Disclaimers in Part One.
- 13 -
Forest way station, November 5th
Scully stood watching Krycek as he was working on the generator. Occasionally a tool would slip and fly off, and he would spit a brief curse in the first language that occurred to him, and go get the offending object. It was weird, but she dared not offer to help him. She had followed him out to be of assistance, and to learn something about maintenance of the generator, but as long as he ignored her, she could not bring herself to say anything. She wasn't afraid of him - at least she kept telling herself she was not - but his black mood seemed to demand some respect.
All the same, the silence was wearing on her. They had not spoken since he kissed her the day before, and to her surprise, she found that she missed him. Missed their chess games, their conversations. As she had pointed out earlier, it wasn't as if there was anyone else around.
A spanner flew out of his hand and landed neatly in the open toolbox.
"I'd say that means your work is finished for today", she said. "Why not let me take over for a while, and you make dinner? You're a better cook than I am."
Wordlessly, he picked up the spanner again and went back to worrying the generator.
"You're as bad as Mulder sometimes, you know that?"
That finally earned her an emerald glare.
"All right, so you won't talk about it. Fine. I'm not angry with you - I think. I had a look around, myself, and I found the cameras. So you pulled that idiotic stunt for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. Beats me why, but as long as it was nothing personal…. Still, as I have no way of knowing your plans anymore, I'll have to assume the worst." She crouched by the toolbox and started to rummage through it. "The knives are gone", she said evenly.
He looked genuinely puzzled. She could tell by the frown deepening horizontally across the bridge of his nose. "What?"
"There were two all-purpose woodcutter's knives here. They're gone."
His brow cleared. "I've got them. What do you want them for?"
"I'd appreciate it if you let me have one. It would make me feel less vulnerable."
He shrugged, let go of the spanner and unhitched one of the knives from his belt. "Sorry", he said casually, handing it to her. Then, just as she was about to take it, he held back. "Wait a minute - you think you're in danger from me?"
She snatched the knife from him and hitched it to her own belt. "Don't get cute, Krycek. You're a professional killer. If you're not talking to me, I have to assume you want to keep me out of your plans. I can think of one very good reason you might want to do that."
He sighed. "Scully, we've been through this before. I said I won't go back on our deal. If you want to break our alliance, fine, just let me know, but I won't be the one to do it."
"Then why the knives? You haven't been carrying them before."
"I disabled the monitors. They're bound to send someone to check up on the malfunction."
Understanding dawned on her - but not yet relief. "Are you sure you got them all?"
"Pretty sure. Don't fret about it - we couldn't have used them to get help anyway. The Syndicate people are the only ones who'll ever see the footage."
"Aren't we doing their work for them by not talking to each other?"
He ran his artificial hand through his hair, inadvertently disarranging it even further. "Okay, maybe you're right. It's just that - they tricked me again, and I hate it."
"Don't you mean, they tricked us?"
But he shook his head. "Not this time."
She touched him lightly on his good arm. "Go in and make dinner. I'll finish up here. And after we've eaten, we'll set up the board. I feel like retaliating."
*************************
Krycek was using the stove to cook, since they had to keep it going anyway, for the heat. He had switched over two small radiators to the wind-powered system, but he had not wanted to lay the big one on it as well. There was no real need, as long as they kept the stove running.
It was dark outside by now, and the overhead lamps did not provide much light. He wondered idly how long it could possibly take Scully to pack up the tools and get her ass back in from the garage.
Suddenly, the lights in the café came on, and the jukebox started up like a chain saw taking off from an airstrip. Dylan's raspy voice filled the house:
….a heart attack machine
is strapped across his shoulders, and then the kerosene
is brought down from the castle, by insurance men who go
check to see that nobody's escapin' to
Desolation Row…
Scully came back in, stamping off snow. "Hey", she said brightly, "I got the generator back up. How are you doing in here?"
"Speaking of heart attack", Krycek muttered. "You could have warned me, you know."
She glanced toward the café, and the situation dawned on her. She started giggling. She knew she probably shouldn't, but she just couldn't help herself.
"Sorry", she managed to get out between the attacks, "I didn't realize the jukebox was on the generator…."
He tried to glare at her, but somehow it wouldn't quite work. It was too good to see her so cheerful, even if it was at his expense. "Glad I could make you happy", he said, and to his amazement he found it was true. He gave in, flashing her a wide smile.
For some reason, that sobered her. She gave him a long look that he couldn't quite interpret, then she went to hang up her parka.
*************************
They had set up the board, but Scully was less intent on retaliation than she had pretended in the garage earlier. After all, there were still issues to be cleared up.
"So why did you do it?" she asked.
"What, disconnect the cameras? Don't you think those things went out of fashion in 1984?" His tone was light, and she suspected he knew precisely what she was referring to.
"Then why give them a show?"
"I felt I owed them one."
"It never occurred to you that I might take that as a threat?" She cursed herself for her unwillingness to mention the word rape. It wasn't as if she could give him any ideas he hadn't already had, if that was what was on his mind.
"Not at the moment, no", he admitted. A brief pause, then, "Scully, are you afraid of me?"
She wanted to say of course not, but she knew exactly how that would sound. She wished there were any way of escaping that pine-green scrutiny. In the end, she didn't find anything to say.
"I won't harm you as long as we're allies, I thought I had made that clear. If it makes you feel any better, I won't even break truce first, no matter what. You tell me when it's over, until then I'll assume it's on. Okay? And even when it is over, I promise you that I won't hurt you unless I'm under orders. Will that do?"
She shook her head slowly. "You've been known to lie, Krycek."
"I have?" He sounded genuinely surprised. Apparently he was a better actor that she had given him credit for. "When?"
