Title: Distance Covered: Plotting a Course Author: Naina E-Mail: Ruby526@hotmail.com Archive: Please ask me first! Spoilers: Christmas Carol, Emily, Deep Throat Rating: PG for language Category: SRA, Alternate Universe Keywords: Scully/Krycek, Scully/Mulder, Character death Summary: More things have changed than you could imagine... Notes: This starts in April of 2000. The character death occurs sometime this season. I'm positive there's some medical stuff in here that's totally implausible. Oh well, that's just the way things are. I actually plotted their route out on an USA map, if you'd like to follow along. Tempe is a suburb of Phoenix, AZ. Russian words will be scattered throughout the story. Thanks to Hays and Anna for making me watch, and Julie for sharing her dream. Extra special hugs and crates of Mint Milanos go to Shell, without whom this probably would have wasted away on my desktop. Merci, tout le monde! Feedback: Damn straight! Please send all comments, questions, flames etc. to Ruby526@hotmail.com "In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade, and he carries the reminders of every glove that laid him down or cut him 'till he cried out, in his anger and his shame, I am leaving, I am leaving, but the fighter still remains..." -Simon and Garfunkel It had been nine years now. Nine years since Scully had joined the Bureau. Seven years since she had started with the X-Files, and one year that she'd been back teaching at Quantico. Going over those nine years, Scully reasoned that she'd learned a great deal. About forensics and the paranormal and knowing when to be a skeptic and when to be a believer. She'd read and written hundreds of reports and could recite a criminal's MO and the autopsy reports by case number. She had, as one might say, seen it all. But one thing Dana Scully, MD, Special Agent to the FBI and Forensic pathologist could not explain was why a mercenary for hire would knock politely on her door one warm evening in late April. She peered through the little peekhole and drew back in alarm, hand straying to her hip to check that she hadn't taken her holster off yet. Standing broadside to the entrance, Scully threw the locks, drawing her weapon as she slowly opened the door. "I'm armed," she said tersely. "Walk in slowly, hands in the air." "You can frisk me if you want, Scully. I'm not armed tonight." "Like hell you aren't." He waited patiently, hands raised in resigned obedience as she patted him down thoroughly, finally taking a seat at her kitchen table when she finally seemed convinced he wasn't lying. Scully sat across from him, gun back in her holster. He wasn't armed, she knew that now, but she still didn't trust him as far as she could spit. She stared at him for a few moments, until he flinched and looked away, sighing. "You know, I admit we have a shitty past, Scully, but if you hate me just for Mulder's sake, you should just shoot me now and get it over with." That grated on Scully's already taut nerves. The little shithead! She should take him up on his offer. "What the hell do you know about Mulder?" God, her voice sounded like liquid nitrogen even to her own ears. When he looked back at her, his eyes were soft, almost probing, and strangely sad. What the hell right did he have to look sad? "I know he died last year, in an accident. I know you're back at Quantico and that you assist with Violent Crimes." She opened her mouth to comment, but he beat her to the punch. "The man who killed him had nothing to do with the Syndicate. We were as startled as anyone else to learn about it. Blame anyone Scully, just not us." She stared at him again, mouth pursed and eyes glinting. She snorted finally and sat back, tiredness washing over her. "What do you want Krycek?" "I have to talk to you about Emily." To her credit, Scully showed no surprise that he knew about her dead daughter. There seemed to be no limit to what information he could get his hands on. "What about her?" "Do you know how she died? Why she died?" "It had to do with her anemia, that it wasn't being treated." Something glinted in Krycek's eyes, something Scully would have been hard-pressed to identify. "She was a hybrid, you knew that? Not a perfect one, but she had their DNA in her blood." A frown tugged at her mouth and Scully glanced down. "Two years ago I would have said that that was impossible, but I know better now. She had that green material that caused the retrovirus. A pustule, at the back of her neck." "There are more out there." She looked up sharply. "What?" "There are more children out there Scully. Not all of them are hybrids." "You're full of shit," she stated, and rose to get something to drink. Krycek watched her, knowing one of the reasons she was dismissing him outright was that it hurt. It had to hurt, hearing that there were more of her children out there, taken from her to what? To live a few years as an experiment, then die when the doctors had had their fun. "You're right, Scully. Most of the time, I am full of shit." He caught her eyes as she reluctantly rejoined him at her kitchen table. "Not now. There is a baby waiting for you, it'll be born in a few weeks. All you have to do is go there with me to pick it up." It was a few minutes before she spoke, fully digesting what he