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Prologue Mullicano Reef Bermuda Rise Elizabeth Trunnan stood on the wide deck of their yacht watching a large ship in the distance. It hadn't moved much that morning, simply swaying with the slow tide. "Probably just a research vessel," her husband told her as he passed. "The water isn't as deep here as out in the basin." She thought he was probably right but lifted her binoculars to her eyes and did her best to watch them despite the rolling motion of the sea. "I don't see any flags or markings," she said. Bill Trunnan joined her at the railing and squinted in the bright sun. "Lots of fish out here. The currents are good." He was preparing to let out his fishing lines and spend the day collecting what would be dinner. He had known Elizabeth would get bored from time to time on these open-sea trips but she was good at finding something to occupy the day. And if monitoring the movements of other vessels kept her busy he didn't mind. One of his crew brought more equipment and told him lunch would be prepared soon. "Tell the cook I'll have fish for her by this afternoon," he told the crewman before he disappeared below deck. "Hey, Bill, you have to see this..." Elizabeth called. Trunnan sighed and left fish line to reel itself out on auto-feed. She handed him the binoculars and he focused on the ship. "What is that thing?" He muttered. A crane had pulled a large triangle-shaped object out of the ocean and was slowly lowering it onboard. Elizabeth shrugged. "No kind of research sub I've ever seen." They watched for a few more minutes and a crewman had returned. "Mister Trunnan, I believe you have a fish on." Bill handed the binoculars back to his wife, his voice wet with annoyance. "I have a fish on." She joined him at the end of the boat but kept her eyes on the mystery ship. In a way, she hoped it was gone by tomorrow. *** Whileaway Yacht Mullicano Reef "It's very odd," Elizabeth said into the phone and looked out the small window to the glaring yellow lights of the strange ship. She brushed gray-blond hair from her eyes and sighed. "But this afternoon they pulled something out of the water. It looked like a huge triangle the size of a bus." She listened for a moment and nodded. "But it's not marked and I don't see any flags. We're really not that close to any shipping lanes but Bill said the ocean isn't as deep here and there are lots of fish." Static had begun to cloud the line and she looked at the computer screen next to her. "Dear, our satellite is about to go around. I'll call you in the morning." She hung up the phone and watched the ship a minute more. A loud thump startled her out of her thoughts and she moved to the door of the study, looking up and down the wood-paneled hall. "Bill?" She called. "Morrie? What was that noise?" She left the study and made her way down the hall to the meeting room she wanted to turn into a lounge. It had bothered her to have such a large yacht and waste such a great room. She saw something out of place and stepped in to investigate. Once inside the door, a strong hand covered her mouth and held her immobile. Now she realized it was her husband that lie on the floor, blood staining the white carpet beneath him. Elizabeth opened her mouth behind the gloved hand and screamed, her terror widened eyes on the ever present ship outside the window. *** Part One 1: To the ends of the Earth At first, there were hoof beats and the sound of the wind high on hot New Mexico desert. It whistled through the scrub brush and howled across the red rocks, rabbits hiding in their burrows from the heat. So she ran. Dust rose in her flight, thick red clouds stinging her face and gritting in her mouth. She could hear the heavy breathing of tired horses and the cries of angry men at her heels getting closer. She stumbled, then struggled to her feet again, clawing her fingers into the slick sand under her feet. She glanced backward to gauge how far the Red Men were from catching her, the long black strands of her hair whipping against her lips as she gasped for air and cursed to herself for not running fast enough. Her legs were like concrete slabs of immovable weight, her frenzied mind put of sync with uncooperating muscles. And just as she thought they had her, the earth dropped away into nothingness. The girl stood with her toes hanging over the edge of the cliff, pulse loud in her ears. She tried to measure the distance to guess if she could jump across but it was too wide...she would never make it. But it was there. The rest of the world waited for her and someone she knew stood at the other side, a young man smiling at her in the distance. She heard herself yelling to him, but he either couldn't hear or didn't want to answer, watching her as Indians criss-crossed behind her on frantic ponies. "You have to help me!" She screamed as a new sound hit her ears; the whipping of helicopter blades. The air stirred red, her view of the other side obliterated by an unmarked black chopper, raising to eye level with her over the abyss. As it lifted above and away, a new vision of the familiar friend stood at the other side, older and darker in leather and glaring at her with mailice. His green eyes were clear over the void, almost mocking her fear. She turned away from the edge and faced the warriors as they ran at her finally, urging their horses on to point their feathered lances to strike her... Anna Kayell shot up in bed, hearing the echoes of her frightened shout ringing in the quiet of her bedroom. The effects of the dream were still with her as she tried to slow her rapid breathing, falling back onto the rumpled sheets. The clock on the bedside table flashed 5:13 a.m. as she fumbled in the darkness and lifted something to her lips, a shaky hand cranking open a lighter and holding the flame to a cigarette. She breathed in smoke and crawled out of the bed to stand in front of windows and stare down at the quiet street below, one hand twirling the black ends of her hair in unconscious habit. The bedside clock made a quiet tick and a voice hummed in the room hinting at how long she had taken to rid herself of the dream and unfamiliar fear that chased her. *...streets are still clear at this time but that will change as it gets closer to rush hour. And that's the 5:30 traffic report...for your Washington, D.C. weather, it's cold and clear but that's going to change later this afternoon when the clouds roll in just in time for the weekend...