Found and Settled
July, 2004
Personal diary, etc.
I'm a mother again. She lies beside me and I cannot stop looking at her. She is so tiny and so beautiful. Mulder insists that I must sleep but I had to write. I'm too tired to sleep and since my hand can still hold the pen... so I'm writing. We decided to leave the task of naming her till tomorrow.
She is sleeping. She is small and warm and I love her.
I love Mulder, too. He was a great help, better than I expected him to be. Perhaps he had read about how to assist with a birth, I wouldn't put it past him. If he did, good for him and me. He knew how to massage - okay, he did practise on Krycek but it wasn't that much! - he knew when to be silent and when to urge me on. I did shout out some commands but there was actually no need for them: he knew what to do, how to support me. Yes, I'm quite sure that he had studied the subject. Well, he gets an 'A' from me.
He also said that I chose our anniversary to give birth to our girl and that seemed to him to be a well-thought scheme, as if I really had planned all of this... Well, if it really is the 23th of July, I at least know your birthday, my girl.
Talking about the boys: Skinner tended Kevin, while I was huffing and puffing like the proverbial wolf. He has grown to like the boy. I wonder would he still like him if Skinner knew and remembered who Kevin's mother is. He has started to recall some things, like what our first names are and what our suspicions were about the world. Unfortunately our suspicions were right.
And Krycek was right, too. I can hear the Call also, but when my little girl is here, it doesn't disturb me. Perhaps they, Kevin and she, my beloved nameless, are strong enough to silence Them. The children are sleeping in our bedroom any way (we decided that with Mulder), so they will be close to me at all times.
Skinner is just behind the door on the wooden couch/bench, and he is getting restless. He wants to fight the aliens or at least go and look for other survivors. There has to be some, and I do want to know what has happened to my family. Mulder is itching for information about the Gunmen, too.
Skinner wants to head out soon and we have to accept it. Mulder has promised - without me asking him to - to stay with me and the children. We do have to return to the city, though. Skinner needs wheels under him and we need fuel, food, some more clothes... I never expected to ponder about how it would be easier to steal... Life is weird.
And wonderful. My daughter is a proof of that.
August, 2004
Pain, searing pain.
'Why, why?' gasping, not enough air-
More pain, stronger still and no light.
'Why?'
"Hey! Hush! You'll wake the children!"
Mulder's voice brought Scully back to the bed. She searched for his hands and clutched them hard.
"Another bad dream?"
"It was no dream." Her voice was breathless and serious. Mulder hugged her and settled down by her, not letting go. She loved him for it.
"What then?"
"Krycek. They test her. It hurts."
"I remember it hurts but how-"
"I just know that she's in pain right now." He hugged her even closer and his breath warmed her neck. "I don't know how I know it but-"
"The term for it is called 'telepathy'" mused Mulder quietly. "We used to investigate this phenomenon... and you used to deny the existence of it..."
"Call me converted, but I know what she's feeling."
"I'm not arguing with you."
"Good." Scully forced herself to relax. Then she tensed up again and turned to face him, although in the darkness of the bedroom, she couldn't make him out too well. She could see his eyes, though. "I will know then, too, when she dies, won't I?"
Mulder didn't answer, only kissed her forehead and held her, but it was an answer, nevertheless. They would know. It was odd how this person, who was actually an intruder in their relationship, made them feel so close, so intimate together.
"I thought as a child, stupidly," he heard Scully saying, "that to be different, to predict the future or to be telepathic, was a nice thing. My education demolished this belief, making the world clear and scientific without anything 'mystic' in it, without anything that couldn't be measured within the physical world. Our work convinced me to reconsider both the existence and the blessing of these phenomena. Now I'm almost sure that this is the closest thing to a curse-"
"I think we just don't know yet, how to deal with this ability, that's all."
"It drove you crazy."
"But I'm here and sane enough, I hope."
"You're sane enough for me." Scully felt him smiling and leaned in for a kiss. She was not refused.
September, 2004
Personal diary.
Skinner left today. He felt that he had to and in a way, we needed to let him. We badly need the information he may bring back. He promised to return in the spring. Let's hope, that he will.
He has gained enough memory to be prepared for this world and to deal with the alien problems. He doesn't know about Kevin's mother and I personally think it is better for him to remain ignorant. Skinner could understand Mulder sleeping with another woman but not with Alex Krycek, even if she is female.
Skinner was also the person who suggested the category of names from where we, with Mulder made the final choice. I like the name, Sophia. Mulder laughed then and commented that a smart woman has to have a girl with a name meaning 'wisdom'. I was puzzled for a moment but then my own wisdom also returned and I recalled the Greek roots of the name. And I liked it even more.
And now he's gone. It was a sight to see - Skinner on a motorcycle but that thing is easier to maneuver than a car and far easier to hide if need be.
The day they went to get the supplies from the city drove me almost up the wall. I have become dependent on Mulder's presence; I need him to feel safe. It sounds stupid, it even feels stupid but it is true. I am perfectly able to take care of myself, I can protect my children efficiently, I can kill without a blink of an eye - I sound like Krycek already... - but I still need him.
