Cold Truce: Part One by Eva A Enblom

Title: Cold Truce
Author: Eva A Enblom

DISCLAIMER: The X-Files universe and characters belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions. No infringement intended. Any hints of other faintly recognizable universes is to be viewed as coincidental homage. :) No infringement intended anywhere. And no, this story is not a crossover, in case, knowing me, you were beginning to expect the worst. All songs quoted are given with the names of their authors - still no infringement intended.

RATING: Chapters 17 and 19 contain NC-17 sex scenes, fairly graphic. If your culture or your mother would object, please skip. Chapter 19 in particular might not be to everyone's taste - if you can't stand blood except in connection with violence, better skip this. The rest of the story is pretty straightforward X-Files standard.

KEYWORDS: Scully/Krycek, Romance, UST, RST, NC-17, Conspiracy

SUMMARY: Mulder has gone missing, and Scully and Krycek form an uneasy alliance with the purpose of locating him, since they both need him back. They are trapped and isolated in the wilderness by the Smoking Man, who as usual has his own agenda. Or rather, Diana Fowley's.

FEEDBACK: Yes, please! :) You can reach me at the address given on my main page
http://home.swipnet.se/evas_fanfic
ARCHIVE: As stated on my page, my stories are usually free for all; just let me know where they go, and please keep my name and headers in.

SPOILERS: Loads of them. Everything up to and including the Biogenesis trilogy - but no further. Have to put in a breakpoint at some time. There might be a foreshadowing of Closure but not enough to be called a spoiler.

COMMENTS: This is not a sequel to my story Samhain . I think I might still write a sequel to that some day, but the challenge I set myself here was to put together a believable SKipper story and still adhere strictly to canon. Therefore, Scully and Krycek have no past history when this story begins, other than what has been established in the series, up to and including Amor Fati. The only deviation from canon background is in the timeline. I haven't seen all the non-mytharc eps of Season 7 yet, so if Mulder's and Scully's every move is accounted for between Amor Fati and Closure, then this is a slightly alternate timeline. Mulder has disappeared, at a time when he probably did not in the series. There are other minor discrepancies, but Diana is explained, and the CSM's health can be. It seems to have had its ups and downs. In here, he did not go into a steady decline immediately upon surgery. Started on Wednesday, 2000-06-07, and due to an extremely hectic year 2000 not finished until now, in early 2001. Parts of this story were written at the height of a scorching Californian summer, which might to some extent explain my main choice of scenery.

Scully walked briskly towards the elevator. Her visit to Skinner's office had proved largely a waste of time. He had given her absolutely nothing, although she was sure she had pressured him hard enough. She couldn't shake the feeling that he either knew where Mulder was, or had a fairly good idea. And yet he wouldn't tell her anything. It didn't use to be like that. He used to come around, after some cajoling on her part. Now he wouldn't. Yet this was the very reason she felt that her visit had not been a complete waste. At least she now knew that something had changed, and she didn't think it was anything she had done. Possibly something Mulder had done, but even so, Skinner would have told her where the man was. Back when the Assistant Director was also her ally, though he'd never admit it openly, for fear of who might listen.

The elevator door plinked open, and she stepped in. She was alone. Good. She had the time to breathe a small sigh of relief, then a man forced his way in past the closing doors. As soon as the elevator had left the floor, he slammed the emergency stop, and she recognized him.

"Krycek!" she spat, reaching wildly behind her for her gun. As she got it out and pointed it at him, she saw that he was holding up his hand to reassure her. She kept her gun trained on him just the same.

"I'm unarmed", he rasped. Scully remembered his voice well enough to know that it had always had a husky tone to it, but this time she unerringly diagnosed a traditional, old-fashioned sore throat. Then her gaze drifted to the left sleeve of his worn leather jacket, and her eyes widened. The sleeve was hanging empty by his side, and blood was dripping from it, slowly but persistently.

He made a face, presumably at his own choice of words. "Okay, understatement of the year. What I meant was, I don't even carry a switchblade at the moment. You can tuck that gun away."

"Alex Krycek weaponless?" she taunted him. "I'll believe that when pigs come flying through my window."

"They might yet", he muttered. "Come on now, what are you going to do - arrest me? You haven't got anything on me you can make stick, and you know it."

Scully hated to admit it, but he had a point. His crimes might be legion, but there was no convicting him as long as any remained of his powerful employers, and she knew of at least one who had not gone down in the fire - or up in smoke. Reluctantly, she put her gun back in its holster. She hoped she wasn't doing it just so as not to seem stupid. False pride had killed agents before.

Scully finally relaxed enough to switch on her doctor's mode rather than the Special Agent one. The man looked decidedly ill. It had been a while since she last saw him, but she didn't think he could have lost quite that much weight in any healthy fashion. Also, he was positively white-faced, and the black stubble certainly didn't do anything to mediate that impression. Funny, she had never even noticed a five o'clock shadow on him before, but now that she thought of it, with his colouring, he ought to have the problem.

"What happened to you?" she asked, not really caring that it came out as an accusation.

"Rough voyage", he said. Damn, did it really show that bad? Then again, he reminded himself, she was a doctor.

She covered her surprise instantly. Her lips pursed. "You're not exactly topmost on our list of conversation topics, Krycek."

He nodded. "Nah, I guess not. It's just, he was with me when it happened. Well, almost. In fact, we had just - split up. Tunguska. A mob of local peasants decided they knew what was best for me." Suddenly, he banged his head against the elevator door in frustration - so hard that she was sure he must have added to his already deplorable condition. "I hate ignorance", he said, vehemently enough that she believed him. "Ignorance and superstition - they'll conquer this world eventually. Who knows, they might even beat the aliens to it…" His lips quirked a little. "That's something we have in common right there, Agent Scully. I take it you're not big on ignorance and superstition either."

His eyes widened, and she noticed in idle surprise that they were not black or brown as she had always assumed, but rather a soft, dark green. Somewhat like the muddy water of a forest lake, she mused irrelevantly.

"Oh no, don't give me that", he said, shaking his head. "You must have a clue. Something he said or hinted, something he left behind, something only you would be able to interpret…."