said. "Why are you telling me this?" "They expected you to pursue Emily, and find out everything you could about her." "I couldn't. Her body was taken." Scully remembered opening the little white coffin, Mulder's flowers clutched in her other hand, to see nothing but a pile of sand and her necklace inside. "We think that the rebels took it." Krycek replied quietly. "You couldn't tell anyone about how this child was created." "A surrogate? That's what it is, from what I understand." "You could use that, yes. There might be occasional testing, to check general health, and you couldn't contact or try to research the other children." Scully watched his face as he talked, noticing how that gleam returned to his eyes and his cheeks flushed the faintest bit under his dark shadow. "You seem quite interested in this. Do you have any stake in it other than getting paid to get me there?" She knew whatever answer he gave her would be obscure, if not cryptic. Alex Krycek would have no reason to open up to her, if anyone. She wasn't disappointed. "I'm not being paid for any of this, Scully. I do have my reasons, but I'll tell you the rest later." He withdrew a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket, spreading it out before her. "We would leave this Friday, the twenty-first, getting there in about five days. I'd plan on staying three or four weeks." Scully looked at the paper. It listed their destination as Tempe, Arizona. She didn't say anything as he moved to the door, a figure all in black, eyes dark and hooded, moving from one shadow to the next. "Think seriously about this Scully. I'll be back in two days for an answer." Three days later Scully hefted up her duffel bag, throwing it into the back of the navy blue Wrangler Krycek had procured. She grabbed her carryall, and poked her head over the passenger side door. "What the hell, Krycek?" "Huh?" He looked up from arranging their gear in the backseat. "Are you insane? Automatic on a JEEP!?" "Scully, do I need to remind you that I am with one working arm? You drive manual with one hand." Scully smirked. "Well, if the Syndicate's so technologically advanced, wouldn't they be able to get you a real arm?" She was being a smart-ass, but he looked taken aback. "What?" "Maybe. It's possible I might actually get one while we're there. They think they've mastered cloning the cells." Scully just stared at him, teetering on the borderline between disgusted and impressed. He just kept making sure the soft-top was fastened securely, then slipped into the front seat, taping a map to the dashboard. "Ready?" "Guess so." Scully hopped in, feeling a tingle of cautious excitement. "Can't say I've ever driven cross-country before." She had, of course, being a navy brat, but in her mind she added, He gave her a dubious glance, then seemed to catch her silent addendum. "If you've been in this kind of situation before, Scully, then there's a lot of shit about you I don't know, huh?" She didn't look over, just let her enigmatic smile flit over her features. "Tons." Scully was at the wheel, heading southwest on I-59 through Alabama as the sun rose on the second day. She had the radio on, softly playing classical, and was humming along to herself. The sky was a thousand different colors on the horizon, and she wished she'd been up to see this more often. The world was always so calm and peaceful, serene, before daylight. Beside her, Krycek slept, head propped on his jacket. He let out a few soft snores when the piece ended and the announcer came on, and Scully couldn't keep herself from giggling. "Wha-?" Krycek lifted his head, blinking rapidly. "You snored, I'm sorry." Scully smiled. "Go back to sleep." "S'okay. I was waking up anyway." "Hungry?" He nodded, running one palm over his grown-out buzz cut. Scully looked over briefly, then faced the road again. She'd always ruffled Mulder's soft cocoa hair when he woke, sleeping beside her on a plane or in the car. She resisted with Krycek, not knowing or liking him well enough to attempt that kind of familiarity. "How old are you, Krycek?" "Twenty-nine. Thirty in June." She gave him a good hard look. She'd always figured him for closer to her age, not really knowing why. She knew now, knowing him better, that it was his eyes that belied his years in what they expressed. More like what they didn't express, actually. They were a lovely color; the shade of evergreens in the dead of winter, but the deep green was hard, flat almost, without the vivacious spark of those his age. She didn't wonder why. He'd seen more than her and Mulder combined, she'd bet on it. He caught her staring, and shrugged. "No one who does what we do looks it, Scully." What we do? She gave him a curious look. "I meant as a whole. You, Mulder, me, the Syndicate. We all live the same lives. We just deal with that in different ways. You think the smoking man always looked that old?" "You're- " "I'm a kid, I know." He leaned back, staring out the window. "I was barely twenty-four when I met you and Mulder." He kept talking, feeling somehow that Scully would stop him if she didn't want to know anything about him. She didn't. She listened, asking questions intermittently about his life, and it all just came out. Born and grew up in Toronto . Normal kid all around, good