So when they finally returned - with two truckfuls of stuff - I just sat down on the threshold and watched him. He has lost some weight doing all these physical chores around the house and he looked perfect in that moment, unloading mountain bikes, packages of diapers and fuel barrels. I love Mulder and I'm ready to stand by him, what ever the world comes to.
October, 2004
"God, Mulder, you're totally frozen!" Scully started to strip him out off the cold wet clothes. His skin felt clammy. "Why were you out so long?"
"I thought," he stuttered, teeth clattering. "I thought I saw someone..."
"Out there? In this weather? That person must be either mad or"- Scully wrapped a blanket around him- "utterly desperate." She dragged him near the stove and shoved a mug in his hand. "Drink up! We don't have many medical supplies to..." She stopped, when Mulder just nodded and started swallowing the steaming liquid. It was tea, they were both tea drinkers now; they had switched to tea when the coffee ran out. Soon the same would happen to the tea... And they would have to go and raid the city again, like scavengers... She hated that but this was the world today.
She sighed - there was no point in craving for the lost things, one just had to cope. Scully picked the clothes up and started to hang them up when that sensation came again. She grabbed the washing line and steadied herself.
A presence... pleading... cold... very cold... hungry... exhausted-
"Scully, what's the matter?" Mulder had finished his hot drink and was watching Scully, who clung to the washing line, eyes shaded.
"I'd better sit down..." Scully stumbled to the bench. "I think you're right."
"About what? What happened?"
"About someone being out there. I've been feeling these.... connections for two months." She rubbed her forehead with the back of her hand.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Mulder had come by her side, still in the blanket, and she let herself to be hugged.
"I didn't want to worry you..."
"You, silly you..." Mulder shook her gently, before pulling her close again. "What are these connections? Is it like it was with Krycek?"
"Yes, and no. Yes, because the content of the dreams was the same. At first they were dreams, well, part of my dreams. I saw myself on the alien ship, being tested, but it wasn't me... I saw it through somebody else's eyes... But I'm not sure who that person is. It could be her but I'm not sure..." Scully sighed before continuing. "Then these links appeared when I was awake, but only when I was alone, tending the children..." Mulder's arms were getting nicely warm and he was listening intensely, hardly breathing. "You presence seems to keep this away. But now it's stronger, that person is either getting closer or... more desperate."
"Does it feel threatening?" Mulder felt alarmed, but since he also struggled with his own weird abilities, he simply wanted to know.
"No... it's more likely begging... pleading, wanting help."
"Have you tried to answer?"
"Should I? With all the aliens around, some of them just might pick it up-"
"You said that it was a cry for help."
"I haven't tried to answer... The spooky stuff is usually your department."
"As if there were any departments anymore... But if you tried?"
"Mm, I don't know. I've never tried to.... actively 'listen', so to say."
"I always seemed to find you... Like in Antarctica... There were thousands of incubation cells, but... I could home in on you, Scully. And I hadn't been exposed to any artefact then... I always believed, and still do, that we share a special connection."
"Yeah, I think we do." Scully smiled when she got gently squeezed.
"So... perhaps you should try? Maybe someone really needs our help?"
"Okay." Scully relaxed, closed her eyes and tried to let her mind float.
For a couple of seconds nothing happened, but then...
That presence was there, small, miserable, shivering.... Near, actually. Very near. Just down the road to the spring, behind...
"It's right here... Mulder, you were right, there is someone out there, right now! He- I don't know- he doesn't have strength to move!" She didn't realize that she was shouting until Mulder hushed her.
"I'll go and take a look." He promised but Scully wouldn't have it.
"No! You just came back! And I know exactly where the hiding place is! I'll go!"
"You are not going alone, Scully! Do you remember"- Mulder looked at her straight in the eye. "what we promised when we came out here? Never separate, when there is danger?"
"It doesn't feel dangerous!" Scully insisted.
"Nowadays almost everything is dangerous."
Scully was already up on her feet and wrapped herself into the oversized coat they used for doing the work outside the house. Pulling the hood over her head, she said: "Whoever is out there, in that rain... if it's human, we should help."
"Okay. Wait a sec."
Then they both were fumbling through the fall storm and darkness. They had a storm lantern, but it's light extended only a couple feet ahead, so they saw where to step but no more. Scully showed the way.
Behind the group of rocks they passed each time they went fetch water, there was a bundle of -.... someone. He - or she - was curled into a fetal position, soaked through and through, trying to protect himself from the freezing down pour. He didn't move, just quivered with cold, when Mulder went carefully closer. He needed to sense who this was. Or more accurately - what it was. Now his odd abilities came in handy.
"He feels human..."
Scully stepped closer, too. She raised the lantern and the change in light made the hider raise his head. Scully gasped and almost dropped the lantern.
It was Krycek. Awfully thin, pale, shoulder-length hair dripping with water, shivering but still Krycek. There was a bruise on the left side of her face, her clothes looked as if she had worn them non-stop for half a year... which she probably had.
Mulder was as thunderstruck as Scully but he threw his gears quickly. They all had to get out of the rain and wind and back inside.
"Can you walk?" he yelled over the storm.
For a moment it seemed that she didn't hear or understand but then she tried to get up. She couldn't - she was shaking too badly. Instead of saying anything, she crouched there and made another fruitless effort. Mulder felt Scully nudge him and he went to help her. It was the second time in his life that Mulder found himself half-carrying Krycek to safety and Scully showing them the way.