He eyed her for a moment, wondering how well he really knew this woman. It had to be, what - four years? More? - since he did surveillance jobs on her. Back in those days, she had looked like any up-and-coming agent, elegantly styled, yuppie fashions, the works. He had stopped watching when she contracted the cancer. Talked himself out of further assignments like that. True, it was her own fault for removing the chip, as the smoker had endlessly told him, as if it were in any way important. But Krycek had never liked the idea of slow death. Death should come clean, sudden and precise, the way he always dealt it himself.

But death had not claimed Scully after all, and now she herself seemed deadlier than he remembered, even from when he last met her, just before Tunguska. Maybe it was an effect of being on her own now, without Mulder, but somehow Krycek didn't think so. Even if there was something about those hard, turquoise eyes, that strictly practical hair cut, that he doubted Mulder even liked. Mulder might have endurance, but he was a lot softer than this.

Krycek was about to offer a calculating I don't believe you, but to his surprise, he found that he did. "Then he didn't leave of his own free will", he said instead.

"The thought has crossed my mind", she countered derisively. "What's the matter - your buddies, smoking and otherwise, don't tell you anything any more?"

"You're beginning to sound like Mulder", he said tiredly. His eyes drifted closed - but only for a moment. "I'm not so sure they're the ones who've got him."

She looked him over. He really was in bad shape. Sick as a cat, and unwashed. The latter disturbed her. He had a strong, natural scent the way some human males did, a function designed to attract, not repel, only now it was rather overbearing, at least in any civilized parts of the world. All the same, it was bothering her hormones which were far less civilized than she might have wished, and her conflicting emotions enraged her. But she'd be damned if she'd give in to childish anger, especially when she fully well knew it was based on confusion caused by a simple biochemical reaction and nothing else.

"You're injured and exhausted, and you've probably been starving lately, but you're not diseased". In fact, if he had been, his scent would have been far less intriguing, but she was not about to tell him so. "What about that arm?" she asked hastily. "If it happened when you and Mulder were in Tunguska, how can it still be bleeding? And didn't those peasants know enough to cauterize it?"

He groaned. "They fired it at once, or I might have found someone to reattach it for me. Unless I bled to death first, which was a distinct possibility."

She noted that he knew exactly what had been done to him. Well, she hadn't exactly visualized Russian peasants as toting any large supply of anaesthetics around. Such things were probably black-market stuff, far beyond their economical reach.

"No time. Someone is bound to make a fuss about the elevator being out of order."

"I said I don't know. But if I ever find out, I'll need to know what you want him for. Or I won't ever say another word to you, until he comes back of his own accord."

"If I can be sure you're not after him simply because you have a contract on him."

Krycek nodded. "All right then. You know about the vaccine for the alien infection? Or rather, the experiments aimed at inventing one?"

Scully sighed. "When am I not? What is it this time? My immune system will suddenly up and eat me alive?"

Krycek almost smiled, but caught himself. "Further experiments. They want anyone who's ever been infected, and they're getting desperate."

"We have every reason to believe a lot of them were just incinerated - possibly by alien rebels."

Krycek shifted slightly against the doors, hoping his makeshift bandage would prove enough to keep him from passing out. The wound had been slowly dripping since he left the ship, and he really had no way of knowing how much blood he had lost. Under the circumstances, he'd have to be careful.

"That was just the American phalanx", he rasped. "It wasn't a world wide operation, if that's what you think. Thankfully, there aren't that many alien rebels on Earth. As yet."

Scully's mind reeled a little at his casual dismissal of the American phalanx. She clamped firmly down on any misguided hints of patriotism. The Consortium was nothing to feel protective about. "Go on", she said.

"I knew the Syndicate wanted the vaccine badly - I had been trying to supply them myself." His lips quirked mirthlessly. "I may even have saved your life. If you're sure what you got was Russian, chances are it was from the batch I stole."

She gave him a look that told him clearly not to push that particular line of reasoning.

"Anyway", he resumed his tale, "in my own case, there's a slight twist. I was subjected to the Black Oil too, but it left on its own. The guy in charge of the Syndicate's vaccine research - a British surgeon, he's dead now - always believed my blood could be used as the base for a serum. After the rebel attacks, they're expecting colonist retaliation - with humanity caught in the middle. They left me alone before, concentrating on finding a vaccine, but now they've started looking for more. Now they want an antidote.

"There are only two other people still alive, who meet the same criteria that I do - a married couple by the name of Gauthier. He's French, she's from San Fran. I went looking for them, but they had disappeared. Nobody by that name had ever lived there - that sort of thing. Guess the Syndicate was behind that, or maybe the other colonist minions got to them first. Either way, it looked bad for me, so I ran. Got as far as Amsterdam, Netherlands. I was supposed to meet my contact there. I always had good connections to the Russian mob, most of them are old military."

He cast a quick glance around, mostly out of habit. He really had no reason to believe the FBI would bug its own elevators. Besides, he was too worn out to care. If he were caught now, he could always have Skinner pull him out later.

"Turned out, I had - for once - underestimated the Smoker. I never expected him to risk spreading the news about the aliens. But he had bought the people I was seeing. They took me to Bucharest, on the pretext of protecting me from the Syndicate. Instead, they handed me over to the Romanian branch."

"Romania has a long tradition of vampirism", Scully prompted. "Or so Mulder tells me."

"No need to be sarcastic about it", Krycek said tiredly. "Traditional vampires have nothing on the Syndicate. They drew the stuff regularly for weeks, keeping me at the barest minimum level needed for survival. I was so weak, they didn't even have to chain me up. Then they got orders to take me to Russia, and - I managed to escape."

He sighed. "If you must know, someone sprung me. A whole group, actually. We went by Kirgisia for some reason known only to the Syndicate, and we ran into The Union of Extemporate Cossacks." He made a face. "Upholding and practising the Cossack ideals or some such nonsense, much like SCA knights in a way. They don't traditionally belong in Kirgisia, but I understand they were run out of a lot of other places, notably the Ukraine. Anyway, they rescued me. I don't know who had been talking to them, I guess the Smoker's money ran out and some of my old friends got miffed."

Krycek made a renewed attempt to close his narrative, but Scully was looking far to intrigued - and amused. She probably didn't believe a word, and he could hardly blame her. All the same, her obvious interest was hard to resist. Must be her Irish roots, he mused. Always eager for a tall tale…

"One of the Cossacks grabbed my arms and yanked me on to his horse - of course he didn't know I was wearing a prosthesis… Somehow I managed to hold on to the thing, but it had been torn loose, and I really didn't need to lose any more blood right then. When we made camp that night, they managed to reattach the fake arm - with leather straps of all things, but they couldn't fit the titanium screws again, as the bone had been damaged."