"Well, for one thing, Mulder told me you claimed not to have killed his father."
"I didn't. Whiskey killed him. The old man was already dead, his liver was gone, you should have seen his eyes. Whites all yellow."
"But you pulled the trigger?"
"Okay, so I bent the truth a little."
Scully nodded. "That's what Mulder thought. Do you know he actually believed you? He knew you were the shooter, but he felt you were trying to tell him something. That Mulder Sr really wasn't his father for instance. Then, when Spender told him he was…."
"The Smoker is dreaming", Krycek cut her off. "As far as I know, the older Mulder was the father of the younger. The Smoker has this thing about a dynasty, though. For some reason, he's always wanted Mulder for a son, beats me why. Maybe because he could have been, I don't know. But nobody has measured up to Mulder in the old man's eyes, not even the son he actually had." And certainly not me, he nearly added but didn't. Some of his ambitions were better left unvoiced, even now.
"Poor man", Scully said absently, and was rewarded by a glare of green surprise. She shook her head. She wasn't actually feeling sorry for the man who had made a hell out of hers and Mulder's lives, was she? "Back to the matter at hand", she said resolutely. "Let's say I believe you're not 'bending the truth' at the moment. You won't kill me, and you won't rape me." She knew as she said it that she had actually come to believe him. For now.
He stared at her. "Is that what you…?"
"Never mind", she cut him off. "Why would they keep us under surveillance, do you have any idea? The obvious reason would be to see that we don't escape, but there seems to be little danger of that. Certainly not enough to warrant all the trouble and technology."
He didn't answer.
"So that's it, is it?" Scully probed. "That's what you don't want to talk about? Which means you know. Look Krycek, we're in this together, whether we like it or not. I'm under surveillance too. I have a right to know."
He looked away, out the window. No stars out.
"And what the hell did you mean, they had tricked you and not me?" Scully persisted.
Absently, he moved a knight. The move was legal and even strategic, but he did not seem aware of it. "Okay. The Smoker told me he wanted me to find Mulder and to get you to help me. He was lying through his teeth as usual, that much is blatantly obvious. But he had another mission for me, only he didn't bother to tell me." He hesitated, then sighed and gave up. "He wants me to make out with you."
Scully's eyes grew wide and incredulous. "What? Or more precisely, why??"
Krycek shrugged. "Don't know. But from the surveillance apparatus, I'd say some kind of blackmail."
"What, I quit the FBI or he proves to Skinner that I've been fraternizing with the enemy? Wouldn't it be easier to just threaten to kill me?" The amusement went out of her eyes, to be slowly replaced with pure ice. "This isn't about me at all, is it? It's about Mulder. It's him he's after. And apparently he's jumped to the same conclusion as everybody else."
"Maybe", Krycek said. "Maybe not. Does it really matter?"
"Probably not", Scully admitted. "Assuming Spender was right. Apparently, he still doesn't know Mulder. Mulder would never doubt me."
Krycek looked up from the board, his eyes hitting her full force. "Are you sure about that?"
"Positive", she said, with more confidence than she felt. Mulder did have his insecure moments.
"Good. Then all we have to do is wait for that puffing bastard to realize that's how things are."
"Why the sarcasm? You have no faith in your employer? Speaking of that, why didn't he tell you what he wanted? Wouldn't it have helped if you knew?"
"It sure would. In that case I might actually have gone along with it."
She eyed him frostily. "Don't worry, I wouldn't. Besides, isn't that what you were doing, just before you shut down the cameras?"
He shook his head. "I was trying to get you angry. And to show them that that's what I was doing. Ruining the whole idea." He grinned suddenly, touching the mark on his cheek. "Looks like I succeeded too."
"You'd better see to that so it doesn't get infected", she said matter-of-factly. "But if that's what you thought you were doing, why not tell me?"
"Because I…." There was no way of putting this civilly. "I was afraid if I told you what his plans were, you might - get used to the idea."
She stared at him for a moment. Then, "Don't flatter yourself, Krycek."
Like a whiplash. Okay, he probably had it coming. But somehow he wished she hadn't put it quite like that.
- 14 -
Forest way station, November 5th, 10:58 p m
Scully won two games, then Krycek one. Domestic calm seemed restored for the moment. In fact, Scully thought, it was as if they had been sitting here for years, never doing anything with their spare time except playing chess in the evening. She wondered if she was beginning to come to terms with her captivity, even to like it - or aspects of it anyway.
"You know you look quite at ease here, Krycek", she said. "Did you grow up in a place like this? Or is it just that 'anywhere you hang your hat is your home'?"
"No", he said, his eyes still on the board. "Anywhere I know the dangers." His head lifted suddenly. "Snowmobiles", he said curtly. "They're here."
He was on his feet in a second, flinging her her parka and throwing on his own. She had no time to see how he managed that, but it was as she had always suspected; in an emergency, his disability didn't count. He was every bit as deadly as he'd always been, or the Consortium would not have kept him on. He snatched the rifle from its corner and checked it briefly. He had done maintenance on it that morning.
"Krycek!" she said, "They might be perfectly innocent people! Distant neighbours or something!"
He looked at her as if to say, Yeah, you go ahead and believe that. Then, surprisingly, he held out the rifle to her. "How good is your aim?"
"With that? It's not exactly a Sig."
"That's why I asked. I know you're good with a Sig."
True, she had once saved his life with one.
She shook her head. "No, you keep it. I'll make do with a knife. Or preferably, without."
*************************
The trees lit up with an eerie sheen which could have been the sun rising, had it not been in a totally different direction from where he had last seen a sunrise. Mulder started running towards the forest and the light, momentarily forgetful of any dangers of radiation.