Krycek stumbled heavily on the threshold, almost tripped them both over, but Mulder grabbed hold of the door handle and hauled her back to her feet. She was really much lighter than the last time he had to support her... And he was not referring to her waistline, she felt bony. She slumped onto the stool near the stove; she was still visibly shaking. The same blanket that had warmed Mulder was now wrapped around her. She looked frightened, waiting to be sent out again. Every time either Mulder or Scully made a movement, she winced.
Having made another mug of hot tea, Scully carried it to their unexpected houseguest. Krycek glanced upwards through her unusually long bangs, then diverted her eyes as if scared. She reminded Scully of a dog who after receiving a severe beating doesn't know whether it should take the offered food or just run away.
"Drink but be careful, it's hot."
Krycek blinked once then took the mug. After a tentative sip she laced her fingers around it and crouched there, breathing in the warmth, sipping once in a while. She looked miserable.
"What are we going to do now?" Mulder's voice was low; because he didn't want either Krycek or the children in the next room to hear them. Scully shrugged, watching their once-enemy sitting by the fire.
"We make an extra bed," she simply stated. They did.
Scully felt a little bit alarmed when Krycek just sat there and endured her tending to the bruise. She seemed not to be wholly there, like something from her being had been lost. 'Perhaps this is the reason I didn't recognize her at first?' But she ate everything that was given to her - after which she literally fell to the wooden couch where her bed was waiting.
Scully would have approved of some cleaning up first, but after seeing how she practically inhaled the cold leftovers of their dinner without a word; it was obvious that she was too exhausted. 'And we don't know what she had to do to get here... Don't make any conclusions yet, Scully.' So they didn't ask her anything and let her sleep.
When Mulder talked to her the next afternoon - they really let her sleep as much as she wanted - she looked puzzled, as if not understanding what was said. Mulder sighed and turned to his innate senses, he reached out his mind. Krycek was afraid and extremely tired and -
Krycek screamed, covered her ears and curled up on the couch.
Mulder snapped free. He hadn't intended to harm or hurt her. "Hush," he sat by her. "I'm not going to do that again, okay?" She just shivered, gasping. "Do you hear me? Can you understand-"
"She can." Scully, who had entered the room carrying her daughter, stopped Mulder's questions. "She just... mm... isn't able to answer you."
"What are you saying? That she's mute?" Mulder sounded incredulous.
"It seems so..." The fuzzy feeling returned and then there was a whimper: He's... so... very... loud... Scully swallowed. "Mulder, you'd better step away. She can't bear you."
"What do you mean?" but he obeyed and backed away. Krycek relaxed visibly.
"I don't know yet. Would you like to hold her?"
"Sure." She handed Sophia over, who cooed cheerfully to Mulder. He smiled at her, but then he returned his attention to... what? Mothers of his children at least.
Scully was sitting by Krycek's side. "You spoke to me just a moment ago. Can you repeat it?"
I... I... have... no... words Krycek started to shiver again.
"You're doing fine."
"What did she say?"
"Nothing too important. Patience, Mulder."
If you... ask... or... talk... slow-
"You'll, maybe be able to answer?"
Krycek nodded.
"Okay, we'll go slow." Scully patted her arm reassuringly. "Can you explain why you can't speak?"
I don't... know. Even... hard to... think.
"What do you mean by 'no words'?"
I don't... remember... many... words.... There was a pause when she blinked and shrugged, probably to clear her head. Hard now.... so tired.
"Then rest, you need it." As a response to Scully's words, there crossed a ghost of a smile over Alex's face and then she dozed off, not even changing her position.
Mulder contained his curiosity, until Scully had pulled a blanket over the sleeping figure and showed that they should go out.
"Well?" he prompted, letting the baby grab his finger and suck it.
"She can... link with me, so I can ask questions and she can answer-"
"And what did she say?"
"Not much. She claimed not to have many words to talk with. I guess that she hasn't many to think with either. What gives some validity to her claim is that she did concentrate very hard to say even these simple things. She seems to be telling the truth."
"You're saying that Alex Krycek is telling the truth..."
"Stranger things do happen."
"Alright, what else?" Mulder pulled his fingers away; his daughter had sucked them long enough.
"Almost nothing. She got very tired... Mm, yes, she mentioned that you're 'very loud'. What could that mean? And what happened to make her scream?"
Scully had not lost her way of giving him that 'raised eyebrow' look that put them back in the basement office of the FBI, making Mulder feel rather foolish and even guilty. He sighed, rubbed his nose and confessed as always:
"I... well... She didn't seem to understand a single thing I was saying so I used my... abilities."
"And?"
"I sensed her to be afraid and tired, and then she suddenly screamed."
"Perhaps you caused her pain? Maybe your so-called 'mind power' is too strong for her."
"Why? I've talked to you like that and I've not hurt you."
"When?" Scully was really surprised.
"Well... In bed, sometimes."
"I thought you whispered..."
"Sometimes I did, sometimes I simply thought at you." Mulder smiled at his daughter, because Sophia was cooing again. "But it didn't hurt you, now, did it? Why did it hurt her?"