Scully shuddered involuntarily. To her resentment, she saw that he noted it. For future use? Well, if he was counting on her compassion to sway her in favour of anything he was up to, he was grossly miscalculating.

"Well, at least they fed me and let me rest as much as was possible on the run. Eventually, they dumped me on a tanker - as a stowaway, because they had no connections to the crew, or so they told me. They left me a four-day supply of food that I managed to stretch to last a week. After that, I tried stealing, and of course I was caught. I thought I'd had it, because it's common practice to simply pitch stowaways overboard, and we were nowhere near land. The Cossacks had given me a gun, but I was no match for a crew of twelve, I couldn't keep them all covered for hours, let alone for the rest of the voyage. So I was disarmed, and most of them were in favour of tossing me to the fish, but for some reason, the captain said no. I don't know if it was his own idea, or if someone had paid him alone without telling his crew or the Cossacks, but I wasn't about to question it. He asked if I was strong enough to work my passage, and considering the alternative, I said yes."

"The ship's doctor tried to make a better attachment", Krycek said in reply to her look. "But the wound was infected, and he had to open everything up again and clean it to make it heal properly. Meanwhile, I had to wear the straps, or I couldn't work. It wasn't an optimal combination. The straps would chafe, and I'd start bleeding again. Just as I left, I took the thing off and bandaged the stump. Guess I'll have to leave it off now, until I heal."

"You should see a doctor", Scully said. Then something occurred to her. "Or is that what you're doing now? Were you about to ask for my help? Because there is no one left for you to go to?"

His mouth quirked a little. "You'd be likely to poison me or something. There are places I can go. But first things first - I have to find Mulder."

"I doubt it. Nobody knows his real name, though he's been going by several, including that one. Anyway, I heard that Mulder got hold of some alien artifact that made him telepathic. Except it hit him fully grown, and he had never learned the first thing about blocking out the noise, so he went insane."

Scully closed her eyes momentarily. Then she nodded. "I wish we had made that connection earlier. He's better now though. Or he was, before he disappeared."

"What happened to the talent?" Krycek asked, and the green intensity of his eyes startled Scully. "Does he still have it - or some of it?"

"Partly. I have reason to believe Mulder's still telepathic to some extent, and I need to know his range. It could be that it's abated, but it could also be that he has learned to control it. Like the aliens. Or like that brat - Gibson Praise. Like anyone who was born with it."

"He always was intuitive…." she mused. "Are you saying he might have adapted, and he's just not telling anyone?" Not even me, she added in her thoughts, and the idea left her strangely empty inside.

"I suppose it's possible", Scully finally admitted. Then she flared. "So what's in it for you? Why do you need to know?"

"Because if Mulder is telepathic", Krycek said, "chances are that the Smoker is too. They say there was an operation…. he took something from Mulder, some of his DNA, and he had them put it in himself."

Scully actually staggered, and Krycek, for all that he was quite probably the weaker one at the moment, reached out and steadied her.

"It's only a Syndicate rumour", he said, almost as if to reassure her. "Only the Smoker and his closest associates know if there's any truth to it. But I can't afford to dismiss the possibility. I have to assume that 'worst case' is true. It's kept me alive so far."

"I take it you and the Smoker are not on speaking terms at the moment?" Scully asked, trying to get some of her composure back.

"He wants me dead", Krycek said simply. "He used to try to have me killed, any opportunity he got. What bothers me is that he's stopped trying lately. He was giving me assignments up to the point where I ran away. I think he has some plans for me, and considering what he had them do to me in Romania, I don't think I'd better let him find me. I need to find Mulder. I need - his help."

"I think the alarm is automatic", Scully said. "After fifteen minutes, it goes off even if nobody triggers it from inside the elevator."

Krycek was inclined to agree. "Standard security procedure. So, you're sure you don't know where he is? Not a clue?"

"Anybody in there?" The voice came strongly, enhanced by the elevator shaft, startling them both. Krycek motioned for Scully to answer.

"It's just me!" she shouted, watching him, wondering how he was going to get out of this one.

"I said I'd take care of it", she reminded him coolly. "How are you going to get past them?"

"Through the garage", he said. There was a thump outside, suggesting someone was applying tools to free the elevator. Krycek put his hand on the emergency brake. "Scream!" he said curtly, as he loosened it. To his surprise, she did, and quite convincingly too, just like someone who had just lost their balance through an unexpected movement of their surroundings.

"What d'you know", he muttered as the elevator descended, "Partners in crime…"

"Don't get your hopes up, Krycek", she clipped back. "Besides, there's still the blood. You've been dripping all over the place."

"Tell them you had a nosebleed or something. They have no reason to check the DNA, or even the blood type, unless you ask them to." She nodded, and he just had to ask, "Why are you helping me?"

"It's not you I'm helping", she stated calmly. "I just had the thought that with both of us looking for Mulder, there's a better chance of one of us finding him. Especially as we're not likely to look in the same places."

The elevator touched down on the garage level and came to a halt. "I don't think that's it at all", Krycek said. The doors opened, and he stepped out. He turned to flash her a grin just as the doors were closing. "I think you just like screaming."

Scully stood unmoving for a moment, trying to recall if she had ever seen him smile before. She did not think so, not like that anyway. Not that incongruous, toothy, sun-edge smile. She shook her head in amazement. If he could still smile like that, after all he had been through… She was beginning to see why this particular sewer rat was not so easily exterminated. In fact, she had to admire his resilience, if nothing else about him. With a shrug, she pressed the button for the floor they had just left. She had a few colleagues and security people to reassure.

Krycek emerged into the sunlight, hoping to get a lift out of the area. The man who had taken him to within a block of the J Edgar Hoover building had kept staring at his passenger's dripping sleeve. Krycek had assured him he had every intention of getting to a hospital as soon as he could, he just had a few things to take care of first. This time, he really did need to seek out a doctor before he did anything else…

Krycek knew he ought to run. He'd know that well-modulated voice anywhere. Only the cold conviction that escape was no longer an option, made him pause and turn around.

"A wise decision, Alex", the smoking man said. "You look rather the worse for wear. I can help you. Care to join us?"