At the edge of the forest, he paused to catch his breath. And that's when he saw her. She was walking in his direction, cautiously and yet purposefully, he thought. She wasn't looking at him, but he knew she had seen that he was there.
She stopped in front of him, a few steps away, as if she were less certain than he. She was looking at him askance, her face turned half away from him. As if she were shy. For the life of him, he could not remember whether she used to be shy as a child. He did not think so, but it bothered him that he could not remember. Her dark brown hair was as thick as ever, and loosely braided. Some wisps of it had escaped confinement and were now gently stirred by the wind. She looked very pale, almost death-like.
Slowly, she turned her head to face him. He gasped as the right side of her face came into view. It was covered by some sort of prosthetic appliance, making her look half like a robot. He wondered what horrible disfigurement could have merited such treatment.
"Did they do that to you?" he asked, trying to keep the trembling out of his voice. She did not need a horrified reaction from her own brother. "Was it part of the tests?"
"No tests", she said. "Enhancement. It works."
"But they did it to you?"
She seemed puzzled. "Who are they?"
"The men in favour of colonization? Or the alien colonists themselves?"
Her voice drained of all emotion, she told him.
"Colonization is irrelevant. The colonists have been assimilated."
He woke up sweating.
*************************
Forest way station, November 5th, 11:21 p m
Scully never knew whether the two men had planned to keep up their deception or not. The moment the snowmobiles came into view, Krycek fired. A warning shot, she noticed, over their heads. It surprised her; she knew he only had eight rounds in all. And if the intruders were the same men they had met earlier, chances were that they knew too. Then it dawned on her. Krycek felt he had a round or two to waste. He knew he wouldn't miss except intentionally. Scully shook her head in frustration. That kind of cockiness might be the end of him yet.
"Get off those snowmobiles", she heard him shout over the engines. Damn him, was he really trying to hijack those things alone against two? The answering shot was hardly unexpected. 6
She had no time to worry; Krycek's next shot fell instantly, and it was no longer a warning. She could not see much in the dark, but from the way the headlight of one of the snowmobiles wobbled and then seemed to lead the vehicle on an erratic course ending in a slow, persistent spin, she knew its rider was no longer any concern. Well, at least there was something she could do. She made a beeline for the circling light, hoping to shut down the engine and retrieve the snowmobile.
The machine was gliding toward her, and she poised herself to intercept it. It wouldn't be hard, it was coming in slowly, almost dignified in its independence. Just as she prepared to spring for it, she was knocked brusquely aside, landing in the snow while the vehicle passed her yet again.
She recognized the man who had hit her. Lofberg. Then Anderson was probably the one killed by Krycek. She felt a pang at that; the old man had seemed kind of nice. He was working for the Consortium, she reminded herself, but somehow it wasn't quite enough to colour her memory of him. Krycek could probably claim self-defence, but she knew he had provoked the situation. She hoped she would never come to understand that aspect of him. The ease with which he killed even when there was no need.
Lofberg wasn't looking at her. He was standing as she had been, intent on catching the errant snowmobile on its way back along its wide circle. She wondered what had happened to his own vehicle. Why had he abandoned it? Wasn't this the less functional one? Most likely, he was just determined not to leave it for them to make use of. Whatever his plans, she felt she had better try and thwart them. He was strongly built and she knew her chances were infinitesimal, but maybe she could at least distract him…
She leapt up and threw herself at him, her knife drawn - as a threat, nothing more. He caught her by the throat of her parka, holding her aloft as if to throw her off.
"Let her go." The cold, raspy voice came disembodied straight out of the dark, surprising them both. But only for a moment. Then the approaching light fell on Krycek's face, and Scully shuddered. He was looking positively wild, teeth bared as if he would bite, green eyes cutting her assailant like lasers. The rifle was in his hand; she wondered briefly if he could use it one-handed, or if his artificial arm was strong enough to assist his aim.
Lofberg's face began to shift. As if he were grimacing, or had developed a strange form of tic. Then it changed further. Scully felt a chill along her back. She had seen this man - this being - before. Desperately, she tried to yell at Krycek not to shoot, but the shape shifter's iron grip prevented her, turning her warning into a mere croak.
"As you wish", the being answered Krycek's challenge. Indifferently, he threw her away as if she had been a rag doll. She hit the ground several feet from him, but the snow and her thick clothing shielded her nicely from the impact, and she was not hurt.
Right then she heard the first shot. She looked up to see Krycek still with his rifle low, hanging over his right arm. Then the next shot fell, and she realized he was shooting from the hip, not even raising the rifle. Well, at that distance he could hardly miss…
The first glimpse of acid green emerged through the alien's clothes, and she ran. Just far enough to put some distance between herself and the toxic fumes, after all she was outdoors, the vapours should dissipate before they could travel very far. She seemed to remember that they were heavy, they would drift low, especially in this cold. She stood, the better to avoid them. The circling snowmobile had finally toppled against a drift, its engine still roaring in frustration. Its headlight illuminated the scene caught directly in its beam.
Krycek hadn't run. He had thrown down the rifle and was wiping his eyes furiously, but he still stood. Surely he must know the alien's blood was deadly to humans? Scully would have expected him to be writhing on the ground by now. Instead, she saw him draw his knife and more or less blindly attack the shape shifter, vaguely aiming for the neck.
Apparently, the alien was as puzzled as she was. For a moment, he simply looked at Krycek, frowning slightly at the red scratch marks on his cheek. Then Krycek's vicious attack seemed to bring the alien back to his senses. He shrugged, and Scully saw something gleaming in his hand.
"Alex!" she called out, and Krycek reacted to the warning instinctively, even though he could hardly have seen the weapon. He twisted and ducked, just enough for the point to miss his neck and plunge deeply into his left shoulder.