"I don't know... But she couldn't stand your closeness back there." Scully concluded and reached for Sophia, wanting her daughter back in her lap.
The next time, Scully went to check on Krycek, later that evening, she was hot with fever. She also didn't stir much, when touched.
"It isn't the virus, or-" prompted Mulder, worried. He didn't want to know whether his children really were immune.
"No, it started with a simple cough. I think she's just over-exerted her body." Scully prepared some hot tea and made Krycek drink it. "She needs fluids." After covering her up, Scully added: "I would have preferred her to take a bath before-"
"She's always been an unpredictable person, remember?" Mulder, relieved that the bee-plague was not upon them, tried to joke but Scully gave him a warning look. "Okay, no harm meant."
"Her unpredictability also resembles someone else we both know, Mulder..."
"Point taken. Sorry."
"Bygones."
Mulder didn't know, what made him go and sit by the feverish Krycek, but there he was. She shivered and he arranged her blankets better. When his hand touched her skin, she grew tense. She didn't move and Mulder expected her to wake up, but instead he heard a weak whisper in his mind. Like she was too exhausted to actually waken, but that she still was aware who sat beside her.
You... here...
He sighed and caressed her messy hair. Remembering how he had hurt her, when he touched her mind, he was really careful, when he confirmed who he was: Yes, it's me.
Love you.
That hurt.
Mulder closed his eyes. 'She's just feverish... Yeah, sure.' He sighed and answered: I know.
He felt like kicking himself to Hell and back. He could never reciprocate: all her love was for nothing... and she was miserable anyway. She didn't need another heartache, she didn't deserve it. 'Am I really thinking that Krycek the Traitor doesn't deserve punishment?' Then he looked down on the thinned body lying beneath the blanket and understood that there was no Krycek the Traitor any more. He had probably ceased to be, when 'he' turned into a 'she'.
Mulder had to face the realization that he didn't even hate her anymore. Perhaps it was just useless, when you have slept with someone and thus proven that in some weird way you did like the person. Or perhaps it was the child of theirs, or maybe just her blind openness right now - in a situation like this she had once again confessed her feelings. 'It must have been in her mind all the time, this emotion. Strong enough to survive even the tests...' and in a way he admired her in that minute.
Krycek was ill for three days, then her fever broke and she woke again. When she had eaten her first meal after the illness, Scully proposed a bath and she didn't argue with her. She was well aware that she must stink like the worst kind of street low life. Though, she didn't expect, Scully to assist her but being as feeble and light-headed as she was, she accepted her presence and help. She heard Scully gasp when she saw her back. Krycek knew that her back hurt her but she wasn't aware of why it did.
"You have several tiny, but by the looks of it, deep cuts here. They have scarred but... Do they hurt?"
Yes. It was the first time after her fever, that she had said anything. She felt Scully tracing one of the scars and she shied away. She didn't want her to touch her more than strictly necessary. Scully understood and stopped.
Krycek tolerated her quite nicely in the bath and also when she gave her a towel to dry herself with but when Scully came closer again with the intention of brushing wet hair off her neck, Krycek winced angrily.
"Hush, I thought I saw something." Alex froze. "You have a scar here, too. Perhaps you have a chip." It was a shock and a bad one but not as bad as the one when Scully brought her son in after she had curled up on her simple bed.
"He's missed you, Alex." Scully put him in her lap and Krycek had to take hold of him. And she felt it again: his love for her, something she had not asked for but yet somehow had. He made her feel worthy of something. "His name is Kevin."
He told me.
"Did he?" Scully was surprised but in a good way. "He'll enjoy your presence."
Krycek gave her incredulous look, but Scully smiled, nicely. "I am sure, he will. He enjoys even Mulder's." That elicited a small smile out of Alex. Somehow it reflected in her son, who nudged her with his leg and demanded attention. Scully left then, saying that she had to prepare something to eat, and Krycek just held Kevin. She felt warm and sleepy from the bath, so she gave into the temptation and closed her eyes. Her son told her everything he had witnessed during the time she was gone - of course, how he had understood it. It was slightly amusing and greatly unnerving and mostly sad, but in some odd way made her feel welcomed. At least someone had bothered to record life for her. Just for her.
The next day
The scanner - one of the many things the Gunmen had equipped them with - beeped above Krycek's neck - as it was to be expected.
"You have a chip, alright." Scully commented and switched the device off.
They can find... she heard the whisper in her mind.
"Yes, they can. You know that I have one too, don't you?" Scully really wanted to know this.
I didn't. Krycek sounded shocked and sad. 'So Krycek hadn't known... That earns her some Brownie points.'
"But I suppose you suspected it to happen, when you arranged my abduction." Scully watched her just sitting there, looking at the floor. She seemed almost tearful.
Sorry... I'm so sorry.
"We can't change it, so let's drop it?"
Deal.... Pause. Can't you remove it?
"Sure, if you want to die of cancer a couple of months later."
She hunched even more, and Scully felt bad about the last sentence. It had been rather harsh.
"You're not dying now, Alex."
I hate... being hunted. The anguish could be heard in her voice, so were the unshed tears.
"Don't we all? Look, if I thought about this thing in my neck each and every day, I would be insane by now. Just... try to ignore its existence. Take this."