The woman who got out from behind the wheel of the black, nondescript car with diplomat's plates ought to have been dead. Unfortunately, she wasn't. Very much alive, Diana Fowley was smiling insincerely as she held open the back seat door. Krycek got in the car. There really wasn't much else to do.

The smoking man threw the letter down on the small, polished jacaranda table and gave his associate a questioning look. "Well? Have you read it?"

The hard-faced woman nodded. "I have. Most of it anyway. I must say Strughold's encoding staff is getting better and better. Wonder who did that."

"He does it himself", the smoker said. "Always has. He used to be an expert - in that as well as other things." He put out his cigarette in a gleaming ashtray of an indeterminate shape, made of some black, volcanic stone. "You got his meaning then?"

"Loud and clear. He wants Agent Scully away from Fox, and no screwing up this time. He seems convinced we have Fox. Do we?"

The elderly man succumbed to temptation and dug out his Morley packet again. "All in good time", he said. "Mulder isn't our problem right now. Scully is."

Diana sighed. "I have an idea, but I need you to tell me something first. Do you trust me?"

He did not answer that directly. "You want to know why I didn't have you killed, after you betrayed me?" he asked, exhaling. "Simple. The man I sent didn't do his job."

She smiled politely. "I see. Your assassin didn't fulfil his assignment, so you took me back." Better not dwell on that subject. "I didn't betray you", she said calmly. "It's just that - well, I suppose there's no point in trying to hide it now - I do love Fox. There was no conflict at all, as long I was sure you wanted him alive. But then, as I saw what you were planning, what you were doing to him, I began to have doubts. It appeared as if you only wanted him as DNA spare parts for yourself, that you would throw him away when you were through with him. And that's the one thing I couldn't let you do."

"I have no intention of killing Mulder", the smoking man said, exhaling an abortive ring. "He's my one hope of holding off the colonists, when the day comes", he added cryptically.

"I'm with you, as long as I know Fox is alive and likely to stay that way", she said.

He nodded. "That's what I - gleaned. So, there's still no conflict. What's this idea you have?"

"Simple. Send in Alex. As soon as he's fully recovered. How is he doing, by the way?"

"Still convalescing. The reattachment of the prosthesis proved rather difficult, as there were new and deep cracks in the bone. But he's healing fast. We made a few improvements while we were at it. He should have better mobility now. Still can't take much weight on that arm though."

The smoker looked directly at her through the bluish wisps filling the air. She couldn't be sure, but she thought there was a smile playing around his wrinkled features. "I may still have use for him", he said lightly.

She nodded, accepting the warning. She knew as well as he did, what kind of work they were using Alex for. "That's not quite what I had in mind for Agent Scully", she said. "After all, we failed last time."

He should be able to read her plan right off her mind, but she wasn't sure how far his powers extended, and she thought it safer not to ask. Seeing that shadow of a smile again, she hastily went on, "Strughold doesn't say he wants her dead. He just wants to pry them apart. Well, so do I. And I think there's a much better way. She's the only one - excepting possibly myself - that Fox has ever trusted. He doesn't trust his own mother, yet he trusts her. What if he gets a reason to doubt that trust, to question her loyalty? That ought to drive a wedge between them just as surely as death itself, and with the same finality. It's even better, because if we kill her, he'll try to avenge her death, and he'll do anything he can to hurt us. If she lets him down, there'll be no reason for revenge, and what's more, he'll be weakened, not strengthened. I think that's what Strughold wants, if he has given any thought at all to particulars."

The smoker nodded thoughtfully. "An interesting plan", he admitted. "But if we don't want Scully killed, why Alex?"

Diana smiled a little, folding her long hands and stretching them a little, palms outward, as she leant back in her chair. "He's an attractive man."

The smoking man did not drop his cigarette, but for an instant it wavered precariously between his lips. "Alex??"

She had the time to wonder why he had not seen that coming, before he had once more composed himself.

"You're suggesting Alex for a honey pot operation?" he mused, and she could have sworn he was chuckling secretly. He shook his head. "I'm afraid you don't know Agent Scully."

"Maybe not, but I know Fox", Diana said calmly. "I know what it takes for him to place his trust in someone. I know she'll prove a hard nut to crack. But I think Alex can do it. If you give them time. Time is essential, you must give them lots of it - and only each other to rely on."

This time, he actually did chuckle. "You've given this a lot of thought, haven't you? Well, why not? The time factor would keep Strughold off our backs for a while. He's quite content to work slowly, if the results justify it." The mirth died from his eyes as if it had never been. "Which means, we shall have to get results", he said in a voice so flat that only those who knew him well could have detected the threat. Diana knew him well enough. "Your idea has merit", he finally decided. "I'm willing to try it."

"Just one more thing then", Diana said. "Don't let Alex know what his assignment is. In fact, don't even let him know he's been given one."

"Because I have the feeling he'll be more willing if he thinks it's his own idea", she said. "Also, it saves you the trouble of paying him for it."

Krycek watched the broken smoke rings rise toward the ceiling. To his knowledge, the smoker had always been smoking, and yet he had never mastered the art of blowing rings properly. Amazing.

The older man gave his visitor a slightly annoyed look, then turned his attention to putting out his cigarette. Without looking up from what he was doing, he said, "I have a mission for you, Alex."

Aside from: 'Drop dead, Alex'? Krycek thought, but he carefully avoided making the suggestion aloud.

The other leant back in his chair, and his creased face crinkled further. If Krycek hadn't known better, he could have sworn the man was smiling.

"There's no love lost between us", the smoker said lightly, confirming Krycek's thoughts. "But the fact that you're here alive, should have convinced you that I might have some use for you still."

"All right", Krycek said in a tone that advised the older man to cut the crap, "who is it this time?"

"It's not that kind of assignment", the other informed him casually. "We need you to find Mulder."

"Regrettably, we don't", the man said, shaking out another cigarette and lighting it.

I don't believe you, Krycek thought. You've got him, you old fart - this is some sort of a game. Aloud, he said, "Why me?"

Again, he thought he could discern a smile on those wrinkled features. But the smoker was not looking at him as he said, "Simple. We have exhausted our resources. Right now, I have no one else to send. It has been suggested that you might have a few more sources to - research than we do." He took a draught on his cigarette, and as usual seemed to exhale more smoke than he had inhaled.