* "Great" She muttered and moved to stab at the clock, the voice cutting off mid-sentence. The streets were still clear two hours later as Kayell walked the few blocks to a Commuter train platform. She waited, her briefcase and weapon tucked neatly in the holster under her suit jacket and overcoat. Kayell looked like all the other business drones that filed onto the trains to make the ride to work, watching the sights outside the window with the casual disinterest of someone that had seen it all before. An older man, well dressed and impeccably manicured took the seat next to her and folded his long overcoat across his lap. "You will receive an assignment today." He told her quietly, the British accent to his words polite, and handed her a folded page of paper. "A situation has arisen in the Atlantic Ocean that has distinct repercussions." Kayell didn't look at him, still staring out the windows so he continued with mild warning. "You will receive orders for an excursion to another continent...you will be gathering information first hand." Kayell looked at the man finally, her expression hiding evident surprise. "I don't do that anymore." "I know." The Well-Manicured Man smiled. "That is why you're being called upon. This is not an official appointment, Agent Kayell." She sighed silently, the paper folded in her hand, and looked out the windows again to the passing streets. "This that I've given you is a first bit of information must be passed along to Agent Mulder with some secrecy...there are those who want to keep him in the dark about what is going on, but that ideal is not conducive to our plight against colonization." "Your plight," she said slowly and glanced back at the man. "This is about to become as much yours as it is mine." He told her and raised his eyebrows. "I'm not the one that is sending you to Russia-" "Russia?" She asked suddenly. "Why am I going to Russia?" "You will find out soon enough. This information..." he gestured toward the paper "and your trip are connected". The train slowed to a stop and she followed the man onto the platform with the throng of other riders, sliding the paper into the inside pocket of her suit jacket. "How?" The Well Manicured Man looked around and then fixed his mild gaze on her. "A downed rebel craft was recovered by a salvage freighter in the Bermuda Sea two days ago. The Russians reached the sight first, Agent Kayell. That is a stroke of good luck for us." "Why?" "The Russians have been leaning toward developing an alliance with the Rebel contingency. This threat has prompted a need within our group that requires your involvement to obtain information regarding the extent of their intentions. I shouldn't have to tell you what will happen if they discover how dangerously close our once enemies are to defensive action." Kayell shook her head slowly. "Why bring Mulder into it? Wouldn't his involvement escalate the situation?" "Not if he has only pieces of the puzzle. He needs to uncover these possibilities on his own...this cannot come directly from me or my place in the group would be jeopardized. As well as my life. They may already know of my involvement with him at this point. Give him the location of the recovery, but nothing more for now. He must be distracted while you are away." Kayell locked with the man with in a hard stare and he met the challenge with cool regard. "You'd better brush up on your Russian" He intoned and disappeared into the early morning crowd. *** 2: A World Away Washington D.C. The Pentagon Everyone looked important and on their way to something official. Marble halls gleamed with wood and wax, uniformed men of rank walking in strained silence beside suited dignitaries carrying briefcases full of documents not meant for the outside world. The Pentagon was a universe all its own. Anna Kayell shoved open a metal security door emblazoned with the sign DO NOT OPEN-ALARM WILL SOUND and let it slam securely behind her. There was no alarm and no bells, just the click of her footsteps in the long, narrow corridor. Her office view was cinderblock walls and diagrams of the pentagonal structure that listed the nearest escape plan with helpful YOU ARE HERE arrows. As if she could ever really leave. She arrived at one unmarked door and slid a key in the lock, then swiped an I.D. card through a reader before punching numbers on a lit keypad. Glancing down the dim hallway before entering the dark room, she pushed open the door. Within the windowless cramped space put aside for her privacy, Kayell switched on a desk lamp and lowered herself into a chair behind a crowded desk, wishing the place had better ventilation. She was glad for the isolation that her station provided away from the ordinary cubicles other FBI agents called an office. To her, it was her own private War Room. Computers that monitored satellites, network feed of CNN on the TV in the corner; she had every access at her fingertips. Her unusual situation required a secrecy as guarded as the documents and information she gathered. This was her life, as much as her work, and it was all based on being as unnoticeable as her bland office door. She stood and retrieved a book from a shelf that hung from the concrete walls, returning to the desk to boot up her computer and wait as the hum of machinery filled the room. A metal box attached to the office door clanked as something dropped inside and she swiveled in her chair to stare at it, frowning. Kayell rose after a moment and unlocked the box, pulling out a long red card with a stream of letters and numbers typed across both sides. "Let me guess..." she muttered to herself and stooped beside her desk to swing open a safe and pull out a folder, flipping through pages of cutout codes. The codes lined up with the red card and she sat at the desk, writing on a small pad of paper for a moment. When the information was deciphered she sat back and stared at it for a long minute. "Shit." Her hands flew over the computer keyboard as she accessed maps from the governments numerous geographical files. "Russia," she sighed and leaned back in her chair. After a long stretch of simply staring at the page, she reached into her suit jacket to look at the paper the Well Manicured Man had given her. Kayell picked up the desk telephone and punched at the keypad, lifting the receiver to her ear. "I need Assistant Director Walter Skinner's office, please," she said and glanced at the map on the computer screen. "Yes sir," Kayell said after a moment. "I have something you might be interested in." *** 3: The Handoff Downtown Washington D.C. The lunch hour had passed quickly enough for the waitress that stood behind the register at a Mick's Grill, but the hours between that frenzy and the relief that came before the early dinner crowd drug on with a slowness she dreaded. The tables had been cleaned twice and the change drawer recounted. If there was anything worse than a dragging afternoon, she couldn't think of it. So she was relieved to hear the door behind her swing shut. Any customer was at least something that could ease her boredom. She knew the man that walked past her from his frequent visits and he gave her a small smile, taking off his overcoat as he chose an empty table and slid into a chair. The businessmen that frequented the place all had the same quiet, seriousness that this man possessed but he also had an air of authority that she recognized from his years of being the one in control. And she thought even his baldness was sexy. "Raining yet?" She asked as she poured him a cup of coffee, seeing herself for an instant in a reflection of his