Disclaimers in Part One.
- 9 -
October 17th, 6:22 p m
Scully awoke rested and generally at ease, as if her endorphins had been hard at work for some time. She glanced around her, convincing herself that she was in her bed at the way station. Somehow that did not surprise her, although she could not remember getting back here from their outing yesterday - or whenever that was. It was dark again, but the weather had obviously cleared, she could see a few stars outside the window above the table. There was something slightly unusual about them though.
Her mouth tasted faintly of alcohol, and she remembered half waking up in broad daylight and having something poured into her - probably vodka, or the taste would have been worse by now. Idly, she tried to remember how he had managed that…. could he really pour with his left hand? Maybe he could, but he hadn't.
Now that she thought of it, the way they had been sitting, he must have supported her against his body and poured right-handed. A quick flash of another memory hinted that he had even managed to help her to the toilet on at least one occasion. She'd rather not dwell on that… She was curious though. Why had he taken care of her?
Where was he, anyway? She couldn't hear him in the building. She sat up in bed and waited for the expected dizziness to pass. She had the feeling she had been asleep a long time; her blood pressure must have tried to go into hibernation. Oddly, she felt refreshed rather than weakened, so she got up, feeling no ill effects. She squeezed past the table to look out the window. The stars still seemed a little off, but nothing moved out there. The window could not be opened. It was screwed and taped shut, for insulation. By the look of the tapes, it had been like that for years.
She made a hasty visit to the toilet, then got back and threw her parka on over what little she wore - he must have undressed her, damn him. She didn't feel exactly comfortable about that, but he probably thought he had to. She couldn't really blame him, it was standard procedure. Always check for injuries. Not that she felt injured - exactly what shape had she been in? The last thing she remembered from the forest was being lost in it. She had no difficulty imagining what that might mean. Frostbite at the very least…. She felt her face and ears and was relieved to find everything there, no numb spots that would not respond to touch. No pain either.
She shoved her bare feet into her boots and went out. The air was icy cold around her legs, but she wasn't going to be outside for long. Just see if she could figure out where he had gone. The weather was very still now, there ought to be tracks… The area immediately in front of the door was dark, just failing to be lit by any of the feeble cones of light falling from the windows.
For some reason she looked up at the stars - and forgot everything else. They were in colour! That must have been what she had glimpsed through the window, though it was much more obvious out here. She just stood there, staring, wondering if Mulder had ever seen this, and if so, whether it had rendered him slack-jawed for the next half-hour.
"Quite determined to catch your death, aren't you?"
The sharp, dark voice startled her; she had not heard him coming. "Just wondering if I was hallucinating", she said, pointing at the stars. "But they really are in colour, aren't they?"
He glanced up briefly. "Sure they are. We're a long way from any cities here, you can tell by the darkness of the sky all around. No spots of reflected light on the horizon. No artificial light to bleed the colour out of the stars."
"But I don't remember having seen this on our first night here."
"The moon has waned a bit since then. It usually steals the show when it's nearly full, it's so bright. I thought you'd have seen this in Alaska?"
"The weather was very bad. I wasn't out much, and when I was, the stars were not."
"What about the Antarctic?"
Scully shook her head wistfully. "The sky is so empty on that side. Nothing like this. Besides, I told you I was unconscious most of the time. When I finally got out, it was full daylight."
"Yeah well, you can usually tell the planets. Saturn is yellowish, Mars sort of pink, Jupiter is white, but it's an obvious disk, you can't miss it. Of the stars, you should be able to spot Betelgeuse."
"I already have", she smiled. "It's the bright red one there."
He nodded, although she wasn't looking at him. "At least we know we're still on Earth", he said dryly. "And definitely in the northern hemisphere. Now get in before you freeze your legs off - what are you doing out here anyway?"
She turned then, and saw that he was not wearing his parka, just the leather jacket. He couldn't have gone far then. "I was looking for you", she admitted. He held up something for her scrutiny. A packet of some kind; she couldn't read the label in the dark. "I was just over to the barn. We were all out of coffee."
Once inside, she crawled back into bed for a moment, to warm her legs. Krycek was keeping busy at the cooker. It was impossible not to give in to the misleading atmosphere of peaceful domesticity, and Scully found herself drifting off again, although she was not really tired any more. She awoke to the sound of plates and spoons being set on the wooden table, and she got up, this time finding her jeans and slipping into them.
"Oatmeal?" she questioned as she sat down in front of the steaming plate. She tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice, but he picked up on it.
"I know you're probably ravenous, but it is quite filling, and at least it shouldn't harm you. I wasn't sure you could take a heavy meal just yet."
She looked up sharply. "How long was I out of it?"
"You were sort of in and out all night after I brought you back. Toward morning you seemed to - I don't know, enter into some healing trance or whatever. I couldn't wake you, but you weren't exactly in a coma either. You woke up twice, to go to the head, but I doubt you were really awake. Then you went right back under, and you slept through the rest of yesterday. I assume you slept through today as well, but I nodded off myself sometime in the night, and I only awoke a couple of hours ago, so I can't say for sure. Now eat."