Krycek took the offered handkerchief and wiped her face. Has Mulder got a chip?
"No, but he doesn't need one, his-"
- brain is a beacon.
"You know that? Did you ... come here sensing him?"
Yes.
"But why did I get the images instead of him? Why didn't you contact him?"
I felt his presence but I couldn't get through. And I was afraid to... his mind power is terrifying.
"And me? How did you link with me?"
We were linked before. The children of Mulder-
"Connect their mothers? Come on, you got to be kidding!" Scully almost laughed, although there was nothing funny.
It's true. Krycek struggled hard to find proper words in her scattered mind. Those children are telepaths. You must know that. They also open similar channels... in their mothers. You can also partly hear Mulder?
"I've never tried." Scully confessed but was now convinced that Alex was telling the truth. Again. It was eerie.
If you do, go very-very slow.
"I heard, he's terrifying. I remember."
Not only that. It can hurt a lot. Scully remembered how Krycek had huddled into a shivering ball when Mulder had touched her mind and she believed her.
October, 2004
Personal diary
Krycek has been with us almost three weeks now. She is still weary from the long journey and much thinner than she used to be but she is beginning to live again. She talks to me, well, we 'communicate' telepathically. I'm scared of this a little but it seems to be the only way - she refuses to contact Mulder. I can understand her: he did hurt her the first time and by the looks of it, quite severely. I haven't tried to link with Mulder but maybe I should try it. The ability might be handy in a world where there are not many other possible methods of communication.
Kevin frightens her. She is visibly uneasy around him but she is adapting, I think. She is learning from me how to deal with children and she could become quite a good babysitter.
Yeah, what a thought, indeed!
I have learned from her, too. For example, how to chop onions without tears. I didn't know she could cook, but she does. She offered to do something four days ago and then I witnessed the most skilful use of kitchen knife that I have ever seen. As an answer to my surprised expression she smiled the first time wholeheartedly and commented: 'Didn't expect me to possess any good qualities, did you?'
She was right, of course. She will always be the first in my mind to blame for everything, from burned toast to the end of the world. The last could even be a rather valid accusation. Anyway, she is here and we are tiptoeing around discussion topics and everything else. She understands, of course, and probably wishes that she hadn't come here.
Although as much as I have gathered from her comments she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. She woke up in the outskirts of Washington DC, unfortunately for her in the same place where she had been taken from all those months ago. It was even the same room, but it was way across the whole city from where we dwell now. So basically, she had to walk here, as she was dropped there. In the rainiest October weather I have ever lived to see. Must have stolen clothes and food... Not that we are in any position to judge such a behavior.
Must have been one dreadful journey... I don't envy her, at all.
But I'm jealous. She came here because she loves Mulder. She isn't a threat to our relationship but she does put stress on it. A lot of stress, for that matter. I don't like it but it would hardly do to send her out again - into the winter, and the cold and the loneliness. It must have been hard for her to live with years of aching like that for someone. I certainly had bloody difficult periods. Perhaps the fact that she was away from him helped her some. Or, actually - what does help in the case of love? Only patience, I suppose. And in that sense we are very alike.
That's a scary thought.
November, 2004
He was kissing her neck. There was this passion in those touches that she had never felt before. He simply adored her.
And it felt so good. It had been so long since they had touched each other like that, touched each other at all... but even longer since they had made love, too long a time indeed...
His fingers were warm when they traced her jaw line, her neck, mapped her shoulders, reached behind her head, went into her hair. He pulled her head back to reveal the throat, making it vulnerable against the vicious attack of his lips-
Krycek opened her eyes wishing to see him and there was no one. She was on her solitary bed, very much alone. But her body tingled. She had felt those things. 'Stupid wet dreams...' She pulled the covers closer and closed her eyes.
And there he was: now toying with her breasts, making her bite her lip at the sensation of it-
Alex blinked and he was gone. She had not been asleep; she had only just closed her eyes. 'What's happening?'
Testing an odd theory, she shut her eyes.
He was investigating her navel with his tongue.
Very pleasant sensation, indeed. And arousing as hell.
It took a strong effort to open her eyes. She held her breath, listening to the sounds in the other room. The wooden bed creaked and the bed covers shifted. So Scully and Mulder were having a good time.
Suddenly the hurt was back, the pain of loss and doomed loneliness. When she had been weaker, she had somehow managed to quash the emotions, push them all away and just relish the feeling of being somewhere where there was warmth and food for her, where people at least tolerated her presence. But now... hearing them...
Now it hurt again. It hurt terribly.
It hurt so much that she didn't care about any morals. She wanted something to ease this pain inside and if she could get it only by stealing, then she would steal. She grabbed a pillow and pulled it onto her arms, pushed her face into it and closed her eyes tightly.
And he was kissing his way down on her stomach, making her squirm with it and wanting more and more and getting it, too.
The next morning Scully noticed that Krycek was unusually quiet. She ate, not looking at others and went outside directly after finishing her breakfast. Scully felt alarmed again. This timidity reminded her of the first days when Alex had been sick and tired and almost unable to communicate. Since they needed fire wood any way, she urged Mulder to get his butt out of the house and while bringing in the wood also take a look at what Krycek was doing. Mulder only grinned happily and obeyed, because the previous night had been marvellous.