gold-rim glasses. "Sun's out." He grunted and she pulled an order pad from her apron. "Same as usual?" "Am I here that much?" He asked and she smiled at him, her pen poised above the pad. "Surprise me." He said and she nodded, moving away to give the order to the cook. When she returned to her place at the register she heard the door open again and thought the afternoon might not be so bad after all. A woman entered with a small book in her hand. The waitress took a moment to watch her and used the intuition she had gained from serving countless lunches to make a quick assessment of her. The woman was tall and moved with confidence, which told her she was someone very in control; her blue suit sent the message of power and with the way her dark hair was pulled up away from her shoulders, she had a duty to perform. The waitress caught her face as she glanced toward her and the stranger was much younger than she had assumed her to be. There was a hint of paleness to her face that made her look frail against the image she posed; like someone that was eternally frightened but never let it show. She moved to sit at the table with the man and he put down his paper, not looking at all surprised at her presence. The waitress walked over and poured her a cup of coffee, taking out her pad again. "I'll just take the coffee." The woman said slowly, her voice as thin as the hint of color in her face. The waitress was curious about the amber color of her large eyes and put the pad away, wondering what odd heritage had produced such a mix. Those amber eyes steeled against the woman's gaze and even with those few words put the point across that she was not someone to be bothered, so please leave. The waitress did exactly as the woman hadn't exactly asked, but conveyed quite clearly, and left the authority man and the quiet woman to slink around the kitchen. "I apologize for interrupting your lunch like this, Assistant Director, but under the conditions I couldn't risk coming to your office." She said, her voice low. "This is unofficial, then, Agent Kayell." He stated and she nodded. "I have some information Mulder might be interested in." Her hand guided the book she had brought toward him, sliding across the slick tabletop. "Where did it come from?" Agent Kayell ignored his question and glanced over her shoulder to make sure they were still alone and unwatched. "How reliable is it?" He asked and she returned her eyes to him, her face completely free of any expression. "That is for Agent Mulder to decide." She replied and rose from her chair. "I just pass it along." He watched her leave and waited until he heard the door shut before opening the travel guidebook on the Bermuda Islands and reading the paper she had folded inside. The Coast Guard document reported the unexplained deaths of two Americans off the Bermuda coast in what was postulated as an open-sea robbery. He pocketed the paper and looked up as the waitress approached with his lunch, noticing her suspicion at finding the woman had left. "Vacation?" She asked as she set the plate in front of him, eyeing the Bermuda manual. "That travel agent says it's the best place to be right now." He muttered and waved a hand at the front doors. The waitress smiled again and left him alone, carrying her tray back to the kitchen and knowing full well that was no travel agent that had given him the book. Kayell made her way back to her sedan a few blocks away from the restaurant and noticed someone now sat in the passenger seat. She looked around to make sure no prying eyes roamed about the crowded street and swung open the door, easing behind the wheel. "You understood the message you were sent?" Her visitor asked, raising a freshly lit cigarette to his lips. Kayell shut her car door but never looked at him. "Research facilities in Western Russia." Kayell was uncomfortable talking with this man, no matter the location. He was the one that sent her instructions and assignments that pushed the limits of her ability to keep a low profile and that annoyed her. She had taken great care over the course of her career to keep all unofficial contacts as hidden as possible but this authoritative conundrum always wanted more when her instincts told her to stop. She wasn't sure how he could beguile her under the false directives of seemingly official business and she was never sure if she was attending to matters of state or something more secluded. His appointments were usually outside the normal perimeters of her duties. But she was never quite sure if he was a superior or someone above even those she reported to; he moved with an ease of a man very accustomed to using executive power for hidden agenda. "We need information from these sites." "I don't do overseas operations anymore." He exhaled slowly and smoke filled the inside of the car. "Your job has no limitations, Agent Kayell. Orders are orders." She nodded slowly, and he registered her sustain. "This is a very sensitive situation so we cannot risk recruiting outside sources. I trust you will be able to accommodate us." She nodded again. "What am I to look for?" "You'll know when you get there." He said, and she looked at him for the first time, watching as he crushed his cigarette out in the car's ashtray. "And your little meeting with Skinner?" "Tying up loose ends. Keeping Mulder away from this...I should be clear to leave as soon as the arrangements with the others are handled." "That will happen sooner than you think." He said and opened his door, disappearing into the masses on the sidewalk. Kayell cranked the engine and started to put the car into gear when her cellphone rang. After a sigh and she pulled it out of her coat pocket and stabbed at the 'call' button. "You gave Skinner the Bermuda report?" A distinguished voice asked, the lilt of his English accent familiar. "Yes." Kayell replied "Mulder should have it within the hour." "Splendid." The man toned. "It is imperative he follows through with an investigation. Meet with him if it becomes necessary. His involvement is crucial." "His knowledge of my involvement is risky. Your *colleague* enlisted me. If this man were to discover my collusion with your cause the repercussions-" "It is a risk we may have to weigh against the odds," the man interrupted. "We cannot allow my colleagues to continue with this avenue of operation. Mulder must intervene." Kayell breathed a heavy sigh. "I am being called before the group today. Your smoking friend believes the best interest for the group lies in my involvement." "He does not suspect your bringing Mulder's attention to the matter, then. You must continue this entrust. I will provide sufficient objection but he will overrule it." "And the others?" "It is his station to provide us with the means to obtain the Russian research. They will accept his choice." The man ended the call and Kayell pocketed the cel, taking a deep breath. She was accustomed to divided loyalties but she had a growing fear this was something not only dangerous for her, but countless others. The Englishman's