He sat down opposite her and started in on his own portion. She had the impression he had lived off food like this often enough. Perhaps he even considered it luxury. She glanced down at her plate. It didn't look bad, and she was hungry. She took a spoonful and discovered that he had even scattered raisins in it. She reached for the jug in the middle of the table and was surprised to find milk in it. Then she realized. Dry milk of course. He had whipped up just enough for two portions, and she poured some of it over her oatmeal. It tasted slightly stale as she had expected, but it would do to counter the dryness. Then something occurred to her. "How long has this grain been stored? You sure there aren't any bugs in it?"
"If there are, just think of them as additional protein", he said curtly.
She had no impression that he was joking.
*************************
October 17th, 8:15 p m
Scully pondered her next move. It would appear that no matter what she did, she would have to sacrifice one of her bishops.
They had brought out the chess board again after washing up, and she was already wondering if this might become a habit. If they didn't get out of here any time soon, at least she would have improved her skills at the game. "Can I ask you something, Krycek?" she said, as if merely hoping to distract him from her current predicament.
He grunted acquiescence, and she continued,
"Why did you save me? I mean, I'm grateful and all that, but what were you thinking? I know we both agreed we'd stand a better chance of finding Mulder if we collaborated, but was it really worth all the trouble you must have gone to?"
"The word is cooperate, not collaborate", he said noncommittally.
"The hell it is. We're sworn enemies in a temporary alliance. Which makes it all the more impractical for you to waste time and effort instead of just letting me die when you had the chance."
"Your bishop is history. Move, and be done with it."
She did, with a sigh. His knight immediately moved in to take the unfortunate bishop's place, and things were beginning to look ominous.
"Don't tell me you saved my life just because you don't like to renege on a deal", she said.
He glared at her, but she was eyeing the board. After a while, she moved a pawn, as if trying to throw a belated wrench into his strategy.
"Maybe I just don't like giving up", he said, planting his queen firmly in front of her king. "Check - and mate."
- 10 -
October 18th-31st
Scully did not know when they had resigned themselves to spending the winter in this lonely place, but it seemed that they had. She had expected Krycek to be restless in confinement, but as far as she could tell, he was not. Instead, he seemed to be reserving his energy, generally poised for action in case a new opportunity would open up, but as long as it did not, he merely waited. His state of alert preparedness was affecting her too. Occasionally, she would worry about Mulder, but most of the time she accepted the fact that there was nothing she could do for him at the moment. She kept her field journals diligently, however. She found the habit oddly comforting. It was as if for that little while late at night when she sat down to write her journal, she still had some connection with her normal life. If what she and Mulder had, could ever be called a normal life.
One morning she was just entering the main building after a tour to the storage barn, when there was a desperate whirring from the living area, like a small engine running amok. It was soon followed by a strong smell of burning plastic.
Scully rushed in just in time to see Krycek gingerly using his left hand to unplug her hair-dryer from a wall socket. He blew out the few open flames and straightened, giving her an accusing look.
"230 volts", he said. "You could have warned me."
Well, obviously he had survived. Scully turned her attention to the ruined hair-dryer. For some reason, there was something so pathetic about it, being held out like that, the pitiful casualty of incompatible technology. "Sorry", she said, sounding a little too amused to be quite convincing. "I had no idea… I mean, all I've plugged in so far is the adapter for my laptop, but that of course is convertible. It takes whatever voltage it gets." She frowned. "I didn't notice anything funny about the outlet though…"
In answer, he bent over and plucked something from the wall socket. A plug converter. "Looks like you aren't the first", he said. "Someone had left this in, presumably for a laptop adapter or some such. It looked like it was part of the socket, so I didn't notice at first. Why the hell couldn't you have gotten yourself a convertible hair-dryer?"
"I never thought I'd need one. We don't travel much outside the US."
He gave her a long look. "No, you don't, do you?" He sighed. "Well, at least we know we're not still there. In case we were wondering. And I think we can safely assume we're not in Yukon. Maybe Anderson's mention of Vittangi was a genuine slip after all. Even if he didn't know how to pronounce it."
"There really is a place by that name? Where is it, and how come you know about it?"
"North of Sweden, and you don't want to know. It's inside the Arctic Circle and fairly close to the Finnish and Russian borders. It's a reasonably large community though; if it was anywhere near, we'd see it on the night sky. In fact, almost anything big enough to have street lights would show up on a clear night."
Scully nodded. "Guess we'll have to keep looking for clues. What were you doing with my hair-dryer, by the way? Or don't I want to know that either?"
Krycek gave the burnt item a disgusted look and threw it in the waste bin under the sink. "I managed to thaw out the hot water pipe in the shower - using boiled water - but now the one in here is frozen. They're running too close to the walls, and the walls are too thin, or the insulation layer is on the wrong side or the plumbing. Happens all the time at these latitudes. They've got miles and miles of forest, and they still can't build properly…"
"You know, they wouldn't have to use 230 volts", Scully mused. "This place has its own power system; it's self-sustained when it comes to electricity. It could have any kind of voltage."
"Maybe someone found it easier to shop for light bulbs if they stuck to the local norm", Krycek offered.
*************************
They did their best to fortify the place against the winter storms Krycek was certain would come. The buildings seemed strong enough to withstand rather extreme weather, but they brought in considerable supplies from the storage and stowed them in the café, so they would be well stocked in case they were snowed under. Krycek finally managed to thaw out the hot water pipe in the living area too, and they now took care not to let anything freeze. All taps were kept at a very slow trickle, just barely enough to keep the water in motion.