A fire-breathing old dragon, Krycek thought, and the old man's eyes widened in amused surprise.

"I suggest you seek out Agent Scully", the smoking man resumed. "She must have some idea where her partner is. She won't talk to me or Diana, but she might talk to you."

Krycek clamped down hard on the thought that he had already approached Scully in this matter, for his own ends. The old man had no need to know that. No need to know that his mission had already proved futile, before it was even assigned. Krycek had no way of knowing if he had managed to block the thought; he could only hope. "She isn't likely to talk to me either", he said. I helped getting her abducted, I betrayed her precious Mulder, I've been killing her contacts left, right and center, I was there when Luis lost his speed-riddled head and killed her sister, I…

He is telepathic, Krycek thought. He has to be. "Mulder always suspects me first", he said aloud. "Anything he's told her, she knows."

The smoker tipped off some ash, barely missing the ashtray and ignoring the resulting mess on the polished table. "Agent Scully has always impressed me as someone who craves proof." For once, he looked straight at his interlocutor.

"Give it a shot, Alex", he said, obviously enjoying his choice of words. "It might be worth it."

Krycek knew he really had no choice. And things could have been worse. Much worse… Besides, Scully had half promised she'd let him know if she learnt anything about Mulder's whereabouts. And he still had his own reasons for finding Mulder… He took care not to dwell on that line of thought, though he suspected the old man already knew. Then something else occurred to him. "I might have to deal with Skinner too", he said. "Could I have the device back?"

"Really, we must stop meeting this way", Krycek said as he got into the elevator behind Scully. This time, he did not touch the emergency brake. She gave him an icy glare in return for his feeble joke. "There's not much point", she said. "I still don't know where Mulder is." Her doctor's eyes looked him over for any traces of his ragged condition last summer. She did not find any. He was obviously back to normal, fit as ever and cocky as hell. She was beginning to understand Mulder's urges to slug this man whenever he laid eyes on him.

Krycek blinked at the hostility in her voice. "Only that he'll contact you first, whenever he reappears."

So that was it. Time had passed, and she was beginning to fear the worst. She was definitely on edge.

"Don't give up, Scully" he said. "He's been gone before, remember? You've found him before, haven't you?"

"If I did, I had Skinner's help", she said. "And indirectly that of your associates. This time, I'm on my own."

The elevator hit the garage level, and the doors opened. Scully walked out without looking to see if Krycek was following. He was.

"Either he won't or he can't, but I don't think he knows where Mulder is, any more than I do. Skinner's like a caged tiger these days, pacing in circles with no way out. I don't know what's come over him."

Damn, she was quick. Krycek had learned long ago not to underestimate his enemies, but occasionally someone still got the better of him. "Nothing", he shrugged, but he could see that she did not believe him.

"You leave Skinner alone, do you hear?" Scully said, her voice low and menacing.

"Nothing he doesn't deserve, I'm sure", Krycek said. After all, his soured relationship with the AD was hardly a secret.

But Scully flared. Apparently her personal loyalty to Skinner was stronger than met the eye. "What did he ever do to you?"

Krycek knew he ought to shut up, he wasn't here to alienate her. Unfortunately, he was getting angry too. "You mean, aside from slugging me in the gut, hard enough to make me cough up blood, and then chaining me to his balcony in the freezing cold, leaving me as a sitting duck for the next assassin who happened by? Why, nothing I guess…"

Scully took his sarcasm in her stride. "He chained you? What is this, some Russian melodrama?"

"Just before Tunguska. Indirectly, it led to my arm being hacked off. If Skinner hadn't taken me prisoner…." Krycek made a face. "He was supposed to provide me with a safe house. Some safe house…"

They had arrived at Scully's car. She did not get in at once, but stood pondering his words for a moment. Could this be true? Mulder hadn't mentioned anything like this, but she had long known that he didn't always tell her everything. And try as she might, she wouldn't really put this kind of behaviour past Skinner. She knew the AD hated Krycek, and who could blame him? The ex-marine getting a little over-zealous, yes, she could well believe it.

"You don't forgive easily, do you, Krycek?" she said as she opened her car door.

"I don't forgive at all", he said, his voice nearing absolute zero. "And I don't forget."

Scully said nothing, because there was nothing to say. After she got in and was clicking her safety belt into place, Krycek bent down to speak to her through the still open door. "But I don't waste time on revenge when it's not practical. The cost is usually too high."

He straightened, and shut her door for her. Then he started walking towards one of the exits, a lonely figure, dressed in the same colour as his mood. Scully never knew why she didn't just let him go. Maybe it was her persistent, rebellious streak. Or maybe she was just growing soft. Whatever the reason, she let her car glide up slowly, until she was alongside him. She rolled down the window. "Krycek!" she called, and he glanced at her but kept walking.

"You really need to find Mulder, right?" she said, and this time he stopped to listen, and she braked, engine still running. "Well, so do I. What do you say we collaborate? Instead of just keeping each other posted and hoping for the best?"

His jaw dropped momentarily. He had just been thinking over what to say to the smoking man - besides telling him that this approach certainly wouldn't help them locate Mulder. He sure hadn't expected Scully to offer an alliance, however temporary. Pulling himself together, he nodded curtly. "What did you have in mind?"

"You told me not to give up. Thanks, because I think I was beginning to. We should be searching actively, not just sit around waiting for news." She hesitated for the barest moment before adding, "You go and have that talk with Skinner. Maybe you're right, maybe he'll talk to you. He certainly isn't talking to me. Then meet me at the Hong Kong Paradise at six-thirty. Corner of 6th and Fuller. We've got to plan this."

"I'll be there", he said simply, too astonished to say anything else. Her lips quirked a little. "Truce, Krycek? For this mission at least?"

Skinner looked up at the black-clad figure who had just invaded his office. "What d'you know, the rats coming out in broad daylight now?" he muttered between clenched teeth.

Krycek let the insult wash over him and pass on. He was used to those comments, they didn't matter. "Tell me where I can find Mulder", he said.

There was an unmistakable hint of glee behind Skinner's glasses. "What, your boss won't tell you?" he taunted.

Krycek secretly suspected he was fighting a losing battle here. He was almost sure himself that the Smoker had Mulder. Still, why leave any stone unturned? With a sigh, he whipped out a hand-held computer - his remote control for the nanites in Skinner's body. "You tell me", he said calmly.