The alien quickly withdrew his weapon and ran, making no renewed attempt. In a moment he had retrieved the fallen snowmobile and made off with it. It cost him no effort at all to get it upright. In fact, he looked strong enough to handle two of them. Perhaps that was what he had been planning all along; ride one and tow the other.
Scully ran over to where she had last seen Krycek. He was lying on the ground, and she nearly tripped over him. She cursed under her breath, she could not see well enough to determine how badly hurt he was. The toxic vapours seemed to have dissipated though; at least she felt no immediate effect. She tore off her glove and felt for his pulse. Okay, it was there. He groaned slightly, and she wondered if he might be capable of walking back to the house on his own. Probably not, the retrovirus must be getting to him. His blood should be clogging up already. Maybe she'd better keep him out in the cold to slow the effect. Then again, she had no means to cure anything like that here. He was done for, whatever she did. She might as well accept it. 6
"Alex…." she said, running her bare hand through his hair.
He coughed a little, then, to her surprise, he spoke. "That's Aleksei Nikolayitch to you. You can't go directly from familia to imya, you know…."
She had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't sound as if he were dying quite yet. Very well then, she'd have to get him inside, so she could at least see what his condition was. She shook him gently, but he seemed to have passed out. Okay, she'd have to drag him. It would be slow, but they were fairly close to the station. Resolutely, she put her shoulder under his right arm, reached around him as well as she could, and started pulling.
*************************
By the time she got him indoors she was exhausted, and she never knew where she got the strength to tip him on to her bed. It meant she would be the one to sleep rough for a while, but her medical training wouldn't let her tend him on the unswept floor, as long as it could be avoided. Besides, chances were he would not last long…
Wishing she could go to sleep right now, she started her examination. After all, she had to know. First his face…. she frowned. There was some redness around his closed lashes, but nothing like the acid burns she had seen on some other victims of similar exposure. Gently, she raised one eyelid to check, but there was no obvious damage. Odd. She thought about taking a blood sample, but she had no means of analysing it. Well, if his red corpuscles were multiplying, there was nothing she could do for him anyway. Should she try to reconnect one of the cameras, to let the Smoker know? As if he would help. Most likely, he'd simply write Alex off as expendable. Besides, once his alien minion made his report, the old man would know anyway. She did not have to inform him.
She had got Krycek's parka and jacket off by now - she feared the process had been hard on his stab wound, but she wasn't strong enough to be gentle. She started in on his shirt. It was dark - whether navy or black she couldn't tell in the bad light - and she had no way of detecting any blood stains on it. Because of the climate, she had half expected him to wear an undershirt, but apparently all the layers he needed were worn outside the shirt. Well, it made things a little easier. Gently, she bared his chest and was surprised to find it entirely smooth. With his colouring and going by his eye-brows and forearm, she would have expected at least some hair. The absence of it made him seem strangely vulnerable.
She pushed the shirt off his left shoulder and saw the wound. Not good; it looked decidedly infected. So soon? What the hell had been on the shape shifter's blade? Maybe he didn't clean it between victims… Well, all she could do for now was wash the wound, but at least she'd do that much. She got Krycek out of his shirt with some effort and went for disinfectant and bandages.
She wasn't sure the injury was responding to her ministrations, but she felt better now that she was doing something about it. After putting on the bandages, she sat watching over him for a while. The fake arm looked detachable, but she wasn't sure how to go about it. The juncture was inelegant; clearly marked due to deviating colour and visible technology. The prosthetic might well be uncomfortable if left on for long periods of time, but she really couldn't tell, better leave it alone for now. She could always keep an eye out for skin irritations around the juncture. She smiled a little sadly. He was very slightly asymmetric; the muscles in his left side and shoulder less well defined than the ones on his right. She wondered how much effort and persistence it had taken to keep them as tuned as they actually were. How did he do it - special workout tools or odd, acrobatic movements? More to the point, why? Was it really necessary to the kind of life he led, or was it just vanity? Vanity was the last thing she would have expected from Krycek. Probably one of the many luxuries he could not afford.
She considered the antibiotics in the medical cabinet, but they were pills. He was deeply unconscious, there was no way she could make him swallow anything. In the end she just covered him up so he'd stay warm. She dragged in his mattress from the café, partly because it was warmer in the main living quarters, but mainly to be close to her patient in case there was any change during the night. Then she collapsed on her makeshift bedding and slept till noon the next day.
*************************
Syndicate surveillance cabin, November 6th, 4:14 a m
"Well", Diana said, "It looks as if we can finally close up shop."
Thin veils of smoke were idly seeking their way to the ceiling behind her. "What makes you say that?"
She gestured toward the single, still functioning screen. The one connected to the LLC, showing Krycek unconscious on the bed in the main room. The camera was functioning well in the low light, the picture coming through clear and almost sharp. "He's dying, isn't that obvious?"
The smoker smiled. There was even an unmistakable glitter in his eyes. "Now who's giving up too soon? But that's right, you never saw the reports from Romania, did you?"
"I didn't know we were doing any work in Romania. I suppose that means I had no need to know."
He leant over her shoulder to watch the screen. His cigarette was wafting smoke in her face. "He's sleeping", he said. "Some kind of healing trance, I imagine. It might take a while, but he'll pull through. Alex is quite strong, you know", he remarked, his tone only half implying that he had had cause to regret that fact. He straightened, took a long pull on his cigarette and added thoughtfully, "Of course, there could have been rat poison on the blade…"
Diana craned her neck to stare up at him. "Rat poison?"
"Figure of speech."