In the evenings, they played chess. Since these quiet games were their best opportunity to talk, they sometimes did not play very seriously any more, but they usually finished a game or two before going to bed. Krycek had stopped nagging Scully about keeping her mind on the board. Perhaps, she speculated, he stopped being afraid of her. The thought amused her, but somehow she wouldn't rule it out entirely. Perhaps he had been afraid of her. For what reason she could not imagine, except that he never was one to underestimate his enemies.
Did that mean he trusted her now? Not likely. Did she trust him? No further than their truce, and never when he was out of sight. But she had to admit she did not fear him. Had she ever? Oddly, she could not recall. She did not think so, but she knew she was feeling more relaxed now that he had saved her life. Also, she was growing accustomed to him. She knew she would have to watch out for that - all she now thought she knew about him could change in an instant. On her first day alone with him, she had contemplated how best to take him out if he became a threat. But there had been ample opportunity for him to take advantage of her since then, and he never had. Maybe there was something in Mulder's often voiced conviction that Krycek was gay. But - hadn't he had something going with Marita Covarrubias? Why bother with that relationship, if he really didn't go for women? If he was bi, the question remained, why hadn't he tried anything by now? It seemed they were here for a long time. Maybe he just didn't like redheads. She smiled briefly at her wandering thoughts. Most likely, attacking her wasn't in his plans. Somehow, she could believe it was as simple as that. Enough to rely on it. For now.
*************************
Syndicate surveillance cabin, Hallowe'en
The smoker glanced thoughtfully at the screen. "Saving her life doesn't seem to have gained him anything."
"It hasn't changed anything for her", Diana said defensively. "She wasn't in control, it was his decision to save her. It may sound callous, but I think it will take a little more than that."
The smoker lit a new cigarette, possibly to conceal his surprise. "More than saving her life?"
"He's a killer. He was in on killing her sister. It will take a lot for her to get around that."
He gave her an ice-blue look. "Shouldn't you have thought of that before you suggested this course of action?" he asked lightly.
"I told you to give them time", Diana said, the barest hint of annoyance in her voice. "She'll come round. But it will take time."
"Too much time and they'll kill each other out of sheer boredom", the smoker said.
Diana smiled a little. "I don't think so. There's too much fire in them for that. In both of them. They'll take the other option first."
*************************
Forest way station, November 2nd, 8.09 p m
"…and mate", Scully said. "Or - no, sorry, not quite. Care to go on?"
Krycek gave the board a quick once-over. Then he toppled his king. "No, I fold."
"I thought you didn't like giving up." Childish under the circumstances, but it just slipped out.
He actually smiled a little. "I can always come back."
Outside, the temperature was dropping. They could feel it inside the house too. Scully took a sip of her tea - they usually kept a pot on hand during their evening game. She looked out the window. "Think it'll snow tonight?"
He nodded. "Probably." He gave her a searching look. "You know if we lose power, we're likely to lose the water too? I'm not sure where the pumps are, maybe up on the hillside somewhere, but I doubt they've got an independent power supply."
Scully pressed her lips together for a moment, thinking. "Even so, we should be all right, I think. We brought in enough propane bottles for the cooker, we could always melt some snow."
"True", he agreed. "I'm glad they dropped us here and not in the Tunisian desert or something." He glanced quickly out the window, then he stood. "Better start bringing in a few bucketfuls now, just to be on the safe side. It'll give us a head start on the melting. And while we're at it, let's get some of that firewood inside. We can store it in the café, there's still plenty of room."
Scully stood too. "What do you say we get the old bathtub from the store? We could fill that with snow, that way we'd have a considerable amount of water. I mean, a few buckets won't last long, the volume will decrease as the snow melts." A pause, then, "I could get the snow. I think we have two buckets in here. The ones out in the garage aren't any too clean."
"Good idea", he said. A moment of hesitation, barely noticeable, then, "Thanks."
She nodded. She had not mentioned the time factor, but they both knew the gales could be over them long before he had brought in any significant supply of snow by himself. One bucket at a time wouldn't cut it. Besides, someone would have to get the firewood.
For all their misgivings about the weather, when they got outside, the night was perfectly still, and but for the cold, there was no hint of snow in the air.
Krycek looked up. "We're inside the Arctic Circle", he said. "Just as we thought. Now we know."
Scully looked up too, and reeled at what she saw. Directly overhead, the sky was aswirl with light. A gigantic golden eye seemed to be staring down at her from around the zenith, long streaks around it, tinted with green and red. It kept moving, changing, turning into a crown, a dragon…
Krycek let go his wood basket to reach out and steady her. Not that she was in danger of losing her balance exactly, but she had to admit to being a little awed. She leant on him without really noticing. "Isn't the aurora supposed to be gently undulating draperies on the horizon?" she asked. "That's the description I've heard anyway."
"That's farther south", he said. "Up here, it looks more like that."
He was still holding her, and she was still leaning on him, craning her neck to follow the spellbinding transformations overhead. Softly, tunelessly, he began to whistle.