Skinner eyed the device, steeling himself for what he saw coming. Then his gaze drifted to Krycek's face, and the hatred in the AD's eyes was almost palpable, almost thickening the dry office atmosphere. Krycek was suddenly glad he had the controlling device. It was slow death all over again, and he hated it, but he'd better not lose it. Given half a chance, Skinner would kill him with his bare hands and worry about the legal implications later.

"I've no idea where Mulder is", Skinner finally admitted. "And if I did, I sure wouldn't tell you." He knew it was a stupid thing to say under the circumstances, but he just couldn't help himself.

"Oh, I think you would", Krycek said, letting the stylus slide slowly towards the right end of the scale. His fake hand was holding the device steady enough that he could operate it with his real one. From a distance, the little computer looked much like any other variation on the Palm Pilot theme, at least as long as the antenna went unnoticed. But it had no writable screen, and its inner workings were to some extent - out of this world.

Skinner gasped, slumping forward over his desk. "Damn you, I said I don't know!" he forced out.

"I know what you said". Krycek adjusted the setting a little further, and soon Skinner groaned in agony, no longer able to speak. One more carefully calculated touch of the stylus, just enough to induce panic, to let the man realize that his condition was worsening and he could not even speak a lie to save his life. Then Krycek abruptly set the control back to zero. The tension gradually left Skinner's body, and he remained for a moment where he was, half lying across his desk like the proverbial puppet whose strings have been cut. He was breathing heavily, which spared Krycek the danger of moving close enough to check the man's pulse. The AD was useful. There'd be hell to pay if he was killed accidentally.

"You can quit playing the hero, Skinner", Krycek said. "It doesn't pay. Heroes don't last." With that, he tucked the device back inside his jacket and left. Skinner would know better than to try and stop him.

Scully hardly recognized him as he entered the restaurant. Sure, she had seen him in a suit and tie before, but that was a very long time ago. These days it seemed like another lifetime. 'Were we once so young?' she quoted to herself, her lips pursed in amusement. Krycek had seemed very green then, but now she doubted that he had been. His overly straight, right-side parting ought to have given her and Mulder a clue that he was faking it. Nobody looked so well-brushed in real life.

Now, he moved quickly through the room, his sharp eyes darting everywhere in search of her. For some reason she refrained from waving to get his attention. Those eyes would spot her sooner or later anyway, she was sure of that. He should have come in his usual pickpocket black, she mused. It would have gone better with the ubiquitous red of the walls and carpet, the tassels of the Chinese lamps. Yang red for happiness. The only shade of red she knew to be actually soothing, rather than just exhilarating.

He saw her and raised his chin a little in greeting. A perfunctory greeting, as if they were old acquaintances. Well, after all, they were, even though they had hardly met. He sat down opposite her, asking casually if she had ordered yet. She had not. She was about to say she had been waiting for him, but the words would not come out. It's never easy to deal normally with the enemy.

She had already made her decision - prawns with cashews - so she had plenty of time to observe him as he was perusing the menu. It seemed strange to watch him doing something so mundane, but of course, even sewer rats had to eat sometimes. She wondered why he had bothered to change. She had not; she was in her usual pants suit working clothes.

A waiter appeared silently, unobtrusively, to take their orders. Proud of his talents, the man insisted on memorizing their requests rather than writing them down.

"Want me to choose the wine?" Krycek asked, and the simple question angered her beyond proportion. Who the hell did he think he was? The sleek, presumptuous rat, acting as if this was in any way a normal business dinner.

"With you, I'd need vodka", she said coolly. "Jasmine tea will be fine, thanks", she added to the waiter who memorized the order with a light bow.

Krycek pushed his fork to the edge of the table, catching the waiter's eye. The waiter picked up the utensil with another bow, went away and returned after a moment with chop sticks. He set a pair for Scully too, but without touching her fork, leaving the choice up to her.

Krycek caught Scully's openly wondering look at his chop sticks and smiled a little. "Actually, it's easier", he answered her unspoken question. He eyed her - a little apprehensively, she thought. "You suggested a truce. Care to discuss the terms?"

"This mission only", she answered at once. "We both need to find Mulder, and that's all the truce applies to. We share any information we come across that might lead to his whereabouts, and if we find him, we both go. Neither tries to double-cross the other to get to him first", she warned.

Krycek nodded. "Fine with me." His green eyes searched her face. "You realize you have to trust me, if this is going to work?"

She made a face. She trusted him exactly as far as she could throw him, and given their respective sizes, that said it all. "I know. That's why I said this mission only. Let's not touch upon anything else you've been doing, or I just might have to kill you."

She had to admit she was. "Just one thing. Were you in any way involved in my sister's murder?"

She hesitated only briefly. Then she nodded. "I've always assumed Luis Cardinal shot her", she said. "That's what I was told. But lately, I've begun to wonder."

"He did", Krycek said. "Trigger-happy son of a bitch, too frazzled to wait until he could see who -" he broke off. This wasn't the best of occasions to remind her who had been the intended victim. "I was there", he said instead. "I was sent as his backup, to see that - the assignment got carried out, even if he screwed up. But he screwed up royally, and there was nothing for it but leave the weapon and run. I knew they were making a mistake sending him, but I guess they needed a hold on him. Still, they must have known he was on speed and paranoid as all hell. I should have gone alone. I wouldn't have made that kind of mistake." He looked straight into her eyes. Turquoise ice. Belatedly, he realized that something more was needed. "I'm sorry", he said, surprising her.

She resisted her urge to shoot him then and there, but she could see now that this truce would prove harder than anything she had ever done. "The assignment, as you call it, was to kill me", she said evenly. Too evenly. "Would you take such an assignment again?"

His eyes never left hers. "You know I would. Not by choice though, if that makes you feel better. But choice is a luxury I don't have. If they want you dead, I'll come after you. It's my life if I don't."

"Touching", she said, her lip quirking disdainfully. "So you live by killing others. Nothing but a predator."

He sighed. "If you'd rather call off this truce now, just tell me, okay? I'll be out of your life in a cold minute."

Their food arrived, and she said, "At least you've been honest, which is actually more than I expected. Let me think it over while we eat, and I'll let you know whether the truce is on or not."

He accepted that, as calmly as he had told her he would kill her if so ordered. They both ate in silence, neither of them bothering with small talk. They weren't here to socialize.

