TITLE: Distance Covered: Hitting the Road AUTHOR: Naina E-MAIL: Ruby526@hotmail.com ARCHIVE: Yes, go ahead, but please tell me so I know where to find it! Make sure you have part one as well. SPOILERS: Christmas Carol, Emily, Deep Throat RATING: PG for language CATEGORY: SRA, Alternate Universe ORIGINAL POST: March 1999 DISCLAIMER: If I owned these people, do you really think I'd sit around writing fanfic?! Hell, I'd make them act it out for my own entertainment! Carter, you damn well appreciate what you've got... KEYWORDS: Scully/Krycek, Scully/Mulder, Character death SUMMARY: More things have changed than you could imagine... NOTES: The whole thing began in April of 2000. The character death occurs sometime this [US6] season. This will make absolutely no sense if you haven't read part one. 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 "Heaven knows this is a heartland..." -U2 The guard who greeted them at the compound simply asked them to sign an entrance form, giving Krycek a slight nod of recognition. Scully remained silent as they pulled up to what seemed to be the front entrance. Another guard stepped forward to take the car, and Scully took Krycek's lead, grabbing her bags out of the back and entering the blissfully cool building. The place was not what Scully had expected. When he'd told her they were going to a compound, she'd immediately thought of a complex of nondescript, gray buildings out in the middle of the desert. What she saw was a high-rise of shiny steel and glass, in the middle of a bustling city block. The front lobby was tastefully decorated in blue and gray marble with stainless steel accents. She followed Krycek to the front desk, where they gave their names to the pretty brunette receptionist. "Nice to see you again, Mr. Krycek. Here are the keys to your rooms. Dr. Hammond will be expecting you at six- thirty. Do you remember where his office is?" She asked, and flashed a smile that would send dentists into a coronary. Krycek nodded, not looking at her, but watching Scully scan the area. "Yeah, 32nd floor. Thanks, Cherise." He hefted his bag to his good shoulder, touching Scully's wrist. "C'mon, I want to show you something. Do you like paintings?" "I've been to the Met a couple times. You like art?" Scully noted that she wasn't as surprised as she could have been by this revelation. After six days in a car with Krycek, she had found plenty of reasons to change her mind about hating him. "When I get a chance, I love it. Have you been to the Philadelphia Museum? They have a great collection. So does San Francisco. Here," He touched her wrist again, directing her towards a shady, black-framed print. "I love this one. It's a Matisse." Scully didn't know much about art. She liked it, but had never taken the time from her busy schedule to really learn about it. She supposed that was a shame, since there was so much of it to see. Beside her, Krycek had begun somewhat of a lecture on the print, gesturing to the way the dark blue almost framed itself around the little town. She listened to him through one ear, the other half of her attention on him. Years with Mulder had given her the ability to tune out what one was saying and still pay attention to them. She nodded, appreciating his comment on Matisse's handiwork with color, watching the way his eyes lightened to a softer sea green tone. Was this the way he looked when he was happy? She wondered. He had shaved that morning, at the rest stop, and his skin had darkened from the southwestern sun to a rich honey color, accenting his seal brown hair and bright eyes. Something else had changed, she noted as he prattled on. After he'd told her about his paternity record, he'd been in a funk for a few hours, then lightened up. Apparently, his confession had been weighing on his conscience for a while. She'd told him what their daughter had been like, as much as she knew, that she was serious, and quiet, but brave. "What's it called?" She asked, interrupting his talk. He started, blinking. "What? Oh. 'View of Collioure and the Sea'. Was I rambling?" She smiled faintly, heading to the elevator. "Just a little. It was nice, though, seeing you get worked up over a painting." She flashed him a small grin to let him know she was teasing. Their rooms were on the eleventh floor. Instead of having two separate rooms of their own, they had been given a large, well-appointed suite with two bedrooms and baths, connected by a sitting room and small kitchen. Scully's room was nice; a queen four post bed, large overstuffed chair, and matching mahogany bureau and dresser. The walls were pale cream, accented by slate blue trim and carpeting. Over the bed hung another print, this one of a mountainside and far-off sea. "Cezanne's 'Estaque'. Nice choice out here." Krycek commented. Scully turned from sorting her things on the bed to see him leaning against the doorframe. He tilted his head up to the colorful print. "France is always beautiful." "Unpacked already?" "I'll finish later. We have a meeting in a few minutes, then do you want to go out for some dinner?" Scully combed her fingers through her sun-streaked hair. God, six days and already the top layers were far more blonde than red. Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food. "Yeah. Where do we eat around here?" "There's a pretty good cafeteria and plenty of restaurants, but I was thinking we could cook some of our own." "Let me guess. Another of your passions?" Scully asked dryly. How many surprising interests could one person have? He just nodded, letting her lead the way out to the elevator. "Who is this Dr. Hammond we're meeting with?" Scully questioned on the ride up. "He's in charge of the surgery for my arm. I'm guessing we'll be talking about that, and he'll probably tell you more about the baby." "How involved are you with that part?" Scully wished she knew him better, so she could read his features. His face was smooth and impassive, careful to let nothing slip. His eyes were focussed on the digital floor indicator, watching the twenties pass by. "I know very little about it. Only what was on the DAT tape, and this is more recent. I don't think this child has been...tampered with." The slight lift of his voice at the end showed her his relief, that this child would not be lost to them, out of their control. The doctor was a tall, older man of unremarkable appearance, someone who wouldn't stand out in a crowd. He waved them in with a small, elegant flick of his wrist, rising to stand behind his desk. "Hello, Alex, it's good to see you again. This must be Doctor Scully?" The doctor turned warm brown eyes to her, his smile genuine and calming. "Dana, sir." She returned his handshake and he nodded to the plush armchairs. "Please, have a seat." His voice, Scully pondered as she shook his hand, was like a mist-- soft and mild, unobtrusive. She listened as the two men discussed Krycek's upcoming surgery, but said nothing. The operation would be performed in a week and would take approximately four to five hours. He would be in a sling and/or brace for six to eight weeks, medicated heavily. Physical therapy would begin at the end of the eight weeks and continue through the fall. The new arm would be like the opposite by January at the earliest. "Now, Dana, I'm sure you'd like to discuss the matter of your child." Dr. Hammond picked up another file folder and flipped through its contents. "Of course." She glanced at Krycek, who nodded. "Alex told me a few things on the way here, but not many details." "Such as?" "Well, why am I being given this child? Why now? And how do I know it will be what you say it is?" Hammond picked out a few charts and handed them to her. "Here are the records we have so far. Conception occurred on August twenty-third, 1999, and the due date is May twenty-fifth. We've monitored everything on a weekly basis, from minute hormone changes to blood flow. You'll find that the charts are complete through this past weekend. If you'd like, I can print out the last few days for you." Scully scanned the printouts carefully. Since her rotation in med. school, she hadn't learned any obstetrics, but everything seemed to be in normal ranges. "I'd like to see those, please." "I'll have them emailed to you. If you didn't bring a computer, you can use our lab. Now, as for your first question, Doctor, I'm afraid I can't really answer it." He raised his hands, asking to continue before Scully could interrupt. "I could answer that, Doctor Scully, but it wouldn't be something you would accept." "How exactly do you mean?" A cool tone belied Scully's open expression. "We had decided to let you have this child over a year ago, before Agent Mulder passed and before you left the X-Files. Not as a reward, but something in return." "You took away my ability to have children, so you made one for me. Just to say you're sorry." Her voice was ice now, and Scully fought to keep her hurt in check. "You have to understand, there is no way to explain it that you would find acceptable." Hammond kept his voice gentle so as not to upset her further. For all of Scully's efforts to keep her cool, professional demeanor, her feelings were detectable in the tightness of her jaw and a flicker of anger in her eyes. He and his colleagues had nothing to lose. Should Scully become angry enough to refuse the child, they could easily give it to an adoption agency or to Krycek. "You have the proof that this will be a healthy child, and we won't ask for any more than occasional reports on its health in general." "How do I know we'd be left alone?" "The only time we would have to take action would be if you decided to tell anyone about its true origins, how it came to be." "And that is?" "In an artificial womb." Scully fought the urge to gape. She nearly spoke aloud before realizing there was very little, if anything, beyond Their reach. "Now, Alex will be required to stay with us until his physical therapy is completed, possibly for a bit longer. After that, if he would like to visit or help raise the child is up to you to decide." Appointments were made for Krycek's pre-op exam and his surgery before they were dismissed. Scully was quiet in the elevator, simply walking with him to the parking garage. It was nice to be in the Jeep again, even after a few hours. She was more than tolerant of her companion now, steadily working towards friendship. It wasn't compartmentalizing business and pleasure, exactly. She was with him because this was