She turned her head to stare at him, and he flashed her that sun-edge grin she had not seen since last summer. "Just something they tried to make me believe as a kid", he said. "I guess I knew already then it was an old wives' tale…"
*************************
Mulder looked warily at the alien bounty hunter. Hell, he didn't even know the man's - or being's - name. If indeed such as he had names. The shape shifter stared back, waiting. His currently rugged features seemed at ease, confident. As if he were quite at home in these woods. Or anywhere else on Earth, for that matter.
"You - or someone like you - once told me my sister was alive", Mulder said.
"Was that true? Was she alive in 1998?"
"Only humans lie", the being said.
"Why is that?" Mulder asked, trying to determine whether the other was being disdainful or not.
"Because they still can."
Mulder made the connection with lightning speed. "You're all telepathic?"
"Not all. But too many to make lying safe."
Mulder nodded. "So she was alive in 1998. Is she alive now?"
"She is. She can be returned to you."
Mulder's jaw fell open. "She can?"
"Yes. But there is a price."
"Name it."
"You must give up your partner. Exchange her for your sister. You can't have them both."
"Why? A double anima is not allowed?"
Mulder's display of self-knowledge was lost on the alien. "It's the deal. You have to choose."
"No deal. I can't give you Scully. I won't."
The alien seemed genuinely puzzled. "Strange. They told me you were not close anymore."
Mulder let out an exasperated sigh. "She can take care of herself. It doesn't mean we…." He sighed again and started over. "I can't… there are things I have to do. Things I don't want to expose Scully to."
"And that is your decision to make?"
"What's it to you? But yeah, I always thought it was. Look, I'm not free to…"
"Indulge yourself? Isn't that exactly what you have been doing?"
"…. to devote myself", Mulder found himself saying.
The alien nodded, and began to change. His face became more sharp-featured, and he seemed to shrink a little, his build becoming less compact, almost elegant. Even his clothes changed, something Mulder would not have thought possible. He was now in evening dress, a cane in his hand, and a chapeau claque on his head.
"Know me like this", he said, "when we meet again next cycle."
He walked into the forest and was gone.
- 11 -
Forest way station, November 2nd, 9:43 p m
"There", Scully said, dumping a last bucket of snow on to the growing mound in the tub. "I think that'll last us a while."
Krycek merely nodded and went to hang up his parka. Scully took hers off as well and went to make more tea. When it was done, she brought the pot over to the table. She poured herself a cup, then decided it needed something more. She went to fetch the bottle of vodka and put that too on the table.
"Doctor's recommendation", she said, adding a few drops to her tea. "The temperature is still dropping." She shoved the bottle across to him, but he shook his head.
"Sorry, I rarely drink."
Her eyes went big and turquoise, as if he had said something completely outrageous.
"Can't afford to", he said.
"I thought they paid you quite well."
He shook his head, smiling bitterly. "The Smoker is quite a miser. The whole thing is run more on threats and blackmail than any real money. That's not what I meant though. The last time I relaxed in the field, it cost me an arm. If I had a drinking habit…. my aim would be a lot less accurate", he finished, though Scully was certain that was not what he had been about to say.
She wondered a little that he would associate a shot of vodka on a cold night with a full-blown drinking habit, but maybe it was true what they said about Russians. In fact, there was something of a coiled whip about him. As if he was always holding himself back, because if he ever let himself go, he would cause some kind of disaster. The trait seemed to apply to all aspects of him. She suddenly understood why he had taken so many beatings from Mulder. He must have been under orders not to kill Mulder. On the day that order was rescinded, Krycek would strike back. She wondered if Mulder knew. Maybe he did. Contrarily to Krycek, Mulder had his suicidal moments.
"And yet, in the Hong Kong Paradise you offered to choose the wine?" she said, in an effort to take the edge off the subject.
"I'm not a teetotaller", he amended. "You'd have gotten the lion share of the bottle though."
It figured that he'd remember. She had learnt by now that he rarely forgot anything. Probably couldn't afford that either.
"I can understand it if you don't drink on assignments", she said. "I guess I just thought things were quiet enough out here in the wilderness."
He shook his head. "There's a storm coming. I can feel it. In fact, we'd probably better stay up tonight." As if for emphasis, he started setting up the chess board again.
"Feeling defensive tonight?" she asked innocently. She nearly laughed at his questioning look. "You played black last time too."
He made a face and spun the board around, giving her the black side. So he could forget minor things, once in a while. She wondered if that should please or worry her.
She opened with her queen's pawn rather than her king's, signaling an open game.
This time, there would be slaughter.
"If they don't pay you, what do you live off?" she asked.
He countered her move in silence, and they exchanged a quick sequence of measures and counter-measures. Finally, he said, "Others pay me. The Syndicate is not the only game in town - or on the planet. Besides, I steal from that fuming bastard when I can. Remember the tape Mulder got hold of? It lasted me a long time. Kept me independent for months."
"You didn't steal that from the Smoker", Scully said sternly, snatching one of his pawns off the board.
Krycek shrugged. "Whatever. He would have had it in the end. In fact, he did. Check."
Scully glared at the board. Now where the hell had that bishop come from…
*************************
Syndicate surveillance cabin, November 2nd, time zone unknown
"Well, that's good to know." Diana gave the screen an amused look. "Did you know Alex was stealing from you?"