deception was something that alerted her to a quickly escalating derision and for once, the decisions were not her own. She was powerless to object or remove herself from the situation despite her reservations. She put the car in gear and idled away from the sidewalk, feeling as if a greater force than simple gravity was pulling her along; it was something more like fate. *** 4: Those who rule... 57th Street New York, New York 2:47pm A heavy-set man in a very expensive Italian suit stood before a giant set of high-rise windows, his back to the lush setting of a grand library. He listened to the voices of the others in the room as they spoke in hushed tones and only turned when one addressed him from beside a mahogany meeting table. "This situation requires immediate attention." The voice said and the large man took a seat at the table, his eyes searching the others' faces. "The rumors of Russian collaboration against the Colonization plan have proven true. We must ascertain their involvement." "That will be done." Another man said blowing cigarette smoke across the wide table. "Measures are being taken to assess the extent of the Rebellion threat. However, the Soviet's collusion is well guarded. This will take time." "We don't have time." A voice said, thick with Germanic accent. "It is imperative we gain access to what the Russians are developing. This has to be done expediently. The timetable is in jeopardy." The man smoking a cigarette rose from his chair and looked down at the men sitting around the table. "This will be accomplished as soon as my source can finalize travel arrangements. We have an operative already in place to cover the actions in Russia." The heavy-set gentleman leaned forward on his elbows. "I assume your source can be trusted? This mission must be foolproof. If the opposition discovers our knowledge of their research we could have a war on our hands." The smoking man moved across the room, signaling to a guard who opened the door and turned back to the group. "This agent has executed our wishes flawlessly. I see no reason to call in any outside help." Agent Kayell entered and stood a few feet away from the table, silent. "I assume you all know the benefits of enlisting Agent Kayell to this appointment." The smoking man toned. Kayell looked at each man around the table in turn, her eyes remaining on one man in particular that up until now had remained silent. "Yes." The Englishman replied. "We are well aware of Agent Kayell's involvement. Her skills will be quite an advantage. However, her past involvement with the X-Files may place her in a suspicious situation. If Agent Mulder is alerted to our involvement in this matter, this could turn quite dangerous." The smoking man moved to the table and ground out the spent cigarette in a ashtray. "Her past experience with Agent Mulder and the X-Files makes her an appropriate candidate. She is well aware of his nature and manners. Her perspective is an asset. She understands the importance of Mulder's inattention." Kayell nodded but still said nothing, understanding her attendance was merely for show. These men had to know just who was taking on the challenge of such a mission. The smoking man turned away from the table and motioned for Kayell to exit and she did, the guard holding the door open for her again as she left. "Your choice is unorthodox." The Englishman declared and pushed a delicate cup and saucer toward the middle of the table. "But well planned. I do not doubt her abilities, but I am cautious regarding her proximity with Mulder. If she has leaked information to him before what's to stop her this time?" He glanced around to the others, a silent sign of speaking for the group "It seems this type of order is in contradiction with her responsibilities. Can we expect her to carry out the mission with due action and allegiance? Your choices of operatives has been suspect in the past." All around the table knew of the failed alliances this man had endured. But despite these obstacles he held a confidant countenance and nodded, lighting another cigarette. He took in a lungful of smoke and exhaled before answering. "Agent Kayell is well trained in the business of espionage. She possesses all the skills required for this endeavor." He paused for a moment before continuing. "I wouldn't have recommended her if I didn't have faith in her ability...and her allegiance." He blew a long cloud of smoke, smiling grimly. *** 5: Blue shadows Hoover Building Special Agent Fox Mulder was on the telephone when his partner entered what was now their temporary office. Agent Dana Scully looked around for a moment and sighed. She knew it wouldn't be that much longer before their basement office was finished, but she hated the fact that they had to relocate at all. The fire that had destroyed their usual office had done a good job of eliminating all the research and information they had gathered over the last five years. Some of what they had could probably be replaced with copies Assistant Director Skinner could provide, but most was a loss. "Has that new office smell," Mulder said and she realized he had hung up the phone. "Definitely," she toned and moved away from the door. "But we won't have to worry about that for the next few days, Scully because I think I have a case that will lift your spirits." He rose from his desk and handed her a glossy photograph of a large multi-story yacht and two retirement-age people standing on the dock next to it. The boat loomed over them and cast a long shadow across the water. "Big boat," she muttered. "Yes. She's called the Whileaway. Those were her owners, Bill and Elizabeth Trunnan. He sold one of his seafood restaurants to buy that boat." "Were her owners?" Scully asked and handed him back the photo. "Were until last week," Mulder replied. "Bill Trunnan liked to deep sea fish and they'd take long cruises every few months. They left three weeks ago from Miami headed for the open sea. Elizabeth called her daughter Judy every morning like clockwork from the onboard satellite phone." He moved from behind his desk and caught her ice-blue gaze. "The last time Judy talked to her mother was last Friday, at 9pm the boats' time. She admitted that her mother didn't usually call at night but that did happen occasionally. That next morning, her mother didn't make her usual call and she began to get worried." "Satellite phones can be unreliable. I wouldn't think one missed call would be that unordinary," Scully said. "Probably not..." Mulder continued "if it weren't for the fact that the Whileaway was found drifting miles off course Sunday. Bill, Elizabeth, and three crewmembers were found dead below deck." Scully took a deep breath, crossing her arms across her chest. "Officials say it was probably a robbery by modern day pirates. The usual types of valuables were missing." Scully had paced back to Mulder's desk to look at the picture again. Both of the Trunnans were smiling, Bill's arms around his wife. "So what about this makes it an X-File?" She asked quietly. "And which