business. It was more putting the past behind her and acknowledging his trying to make amends. He wasn't wooing her, or making grand, out-of-character gestures to win her affection, which she appreciated. He knew her well enough to realize that displays such as those had no place being in Dana Scully's airspace. He was giving her the chance to have her own child, it was that simple. "What kind of food do you want?" Krycek asked, steering the Jeep out onto the city streets. The sunset wove threads of gold through his hair and gave his skin a more dusky tone. Scully didn't much care. They'd eaten takeout and drive- through for most of the trip, so all she wanted was a good, sit down meal. "Italian would be nice. Someplace quiet." He found a small, casual bistro with outdoor seating, where they could watch the rest of the sun set over the tail end of the Rockies. By the time their food arrived, the sky had darkened to an indigo hue, blazing with stars. They talked about his nervousness towards the surgery and what would happen afterwards. She had agreed to assist with his physical therapy while they waited for the birth. After dinner, they walked around Phoenix, and Krycek showed her what there was to do within the city and its suburbs. Arizona State had a nice library, and there were plenty of tennis courts and pools. The mountains, along with several state and national parks, were nearby if she wanted to go hiking or take a trail ride. Phoenix was also a nice place for shopping and museums, he added grudgingly. "I'm surprised they're so liberal with what we can do." She mused on the way home. "I would think that they'd want to monitor everything we did." "Most people who live around here work there, Scully. What we're doing is buried so deeply that even if anyone believed you, they'd have a hell of a time finding proof of any sort." "I've heard that before." He glanced over at her, expecting a challenging stare. Scully sat against the passenger door, watching the sagebrush and flat desert floor slide by. She looked almost mournful, as if holding her sadness in to be released later, in private. He didn't have to guess twice about what she was thinking about; she missed Mulder. Krycek briefly considered pulling over and asking her to let it all out, then realized all he would get from that would be an icy glare and a few clipped phrases that told him he could mind his own damn business. The proverbial walls, those damned brick, mortar and steel confinements he'd been chipping away at all week would shoot right back up, about ten feet higher this time. He didn't dare pry. He wasn't Mulder, didn't have the confidence of her trust and unconditional love. They didn't spend much time together for the first couple of days. Scully spent her hours talking with the doctors who had been involved with the baby's development, finding out as much as she could about its genetic history. Krycek didn't talk about what he did, although she knew it had to do with the Project. During their chats on the drive from DC, she'd understood that he was in the process of removing himself from that picture, and that this trip had something to do with that. Something had happened that had changed his view, and drastically. On Tuesday night, three days before his surgery, Krycek convinced Scully to stay in for dinner, and together they cooked a simple meal. Their suite was comfortable, and quiet enough that it seemed worlds away from the bustling city outside. They remained at the kitchen table long after finishing their meal, talking quietly of random things. Scully studied her companion for a moment. She'd noticed for the last couple of days the way he would gaze at her, contemplative, and not jerk his eyes away when she caught him. "What have you been wondering?" She asked finally. Neither her question nor her timing surprised him. He knew she had noticed him deep in thought on several occasions, and as far as she knew, he wasn't one to stand around, just thinking. "Before he died, what were things like with you and Mulder?" Her eyebrow twitched -- a mixture of surprise and a strange sort of amusement. She had figured this inquiry would arise at some point. Krycek had thought that she would ask him to clarify what he wanted to know, or try to put off answering, so he was the one surprised when she replied quickly and, from what he could tell, honestly. "We were engaged at that point. We'd been together as lovers for about five months." Scully traced the logo on her can of Coke, absently smearing the perspiration on the aluminum. "Mulder was tired of running all the time. Not from the Syndicate or any of those men, just from coming so close to being killed so many times, from the danger of our job. We were both jaded, and we thought it was time we got out." Scully sighed, the muscles at the corner of her mouth tugging into a tiny smile. "I reasoned that if he thought we should quit, then it was definitely a good idea. He never wanted to quit anything, you know?" She wasn't asking him, just being rhetorical, but he nodded anyway. "Yeah, I remember. Especially when it came to you or the Project." "So, we'd started talking about getting married, chose a date and decided that once we were settled down, we would