully it wouldn't take him too long to reclaim
his ID and passport from the American embassy.
Mulder's body was reminding him of the lack of proper
food, water and sanitary conditions that he had
suffered through over the past few days.
Krycek entered his thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome.
He vowed to find that son of a bitch and punish him
for all the indignities he'd suffered since his
arrival on Russian soil and after that he'd punish
him some more for killing his father and the part he
played in Melissa's death and Scully's abduction.
Scully. How he missed her. He couldn't wait to get
back to D.C. and give her a hug, grateful that he was
still alive and had two arms to do it. There was so
much to tell her.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Three months later Mulder entered the basement office
after raiding the snack cart upstairs. Scully hung
up the phone as he laid a bagel in front of her.
"That was security, Mulder. It seems that you have
some visitors," Scully stated.
"Oh? That's odd. No one ever visits me. Did the
officer give a name?"
"He said it was the Smirnoff family and they spoke
with heavy Russian accents."
Mulder's eyes lit up. "Scully, come with me. You've
got to meet these people. They're the ones who
literally saved my life in Russia. My contact came
through and managed to get them to the states and get
them new identities."
"I'd love to meet them, Mulder." Scully rose from
her seat and pulled on her jacket. "I'd like to
thank them for bringing you back to me." She smiled
broadly and cupped his left cheek with her hand,
savoring his beautiful eyes and smile, realizing how
close she had come to loosing him yet again but for
the kind people they were about to meet. Several
emotions sifted through his gaze and then she smiled
again
Mulder paused then opened the door for her. Their
hands met unconsciously, the light pressure of her
squeezing his hand suddenly made his face break out
in a smile too. "I'm so glad they did."
The agents made their way to the elevator, Mulder
gently guiding Scully with his hand at her back.
End