part will lift my spirits?" "Oh, no. Not that part," Mulder said. "But this is what caught my attention; I just spoke with Judy Trunnan. She told me her mother called her that last night to talk about a strange ship that seemed to be doing some kind of research nearby. Mrs. Trunnan had watched them pull a triangle shaped object the size of a bus out of the water, Scully. And that the ship had no markings and flew no flags." "So you automatically think it was a UFO, right?" Mulder raised an eyebrow at her sudden frown. "Well, it wasn't Jaques Cousteau. I don't know what it was, but I can't find any records of any ships doing research in the whole Bermuda Sea this month. Something was out there, and I think we need to find out what it was." Scully noticed a voucher form on his desk and picked it up. "Bermuda?" She asked. Mulder smiled and nodded. "That's where the Whileaway is docked right now. We leave tomorrow at noon." She watched him cross the room and open the frosted-glass door their new office. "I have to go find me a pair of beach shoes to go with my swim trunks." He said and wiggled his eyebrows. "Bermuda." She muttered to herself and laid the paper down on the desk next to the picture of the smiling couple. *** 6: Nowhere fast Downtown New York, New York The nondescript black limousine crawled through the city and stopped for only a moment to pick up a passenger that waited quietly on a street corner. Once the door was closed the driver pulled away from the curb and continued with a seemingly aimless route, making countless turns and watching his mirrors for anyone that followed. The new passenger cleared his throat in the darkness not sure if he should ask why he had been called to talk about new business. He had thought his usefulness was ebbing since his last assignment and he had been glad for the excuse to move on to better opportunities and more lucrative ventures. "I have a situation that needs your attention," The Well Manicured Man toned. He handed the passenger a brown legal envelope and waited as he read the contents and looked through the provided photographs. "The consortium has determined the need to investigate the possibility of Russian involvement against the plan for colonization. An agent will be sent to gather information from facilities within the week and report the findings." The passenger looked through the packet once more and slid the papers back into the envelope. "Do they suspect our involving Mulder in the incident at Wiekamp?" "It is possible," the other man replied. "I believe that is what has prompted this sudden interest in the Russian faction. They may be making hasty deductions." "And what is my participation this time?" The Englishman smoothed his tie and took a moment to think in the seriousness of the situation. His station was at odds with the Consortium out of a concern for not only his own life, but the lives of countless others. The great scheme that had been formed decades ago had eroded into a struggle for power and control that he felt were unnecessary; the unit no longer held a common goal. And with this evolution came self-protective recourse he dreaded. "Enlist this agent to our endeavor. If that cannot be done, make sure the information that is recovered is not detrimental to the Rebel cause." "I could steal what is found...we could prevent them ever seeing it." The passenger offered and the Englishman's furrowed brow told him otherwise. "No," he said and shook his head. "They must be appeased. Your efforts will be to make sure they get only enough to convince them of the smallest pieces of the puzzle. If they suspect our involvement the effects could be disastrous. For everyone." The passenger nodded and glanced out the darkened window for a moment. "Then perhaps I'm too much of a risk. Why me? Surely there are less conspicuous operatives that could do this." The Englishman looked at the passenger of the darkness of the car's interior. "Because there is no one else that would have your ability in this appointment. This notoriety is what makes you the only candidate." "What do you mean?" The passenger asked, almost offended. "If I sent a stranger to take this position the consortium's agent would be too suspicious. She might accept your presence over an outsider's." "She?" The passenger asked. "The agent's a she? Who would know me?" The Englishman handed the stranger a small picture. "Agent Anna Kayell." The passenger's mouth opened to say something, then closed when he had thought better of it. "I understand you know her." The Englishman murmured. "And she knows you." The passenger pocketed the photo and sank a little in the leather seat, trying to find his composure. "This won't work." He muttered, shaking his head. "She won't trust me...she'll be even more suspicious of me than a stranger." "Then you have your work cut out for you." The Englishman toned, signaling for the driver to stop with a quick rap on the dividing glass. "Perhaps you should have thought about this sort of eventuality before you traded against her." The passenger waited for the car to pull alongside the sidewalk before reaching to open the door. "She will probably just as soon kill me." The Englishman smiled, his polite nature a contradiction to his words. "If you do not obey this order, Alex, *we* will kill you." Alex Krycek glanced back into the limo before stepping out onto the wet city street, his glower deepening. He knew he couldn't refuse the assignment and watched as the limousine pulled away and disappeared into the traffic, already wondering just how he was going to pull this one off. *** 7: Unannounced Whispers Trace Apartment Building Anna Kayell's day had been hours longer than she had expected and she was glad to be home. Her key turned loudly in the locks and the usual dark silence greeted her, the only light coming from streetlights shining through drawn blinds. Clearing her desk for her new assignment had been a bigger task than she had expected and the quiet was welcome. She stepped out of her shoes and dropped her coat and suit jacket on the couch, her FBI identification tag falling loose. As she bent down to fetch it something caught her eye; the slight gleam of something that shouldn't be there causing her breath to catch, but she didn't let her movements belie her alarm. Her hand reached into her shoulder harness as if to remove her weapon but she instead unplaced her gun and cocked it in one swift motion, pointing it into the darkness. "Getting slow, Anna." The shadow growled and rose from the nearby armchair. She instantly recognized the intruder's voice but didn't lower her gun, gripping it tighter. "Why are you here?" She hissed and the visitor's face moved into view for a moment as he moved past her in the dim light. "You know I don't like unannounced guests." "And I'm supposed to warn you?" He asked as she kept him in aim. "You would just avoid me." His darkened eyes were on her gun and then glaring at her. "You're right," she answered and took a quick glance around the room to see if they were