CHAPTER 7
LANSBOROUGH MOTEL
ROOM 29
2.01 AM
The door slammed back in its frame, flooding the room with milky moonlight. Skinner pushed Krycek inside and had him cuffed to the metal pipe feeding the radiator before he had even bothered to switch on the lights.
'Oh come on,' Krycek complained. 'How the hell do you expect me to sleep like this? I need you alive and in one piece. I'm not going to stuff a pillow over your face in the middle of the night.'
'And I suppose I have your personal guarantee on that.'
'Ah, whatever. Fucking asshole.'
Skinner whirled around, grabbed Krycek by the throat, and seemed on the verge of saying something, but decided against it. Instead he let him go and sank down into the channel-back chair at the desk. He took off his glasses and threw them aside, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.
Krycek watched him, and started to smile. 'It's tough, isn't it? Trying to keep two sides happy, trying to keep yourself alive. Mulder and Scully have no idea just how far your involvement goes, do they?'
Skinner looked up briefly but decided not to dignify Krycek's remarks with a response.
'I was just wondering what the little game of charades was for back at the apartment. You knew exactly what I was talking about. Do you still think you can protect them? Or are you just afraid that after all the trust they've placed in you, they might find out what a spineless bastard you really are?'
'Maybe you should cast that perceptive eye over yourself before passing your moronic judgments on me. You've switched loyalties so often I'm surprised you even remember which damn side you're on.'
'The only side that keeps me alive: my own. It's really not that complicated.'
'What is it with you, huh? Mom did drugs while she was pregnant? Daddy didn't hug you enough? Bullied at school? Or is it that you were just born an evil, sadistic bastard with no conscience?'
Krycek sucked a breath in through his teeth. 'Now that's getting personal. You know you've hit a guy where it hurts when he starts getting personal. And that was a pathetic attempt at misdirection. You still haven't answered my question.'
He abruptly stood and gave Krycek a hard right-hook to the jaw. 'How's that for your goddamned answer?'
Krycek groaned in pain. 'Oh, you're a big man with someone who can't fight back, aren't you? Take these cuffs off and try that again,' he spat back.
'Who's pulling the strings here? Who's after us?'
Krycek just laughed, licking the blood from his lips.
'Why were those things put inside me? Whose agenda would my death serve?'
'Your death?' Krycek shook his head. 'You think the threat of annihilation is the most powerful card your enemy can hold?'
'It would seem fairly definitive.'
'That assumes fear of death. Without fear, the threat is as hollow as the people who would enforce it. And you don't fear it, do you? Because you have nothing else left, except loyalty towards Mulder and Scully. You're pathetic. You don't even have the passion for the cause that Mulder does. You just follow blindly for reasons I can't even begin to fathom.'
'What would you know about my cause or my motivations?'
'More than you, evidently. You talk to me about sides from your moral high ground and you're not so sure yourself where you stand. You're not committed to Mulder's cause. You don't even believe in it. We're the same, Skinner. We're both on whichever side serves our own agendas. We've both done terrible things in order to survive. At least I'm fucking honest about it.'
'That may be true for you, Krycek, but not for me.'
'I guess some would label us selfish, but you show me the man who says he wouldn't give anything to survive and I'll show you a deluded fool and a goddamned liar. We are the same, and you goddamned know it.'
'I am nothing like you! You're a liar, a murderer, a thief, and a goddamned traitor. If I have been duplicitous in the past, and I've never denied it, it's because I was forced into a course of action that had I not taken, would have resulted in the deaths of innocent people. People I care about.'
'You are so full of horseshit. If you care about Mulder and Scully so much then why have you refused any assistance to them or the X-Files since you got sick? Because you were told not to. Because you fear for yourself. Because you want to survive. The threat is solely towards you. Yet Mulder and Scully risked their lives tonight to keep you safe, and you're quite happy to let them do that. Yet you won't take the same risk for them. And we're not the same? You're a deluded moron, Walter.' Krycek shifted, extending his legs out in front of him, trying to find a comfortable position to sit on the thinly carpeted floor. 'You know, I hate that goddamned bastard, but you have to respect his devotion. At least he's committed. I wonder if his respect for you would withstand the truth – that his so-called friend has not only blocked his career, but has also used his failures to further his own ambition?'
A memory glimmered like early morning sun against newly fallen snow, shifting, stirred almost imperceptibly by the winds of time...
Scully standing over him... Her warm, comforting fingers against his forehead... Her eyes shimmering with a depth of compassion that had rarely been bestowed on him as he confessed that he hadn't always been the kind of ally to them that he could have been... The white ceiling, staring up at it in quiet contemplation of a life ill-used as he waited for the light that never came... How he had lied to them, agreed to close down the X-Files...hidden information from them...kept Mulder away from his work while they abducted and experimented on Scully...willfully destroying evidence...turning a deaf ear to their requests for help and advice when he knew they had nowhere else to go, retreating like a coward at the first flash of gunfire on the horizon, the first whispered threats that his loyalty would be tested because he knew he didn't have the courage of his convictions.
