I quietly slid out from underneath my bed covers, leaving Mulder snoring softly. I had an impulse to touch him, but pushed it away. I couldn't wake him, not now. I change my clothes as quietly as possible, left a note explaining that I was following a lead and slipped out the door. As soon as I got in my car, I called Skinner and briefly explained my intentions. I was met with skepticism and hesitance.
"Scully, it's the middle of the night and the last time we listened to Krycek…" Skinner trailed off, but I was able to complete his thought. The last time we trusted Alex Krycek, Mulder had been abducted and Skinner still blamed himself.
"Sir, I'm well aware of the outcome of that conference, however, he was telling the truth, the ship was there," I reminded him.
"I know I saw the damn thing." There was an uncomfortable pause before Skinner sighed heavily into the phone. "Fine, I'll pick you up."
…..
The tiny parking lot put in for the convenience of walking trail users was unlit. We were early and there was no sign of Krycek, or anyone else. Skinner and I made our way to a set of picnic tables surrounded by trees. I sat at one table, Skinner melted into the darkness behind a tree. The minutes passed with only the sound of cicadas buzzing, occasionally interrupted by the passing of cars on the beltway. Normally, I would have spent the time worrying, but I was numb. The silence of my thoughts was a comfort. If I had no preconceived notions of what Krycek had to say, I couldn't be horrified at his revelation. Or so I thought.
"Scully," I jumped at the sound of Skinner's loud whisper, "you can still change your mind. Maybe we can figure this out without Krycek. You said he gave you information on the phone that might be useful."
I was tempted, but it was too late, now. Before I could reply a large black sedan crunched over the gravel of the small lot and slid to a stop. I heard a muttered, "shit" from behind the tree and steeled myself, wrapped in numbness. I took my gun out of the holster at my back and slid it under the table in front of me. Working in the field as an agent of the FBI was good for stilling the hands under pressure, but I had no control over the excessive beating of my heart. Krycek hadn't killed his headlight and his long shadow fell before him as he walked toward me.
"Are you alone, Agent Scully?" Krycek asked with a tilt of his head, daring me to lie. I took that dare.
"Yes. What do you have for me?" He held a large manila envelope, thick and rasping against his coat. It unnerved me that he carried it under his prosthetic arm. Normally, I would consider a missing limb a sign of physical weakness, but Krycek had none.
"Bullshit," he looked around, "where's Mulder? Hiding in the trees?"
Skinner slid out from behind said tree, weapon pointed in the direction of Krycek's chest.
"No, but I won't hesitate to shoot you dead, either. Get to the point of why we're here." Skinner's voice was full of hatred and I realized that, in fact, he would not hesitate to kill the man.
Krycek continued to walk toward the table where I sat and lid the envelope across to me. I stopped it from sliding off the table with my left hand, my right still under the table, gun pointed at Krycek.
"Skinner's just as good as Mulder, you shouldn't go anywhere alone. They will be looking for you. I hope they don't have the resources to find any of you. The balance of power has shifted, but it's no guarantee." Krycek straddled the picnic bench and sat facing Skinner and his gun.
"Speak in plain terms, Krycek. Who's looking for Agent Scully and why?"
Krycek's explanation was incredible to say the least. A group had made contact with him shortly after working with us to find the ship that had crashed near Bellefluer, OR. He had information from his time working for Cancer Man and the Syndacate. They thought his knowledge, his work ethic, and, I thought, his varying degrees of morality, would be helpful in their mission.
"And what is their mission?" I asked dubiously, an eyebrow raised. I wasn't sure I really wanted to know.
"Ally themselves with the alien rebels and stop colonization. Simple as that, only it's not so simple. This is a war of control over technology. In the fighting, some has been lost, some stolen, some even destroyed. The rebels are in control, now, but it's a tenuous control. The race who dealt with the Syndicate and is planning colonization, have people working on their behalf as well."
I stayed silent and listened to what Krycek had to say. The rebels had taken a different stance on preventing colonization. They would use the colonizing race's own technology against them, rather than destroying, by fire, evidence of their experiments. It seemed they had succeeded in disabling microchips planted in experimental humans. But there was a failsafe. If ever the capabilities to control these chips fell into the hands of humans or another race, colonization would begin immediately, starting with the creation of humans with a dormant sequence of alien DNA unlocked.
Skinner broke into Krycek's diatribe, "How? Create them how? With that black cancer Mulder's always going on about? A virus? What is it, dammit?" Skinner was visibly agitated and moving closer to Krycek with every question.
"I came unarmed, Skinner. If you want answers, quit waving the gun in my face." Skinner's arm slowly relaxed and fell to his side, but I could see his hand, fingers white with gripping the gun, one still on the trigger. "Thank you. Now, the virus, the black oil, it only alters what already is, its limited in its capacity. What we're talking about here is the creation of something entirely new, unknown to us and really, unknown to them."
It was my turn to make a contribution to the questioning, "How, Krycek? Science doesn't allow for the creation of new species outside of natural evolution, which takes thousands of years. What you're suggesting is that it's possible to create something from nothing."
Krycek shook his head, obviously frustrated at our lack of understanding. "No, it's not something from nothing. It's something that's already there, that our science knows about, but can't explain: it's an activation of the so called junk DNA. Beyond that, it's the birds and the bees, Agent Scully." He gave me a leering, knowing look that I would like to have slapped off his face. "I need to go. Watch your backs."
I considered trying to stop him, to try to ask more questions, to try to get clarification on what he wanted me to do. He answered the last for me without my asking.
"Find those women, Scully, they need to be protected. They'll trust you more than they'll ever trust me." And he turned again toward the glaring headlights, his long shadow following behind.
"Yeah, with good reason," muttered Skinner. I relaxed my grip on my own weapon, but held it still under the table waiting for the sweep of Krycek's headlights to indicate his departure before I re-holstered the gun. I propped my elbows on the table and covered my face with both hands, visions of the dream I had in Dr. Cenetta's waiting room flitting through my overwhelmed, exhausted mind. I took deep, even breaths and shook off the ghost of the dream.
"Let's go," I said as I stepped away from the table, folder in hand. "I just want to go home."
….
When I arrived back home, I checked on a still sound asleep Mulder, then I booted up my computer and sat at my desk with the manila envelope. Its contents proved to be a data CD, lists of doctors who participated in Syndicate's plan, I scanned the list for Dr. Parenti. Sure enough, he and his colleagues at Zeus were listed near the middle of the second page. Also in the envelope were lists of women. Their information included DOB's, husbands, if applicable, children born before the first abduction. None of them had children born after their initial abduction. Many of them were listed as deceased. My own entry on this list was brief. My name was there, my DOB, date of my abduction and return, but of course, no husband, no children.
The yawning emptiness that customarily filled my heart when facing this reality was muted by the undeniable fullness of my womb. I sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. Having spent several years convinced I would never have my own child and several months filled with angst and disappointed over failed attempts to regain what was taken, I could not be anything but thankful that I had this opportunity, no matter what the circumstances or cost.
With that clarity, I began yet another entry into my field journal regarding the possibility of extraterrestrial life colonizing planet earth.