alone. "You shouldn't be here Krycek...I don't make trades face-to-face, you know that." He turned away and moved to the windows facing the street, the leather of his jacket creaking as he glanced back to see if she still held the gun at him. "I wasn't followed." "That's the least of my worries." She said and lowered the gun, holding it loosely at her side. Kayell took in the sight of him and noticed his ragged appearance; he looked tired and frayed in the bleary light from outside, distracted by the traffic below. "I don't have anything for you." She stated. He nodded, his head hanging a bit and she thought she heard him sigh. "We do trades by dead drop, Alex. I shouldn't have to remind you why..." "I'm not here for information." He said and waved a hand at her, his back still turned. She watched him for a moment, her alarm holding her immobile. She knew very well the danger he posed; if not from him personally, then from whoever he had duped last. Krycek was someone that rarely did anything for more reason than what interested his own well being. "Then what are you here for?" She asked but he still said nothing, looking out to the cars that passed on the street. Kayell rolled her eyes and retrieved her coat and shoes to leave him at the window. He turned his head slightly to monitor her movements and heard the rustle of clothing from the bedroom as she changed from her suit. But he didn't let down his guard; with Kayell his ground was slippery at best. His self-trust was injured after counting on too many allies that seemed all-too truthful and he wasn't sure who to rely on anymore...if anyone. Kayell returned and met his gaze as she neared, pulling her dark hair loose from the clips that held her to the no-nonsense business of looking as FBI as possible. "Tell me why you're here." She said, her words coming from a well of anger at his resurfacing and knowledge that he could very well be here to throw her game...or worse. His answer was simple. "I knew you'd take me in." "Don't be so sure." She laughed. He watched as she shook her hands through her hair and picked up a pack of cigarettes from a nearby table. Her eyes were on him as she clinked open her lighter and lit a cigarette. "What, Krycek, no one left to trade against?" She said finally and blew a cloud of smoke at him. "You screwed the Russians, with whom you had a perfectly fine rapport. Then there's the whole Syndicate situation...and now that Covarrubias made you look like an amateur, you turn to Mulder?" They stared at each other for a moment, weighing each other. "Mojna davyeryati?" He asked quietly. Seriously. "Can you trust me? We both know that's a question you should never ask," she snorted. "It's a question you should never *have* to ask." He turned on his heel and started for the door but she caught him before he reached it, dropping the cigarette in an ashtray. Kayell grabbed his odd arm to stop his momentum and he tore it free. "I wasn't here," he growled and reached for the doorknob. She made sure the locks were latched and he pushed her free a bit too harshly. "All that you know," she spat, "and with everything *I* know you're here?" He turned on her, pulling a gun from under his jacket and nudging it into her gut. Kayell backed against the wall and he moved with her, his face inches from hers. "In over your head, Anna, is a very bad place for you to be." "And who knows that better than you, huh, Krycek? What mess have you stumbled into this time? I guess revealing yourself to Mulder wasn't a good idea after all. That's why you're here, isn't it? The Syndicate busted your plan to aid the Rebels?" She couldn't see his face in the darkness but could tell more from a sense of him than obvious expression that she had hit the nail on the head. "Tell me it wasn't you." "It wasn't me." She breathed. "It wasn't me." "I'm not convinced yet." He grated through bared teeth and she saw them glint white in the shadows. It scared her more than the gun at her stomach, knowing it wouldn't take much for him to pull the trigger. "I know you were working with the Englishman, the Well Manicured Man. You gave him the Russian vaccine...the one that works better than the American variant. He came to me too, before you went to Mulder with the Captive's location. He told me the group was at odds over the situation and the actions they were taking were based on selfish fears for losing control. The Syndicate's loyalties are divided, aren't they? They're all scrambling for cover. Desperate men make hasty decisions, Krycek. Now your clarity is a threat to them. *I'm* just one small link...they came to me for nothing about this." "You were out of this?" he asked, more a statement than a question. "I told them nothing of what the Englishman told me about the Rebel cause...there are powers that want to side with the Colonists and support the plan for colonization, despite those who feel the need for resistance. What good would it do me to expose the cause? I'm not getting caught in the middle." He studied her in the dark for a moment, trying to read her. "Tell me it wasn't you." He said again, almost pleading. She squeezed her eyes shut and put her hand over his, trying to pull the gun away from her gut. "Krycek, sometimes you have to know which is the losing side." She saw how her words affected him and he dropped the gun away, taking a step back. Kayell took in a shaky breath. "I never tell them everything I know." He tucked the gun away and smoothed the hair on the back of his head, Kayell remembering it was a compulsive habit he performed when he was agitated. Apparently hers wasn't the answer he had expected. "What do you know?" She asked and he shook his head. "I thought you could tell me something." He muttered. "Isn't that your station? Intelligence?" "What do you know, Krycek?" She insisted. "What's got you so riled that you would risk coming here? Why would you think I know anything?" "Because it's your job to know". She walked toward the windows, gathering herself physically and hoping he might follow her into the light. She was nervous having him here at all, and without being able to see his eyes to tell whether his intentions were real made her all the more uneasy. "I had guessed recent events might escalate my involvement with the Syndicate," she said, trying to see him in the shadows. "But I have to admit...you were a situation I didn't foresee." He edged closer to the windows but remained silent. "Why do you think I'd tell you anything, even is I did have information? What do I get out of it?" She questioned. "For all I know, you're here to take care of some kind of order." "Maybe I am." He replied and emerged from the darkness to stare at her. She heard a change in his tone and it frightened her. "What is it, Krycek? Why are you here? This whole secrecy thing is getting old and I don't have the patience." He stepped closer and took a long moment to let the seriousness settle. "You're about to leave for Russia, on assignment through guarded channels." He rasped, voice low. "We both know this has