After the meal, Scully leant back in her seat, watching him. "I still think two have a better chance of finding Mulder than one", she said. "Particularly as our connections are slightly different. But if we're really going to work together, I want you to answer two more questions, as honestly as you answered my first one."

His eyes widened. Obviously, that wasn't what he had expected. "No", he said. "Just desperate. And pragmatic."

"Okay. Because if you have a mental defect, I can't take you on. The other question then: do you have a contract on me - or Mulder - at this time?"

He shook his head. "No, you're both quite safe. From me anyway. And for what it's worth, I don't know of any plans to kill either of you at the moment."

She waited a full minute, trying to come up with anything else she might have overlooked. Then she said. "Okay, Krycek. You're on. But only until we find Mulder."

He was silent for a while, then he said, "I think you may have to get used to the idea that he might not always be around."

"Fully developed telepathy is an alien trait. It might not be compatible with the human brain. I have reason to believe it's fatal, in the long run."

Scully felt an infinite sadness at the thought of the telepathic little boy, precocious because of his - affliction, and used by everyone. And what if Mulder… "How - how long…"

Krycek found himself putting his hand over hers to reassure her. She withdrew hers immediately. "I don't know", he said, pretending not to have noticed her reaction to his touch. "Anyway, it's just a rumour. I haven't seen the kid. All I'm saying is, it doesn't hurt to be prepared."

She nodded, fighting to match his pragmatic outlook. She knew she might need it before all this was over. "All right, thanks for warning me. Did you talk with Skinner?"

Like hardened conspirators, they left separately. After Krycek had gone, Scully broke open her fortune cookie. The barely legible slip of paper read,

Mulder was standing in a vast hangar, empty but for some hospital gurneys and some sinister-looking equipment hovering over them. Leather straps were hanging loosely from the gurneys. There was nobody on them. For a long while, the only sound in the place was some kind of dripping in the distance, as from a leaky faucet. Then, there were footsteps. He felt the whiff of smoke already before the elderly man entered from one of the storage rooms off the main building. There was a bright, almost happy look about him, a near smile around the cigarette, a definite spring in his step.

The other took his cigarette from his lips momentarily, breathing out smoke unshaped. "Took whom, Agent Mulder? Your sister? No, she was never here. The clones have been helping out though, occasionally."

"Agent Scully, you murdering sonofabitch. Was this where you had her violated? Sterilized?"

The older man did not seem rattled by the accusations. "There was a preliminary examination, or so I'm told", he said indifferently. "It might have been done here. Why? Is this important to you?" The question floated lightly on the air, like the smoke that had expelled it.

Mulder clamped down on his temper. He had assaulted this man before, and so far he had never gained anything by it. "Why take all of her ova?" he asked quietly. "Why render her barren?"

The smoking man inhaled thoughtfully. "The process is not selective", he said. "No doubt it will be perfected in time."

Mulder closed his eyes briefly. He could not afford to lash out just yet. There was one more question he needed an answer to. "I seem to remember you saying you are my father. Are you?"

The thin lips smiled. The cigarette was carefully dropped to the floor and stepped on. "I am now. We share the same DNA, Mr Mulder."

Five days into her uneasy alliance with a known felon, Scully found a message on her answering machine. A dark, somewhat husky male voice that she now realized she would have known anywhere. Odd, she had never thought before that she would recognize Krycek's voice quite that easily.

"Yukon", it said curtly. "Bring your warmest clothes and meet me at Harting airfield, strip 4, tomorrow, 5 a m." The closing click sounded sharply, as if he had thrown down the handset in haste. The background noise had suggested he was calling from a phone booth. She could not remember ever seeing him with a cell phone, not since he went rogue. She assumed that in his line of work, he sometimes had one. On the other hand, he travelled all over the globe; maybe it wasn't practical.

She debated with herself how much to tell Skinner. In the end, she simply called in sick, telling his secretary she had caught the flu and expected to be laid up for at least a week. As she hung up, she realized she had to admit it now, if only to herself; she didn't trust Skinner any more.

The wind swept icily over airstrip 4, hitting Scully in the face, as she stepped out of her car. As if the winter awaiting her in Yukon had decided to come and meet her already before she left. To dissuade her… Except for a few sparse lights, it was pitch dark, and she stumbled over the raise of pavement, nearly taking a plunge on the hard concrete. Somebody caught her - with considerable speed and strength at that, and she cried out in surprise.

"I'm fine. Get your hands - hand - off me", she spat. She had not known he was that strong, and it worried her. Oh, she knew he was tall and athletic, but at some time she had fallen into the habit of regarding him as a cripple. Only now it dawned on her that he might be even more of a threat than she had calculated with.

He let go at once, as if he had guessed her thoughts. "You're welcome", he said, sarcastically, but without any real resentment. "Where's your baggage?"

She got her single suitcase out of her car, and to her surprise, he took it for her. She noticed then that he was wearing a backpack, leaving his arm free for other things.

"The pilot is waiting", he said in explanation, as if he didn't want to be suspected of gratuitous chivalry.

She tied the hood of her parka firmly beneath her chin, and trudged after him against the wind, in the direction of the waiting plane. After a few steps, she began to walk directly behind him, using his larger bulk as a wind shield. It was the least he could do, she mused. Protecting her against the wind, at least he was of some use on this trip.

The pilot was a taciturn man who simply motioned them to their seats - apparently they were to take their pick among the twenty available. The plane was small and would not go above the cloud layer. They were in for a bumpy ride.

Despite the number of vacant seats, Scully had half expected Krycek to sit next to her, but he picked the seats across from her, on the opposite side of the narrow aisle. He lay down across them, stretching out his long legs as best he could. "Might as well sleep", he said. "It's going to be a long ride."

She wasn't prepared to let him off that easily. "Do you know how long it took me to find this place?" she asked. "Once I managed to find out it wasn't anywhere near DC… you could have been a little more explicit on the phone!"

"I had to assume your phone was bugged", he said calmly. "I said as much as I had to. I knew you'd find it."

"Something like that. I got a tip that Mulder had been seen in Yukon - my informant was 98 percent sure, he said. I called in a few favours and found a pilot to bribe, and here we are."

"You don't fly planes yourself? Or - not any more?" she suggested, looking pointedly at his fake arm.