Krycek was crouching on the shore of their spring. It was actually a brisk brook but Mulder had named it a spring and nobody argued.
"You're awfully silent today."
I'm mute, remember? Krycek's words were cocky but her tone wasn't. Mulder sensed also a great strain on her self-control.
"What's wrong?"
Everything, nothing. And then Mulder had suddenly vision of him and Scully in bed like they had been yesterday. The surprise must have shown in his face, because Krycek gasped and backed away from him, frightened
"How did you- You spied on us?"
Krycek took another step back but there was no footage. She slipped before Mulder could react.
It was relatively deep in this curve, this rivulet, and the ice was thin. She went into the water with a splash and didn't come up. Mulder stood there for a second, still frozen by the realization, then cursed and jumped in.
The coldness of the water knocked his breath out of him but he struggled against it and looked around. She floated near him, eyes closed, air bubbling out of her mouth. 'Damn you, damn!' He reached for her, grabbed hold of the back of her parka and hauled her to the surface. She was limp and she wasn't breathing and his fingers dripped red. Red like blood. 'Damnit, damnit!'
Out of the water, on the shore, head back.... All the instructions came back like somebody had read them aloud on the spot, and Mulder found himself kneeling beside Krycek and giving her mouth-to-mouth. 'I never wanted to kiss you again, and I still don't, damn you-'
She moved, coughed and started to come to. Mulder took a steadying breath himself and looked down on her. Krycek's eyes met his, but she was too busy with trying simultaneously to breathe in and cough the water out. When she finally had managed to establish a rhythm, he stood and offered his hand:
"Your head has a nasty wound. An ice cut by the looks of it. Scully will-"
"Not her again... " mumbled Krycek but tried to sit up.
Mulder froze the second time. "What did you say?"
Krycek looked at him, puzzled, but took his hand, heaved herself up and stood, still a bit wobbly.
"You talked a moment ago, Krycek!"
I did not!
"Yes, you did!" Mulder forgot even the fact that they were standing there, soaked to the bone. "Try it again!"
Krycek opened her mouth, but closed it again and shrugged.
"Come on, try!"
"What should-" and Alex stopped, stunned by her own voice. They stared at each other; Mulder eager to know what restored her ability, and Krycek shocked, finding that she could talk, and furthermore, think properly again. Then Mulder shuddered with cold.
"Inside!" he ordered and they jogged towards the house.
Scully stopped feeding Kevin when she saw two drenched figures coming in.
"What happened?"
"You tell her" commented Mulder and started to pull off his shirt, he had already shed the dripping parka.
"Mmm, we fell into the brook."
Scully gaped.
"You can talk."
"Sounds like it, doesn't it?" Krycek seemed positively astonished, when she, too, tried quickly to get rid off the wet cold clothes. When she struggled with a grey sweater, she suddenly began to stumble and almost fell, only the wall stopped her.
"She has a wound on her head. The thin ice." Mulder nodded and grabbed Kevin to free Scully for doctoring. Dana pushed him to the other room to finish his robing and went to Alex who had sat down.
"Still dizzy?" she asked, bending her head gently so she could see the back.
"Yes... and a bit nauseous. Signs of concussion." Scully was careful, but it still hurt when she parted her hair and touched the cut.
"Not too bad... Doesn't need stitches but it has to be cleaned." Out came the verdict.
"Just do it."
"Meanwhile, get out of those clothes."
Krycek obeyed and wrapped herself in the blankets from her bed. She was still sitting there when Scully came back with few cotton sticks and a bottle of something consisting of alcohol, because it stung like hell.
Mulder walked back in, clad in dry clothes but Kevin still in his arms and watched the scene. "How is it?"
"Bearable." Scully pulled away and Alex sighed with relief - what do you do, when you simply just do not like pain?
"How can you talk again?" Mulder, the Investigator of the Unexplained had returned from somewhere. Well, at least his suspicious voice was so familiar to Alex that she felt almost like at home. Mulder always sounded like that when Krycek couldn't - or sometimes wouldn't - give a neat and straight answer but right now she even didn't know the answer, and that was what she said.
"I do not know." Krycek shrugged and winced - the movement made her head hurt. "Maybe the blow did it." She didn't sound very convinced, however and-
Mulder wasn't buying it.
"That could be the case if the loss of speech came about due to an accident, or something like that." He shifted the boy in his arms - the rascal was getting rather heavy to carry around. "However, your case isn't the same."
"I really don't know any other reason." Krycek, sounding a wee bit frustrated, felt the warmth slowly encroaching to her limbs. The tea Scully brought for them both helped, too. "And Mulder, about the other thing.... I'm sorry."
Scully looked up, questioning expression on her face and-
saw Krycek blush.
"I heard you two yesterday..." she confessed and hid in her wet hair.
"She was lying." They were in their non-marital bed again and Mulder's voice was lower than usual, so Scully had to lean very close to him.
"What makes you say that?" she hissed into his ear, making him grin goofily and grab hold around her.
"She didn't ONLY hear us. Before she stepped through the ice, I saw in my mind an image of us in bed. Like we really were."
"She watched us?"
"It felt so..."