adopt. He loved kids, and knew how badly I wanted one. So I was looking at jobs in hospitals and he was talking to some schools about teaching. About three weeks before the wedding, we had that case." A few tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but Scully's voice and expression remained steady. No matter how many times she recounted those months before his death, it never got any easier. It had nearly broken her a couple of times, but Scully was strong enough to not sit around and lick her wounds. Things would not get better on their own. Krycek sat quietly, watching the emotions run over her face. He wasn't sure whether it was on purpose or not, but a little part of him was relieved that her cool, collected mask wasn't in place. She was showing her emotions, and he prayed that it might help her feel a little better. He gathered some of the plates and moved to the sink, intending to let her alone with her grief, but moments later she joined to help him rinse and load the dishwasher. "I'm sorry, if that was too much. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." "No, it's okay. I know it's healthy for me to be able to talk about it. It's been over a year, now. Sometimes it hurts, but not all the time." They cleaned up the kitchen in silence, turning off the lights and getting everything in order for the night. They'd found they had one thing, at least, in common: both were somewhat of a neat freak. Scully beckoned him to come to her room for a few minutes. "I want to show you something." She went through the drawer of the nightstand, and withdrew a small, square box. Krycek settled on the edge of the bed, already sensing what she wanted him to see. He saw he was right when she opened the little velvet box and handed it to him. "Is this the engagement ring?" She nodded, a faint smile gracing her lips and eyes. "It's lovely," he admitted. A modestly sized diamond, surrounded five pale blue topaz stones, set in the shape of a daisy. "Yeah. I keep it around, don't really know why." Scully shrugged, sitting on the bed about a foot away. He gave her the box, and after a hesitation, she slipped the ring onto her finger. He'd never seen her as the "flowers type", but it looked right. "It's perfect for you. Keep it." "I'm not sure I'll marry, now." Scully muttered, watching the light reflect off the stones. The first time she had said that after Mulder's death, it had been from a sense of bitterness. Irony had poisoned her mind and tongue, and it was a while before she could think of being single as her way of life, as it were. Krycek watched her study the ring, her eyes rueful and dark with the remains of grief. The ire that had been slowly burgeoning in his gut over the past two and a half years kicked up a notch at her silent anguish. He hadn't prayed in well over a decade, at least since the death of his grandfather sixteen years past, but now closed his eyes and sent up a quick supplication that what the future held would lift her spirits at least a little. Scully insisted on being allowed to watch the operation, but wasn't permitted to actually participate. She watched from a corner of the room, dressed in sterile scrubs and a mask, as the anesthesia was administered. It was only a flicker, but she saw the slight glimmer of green iris when he glanced at her, the gas taking its effect. Scully felt her stomach turn a little at his looking to her for reassurance. Within two minutes he was solidly out, and the surgeons began to cut at the scar tissue ending below his left shoulder. She watched in morbid fascination as the new limb, matched perfectly to his skin tone, somehow, was lifted from its sterile bath. God, would ER doctors love to find out about this technology, she knew. But that was the bargain. She could watch and help with Krycek's conditioning, and their child, the baby a few weeks away from birth, would be hers. It was a selfish trade, of course, but Scully was all too aware that she would not be able to handle the loss of another child. It was a good six hours after the four-hour surgery that he began to come around. He tried to speak before even opening his eyes. "Ah, hell," His voice was raspy and thin, and he swallowed, wincing. Scully let a small smile form, rising from her chair by the table. Thank god this wasn't a hospital, and he was in his own comfortable room at the compound. There were monitors, and an IV, but a real bed and a TV, and no boring white walls. "Hurts, huh?" "Fuck," he groaned. "Not as bad as..." he made a weak chopping motion with his right hand. Scully chuckled. "I bet. They've given you a hefty amount of morphine, though, so you won't be too bad." "When can I get up?" "Not for a few days. It's Tuesday, so Thursday or Friday, with a sling for a good week." He nodded, the short conversation having worn him out. She squeezed his hand and flashed a soft smile. "Get some sleep, Alex." His mind registered her use of his given name the instant before he fell asleep. Between the surgery and the baby's due date, Scully spent most of her time on the phone, ordering furniture and supplies to be shipped to her home in Georgetown. She'd spoken with her mother, even concocting a reason as to why she hadn't told her of this