- 15 -
Forest way station, November 6th, noon
Scully awoke in broad daylight - as broad as it ever got this time of year. Her dreams had been strange and confused, involving aliens and Mulder and a freight train, shaped like a Morley cigarette. Good thing she didn't remember any more than that. She checked briefly on Krycek and changed his bandage, but there was no improvement. The wound did not look any worse though, even if it was still infected. It worried her that he was still in a coma. It made it fairly impossible to get any nourishment into him; needless to say, there was no IV equipment around. Also, brain damage was a distinct possibility if he kept this up.
She made breakfast for herself and ate it, staring at him the while. The silence was harder to bear than she would have thought. Having him there, but not present…. Suddenly she couldn't stand it any longer. She needed some air. She wouldn't be gone long.
There had been no snow since yesterday, and what traces remained were still visible. The tracks from Anderson's snowmobile ran on for a while, then they were suddenly doubled. As she had half surmised, the shape shifter must have taken both vehicles. Well, he looked capable. There were stains in the snow, some red, some a faded green. No body. Maybe Anderson hadn't been killed after all. She sighed. No use deceiving herself. Alex wouldn't have missed, even in the dark. The alien must have taken the body. Probably loaded it on to the spare snowmobile and taken that in tow somehow. Idly, she wondered why. It wasn't as if a dead body could be used as evidence, except possibly against Alex. Maybe the creature simply wasn't brought up to leave a mess.
Tiredly, she returned to the station. Her patient was lying as before, but just as she pulled the door closed, she thought he stirred a little. She walked over to him, pulled off her glove and put her hand on his forehead. He was flaming hot. Damn. She warmed her hand a little and tried again, but he was still hot, his face so flushed she could not make out the red marks around his eyes. She checked on the wound again. It was changing, and she could not even tell if it was for better or for worse. It looked darker than before, almost black around the edges. She thought about antibiotics again, and even aspirins, but the problem remained, she could not get him to swallow anything, and there was nothing injectable in the cabinet. Finally, she picked up the two buckets and went back out.
*************************
She kept him packed in snow all through the day. It soaked the bed, but right now she couldn't care less. Once the snow came into contact with him, it melted quickly, and she had to bring in more. But it seemed to work. As far as she could tell, his temperature was no longer rising. She didn't think it was subsiding, but at least it wasn't rising. There was a thermometer in the cabinet, but it was an old mercury model, and the liquid metal bar was split in two, with one elongated drop stuck firmly off scale. She doubted the thing had been functional since the fifties. Toward evening, she changed the bedclothes as best she could, mainly by removing the wettest layers of mattresses and sleeping bags and leaving the dryer ones in. She did it by rolling the things in and out under him, hospital style. No need to break her back trying to lift him. As far as she could tell, the snow was all that had wet the bed. It worried her, but after all, he had had no liquid going in. And that in itself was yet another cause for worry…
She slumped beside him, her face in her hands. How could she ever have hoped to deal with something like this alone, and with only the barest bones of a first aid kit? After a while she lifted her head. "Damn you", she said succinctly, staring out into the darkening room, pretending some camera was still back on and that she was looking straight into it. "I'm paying you a compliment, do you hear? Damn you to hell…"
*************************
He was still burning up as she went to bed, but if she did not get any sleep, she wouldn't be any help to him in the morning. Provided she was still needed then. She slept fitfully though, waking up every other hour or so, to check on him. There never was any change. She could only hope that was good news. Toward morning, he stirred. She was at his side in an instant, but the movement was not repeated. The room was dark, with the sole exception of a small lamp she had left on in a corner. She squeezed his real hand hard and remained like that for a while, sitting on the edge of the bed, hoping. A Sarah MacLachlan tune started coursing through her head, nothing she had heard on the jukebox, it was too recent:
Now you're sleeping peaceful, I lie awake and pray
(that) you'll be strong tomorrow, and we'll see another
day…
Had she really come to believe her survival depended on Krycek? She didn't know. She hadn't prayed for him yet though. Maybe she should. She had always hated to lose a patient. Maybe that was part of the reason she had come to concentrate on the ones already lost…
She slipped down from the bed to kneel on the cold floor beside it. But she did not fold her hands. One of them was still holding Krycek's, and somehow she could not bear to let go. After all, that was what all her prayers were about now. Not letting go.
An hour later, she awoke with a start and realized she had better go back to her mattress. It was too cold, kneeling on the floor. Gently, she detached her hand. He caught it again immediately, and she stared at him in shock. His eyes were open, almost black in the faint light. "N'e pokeen' m'enya", he whispered, and though she could not understand the words, she thought he looked frightened. With a sigh, she slipped back into her former position, leaning her head on the bed. Her hand was caught firmly in his.
*************************
Mulder was on his knees, shaking.
Images flicked on around the room. Screens hidden in shadows. One showed Mulder as a boy, watching his sister vanishing into the night. Another showed him by a hospital bed, his face in his hands. On the bed was a well wrapped, almost swept Scully on life support. Yet others showed him crying over a mysteriously drowned Lucy Householder, over a flannel heart, over his comatose mother, his recently murdered father.
"Well?" said the man who had styled himself inquisitor. His voice was suddenly sharp. "Are you the boy who mislaid his sister? The man who abandoned his partner once too many? Who ruined many lives in order to save a pathetic few? Who let his parents down and went in pursuit of his obsession?" The voice grew more highly strung by the moment, and the acoustics of the room complimented it.
Mulder groaned, burying his face in his still cuffed hands. The inquisitor barked a short laugh.
"I see you plead guilty. Mea maxima culpa. But are you really all these men? What if you are none of them? What if you can stand up on your own two feet, even take a few steps forward?"
Mulder remained where he was, softly sobbing.
"Who do you think wants your guilt?" the inquisitor roared at him with sudden vehemence. "Not I. I'd rather have your responsibility. Oh, but that's true, guilt absolves you of responsibility, doesn't it? How convenient. Feeling bad and getting a pat on the head by your mother, your god? And then you won't have to stand up and say, I did this, and I meant it!"