"That's somewhat unnerving."
"Yep." Mulder let his fingers roam on Scully's neck and she seemed to appreciate it. "Can you sense whether she's doing it again?"
Scully pushed herself up to stare at his face.
"You got to be kidding, Mulder."
"I'm not. Please say if she is 'watching' again. I might have had a video collection that wasn't mine, but I don't like to perform to anyone."
Even in this dim-lit room he could see Scully rolling her eyes, but she nevertheless did his bidding, concentrated and went very still. Then she relaxed and rested on his shoulder:
"No, she is very much asleep. Satisfied?"
"Well, not yet. But the things are looking up now in the light of new information."
Krycek kept indoors the next day because she wasn't feeling particularly well. Her head still hurt from the impact with the solidified surface of the water, and it wouldn't have been very wise walking around in the cold when you have just taken an unexpected dip in an icy river. She was really feeling her throat getting sore and she was also sneezing. Alex also remembered Scully mentioning that they were low on medical supplies and she felt guilty enough to try and avoid the need to use the meagre resources on her.
So she tried to be useful inside the house and ended up washing baby clothes.
As stupid and ironic as the task was, it was at least mechanical and gave her time to ponder her 'miraculous healing'. She concluded two things: that her head worked normally now, at least inside the skull; and that this 'upgrade' from her previous state of awareness had happened because of a - kiss.
Well, in her case it had been a physical contact of a similar sort, but anyway.
The first fact was just simply good. It was a relief not to have to force the thoughts, or to look for words. 'Send your message unfiltered' returned a picture from memory. Alex grinned, yes, that was it; her brain had lost a filter that had inhibited her thought processes.
Rubbing at one particularly resistant spot on something green that belong to Sophia, Scully's daughter, she dug deeper into her memory. It seemed that the abductors had given her a slight chance. Why they had done it, she couldn't and didn't even try to fathom, but it sounded like something out of a fairy-tale: a kiss by a beloved. 'Great, that a resuscitation method qualified as one... Otherwise I would have been disabled forever.' Without this background knowledge she wouldn't have been able even to look for help and even if she had known what to do, how would she have achieved it? Kissed Mulder in broad day light in front of Scully? 'And I thought I had faced all types of suicide missions...' Krycek realised that she had been washing some ridiculous items and laughing silently for a while now. 'Definitely a basket case. Good that there are no hospitals left to lock me into.'
December, 2004
I asked for my journal back.
Scully swore that Mulder hadn't seen it but it looks thoroughly read, so I will have my serious doubts. Mulder just might have read it behind her back, I wouldn't put it passed him. Not at all. Well, if he did, then he has had sense enough not mention it to me. It doesn't matter anymore, though, for he will never see this notebook again. I'll make sure of that.
Never thought that I would be returning to this notebook but I have to do something when Mulder escapes into the bedroom to read something and Scully busies herself with the children. Hers and mine. You and this girl who is mentally your twin. This sounds weird and is weird, trust me.
Actually everything about this situation is weird. I am actually living with Mulder and Scully. It doesn't feel right. I see them tensing when I am around and so I want to avoid them. I would leave but I know my limits well enough not to risk it yet. And it is still midwinter and cold outside.
It is cold inside, too; inside of me. I have always had to steal things I wanted or needed and it seems that I can't stop it even now. Even if it involves the one whom I don't want to hurt at all.
I steal the closeness, the warmth, the intimacy that Mulder and Scully share. I am not proud of it but...
Odd and inhuman as it may sound, but my missions kept me sane, intact. Now I live here, see him from day to day and I miss him so much... Like you could see, smell and sense the thing you've wanted all your life but you can't have it. Whatever the reason for that.
The single night together, our night together, happened for all the wrong reasons.
Firstly a heavy drunkenness. Secondly, it was my stupid wish to show that I won't back down from his coaxing. It was a stupid show of bravery, no, foolhardiness and we both tried to ignore the fact that every action has results. Every damn decision brings forth new aspects. And now we are paying for our actions, the main result of them soon to be running around between us. Oh, how he must hate this and curse our, and especially his, foolishness and weakness. How he must hate me for being there to be baited on, and wish me dead for reminding him every single day of his reckless doings.
Yes, I miss him, more and more each day. And therefore I steal.
I'm just human and to overhear how they love each other is too much even for me. So - I steal. You know how I do that and now that my mind works properly, I can even be careful enough not to let my presence be known. It fills the moments, but... sometimes I feel even more alone afterwards. (And I'm dead when your father sees this...)
But I made the right decision when I left you with them. I could never care for you like Scully does. Must have trained her nursing skills to peak perfection on Mulder. He gave her plenty of times to practise, indeed.
God, I'm envious. The godawful emotion I have described ad nauseam on the previous pages, sears through me on a daily, no, correction, on an hourly basis. It feels like somebody turning a knife inside you. And I do know what I'm talking about. I would gladly drink to death or do drugs if I had any, just to flee from this feeling.
Now I suffer. Perhaps I deserve that. Maybe I could have done something, found something out sooner to prevent all this.