"Of course", the smoker said indifferently. "I never said I trusted him. I just use him."
"You sure he isn't using you?"
The smoker didn't reply right away. Two thoughtful puffs later, Diana was almost certain he was considering the possibility.
"All his attempts so far have failed", he said at last, his voice as mellifluous and unconcerned as ever. "I trust he's learned his lesson. If not, I'll deal with the problem when it arises." He leaned back in his chair, blowing smoke towards the ceiling.
"Yes, we all know the price for betraying you", Diana said, a little sarcastically.
"Oh, Alex won't betray me", the smoker said. "He can't. You see, he works for me on an assignment basis, but I never had his loyalty. He doesn't give that to anyone. Keeps it strictly for himself." He stared vacantly through the smoke overhead. "Perhaps that is why I haven't killed him yet."
*************************
Forest way station, November 3rd, 1:30 a m
Scully had lost two games on end, but she felt strangely tranquil about it. There was something so peaceful, so ordinary about sitting up playing while waiting for a blizzard that might never come. After her second defeat she got up and stretched, then went over to the stove to heat some more water. While waiting for it to boil, she made a quick tour to the toilet and her gaze fell on the silent jukebox out in the café. Why not? As she returned to the main room, Janis Joplin's husky voice followed her:
Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose
Nothing ain't worth nothing, but it's free.
Feeling good was easy, when Bobby sang the blues,
Feeling good was good enough for me…
Krycek looked up at her, and for a moment she was afraid he would ask. But he said nothing, and she breathed a sigh of relief at not having to explain. She wasn't sure herself, why she had chosen that particular song. He was setting up the board, but she remained standing for a while, looking thoughtfully at the chessmen. He noticed of course. Idly she wondered if Mulder would have.
"Not keen on losing another one?"
She managed a smile and sat down. "What makes you so sure you'd win again?"
He pushed back a little from the table and said, "We could just talk, you know. If you don't care to play."
She nodded. "What about?"
He shrugged. "Pick a topic."
She chose the one that had recently surfaced and subtly managed to destroy her mood. "I wonder what Mulder is doing right now."
It wasn't Krycek's favourite topic, but he accepted it.
"If he's doing anything. If he's capable of doing anything anymore."
She marvelled at his casual cruelty, yet wondered why it should come as a surprise. "What makes you say that?"
"I'm not saying he's dead", Krycek amended, "Not necessarily, that is. He could be captured or unconscious or both. But if he were quite free and healthy, wouldn't he have come looking for you by now? Wouldn't he have caused an uproar in seven states and fifteen counties, diverting most of the FBI to find you?"
Scully smiled, fondly but sadly. "Maybe he is looking. There's no real way of knowing, is there?"
"With the bond you two have, I wouldn't be surprised if you'd know anyway", Krycek said dryly. "Besides, if he's telepathic these days, the least he could do would be to try and contact you."
She sighed. "Maybe you overestimate 'the bond we have', Krycek."
"Come on, you're joined at the hip. Not to mention other places."
"If you're implying what I think you are, you're grossly misinformed. And here I thought you knew all there was to know about us. I heard you were in surveillance."
Krycek shook his head. "I haven't done any of that for years." Then her words registered. His eyes grew so wide and green that it gave him an almost innocent look. "Are you telling me you never slept with the guy? Come on, be serious. Everybody knows…." His voice trailed off as he began to reconsider his words.
"Everybody assumes", she corrected him. "I'm well aware of that. But everybody is wrong."
Krycek couldn't help himself. "But - but why the hell not??"
Scully couldn't hold back a brief smile at his almost naïve astonishment. But the smile died quickly. "It's not as simple as that. Mulder is a driven man, Krycek. I think I wanted him from the moment we first met, I know I tried my best to challenge him, to make him notice me. For years I wanted him, and I thought he wanted me too, that it was just a matter of time…"
She looked absently toward the darkened window. The night was opaque, devoid of stars.
"Then I - fell in love with him. It was so easy. He was so sensitive, so vulnerable, so considerate…"
"Mulder considerate??" Krycek couldn't help challenging.
Scully smiled a little. "Once upon a time, I thought he was. Perhaps it was a consideration born out of the famous Mulder guilt - guilt of Weltschmerz proportions - but I know it was there. Once, when he still had hope. Now I think that all he has left is desperation."
She sounded tranquil enough, but Krycek thought he could detect a trace of defeat, possibly even resentment. Or maybe he was imagining things.
"He was so protective in those days", she resumed, almost wistfully, and Krycek's eyes widened again, but he said nothing this time. He'd never have thought the self-assured Dana Scully could dream of male protection. Then again, maybe all women did. Once in a while.
She shook her head - he assumed at her younger self.