He was spineless.
He didn't deserve the respect that Mulder and Scully had for him. Would they have risked their lives to save him if they had known the truth? Was that why he hated Krycek so much, because he saw within him qualities that he was afraid to recognize within himself? Whose side was he on anyway?
His own. Just like Krycek.
'Who was it, Krycek?' He barely found the inner strength to say the words.
'Who was it what?'
'Who ordered you to infect me?'
Krycek smiled. 'You ever see "Silence of the Lambs?"'
'What?'
'"Silence of the Lambs." You know, Jodie Foster and Hannibal the - '
'Yeah, I've seen it. What's your point?'
'"Quid Pro Quo." I give you something, you give me something.'
He stared disdainfully at Krycek. 'I'm not going to play games with you. Either you give me some answers or you can spend the night cuffed to the faucet in the tub.'
'Do you want me to answer your questions or not? Because that's my condition. Take it or leave it.'
'I'm sure it gets cold in that bathroom, especially if you turn up the air conditioning. Not much legroom in that hard enamel tub.'
'A simple demonstration of mutual trust. That's all I'm asking.'
'You're in no position to ask for anything.'
'Alright, alright. If I give you a little information first, as a goodwill gesture, will you take the cuffs off?'
Now it was Skinner's turn to smile. 'Why don't you give me the information and I'll decide if it's of sufficient value to pay for that privilege.'
'Jesus, Skinner! You're one tough nut to crack, aren't you?'
'I've learned to be over the years.'
'Alright. Well, let's start with something simple. Your office is bugged. They've listened to every single conversation you've had in that room since Scully was first assigned to the X-Files.'
'You'll have to do better than that. I found the bugs a while ago. They were removed.'
'You really believe that, huh? You think that the ones you found haven't been replaced? Or that there are numerous others that you will never find even if you spent the next hundred years looking for them? Come on, surely you're not that naïve.'
'Bullshit. There's no way they could have kept up surveillance for that length of time without being detected. They would never have risked the exposure. They'd have needed a court order - '
'You don't seriously think these men have any regard for the law, do you? They're above it. You can't punish them. They don't even have laws for the crimes that they have committed. They've bugged Mulder's office numerous times through the years, but you knew that, too, didn't you? Does he know that you found out about the surveillance but allowed it to continue because you were afraid of the consequences for yourself?'
Skinner stood up and started to pace again. It was either that or break Krycek's jaw.
'What's wrong? Feeling guilty? Did the words leave a sour taste in your mouth as you told them you knew nothing about it?'
'But why?' he asked hoarsely.
'To monitor and maintain. Make sure you were behaving as you should.'
'It's easy for you to offer me the illusion of a truth when you have nothing tangible to support it. Am I just supposed to trust you?'
'What if I told you that I know Mulder came to you asking for the Cancer Man's address while Scully was missing? How would I know there were only two of you present then? Or the time you advised Mulder to "find another way" rather than make a deal for the cure for Scully's cancer? I could reel off a couple more instances if you need me to.'
He knew he didn't have to, though. The look in Skinner's eyes told him all he needed to know.
'They are fully aware of each and every time you have helped Mulder in direct violation of the agreement that you made,' said Krycek. 'Did you seriously believe they would never find out?'
'The Cancer Man, isn't it? That's what you're getting to. He ordered it. The surveillance. My death.'
'Cuffs first. I can't sleep here all night.'
'Answer me, Goddammit!'
Krycek let loose a furious, guttural growl that was almost animalistic, yanking hard and repeatedly against the chain with increasing fury as the pipes protested and rattled within the wall. He continued his struggle for freedom, gritting his teeth and kicking the wall as a thin trickle of blood started from somewhere beneath the cuffs. Skinner derived at least some small measure of satisfaction from seeing Krycek finally lose control, venting the fury he knew he had been responsible for instilling in him. Eventually, muttering curses in Russian, he gave up and sagged against the radiator, throwing his head back in acknowledgment of his defeat.
'Do I have your word,' Krycek asked, breathless and perspiring, 'if I tell you, you'll let me up?'
Skinner said nothing.
'Look, I'm not going to hurt you! I'm not going to run! I came to you! Jesus, do you have any idea what they'll do to me if they find out what I've told you tonight? I'm already dead!'
'So you keep saying. But I know you better than that.'
'You were there this evening! You saw those men. You felt the heat from the closeness of those bullets. They weren't discriminative. If I was still working for them, do you think they'd have taken pot-shots down a blind stairwell, or at a moving car when they couldn't possibly be sure who they would hit? You think I would take that risk?'
'But they didn't hit anyone, did they?'
'Maybe not tonight. But in the past, yeah, they did. I was lucky.'
'They shot you?'
Krycek nodded. 'Chest. Take a look if you don't believe me.'