Mulder finally looked up at his tormentor. "You think I meant to do that?" He gestured toward the screens.
"Weren't you seeking the truth? Well then, what matter a few lives along the way? Nothing can be allowed to stand in the way of a truth-seeker. A chosen one…"
"You're twisting it all around…"
The inquisitor beamed at him. "No, in fact I'm trying to unravel it. But you've made that next to impossible."
"Look, if this is about my hidden motives…"
That earned him a quick burst of electricity. "I care little whether your motives are hidden or not. As long as they are known to you."
Mulder's shirt had come undone somewhere in the course of his lengthy interrogation, exposing damp curls on his chest. Forlornly, he used a shirttail to wipe his face. Whether of sweat or tears he could no longer tell. "What do you want?" he asked. It came out more like a plea than an actual question. The damned cuffs started burning him again. Soon he was writhing on the floor, screaming in agony.
"Never ask me that", the being told him curtly. The pain stopped. Intrigued against his will, indeed against his survival instinct, Mulder asked,
"Why not?"
"Because I ask the questions", the man said, and Mulder could have sworn he was hiding something.
The images changed, most of them darkening into nothing, leaving only one. Scully dying of cancer, Mulder on his knees by her bed, agonizing. Apparently this wasn't going to get any easier.
"Are you crying over her?" the inquisitor wanted to know. "Or over yourself?"
"How am I supposed to know that?" Mulder taunted him. "You keep telling me I don't know who I am." He braced himself for another jolt, but it did not come. For a moment, he thought the inquisitor was actually smiling. Then he heard the cold voice and knew he had been mistaken.
"I tell you nothing. I ask you. Who are you? Evading the question won't bring any answers, neither to me nor to you. Over whom were you crying?"
Mulder found himself faced with the scene in the hospital room. He did not want to look at it, but somehow he had to. Deep down he knew the answer. But he had been playing his cards close to his chest all his life, he could not throw away all caution now, especially in front of this man, this - torturer. And yet - he could not lie either. The time for lies was past.
"Over her", he said truthfully. "She means a great deal to me."
The inquisitor nodded. "Would you die for her?"
"Am I being asked to die?"
The pain lashed through him, but only briefly.
"I told you not to evade the questions. It's tedious and time consuming. Would you die for her?"
"Yes."
"'Yes'. Yes, of course you would. You'd die for anyone, without thinking twice. Is guilt so hard to bear? You might not believe me, but responsibility is actually much lighter. However, it has a certain disadvantage. It doesn't often lead to splendid martyrdom."
"You're a very small man", Mulder tried.
The inquisitor took that in his stride. "Yes, I've been called that before." He looked down at the kneeling Mulder. "And yet here I stand, taller than you."
Mulder was about to ask, what do you want from me? but thought better of it. Instead, he just shrugged. "I told you the truth."
The inquisitor looked bored. "Yes, I believe you did. Pity. For a while there, I thought I glimpsed something, but - no. Well, under the circumstances, I can hardly blame her. Can you?"
The image changed again - into one that had almost the same composition as its predecessor. But this time the woman was the one kneeling in apparent despair beside the bed, and the man was on it. Scully and - Krycek.
Mulder erupted to his feet and stood for a moment, swaying. "Dammit, why are you doing this? What do you get out of it, you sick sonofabitch? I told you already
- I love her! I love her, what more do you need to know?"
The inquisitor shook his head sadly. "No, I don't think you do. In fact, I think you love only yourself."
"I told you the truth!"
"Yes, your truth. But frankly, I don't think you'd recognize the truth if it hit you over the head."
Mulder locked eyes with him. They stood like that for a while, neither of them wavering. Finally Mulder said, "You're wrong about me. Dead wrong."
The being bowed slightly, accepting the challenge. "Then prove it to me", he said airily. "There will be no time limit, other than your allotted life span. Prove it to me before you die, that's all I ask."
Mulder nodded, keeping his temper in check. "Where can I find you?"
"You don't need to find me. I'll find you. Oh by the way - when you do prove yourself to me, please do so without unnecessary theatricals…"
Look who's talking, Mulder thought. Clear case of projection if I ever saw one.
"….There is a fine line between vulnerability and narcissism", the being concluded. The cuffs opened and fell to the floor. Somehow the inquisitor gathered them up without moving. Mulder could see them vanish into his pocket. Maybe this was not the bounty hunter in disguise after all.
"Who are you?" he asked, quietly.
The inquisitor smiled. "I'll give you exactly what you have given me. The name is Sebastian."
And with that, he was gone.
- 16 -
Forest way station, November 16th
Krycek was still weak, but definitely on the mend. He hadn't slipped back into his coma, even if he hadn't exactly been fully conscious either. His temperature was almost back to normal, and there were no traces of red around his eyes. Even the wound looked better, though it seemed likely to leave a black scar for some reason.
On his first lucid day he was sitting up in bed, eating soup from a bowl Scully was holding for him. She eyed him critically. He still wasn't strong enough, she could see that he was trembling with the effort of staying upright, even if he was doing his damnedest not to let on. Eventually she sighed and moved to readopt the method she had been using this past week, propping him against her while she fed him.
But he shook his head. "No, it's okay. Just help me stay up, will you? I can do the rest."
She did as she was asked, placed herself close to him, still holding the bowl while he ate. Neither of them mentioned it, but she was pretty sure he could have supported himself if his other arm had been any good.
"How long was I out of it?" he asked.
"Ten days. Today's the 16th."
He ate in silence for a while, then, "You've been doing this all along?"