grades, made varsity lacrosse all through high school. Went to UPenn, , where he'd majored in sociology. Found out he wanted to be an agent his junior year, and after graduating, went straight into the academy. The Syndicate had spotted him in a defensive combat course, and had pushed him out early, to partner up with Mulder. They'd owned him from then on. "I made some stupid choices, I know that." He glanced at her. Scully tilted her head, watching the road before them and saying nothing. "It's not an excuse, but... When you live like I did, your choices are do what they ask or run like hell. I did all that to keep my ass alive." His voice was brittle, and he saw that she still didn't look at him. That was all right. He didn't expect her to forgive him. Ever. Scully tried to bring up the subject of his time at the Academy a few times after that conversation, but he always changed the subject. He did it deftly, almost gently, saying little more than that she would eventually find out more. Not then, probably not for a while. "That's a story for another time, Scully." Krycek yawned while they were waiting for the check, raising his hand a little too late to cover it. He'd driven the last part, I-20 west to where they were now, on 380 about three-quarters of the way through Texas. Goddamn big, empty state. If Montana was the Big Sky state, what did that make Texas? Cielo el Grande? "We've made good time so far. What do you say we get a room tonight?" Scully asked, digging her wallet out as their waitress approached. "Fine. I really don't want to drive tonight anyway, it's nasty out. I don't really want to find out what it takes to flip that thing." They drove a little farther through the pouring rain down the main drag to the first motel, getting a room with a single queen bed. For one night, they were both exhausted enough to not care about the sleeping arrangements. Scully silently thanked God upon seeing that the room was clean and comfortable, with a working shower and cable. Sure as hell was better than some of the places Mulder had picked out. She was too tired from the constant traveling to do more than change into pajamas and climb into the bed. Ah, much better, she mused contentedly. Far more comfy than the passenger seat of the Jeep. "Hey," came a soft voice on the other side of the room. Scully blinked, then looked up. Krycek was sitting at the tiny table, a map spread out before him. "I'll turn out the main light, but is it okay if keep a small lamp on? I'm gonna plan out the route for the rest of the trip." "Sure. I'll be out in a minute, believe me." Scully found herself being shaken awake much later, gasping for breath and finding her face wet with tears. She was crying openly, the dream still so fresh as a bleeding wound. "Scully." His voice was right beside her, but he didn't touch her, not at all sure how she would react. Scully was never easy to read, to comfort, being too private and withdrawn. "You had a nightmare. You were calling for Mulder." She nodded, using the sheet to wipe away the tears. She was sniffling, sure her eyes and nose were red but not caring enough to do anything about it. "The Capuzzi case. I was dreaming about the day he died." Krycek reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the tissue box, setting it on the bed between them. Scully flashed him a grateful look, grabbing a few. "Do you want to talk about it?" At her curious look, he added, "I don't know what happened, other than that it was an accident." Scully stared for a while at the mattress, biting her lip. She shut her eyes finally. Krycek thought that she would say no, the infamous walls firmly in place, and insist on going back to sleep. Instead, she just began to tell the story, speaking in her doctor's clinical, detached tone. "We were in western Pennsylvania, a serial murderer who claimed that he was setting people free from their demons. It wasn't even an X-File, just something the VCS wanted Mulder's profile on. We'd nailed his location, knew he was there and it just all went up in our faces." Scully blinked a few times and cleared her throat. She raised her head and Krycek knew she wasn't looking at him, wasn't seeing anything but the scene she described, clear as a bell. "He was insane, literally so; he'd been in a hospital when he was a teenager for paranoid schizophrenia. Mulder was trying to talk to him, we didn't want to have to take him by force, but it backfired. The guy got Mulder in a headlock, saying that he was being controlled by his demons, and that he had to be saved. He was chanting wildly and..." Scully stopped to take a deep breath, fresh tears spilling over, "He had a gun, put it to Mulder's head and just pulled the trigger." Scully pinched the bridge of her nose, crying silently. When Krycek reached to touch her shoulder she shrunk back, shaking her head slowly. For a long time was there was no sound save for Scully's occasional soft sobs. She eventually released a long, shaky breath and lay back down, scrunching her reddened eyes shut against the pillow. Krycek waited until she'd cried herself back to sleep, not saying a word. When her tears finally dried and her breathing deepened, he drew the covers over her, letting one hand linger on her cheek. It was a long while