something to do with Alien technology they're developing." Kayell barely nodded, setting it loose as her only admission. "You're being sent to retrieve more information about the vaccine." he stated and this time she had no response. "But that's not all they're working toward..." She raised her eyebrows, silently asking the obvious question. "Weapon technology." He said quietly. "This could be offensive action." Kayell laughed. "That's just rumor and imagination. Are you actually believing what you find on the Internet, Krycek?" She replied. "I never took you for the gullible type." "I'm serious, Kayell!" He exclaimed, more insistent. "Alien technology to be used against the Colonists. Not only do they have a viable defense against the Black Oil Virus, but a weapon. The Cold War is about to return and the Aliens are behind it all...America against Russia...Colonists against the Rebellion." "Good- " she smiled. "I won't be out of a job." "Listen!" He urged and the intensity returned to his wide eyes, but more from excitement and opportunity than anger. "This is a very volatile time, Anna. Forces exist that want to side with the Rebellion, but they need more to go on than rumor and whim! They need an affirmation there is more out there than vaccines. They need proof-" "So go." Kayell interrupted. "I guess you should have planned further ahead before you shafted Mother Russia." He touched her arm, still trying to connect with her on some level. But his grip startled her and she backed away. "Why come to me with this? What is it you want?" She asked suddenly and he sensed her sudden fear. "Take me with you." He said quietly, searching her face for some sign she might help him. "We could work together and use-" "You're pathetic!" She spat. "And delusional, too, if you think I'm ever going to cut you in on anything this critical. I can't risk a job like this...and besides, with you along I can't use normal safe operations. It'd be totally solo." "I'll take care of the details." He offered. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, that would be wonderful. First class, I'm sure." She patted his left shoulder and he scowled at her insult. "Not only do I not trust you, Krycek, but I'm smart enough to see a bad situation when I see one. We don't work well together." "We work great together." He answered quickly. "Or we used to..." "Exactly. That was a long time ago and I like it better when we stay away from each other. It's harder for you to screw me." He raised one eyebrow and she shook her head. "You know what I mean." She growled. "I've learned my lesson." He took in a deep breath and sighed, realizing his pleas were falling on deaf ears. But no matter how desperately pitiful Krycek had a tendency to be, Kayell knew there was some truth to his beliefs. He was occasionally inspired to sincerity but she knew his intentions suited only himself. And despite the fact his occasional ineptness usually reduced her to laughter, he had his strong points; and refusing to take no for an answer was one of them. "How long has it been since you've slept?" She asked finally. "You look horrible." He returned a lopsided shrug, trying to decide if he should take offense to her dig. "A while" Kayell waved a hand in the direction of her bedroom and he glanced over his shoulder. "Go ahead," she muttered and he nodded, not even trying to hide his surprise at her courtesy. The simple proof in her acceptance of his presence made him think she was beyond whatever had happened in the past; and that she just might consider his proposal if he stayed long enough to sway her. The safety and comfort of her apartment was luxury his chaotic existence never afforded him and he wasn't in the position to refuse. "Thanks." He said, not sure why she was allowing it. Kayell nodded and watched him exit knowing she had to think all this through. She wasn't sure herself why she was letting him stay, taking into account the knowledge he could be here for more dangerous reasons. It was quite possible with what she knew he was capable of. But those scattered pieces of her that didn't hate him had come together long enough to overpower her suspicion and anger. And she even admitted it was good to have him here, for whatever reason. Kayell decided she would have to go out for a while, her need for clearer thinking more of a priority than staying to protect herself from him. She never considered her apartment totally secure and her sanctity had been violated before; it came with the territory. There had been a time Krycek was welcome here, whether the entry was legal or not. There were too many times he had simply let himself in when he felt like staying. But that, she reminded herself, was in the past. As she left the apartment she considered everything Krycek had said and the assignment she was about to undertake. It felt like a return to the old days of hidden intentions and secret partners and it couldn't have been a coincidence that he had surfaced now. His involvement definitely made it more difficult, and she had already pulled the X-Files into it under the Englishman's request, so she knew she would just have to adjust the plan accordingly. In the safe confines of the apartment elevator she pulled out her cellphone and dialed, realizing this was the eventuality she had always dreaded; the past was about to collide with the future. *** 8: Treats 12:24 pm Mulder was trying to decide which Hawaiian shirt to take along when his telephone rang. He brought both with him, preoccupied by the decision and picked up the receiver. "Whaddya think, Scully? Does red go better with orange or yellow?" There was a pause at the other end and Mulder put down the shirts. "Yellow," an unfamiliar female voice said and Mulder winced. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said. "I thought you were someone else." "Most people do" the voice answered. "Agent Mulder, the Trunnans saw something they weren't supposed to." "I assumed as much," he said and checked the caller ID. There was no number and no name, just the word PRIVATE. "Who is this?" He asked. "You'll want to know where they were when they were killed." "Meet with me." "Go for a drink." "Where?" He asked, but other end of the line was silent, then dead. He hung up the phone and looked down at the shirts. She was right. An hour later he sat at the only bar he thought was worthy at this hour, especially handy since it was close-by. The bartender slid him a beer and Mulder glanced at his watch then turned his attention to the Lakers game on the TV. At least he wouldn't be missing that with this strange turn of events. A woman entered the bar looking a bit out of place. She walked past him, her eyes meeting his for a moment as she passed. He thought she looked like an attractive woman that was trying very hard to look ordinary and his profiling mind went to work. Her dark hair was cut to her shoulders in a way that did nothing to draw attention; as if that was the last thing she wanted. He wondered if his regard was typical male interest or simple