"Doing what, feeding you? Well, as soon as I could get anything down your throat without choking you…"
"Dressed like that?" he wondered a little too innocently.
She looked down at her shirt. It was oversized, one she used only for a nightgown. The buttons didn't start until way below her neck. Also, at the moment it was all she was wearing.
She sighed, torn between exasperation and relief that he was well enough to be exasperating. "Krycek, you're too sick to care."
He grinned at that, but he did not push the issue. After a while he asked, "Why did you take care of me?"
"I'm a doctor, remember?" The words sounded cold even to herself, but he seemed to accept them. There was something tragic about the way he had to look a gift horse in the mouth. Always double-check on a favour, before he could even thank anyone for saving his life. If anything good came to him with no strings attached, he would probably always mistrust it.
He finished his soup, and she set the bowl aside on the floor. She'd pick it up later. It was hard to leave his warmth for the icy room. She had kept the radiators low for a while now, so as not to aggravate his fever. He passed his hand over his face briefly. The scratch marks were almost gone by now.
"Did you shave me too?"
Of course he would notice.
"Once or twice. Didn't think it would make that much difference, it was sort of a losing battle. But I guess you'd be more overgrown if I hadn't."
"Could you do it again? Please? This is kind of itchy."
Her eyes challenged him. "You trust me?"
"We have a truce, remember? Besides, it wouldn't make much sense for you to save my life only to take it. And, you've already wielded that razor twice and I'm still alive." His tone was bantering, stating the obvious, but she had no doubt the reminder was in earnest.
"Aren't you well enough to do it yourself now?"
He grimaced. "Still a bit shaky. As you said, you're a doctor. Your hand would be steady with a knife."
She nodded and slipped out of bed to get his razor. It was the old-fashioned kind and too sharp to be safe. She had no doubt it had seen other uses at times than it was designed for, but right now she did not feel like asking. She used no soap so as not to make a mess, but he did not complain.
"Where did you learn?" he asked once.
"I grew up with a father and two brothers. I used to watch them. The procedure seemed simple enough. Of course, a little knowledge of anatomy comes in handy."
After she was done, she got up to put away the razor, then she finally picked up the bowl and spoon too and placed them in the sink, splashing water on them. All the while, she felt his eyes in the back. He had lain back down, but he was still watching her.
She turned. "What?"
"Nothing. But I still haven't thanked you for saving my life."
"You're welcome."
He smiled a little. "Did I talk in my sleep?"
"I don't think you were spilling any state secrets. If so, I couldn't understand them anyway."
"I was speaking Russian?"
She came back to stand by his bed, looking almost kindly at him. "I think so. I didn't get the words, but the meaning was pretty clear. I think you were asking me not to leave you." She sat down, taking his hand. "I thought I'd lost you", she said. "In fact, I still don't know why I didn't."
His eyes were very green in the greyish daylight. Carefully, she leaned over him to give him a kiss on the forehead, the kind of sisterly caress she had sometimes treated Mulder to. But Krycek quickly detached his hand from hers, got his arm around her and pulled her down on him. Her lips were firmly against his before she knew it, and he seemed intent on keeping them there. She opened her mouth to protest, and his tongue darted in like a viper, taking every advantage of the opportunity.
When he finally let her breathe, she disentangled herself as fast as she could and got up - on somewhat shaky legs. She didn't trust herself to speak even to yell at him.
But this time, she hadn't scratched him.
*************************
Syndicate surveillance cabin, November 16th
"See? It won't be long now." Diana leaned back in her chair, looking pleased.
"Sure you won't send another repair team?"
The smoker dug through his pockets, came up with a somewhat shapeless Morley packet. "Not yet. I'd rather let them think we've forgotten all about them. Besides, the next time they're looking for things to disable, they might find the LLC. I'd like to keep that. It's been quite useful, wouldn't you say?"
"But we have no sound."
He brought a lighter to the tip of his cigarette, applying the flame slowly and carefully. "You'll have to do without."
Diana looked up hastily. "Me? Where are you going?"
"You have no need to know. Be glad you don't." Answering the question she had not yet asked, he added, "I'm leaving today. With luck, I'll be back in the spring. Maybe sooner."
For a moment, she watched the smoke floating about the small room. It would be nice to be rid of that for a few months. "I'm to keep up the surveillance here?"
He smiled thinly. "You have proved yourself eminently suited."
For some reason, that incensed her. Mainly because of his tone. Why did he always sound as if he were insinuating something? "You're missing the best part, you know."
"I'll catch it later." He paused, as if something had just occurred to him. "You sound very sure."
She nodded toward the screen. "After going through so much for someone, it's hard to keep convincing yourself you don't care."
*************************
Forest way station, November 21st
"I must say I never thought I'd see you on your feet again." Scully pushed a pawn across the midline of the board, hoping to sneak it past Krycek's knight.
"Likewise, back when you were out of it." He snatched her pawn and she sighed in frustration. "Check. I didn't think you'd make it without pieces missing. Hell of a recovery."
"As was yours. Any theories on that?" She moved her king. There wasn't anything else left to do.
He hesitated for a moment, then he said, "Guess you're entitled to them.
Besides, I already told you I'm immune to the Black Oil."
"Is there a connection?"
"I think so. I think I may be immune to other alien substances as well."
She looked up from the board. "That why the shape shifter's blood didn't kill you?"
He moved his knight again, without checking her this time. "What blood?"
"That green acid that flows out of them whenever they sustain puncture wounds. That isn't their blood?"
He shook his head. "No, it's a defence mechanism, like skunks or porcupines have. They start oozing it to disable any attacker who might do them actual harm."
"And it isn't harmful to them?"