"These 20-seaters. It's what they call them. They're mainly for local runs, but they cover a little more distance than a helicopter."

She nodded, her eyes drifting closed. She was suddenly very tired. Nothing strange about that, she had been up at three. All the same…

The sun was glaring into the cabin, when Scully woke up. She was aware that someone was shaking her, and dispelling the last remnants of sleep, she opened her eyes - and screamed. She was suspended in mid air; white light and tilting grounds all around her.

"You oké, miss?" said a man's voice, thick with an accent she could not place. Of course, the pilot. Wait a minute…. a different pilot. This wasn't the one she had seen last night - if indeed it was last night. How long had she…

"Sure she's okay", Krycek's voice said from somewhere on the other side of the pilot. "She just likes to scream."

Scully closed her eyes for a moment, determined to kill him personally, as soon as this blasted truce was over. Fortunately for him, she thought, she did remember their truce. The pilot though… She opened her eyes again, peering cautiously at her surroundings. Of course. She was in a helicopter. That explained the view. Then again, she had started this trip in a 20-seat aero plane. There really wasn't any of course about it.

The pilot looked puzzled for a moment, and she had time to suspect he had a less than perfect grasp of English. Then he said, "You no change from plane to helicopter, miss. You change from helicopter to helicopter." He brightened. "Of course, you asleep then. You no remember."

"All right, what day is it?" Krycek rasped tiredly, and Scully marvelled that he sounded as far out of it as she felt. It had to be a trick though. She was being abducted again, and like a fool, she had walked right into it. How could she ever have trusted Krycek, even for a minute? She was certifiable. Still, what was he doing here? Didn't a spy and assassin have better things to do? Why hadn't he just sent her off like some parcel and moved on to other, more rewarding assignments?

"October 13th", the pilot said, nodding repeatedly for emphasis. "Almost eleven hundred hours." The military time format seemed to come natural to him.

Krycek groaned. "Three days! We could be anywhere. What the hell did they do to us?"

"Nothing!" the pilot assured him. "You sleep, that's all. I think, you tired. Long journey."

"So it's not", the pilot agreed pleasantly, as if humouring his troublesome passenger. "You tell me what it is."

"Because that's where we wanted to go", Krycek said simply. "Would've been no reason to put us out for three days to take us where we were headed anyway. The snow looks right, and the fir trees look right, but this is somewhere else. And something tells me we won't be provided with a compass, let alone a GPS device."

The pilot shrugged. "Can't help you, awfully sorry", he said cryptically. "Going to land now", he clarified, and the helicopter began its somewhat wobbly descent.

The elderly man flicked open his storm proof lighter and brought it to his cigarette. His coat and trousers were fluttering in the wind from the rotor blades, as the helicopter set down at a barely safe distance before him. He wasn't dressed for the climate, but then, he wasn't planning to stay long. Two figures emerged from the helicopter and made their way towards him. Behind them, the machine took off immediately, revealing a camouflage-painted version of itself, standing some sixty yards behind.

"I should've known", Krycek said as he and Scully came within speaking distance.

Scully shot him an ice cold glare which did not pass unnoticed by the smoker. In fact, he seemed highly amused by it.

Krycek glanced quickly around him and saw the army helicopter, its pilot in plain sight, a machine gun trained on him and Scully. It figured. This man never came unprotected. Krycek reached for his own gun. Gone, of course. Scully saw what he was doing and felt for hers. Nobody had seen fit to trust her either.

Krycek stared at him. He definitely hadn't wanted Scully to know about this. He pretended to search his pockets. "Your minions must've taken that too. Same one as took our guns, probably."

"Don't lie to me, Alex", the old man said, his voice light, but as cold as the snowy field around them.

With a sigh, Krycek handed over the remote control. He could feel Scully's eyes boring into him. "Guess it never occurred to you to make it easy on yourself", he muttered.

The smoker gave him a disdainful look. "I never trust my - minions as you call them - with more than they have a need to know."

"You won't be needing it where you're going", the old man said, with an eerie finality. He tucked the small computer inside his coat, as if to emphasize his words.

"And where is that?" Krycek challenged, refusing to accept a death sentence from this man - or anyone else for that matter.

The smoker chuckled slightly. "Anywhere at all, Alex. Take your pick." For the first time, he looked briefly at Scully. "You're both free to go. Of course, you're kind of limited to walking distance." He looked at their booted feet.

Like only a confirmed crook can protest his just fate, Scully thought. Oddly, she wasn't afraid. There was something about this that didn't make sense. Why go to all this trouble just to leave them here? There had to be something they were expected to do, in this place at this time. The smoking man had use for them. Or he would simply have had them shot and taken that gadget, whatever it was.

"Which way do you recommend?" she asked the smoker. He had to give them a clue, send them off to where he wanted them.

His eyes lit up with - appreciation? "North-west", he said. "It's that way", he added, gesturing with his cigarette in the direction of the woods behind the elicopter. "Does either of you have an analog watch?"

The smoker actually smiled, his face creasing further in the process. "Good. I see I can depend on you then." He turned to Krycek who was still seething with outrage, while watching the interchange intently. "Take care of her", the smoking man said lightly. "You'd be lost without her." With that, he left them and made his way towards the waiting helicopter, a hunched-over figure, his coat fluttering in the wind from the starting rotor blades. An old man, unbeaten and undefeated, still battling the elements.

"So what was that all about?" Scully asked calmly. "Things didn't go as you planned?"

"You could say that again", Krycek sighed. "He sent me out to find Mulder. Don't know why, because if anyone knows where Mulder is, it's got to be that old fart. Anyway, I thought that's what I was doing, then he pulls this trick. Why give me an assignment he doesn't want carried out?"

"Did he tell you to involve me?" Scully wanted to know. Her voice had a dangerous quality to it.

"Yeah, but I already had. Last summer, in the elevator - I was telling you the truth, I swear. I need to find Mulder for myself. To defend myself against that fire-breathing Methuselah there. His assignment played right into my hands, I just went along with it."

"There's no need to be rude." He held up his left hand. "Besides, don't dismiss this gadget so fast; it's seen some improvements lately."

"Information that has any bearing on our attempts to find Mulder, yes", he interrupted her. "This hasn't. So leave it alone, okay?"

She gave him a long look. "Can you say with absolute honesty that it has no bearing on - our case?"