grandchild-to-be: she had planned it, using a surrogate mother for gestation, and hadn't said anything for fear of anything going wrong. The father, she'd told Maggie, was a friend of hers. All in all, it wasn't too far from the truth. After hearing her daughter out, Maggie had agreed to go to Dana's apartment and make sure everything had been delivered, crib, playpen, changing table, highchair, etc., before Dana and the baby came home. The baby was born three weeks after they'd arrived. The delivery occurred while they were in physical therapy, where Scully was gently massaging his forearm to help the blood circulate, per the surgeon's instructions. The intercom buzzed, and one of the doctors came on to tell them to report to the medical facility a few floors down. Their baby had arrived. The infant was already clean and wrapped in a swaddling blanket when they got there. "It's a boy. He's nineteen inches long, and weighed in at eight pounds, thirteen ounces." Scully nodded, not looking up from the bundle placed in her arms. His skin was still reddened, eyes squeezed shut. There was a small tuft of dark hair on the crown of his head -- no redhead, her son. Carefully, she lifted the bundle to glance at the nape of the baby's neck, breathing a sigh of relief when there was no green pustule. This baby was human, not a hybrid. Scully heard Krycek's breathing lose its pattern behind her, and turned to let him see. He'd been right, earlier. She had had the chance to meet Emily. She had been the lucky one; he'd known about it only after the chance was gone. Who had suffered the greater emotional loss was not something either of them was willing to argue. But, Scully saw that Alex was the one more affected by the new presence of their son. He didn't faint, just sank down into a chair, evergreen eyes flitting over the tiny form as it was placed into the curl of his good arm. He looked up at her for a moment, face a picture of total astonishment, catching Scully a little off guard. He was a handsome man, intelligent and sweet, even before all the harm he had done. In all his years, had he never expected to marry, to have a family? She supposed that even now, it might be near impossible. The small room was silent for a good twenty minutes, both new parents examining each and every square inch of the baby. Scully thought of asking for a definitive PCR run on the both of them, then discarded the idea, having seen enough of each of them in the hour-old infant to be convinced. "Malenkaya malechek..." She heard him murmur. *** A nurse gave her a sheaf of papers, results from blood tests on the baby, and she sat down in a corner, giving Alex time to acquaint himself to fatherhood. She took her own time going over the results, checking to make sure nothing was overlooked. "What do you want to name him?" Krycek's voice cut through her musings nearly an hour later. Scully looked up, and couldn't help but smile at the sight of Alex Krycek, thug for hire, holding a bottle for a tiny newborn. She hadn't realized before this trip how large he was -- taller and broader than Mulder had been, probably 6 foot 2 and nearly two hundred pounds. The baby looked even more fragile than normal tucked against his chest. "You want to give him an Irish name, to go with Scully?" She heard in that statement that this was her child, hers to raise under her own name. "What's wrong with Russian names?" She teased lightly. "No." He shook his head, "Too heavy. He needs something simple. Unaffected." Scully nodded, curious. "Is Alex Krycek your real name?" "Aleksandr, yes." He smirked. "Alex to my family and friends, Sasha to my grandfather." He had mentioned his mother's father before, Scully noted, always with a boyish glint to his eyes. She made up her mind to ask him about the man at some point, since she knew very little of his family. Right now, though, the focus was on the present and future, not the past. He looked down at the sleeping bundle. "He gets an American name, huh?" "Paul." "Michael." "David. David Michael." She smiled, watching him tilt his head in consideration, then met her eyes in agreement. When completed, the Birth Certificate read: Baby boy Birthdate: May 29th, 2000 Infant: David Michael Scully Mother: Dana Katherine Scully Father: Aleksandr Stanislav Krycek One week later Scully finally understood why she was given David as she waited for her plane. She watched Alex rock the baby in his car seat, his good arm gently swaying the seat back and forth. Being a father would be good for him, she realized, not for the first time. They had finally spoken, last night while she packed, of when he would see them when the therapy was over. Since it would take more time for him to withdraw from the Project, at least a year would pass before he would join them in DC. What would happen after that they would leave to Fate. He had promised to communicate via phone, email and good old-fashioned snail mail, a pledge Scully knew to her bones he would keep. He needed to heal, and so did she. That, she knew, was why she had been given David: to help her through the still fresh pain of losing Mulder. She could only hope that Alex's healing would be as thorough as hers. *** Malenkaya malechek = little boy in Russian