Again, he hesitated. "I'm not sure I should tell you this, but then you might need to know some day. It can't harm them as long as it doesn't get into their bloodstream. The only way for it to do that is…. you know about the special weapon against them?"
"Of course. That's what he used on you."
Krycek closed his eyes briefly. "Damn, that's true. It must have been coated…"
"Poison?"
"Something like that. Anyway, that green stuff is generated by a gland at the back of the neck. What's the matter?"
Scully shook her head. A painful memory had just surfaced unbidden. A small girl, with what looked like a fistula at the back of her neck. Oozing green acid… "Nothing. Would this be true of any alien-human hybrid?"
"As far as I know. Probably some of the other crossbreeds too. The only way to kill them is by stabbing them in the neck, and it takes precision, because the weapon must penetrate the gland as well as the major vein that runs just past it. That will pollute their entire circulatory system with the acid, which will then dissolve them."
Scully shuddered. "I've seen the effect." So that was what had happened to the young woman Mulder had for a time thought was his sister. "Cold seems to slow it down."
Krycek nodded. "Yeah, I've heard that."
"So this is why that weapon is the only thing that can kill them?"
"It isn't. In theory, you can kill them with anything that's long, sharp and precise enough. All it takes is for it to penetrate both the gland and the vein.
A bullet could do it, but you'd have to be really lucky. The switchspike is specially designed. All you have to do is aim it right."
"The switchspike?"
He shrugged. "What would you call it? Looks like a switchblade, only it isn't."
"Why poison it?"
"It isn't necessary, so it's not always done. But the Syndicate developed a substance - quite by accident, a byproduct of their hybrid research - that will speed up the contamination process considerably. You'd still have to get your aim right, but if you do, death is instantaneous. The sheath can hold the substance, coating the blade automatically as it's triggered." He caught her look. "The wonder of science. Anyway, my guess is that because I'm immune to the Black Oil, the green acid doesn't have much effect on me either, it's almost as if I were one of the aliens."
Scully's eyes grew wide and turquoise. "That's what he thought! The shape shifter! When his acid didn't seem to have any effect on you, he thought maybe you were a hybrid too - a clone possibly - so he used the blade on you instead!"
Krycek looked doubtful. "He'd have aimed for my neck, not my shoulder."
"He did, but he missed. Don't you remember?"
"Vaguely. Some miss…." Krycek tried to move his shoulder, and for a moment, there was no mistaking the pain in his eyes. "Damn, I need those shoulder muscles. I'm pretty useless this way."
"You'll heal. It looks clean enough now. Kind of black around the edges though."
"Probably antibodies."
"You can't see antibodies with the naked eye."
He glared at her. "The effect of them." He shook his head slightly. "Damn, he was nearly right. The poison wouldn't have harmed a normal human. But because I had had the Black Oil in me…. Guess it would have been the end of anyone who was merely inoculated. But because it left me of its own accord, I carry the natural antibodies. So I pulled through. With some effort and your help." He grinned briefly. "Mulder won't thank you for that."
She looked down at the board without seeing it. "I couldn't let you die."
"No? Why not?"
"The Hippocratic oath", she said curtly.
"You're an agent with the FBI."
"It wasn't a defence situation." Idly, she moved a bishop.
"You can't do that. You're in check."
She glared briefly at him and changed her move, pushing a pawn forward instead. She hated to admit it, but he unnerved her. What the hell did he have to keep kissing her for? Granted, he had only done it twice, and he had explained both incidents. The first time had been to annoy their watchers, the other he was just 'thanking her properly' as he put it. She didn't believe it for a minute.
There had been too much hunger in that kiss. He might not have gone without for as long as she had, but she had no doubt he was often starved enough to pounce on any opportunity. Maybe she should have scratched him the second time too.
"The alien seemed confused by your scratch marks", she said. "As if he expected them to be green."
"More likely, he didn't expect them at all", Krycek said. "They're fast healers. Like you."
"I'm not a hybrid."
"Never said you were. Check."
She blinked at the board. Then she folded her king. "Guess my heart isn't in it today."
"Something bothering you?" He didn't sound overly concerned. In fact, she was pretty sure he knew.
She stood. "No, just tired." She went to get a glass of water.
But he rose too, and he was beside her in an instant, putting his arm around her. She froze, calculating her chances. His shoulder was still bad, and he couldn't have regained his full strength yet. Maybe there was still a chance she could get out of this. "What do you want, Krycek?"
"No. The question is, what do you want, Dana?"
"Don't call me Dana."
"Fine. Just thought that was your name. But, seeing as how we'll have a hard time avoiding each other, maybe we should decide where we stand. The cameras are gone, there'll be no play for the gallery."
"Get your hand off me."
He did, even taking a step backward to give her space.
"…so I can think", she found herself saying. "You're not well enough, Krycek."
"But I'll get there. And then what? They haven't been back. What if they won't be? We might be stuck here for months yet."
He could be right. It wasn't as if she hadn't considered it, lately. Who'd know if she were - sleeping with the enemy for a time? It certainly wasn't any business of Mulder's. It wouldn't bring her any closer to Krycek than she already was. And there was no way it could affect her loyalties.
"Just give me time, okay? I need to think this through."
If that surprised him, he covered it well. "You already have, and apparently it didn't help. But maybe you need time to feel it through."
"This isn't about feelings. It's about not getting on each other's nerves. As I said, I need time to think. And you need time to get well. Let's not bring it up again for a couple of weeks, okay?"
He nodded. "Fine with me." He gave her a long, green look. "It means a lot to me that you're even considering it. Thanks."
Somehow, that did nothing to ease her mind. "Then what if I say no?"
He caught on immediately. "Keep the vodka away from me, and you'll be safe enough."
That wasn't the answer she had been looking for. But, it would have to do.
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