before he was able to sleep himself. He woke the next morning seeing red. Krycek blinked a few times, lifting one hand to rub at his eyes. His fingers slipped over silky strands of hair, and he stiffened slightly in surprise, looking down. Scully was tucked against him, her hands curled under her chin like a child. He smiled, letting his palm rest lightly on her shoulder. A glance at the clock told him it was just past seven, but the warm, even breathing on his chest convinced him to sleep in, just this once. They had time. There was someone holding her when she woke, not firmly, just a warm, callused palm resting on her upper back, reassuring. A man, not Mulder. Mulder was gone and anyway, this didn't smell like him. Scully blinked, opening her eyes halfway. Her nose brushed honey-colored skin that smelled warmly like Dove and sleep-sweat, dusted with dark brown hair. Without moving, she could see that the left arm ended a few inches after his shoulder joint. Krycek. Scully let out a puff of air, not relieved nor bothered by waking up like this. Movement on her back, a small, rubbed circle, indicated he too was awake. "I shot him." The movement stopped. "Hm?" "I shot Capuzzi. He died the instant the trigger was pulled." He knew she meant Mulder. Scully had forgotten, in the years that had passed since her days of constant moving, how big the states were out west. Virginia seemed big to her now, but the sheer amount of mileage they'd racked up from New Mexico alone made her think otherwise. She'd gotten used to her company now, and was starting to enjoy this trip. The easy comfort between them had strengthened a bit since her nightmares, assuaging her fear that it would bring discomfort. She'd found that Krycek was friendly, funny even, one arm propped on the door easily as he joked with her, speeding down the highway headed west. He was presently reloading the disks in the CD changer while she piloted the Jeep. The top was down, as it had been for the last three days, since they'd passed through Alabama and into the sticky heat of Mississippi and Louisiana, and the wind raked its fingers through his seal-brown hair as it tangled hers into knots. she grinned, as the strains of Paul Simon poked through the soft howl of the wind. He watched her stride back to the car from the "Welcome to Arizona" service station, a bottle of Coke in one hand, the other dabbing some more sunscreen on her already tanned face. "It's hotter than hell out here," she muttered, setting the bottle on the passenger seat so she could spread the lotion with both hands. He cracked a smile. "It's not even May yet. Gets up to one-ten in the summer." He pushed his sunglasses back into his hair to take a good look at her, hoping, praying even, that their camaraderie wouldn't dissipate after what he had to tell her. "You wanted to know why I was so interested in these children?" "Yeah. You gonna tell me?" She glanced up at him, stuffing the lotion into the glove box and leaning against the door. "What did Mulder think of Emily, Scully?" She frowned. "He liked her. I know he liked kids a lot. I think if she'd lived he would have been great with her." "Did you ever run a PCR?" "On Mulder? No. He would've flipped if I'd suggested that. The doctors never asked about it either." Her eyebrow tilted at him, following the lead he was giving her, but not quite sure where it was heading. "Are you suggesting he was her father?" "No. They never took any opportunity to take a sample from him. All they did at Ellen's was erase his memory of what he saw there. They only took samples, blood and semen, from people close to them, men who were involved but not so much that they were of any real importance." In china blue eyes there came a spark of knowledge, flaring slightly as her logical mind went a step ahead. "You were one of them." "Before you and Mulder became what they considered a threat I was pretty low in the ranks. Naïve, too, so when they announced some new kind of experiment, I volunteered. I didn't find out what it was for until the first experiments were completed." Scully had found her sunglasses and hung them in the neck of her tank top, her face hard but eerily calm. "When did you find out?" "About a week afterwards. I'd been told some of my sample had been used, but was too far away from it all to really know anything." He turned away, looking out towards the highway, shimmering almost iridescent in the heat. "I went crazy, flew in from Italy, ordered a dozen tests done in the middle of the night, probably scared the hell out of the doctor. I assume you know how I felt when I was right." Scully felt an enormous breath rush out of her at the emotions she glimpsed in his eyes before he turned away again. "You never met her." "No, I was over in Europe, I didn't even knew she existed until she was gone. You got to meet her, even if it was for a few days. Count yourself lucky." There was a hard, pained edge to his voice now as he twisted the key in the ignition. Scully hopped in, but didn't let the subject drop. "So if you were her father, are there more?" He nodded curtly, heading for the on-ramp back to the highway. "The baby waiting for you is mine. Ours. That's all I know." He paused to give her a sad smile. "Congrats, Scully, we're parents." End