"I was even beginning to weigh my alternatives, what would I do about my career, could we go on as before, better not let Skinner find out… that sort of thing. I honestly thought that Mulder loved me too - or wanted me at least, though I always had the feeling the two were the same with him, that those porno movies he'd always fall asleep to were just a front, a joke, or a mundane excuse to keep the TV going at night, in case the aliens would come… I was sure he cared, I thought I could feel him holding back, refraining from touches, acknowledgments that might have led somewhere… and I thought he was just being cautious and considerate. I tried to let him know it was all right, and well, of course he noticed. How could he not? But he never acknowledged my gestures, instead he avoided me on those occasions. I grew more uncertain, less and less explicit. Then I realized - or thought I realized. Mulder has his quest - for the truth, for his lost sister, for whatever he can be reasonably sure he'll never attain. Something happened to him the day she disappeared, whatever may or may not have happened in the objective world. He grew - if not insane, then at least obsessed. Now he can't live without his quest. The day it is resolved, is the day he dies. Inwardly, if nothing else. It prevents him from leading a normal life - or shields him from it."
"I thought he was the psychologist?" Krycek remarked softly.
Scully nodded. "As it turned out, I wasn't a very good one. This is what I thought, till a few months ago. I had built up all this romantic nonsense about him like some hero-worshipping school girl, and I was dead wrong. The minute Diana reappeared, he suddenly didn't have any problems with a normal life any more. Apparently, it's me he's having problems with. Or I with him. Used to, I mean. I don't know, it's as if when Diana showed up, he even lost some of his zeal for finding the truth. As if it didn't matter as much any more. As for me, I just - well, I'd had it. Nearly six years and then…. I had stood by him in so much for so long, no matter the cost, and now - I guess I just tired."
Krycek muttered something, and she had to ask what it was.
"Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore. You may not see me tomorrow", he quoted. "Just something I heard on that jukebox. Another Dylan, I believe. So why are you still looking for him?"
Her eyes were large and turquoise, and not quite dry. "I have to. I think I always will, until he is safely out of my life."
"You want him out of your life?" Krycek sounded as if that could be arranged.
"I don't know what I want. But I know I'll lose him. Maybe he'll get abducted, I think in a way he always wanted that. And I - well, sometimes I think I'll join a convent."
"Precious little use for forensic pathologists in a convent", Krycek said, and she was surprised at how raspy he sounded. 6
"Forensic pathology is what I do, it's not who I am", she said.
He merely nodded. They sat in silence for a while, then she said, "You know what? I haven't told anyone about this before. Not even my mother. I couldn't. I think she's still hoping for 'Fox' as her son-in-law…"
Krycek looked up. "Then why tell me? I mean, I'm glad you did, don't get me wrong, but…"
There was a good deal of irony in her smile as she said, "It's not as if there was anyone else around."
*************************
Mulder looked around him. There was nothing much to be seen. A softly lit floor, whether metal or concrete he could not be sure. The walls appeared round, but it could be a trick of the light. They might not be where he thought they were but farther away, hidden among the shadows. A faint sound, like a dripping faucet - or footsteps. He waited, and just as he had decided on footsteps, someone walked out of the shadows. A sharp-featured man in evening dress, cane in hand, chapeau claque on head.
He tossed Mulder what looked like a pair of handcuffs, though there was no connecting chain between them. "Put them on."
"Why?" Mulder wanted to know.
"Come now, you can take them off at any time. But if you do, you'll never learn the truth. And I should have thought that is why we are here."
He spoke with a British accent, Mulder noted. Funny, he could not recall any such characteristics of the shape shifter's speech before. Maybe that shifted too.
"For me to learn the truth?" Mulder challenged.
"For us both to learn it. This interchange will be to our mutual benefit. If you cooperate."
More out of reckless curiosity than anything else, Mulder put on the strange-looking cuffs. He had to remove his jacket and roll up his sleeves to do it. As an afterthought, he discarded his tie as well and loosened the two top buttons of his shirt. Might as well get comfortable. He had a strong suspicion he would come to appreciate it before long.
"Let's begin with a simple question", the man said. "Who are you?"
"Who're you?"
"I should have thought it obvious. I'm your inquisitor. Now, who are you?"
"Fox Mulder", Mulder said. To his surprise, this rendered him a sharp pang, starting around his wrists and coursing quickly through his body. He staggered, but remained standing. Apparently, the cuffs were electric.
"As I said, you can take them off at any time", the other reminded him. "Now, try again. Who are you?"
"Agent Mulder?"
Same result, perhaps a little more painful this time.
"I'm not asking your name. I know that already. Who are you?"
- 12 -
Forest way station, November 3rd, 4:13 a m
The winds had risen steadily through the night. Soon the windows were rattling with the sudden gusts, and the two exiles had been out twice to check on the roof. It seemed sturdily built, as by someone who knew what to expect.
"No hurricane shutters", Scully remarked as they stamped off snow on the porch, prior to getting back inside.
"No, and that worries me", Krycek said. "I hope they didn't rely on the pines for protection when they built this place - pines fall easily. Long roots, but they run wide rather than deep. Good thing there aren't any too close."
"How do you know all these things?" Scully asked. At his glance, she amended, "I see. I don't want to know, right?" She took another look at the front of the building. "Shutters or no, this place must have seen a few gales. It might be good for one or two more."
"Don't count on it. Storms are getting worse every year. All over the globe."
"I know. Mulder keeps telling me."
He shot her a quick look. "Yeah. But as far as I know, we can't blame that one on the aliens."
Scully gave him a quick, sideways glance, but there was no telling whether he was joking or not. She shivered involuntarily as the wind tore at her. Hastily she opened the door, almost tripping over the threshold in her yearning to be inside.