Skinner's eyes darted to him like frightened starlings, registering mild surprise and a distant flicker of...belief? After all, he doubted Krycek would have shot himself, even to serve his own twisted agenda. Skinner approached him and forced his head back with one hand while the other pushed up his shirt to see the ugly, puckered scar tissue like a sick, puce-colored starburst on the right of his chest, the contrast all the more stark against his sun-darkened skin.
'That's the exit wound. Entry's on my back. You can tell the shooter was elevated. Sniper position. Just in case you were thinking that I got that from ripping off a convenience store or sleeping with some guy's wife.'
Skinner pushed him forward to see the entry wound just above his clavicle. It was pretty convincing. Skinner had seen enough bullet wounds to know a sniper caliber scar when he saw it. But that still didn't prove that he was on their side.
'Why do you want those cuffs off so badly, Krycek? If you're not going to run and you're not going to kill me, what difference could it make? You've slept in worse places.'
Krycek looked up at him and smirked. 'Because they're upsetting my sense of fashion.'
Skinner's jaw clenched and he balled up his fist, ready to give him another blow to the jaw, but Krycek saw it coming and cowered back.
'Because I'm in fucking pain, okay? That's it. That psycho agent of yours gave me a good working over before we got to your apartment, and sitting here with my arm cuffed to the goddamn pipe is one more discomfort that I can do without.'
'You're kidding.'
'Why would I lie about it? You think I enjoy admitting that I feel like shit here, knowing you sadistic psychos get off on it? All I want is to take a warm shower, maybe get some ice for my face, and get some sleep because I haven't slept properly in almost four fucking days, okay? That's it. The brilliant, shining, pathetic goddamned truth. Is that good enough?'
'Not even close.'
Krycek sighed. Lowered his head. A few moments of silence passed before he started to whisper, 'His name is Christopher Spender. He's in his fifties. I'm not sure of his exact age. He was recruited into the CIA from the army in 1962 and for years worked as a Government assassin, taking orders not only from the CIA and the Pentagon, but he also did a little contracting in his spare time because he discovered he had a penchant for judicial homicide. He broke away from the Government some time later, along with a small, select group of other notable members of the Senate and other such prevalent organizations both here and abroad. Now that really is all you're getting. You know it's true because it correlates with the facts you already know.'
'Why are you telling me all this now? What has - '
'Because he is the one, Skinner! Have I got to draw you a diagram? This is the man who has been controlling you. Controlling me. Protecting Mulder from the others within his group who want him dead.'
Skinner sighed and rubbed his eyes that felt dry and heavy with fatigue. This was too much.
'Is all of this because of the X-Files? Because of Agent Mulder?'
Krycek shrugged, grimacing in pain as he tried to move his arm. 'He never told me his reasons. I never asked. I just followed orders. I had my own back to watch. A prudent decision, as it turned out. One thing I will tell you is that your involvement and your efforts to try to control the state of play didn't help win you any friends.'
He knew that now. He couldn't believe he had been so naive as to think that he could play both sides, showing no real loyalty to either. But the time had come to choose. And he had a fair idea where the path ahead lay.
He glanced at the LCD display on the television - 2.39am. He really needed to sleep. Every muscle in his body ached and urged him to lie down, but he still had a choice to make. To trust Krycek or not.
He glanced over at him. Krycek looked as though he was resolved to his situation. He had slumped back against the radiator and closed his eyes. His face did look pretty swollen. And those cuts were deep. Maybe he really was just in pain. But he deserved to be, after everything he had done.
All the same…
Skinner sighed. He had made many mistakes throughout his life. Things he still needed to make up for. He wasn't going to tip the balances any further against himself. He was better than Krycek. He would not become the merciless thug that Krycek had allowed himself to become.
He reached into his pocket for the key to the cuffs. Krycek opened his eyes as he heard him approach.
'I still have my gun and I'll be sleeping with it right here,' Skinner tapped his side where the Sig Sauer was still holstered. 'This being my personal weapon, it fires hollow points, and it would be unfortunate if one of those were to come into contact with any part of your anatomy. I'll be putting the chair against the door, too. Not to keep them out, but to keep you in. I'm a very light sleeper, and very trigger happy if I'm woken. Do we understand each other?'
Krycek nodded, wise enough to know to quit while he was ahead. When he was released, he stood up and flexed his fingers, looking at his reddened wrist.
'Go clean yourself up. And I'm warning you: don't give me a reason, Krycek. I will put you down. Understood?'
'Perfectly.' He pulled off his leather jacket and t-shirt on his way to the bathroom. Skinner could hear the sound of running water and a short while later, Krycek emerged not looking quite as battle-weary. He grabbed some ice from the cooler, wrapped it in a napkin, and held it to his eye as he went to lie down on the other bed without another word. He stared at the ceiling for a while before he eventually closed his eyes.
Skinner watched him until he was sure Krycek was asleep before relaxing back into the too-soft pillows with his hand fixed against the cold, reassuring metal of the gun.