About half an hour later. The strangest thing just happened. Scully walked in and I shut the journal. She brought me some hot tea, and she told about Skinner. How they had found him, yadda, yadda. Anyway, she told me, that he doesn't know that I am your mother. I suspected I would be Mulder's dirty secret, but in this case I agree with that status. Skinner would go ballistic if he knew. She also told me that Skinner would be back in spring. If he comes back. If he does, and if he doesn't kill me on the spot, then Scully's suggestion is good - I could go with him to search for more information. I used to be quite good at that... There is, of course, this problem of trust, but I managed to convince even Mulder to trust me.
I can see that this is just a plan to get rid of me, but at least they are not throwing me out. And she did come in exactly at the moment when I needed some distraction from my gloomy thoughts. Not that the idea of working with Skinner isn't bad enough to qualify as gloomy.
Nevertheless, Scully seemed to sense my mood; I definitely sense hers. She is relieved right now, a bit happy that the discussion with me went so well, and pretty busy with peeling potatoes. Not a thing one would have expected Dana Scully doing.
So I'll have time till the spring. This somehow lifts some of the guilt from what I've been doing these nights. To know that you can't keep doing something morally rather disgusting indefinitely gives me a weak defense. (It wouldn't hold up in any court, not even in my conscience, if I ever manage to revive mine!)
Now I can call the activity 'recording nice memories'.
As if I believe the stuff I just wrote. Yeah, sure.
But I cannot stop either. He is so good in bed. Damn, how I love the things he does!
In those stolen moments I am loved, too.
And I love him, damn him for it, too. It sounds so pathetic, but it is true: I even love the scraps I get from him, the stolen crumbs of affection. Shit, I've become a bloody romantic.
And how I envy her. She has him and his love. The whole and lush luxury of being loved by him. (Well, if I am turning into a romantic fool, let's start now. And properly.) All the quiet looks, all the secret smiles, all those quick touches that make one's heart race and create the air of caring. All the kind caresses and the tone of voice that feels like silk brushing against the bare skin. All that one can have, being the recipient of his love.
All that I lack. And always will.
Damn love. Look, what it makes me write. Nonsense and stupid pink corny stuff... What is this monstrous feeling anyway? I couldn't figure it out, and truthfully, I don't care to. It has hurt me too much to waste any more time on the subject even if only for the reason of analyzing the meaning of love.
And I wish - very weakly, however - that I didn't love him.
Or at least, not so much.
December, 2004
Personal diary entry
Love.
It's the mystery of mysteries, and I, being a scientist, shouldn't be admitting there are things that go beyond what can be detected with a microscope and verified by scientific facts.
Love is one of those things. It can't be dissected and laid out on the slide. It can't even sometimes be recognized or named. But it exists.
As an entity, as a separate will, as a force, that affects us all.
Love. Lovers, mother's love, child's love, puppy love, love of God, unconditional love.
Words, which are both words, sequences of sounds and letters, but also the truest things in the world. The only reality and truth - that has not been twisted - one gets in this world.
I've read this diary, her, Krycek's diary, over and over again, trying hard to understand what makes her tick.
And I do understand her. It sometimes abhors me how well I do. She knew me well enough to leave her child with me, for me to care for... She claimed then that he is telepathic.
I believe that he is. Kevin has shown, no, felt that he cares about me. He loves her, his mother, like a child does, although she still doesn't exactly know how to relate to him. But at least she doesn't fear him like I feared Emily. Kevin also loves his father, who mopes right now next to the window. The aforesaid father loves me.... This is a love rectangle.
Love. Again the same word. Krycek loves him. Him as in Mulder.
This doesn't frighten me anymore. It used to. She loves him. I've been rolling this sentence in my mind so long that it has lost it power. But she does love him.
After all that has changed, it is a small miracle that she still does. After how he treated her, after her change, after the child, after the tests and the loss and regaining of speech. She still does. She can't hide it from me or from her child and perhaps she doesn't want to. She tries, however, to hide it from him, from Mulder.
But he knows it anyway, and suffers, because he can't return it. He suffers, because he sees her suffering. Another cliché is apt here: love hurts. In their case it does. The love of unrequited kind. So now she lives here. With her aching body - the tests left scars on her that hurt - and with her aching heart, where the other kind of sensitive scars reside. She is unhappy, but life hasn't exactly treated anyone well on this planet... She might be happier elsewhere and I'm quite sure she will leave some day (perhaps she will even consider teaming up with Skinner as I suggested?) but right now she's here, with us. Within this Mulderian Triangle. The Bermuda triangle doesn't even come close with its mysteries.
But there still is love. As once a slogan said in one particular office in the basement of the FBI building in Washington DC in the United State of America: I want to believe. I want to believe in the future, in hope, in love. In forces that can make life a little better.
Scully put the pen down, closed the notebook and rested her eyes on the sleeping figure of Mulder. He radiated safety; at least so it seemed to her. She also glanced at the children and those were out cold, too. She knew that Krycek was awake but it didn't bother her. Alex was outside of this room and she was inside and that was all that mattered. Scully smiled and climbed into bed, next to Mulder. After giving him a kiss on his stubbly cheek, she snuggled close to him and he sleepily obliged, putting his arm around her.
They didn't need to know that Alex shared this warmth with them. 'What they do not know, cannot harm them, right?' she thought for the nth time and dozed off, dreaming of belonging.