*************************
Toward morning, the blizzard started. The windows were quickly covered, and there was no way of knowing how the storm progressed. The whole house was rattling in the wind, but so far nothing seemed to have been shaken loose. The jukebox was ambling its way through one of the obscure Dylan songs that seemed to be the mainstay of its repertoire. The music wasn't any too cheering.
"We might as well get some sleep", Scully said soberly. "Whatever happens will happen whether we stay awake or not. There's no way we can check on any damage until this is over. And by then we might need our strength. To dig our way out, if nothing else."
"You go to sleep. I'll stay up and watch."
"You're far too edgy, Krycek. Anyone ever told you that?"
He spun around to look at her. But whatever he had been about to say, she felt certain he had thought better of it. "Frequently. Good thing I never believed him, I'd be dead by now." He turned back to the snow-covered window, as if willing it to clear. For a moment she had the idea that that green gaze would actually have the power to melt snow. She shook her head silently. She had to be more tired than she thought.
"The weather is not your enemy, Krycek. It doesn't know you're here, it doesn't know anything. And frankly, if it did, it probably couldn't care less. Get some sleep, at least you'll be fresh in a few hours. And that's your doctor speaking."
He actually grinned a little at that, and he turned away from the window. "My doctor? Don't think I ever had one. Not for years anyway."
She wished she had phrased that differently. Why the hell hadn't she just said, doctor's orders? "Look, before you get any funny ideas about huddling close to share warmth, I'll just have to tell you…."
She wished she hadn't said that either. His grin was teasing enough, but not in the way she had anticipated.
"No need", he said brightly. "We've still got electricity."
Right then, the room went pitch black.
*************************
In the end, Krycek did stay up, tending the stove. He made the most of the firewood they had brought in, keeping the stove at a slow glow rather than building a roaring fire time and time again. The heat would have to do. At least it was permeating the main room now, even if some of it was always leaking out into the café.
Krycek cursed himself for having relied on the wind power station to take over, in case the generator failed. In this weather, it had seemed like a good chance. Except that when the generator finally gave out, the wind mast was already clogged with snow and wouldn't move. In his less tired moments, Krycek knew that there would have been no way of knowing, and no way he could have done anything, had he known. He'd have to wait till the blizzard was over - whenever that would be. Chances were, this would keep up for a couple of days. He wondered idly if he'd be able to clear the snow off the porch one-handed. He could not ask Scully for help. He had always done his best to cover up his few vulnerabilities. He was not about to break he habit now.
*************************
It took a day and a night - during which they took turns at the stove, one sleeping while the other watched. But the second morning the gale had gone, leaving everything in silence so deep that it seemed as if nothing had ever happened here. That's how storms are, Scully thought. As if they weren't real. Fewer houses might be left standing, fewer people left alive, and yet, when all that fury is gone, there is no trace, no evidence whatsoever that anything really caused all this. As if it were all in our minds.
She nearly jumped out of her skin, as she felt Krycek's arm around her shoulders.
"Ready? Guess we'd better start digging."
His arm fell back casually, as if he had not really meant to touch her. He took a step past her and opened the door. His eyebrows rose slightly, and he did not frown. Good news then. Well, obviously the door was not as blocked as they had feared, or he couldn't have opened it so easily.
The roof over the porch had caved in on one side, but it had kept the door free. Further out was another matter. I would take some digging to find anything like a path again. Or rather, to build it anew.
"Breakfast first", Scully said. "Then I'll break out the shovels. I think I saw a couple in the store yesterday."
Something told her she'd have to do most of the shovelling.
*************************
Getting the generator up and running was another matter. For some reason it seemed to relish its idle state, as if it had not known rest for years - which was probably true. In the way of so much old and faithful machinery, it ran only until it was turned off. Once stopped, it stayed stopped. In the end, it seemed easier to start up the backup system. At least for now.
Krycek went out on his makeshift snowshoes, nearly losing his way twice on his way to the wind mast. Luckily, someone had had the foresight to paint it red. If it had been white as was customary farther south, he never would have found it. It was too narrow to be much of a landmark.
He started climbing it gingerly, hoping that it would not be rotten through. He had no fear of heights, but he knew that if he fell from somewhere near the top of it, he would plunge so deep in snow that Scully would never find him till spring. Provided she bothered to look at all…
Snow cascaded off the structure, landing on his face. He grimaced, trying to shake it off, but some of it still stuck to his eyelashes, restricting his vision.
Finally, he reached the blades. He had brought a rope, and he lashed himself to the mast as well as he could, enough to let him use both hands to wipe off snow.
At least his artificial one was good for some things. Of course, he always kept his right one free anyway, for emergencies. Sometimes he still had nightmares about trying to save himself by catching on to something. Invariably, the wrong hand was the only one free, and the prosthetic would come off as he tried to hang his weight on it. He rarely remembered his dreams anymore, and given this recurring one, he thought it was just as well.
He cleaned off the blades one by one, meticulously. There was no wind now, he had to make certain they would turn when it rose again. He used his right hand to spin them tentatively. They turned, but not as easily as he had hoped. Something was slowing them down. A lead of some kind, a small, insulated wire. In fact, there were probably more than one, sheathed together. He followed them down, brushing off snow from the mast itself along the way. When he hit the ground, he was certain what those leads were. Ingenious really, who would look for them here? If it hadn't been for the blizzard, and the ancient generator giving out, he never would have climbed this thing. The leads looked new, or newly replaced. But why? He had to assume he was the target. If he was not, no harm in being over-cautious, but if he was, and he ignored it… The question still remained though: why? If this was because of him, then he knew who was behind it. He frowned. Didn't they already know everything there was to know? What could they possibly hope to gain by…?
It hit him all at once; their reason, and the reason for that reason. Rage flamed cold in his eyes, and his face turned white with it. A month or so earlier, he might have laughed. In fact, it wasn't until now that he realized what futile hopes he had been harbouring, against all reason. Only now, when it was too late. They could have told him what his mission was, he probably would have accepted it then. Now, there was no way he'd play into their hands. And he knew just the way to let them know.
Even if he wasn't all too clear about his motives.
*************************
Scully looked up from a list of things to check for damage after the storm. She couldn't recall having seen Krycek in quite this mood before, even if she had always imagined him capable of great anger. Things must be really bad out there. She hoped he had not found the wind mast broken. She opened her mouth to ask, but he walked right past her, without stopping to take off his boots inside the door. He paced - or rather prowled - around the room, checking every nook and cranny. Now and then he nodded bitterly to himself, as if he had just been proven right about the wrong thing. First inside the main room, then the café, muttering to himself. Had he finally snapped? After all he had been through, she never would have expected him to lose his mind over a few weeks of isolation.
He came back in and held out his hand to her. "Come here."
She was about to object to being ordered about unless he explained himself, when he clarified, "Come and stand right here. A little to the right of the stove."
Curious now, she did as she was told.
He gathered her up in a one-armed bear hug that threatened to squeeze the breath out of her, and he kissed her roughly. The kiss was hard, but deep and insistent as if his life depended on it, or as if the world were coming apart around them. It went on for a while. Scully had the time to overcome her first shock, to almost respond in kind, then to remember who this was, to feel fear and anger, and finally to tear herself loose and scratch him hard across the cheek.
He stepped back and nodded - almost triumphantly, she thought. So it had been a test after all? But why now, after all this time?
"Krycek", she began, but he wasn't listening or even looking at her. Instead, he walked back out in the snow, and the door caught behind him, getting propped slightly ajar on a chunk of ice on the porch. It rather ruined his exit, and Scully smiled, feeling some of her anger vanish. She hated to admit it, but there was something almost endearing about a bumbling top op for the Consortium.
Moments later, Krycek was back up the wind mast, furiously disconnecting the leads. He had not been able to follow them all the way to the miniscule surveillance apparatus in the house, but he knew that had to be where they went, using the mast as an antenna. As he had noted before, ingenious really. The one place with a free view of the next mountain, and nobody would think to look twice at it. Except in case of really foul weather, and then only if the generator gave out too. Well, he had shown that old smoking voyeur what he could do with his secret plans. Maybe now that helicopter would finally be sent for them…. He gave his eyes a quick wipe, not even noticing, until his sleeve came away bloody. He stared at it for a confused moment, until he remembered that she had scratched him. He touched his glove to the spot, wondering how long the mark would keep.
*************************
Syndicate surveillance cabin, November 4th
"Is everything down?" The smoking man eyed the flickering, empty screens with some impatience. Damn nuisance. Who would have thought the generator and the auxiliary power source would give out at the same time? There should have been no reason for the two captives ever to go near the wind mast. Someone was guilty of sloppy thinking, and it wasn't himself. Once he found out who had planned the wiring he had ordered…
Diana shot him an apprehensive glance. "The IRC still works, but all sound is gone."
"LLC", the smoker corrected her. "It's low light, not infra red. It works even in daylight, as long as its LCD filter reacts as it should. Or so I'm told. Is that all we have?"
"Yes. It was never wired to the wind mast. John says it uses the antenna of the old TV set. Now that Alex knows, it might be just a matter of time before he finds those leads also."
The old man put out his cigarette, meticulously folding the butt in on itself.
"That problem might well be academic. It's obvious that he's not going along with your little scheme. Perhaps we should have told him what was expected of him."
Your little scheme. Not our little scheme. Diana swallowed. "I said he'd prefer it to be his own idea", she said. "This is just a reaction. Give them time."
"He blew it deliberately, just to thwart us", the smoker mildly pointed out.
"He's got Scully up in arms now."
"She'll be in his before long", Diana said, wishing she were as sure as she was trying to sound. "That defiant gesture of his was a mistake. It will work in our favour. It will wear on her resistance."
The smoker shook out a new cigarette and lit up. A long, thoughtful pull, Bogart style, squinting through the smoke. Then he said, "You don't know Dana Scully."
Diana stood her ground. "Men generally underestimate the impact of their touch", she said. She glanced toward the now empty screens. "Especially a touch like that….", she added almost wistfully.
The pale blue eyes widened momentarily behind her. Then the squint was back, the information filed.
"Very well. We'll give them more time. But we'll have to send someone in for repairs. And I'm afraid whomever we send, will be expected…"
End Part Three
Continued in Part Four.
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