analytical instinct to wonder why a single girl would wander in after midnight. She went to the jukebox and fed it some change, her eyes meeting his again as she searched the selections. She punched a few numbers into the machine and kept her eyes on him as she returned to the bar, very near him. "Did you choose the yellow?" She asked. He tried to hide his surprise. "How did you know I was coming here?" She took a stool next to him and the bartender asked if she wanted a drink. "Vodka, neat." She said and waited as he moved away."I followed you." The bartender made her drink and slid it in front of her, returning to washing mugs and keeping an eye on the game. "You're going to Bermuda to investigate the murder of those on the Whileaway." Mulder nodded. The woman was tall with dark hair and an easy smile. She seemed to have a restrained quality he couldn't quite pin down, like she tried very hard to contain herself. "Who are you?" He asked, leaning closer and lowering his voice. She studied him for a moment and he thought she might be someone quite accustomed to these late-night meetings. "An interested party." She said, and reached inside her jacket. He recognized the object she had retrieved as a badge wallet. She flipped it open in her lap and let him see her FBI card as well as her badge. He thought it was peculiar that he didn't know this Special Agent Anna Kayell. She seemed younger and he guessed perhaps she worked out of a different office, somewhere in the field. "You could have come to my office." He said as she put the badge away. "No. I try to stay out of those buildings." She said, sipping her drink. "I don't have an office there." He knew what that meant. "You work outside then." "Agent Mulder", she began, ignoring his question " you will want to know where the Whileaway was when she was last seen." "Why?" He asked quietly. She was no longer looking at him, watching all those around them, including the bartender. "You know about the incident at Wiekamp Air Force Base not long ago. The crash." Mulder nodded. "A resistance craft." "You then know the importance of the incident." He took in a long breath before replying. "I doubt the source of that information." She looked at him now, and with nothing more than the tone of her voice to let him know she was quite serious. "Do not doubt that the situation is severe, whatever the source. The ship Elizabeth Trunnan saw was a recovery ship. Not only was she in the wrong place at the wrong time, but so was a Rebel craft." He leaned in closer again. "There was another crash?" "It was retrieved quickly by a salvage ship." Agent Kayell downed the remainder of her drink and tossed a few bills on the counter. "My treat". She gave him one last look and left the bar. Mulder thought for a second and then rose from his stool. He was sure he could catch her but as he stepped into the street, she was gone. *** 9: Delusions of Sincerity The night was crisp and cool with a star-filled black sky and Kayell took her long walk to home to clear her head. Over the last few years her job within the FBI had run a full range of duties that had never allowed her much contact with other agents on an extended basis. Officially she was just and Information Agent, one that gathered bits of knowledge the restraints of usual bureaucracy didn't allow. Nobody knew just who she was or what she did, operating under a hazy set of rules the higher-ups explained as a 'necessity for national security.' But she knew she was nothing more than a professional thief. This same leniency provided for her allowed her to pass her findings on to just about anyone and she did, as long as the price was right; no questions asked, no investigations made as long as she kept it to herself. Her dealing with the likes of foreign entities was something she did on her own, for the thrill of using what they gave her. But the secretive group of men that called on her for special duties had a separate agenda that went far and beyond just classified documents and second-hand information. They had added a darker, murderous deceit to her list of accomplishments. So when she returned to her darkened apartment she half-expected more than just Krycek but to her relief all was quiet. She watched Krycek sleeping and couldn't deny how tired she felt but with him here she found sleep was impossible. They had allowed little contact over time and any acknowledgment between them was more understanding than correspondence. She performed her duties to whomever she reported and knew how she fit into the machine. Usually. Agents in her position could easily end up dead, whether a result of too much knowledge or just plain vengeance and Krycek always had both. Kayell took certain risks in her own life, and she had assumed responsibilities normal everyday people couldn't comprehend. She wasn't beyond using situations to her favor and contaminated much of her duties in order to operate unilaterally, but had never chosen to achieve the level of deceit he had obtained. They had chosen different methods though they followed the same rules. "The only true allegiance is with yourself," he had told her more than once. So what had started years ago as a kind of dangerous game had manifested all too well in them both; she was comfortable with information and knowledge, and the devices figures that held office in higher places used to manipulate with. But the more she thought about his deceptive ministrations the less the believed in his reasons for being here. She sorted all her suspicions and selected those that seemed plausible first.... He could need nothing more than a confirmation of what was to be gained by stealing the Rebel technology, even a location, and then he could kill her to prevent her getting there first. Or perhaps the whole story was a ruse and he was sent to find out where she stood. She imagined whoever had sent the orders knew she could sell whatever she found as easily as any other classified information she had pilfered. Whatever the case, she wasn't sure why he was here and she knew it was quite possibly to clean up a loose end. With all that she knew and could do, she might no longer exist as a necessity. And it was Krycek that usually took care of such problems, no matter if there were personal ties involved. Survival was cruel and there could be no room for clouded judgment. And now, in the breathless quiet of an otherwise ordinary night, her every nerve was at attention. From her corner armchair she watched him sleeping, trying to will the thoughts from his brain. He hadn't bothered to unbutton his jacket and laid more *on* the bed than in. Evidently relaxation wasn't very high on his list of priority. But even asleep, he seemed less dangerous - almost angelic in the soft light from the windows, chest rising and falling with a gentle rhythm. She tried not to think about the past and all the times she had watched him asleep in her bed, warm and naked against her. Outside a garbage truck squealed to a stop and then rattled on in the early morning calm, shaking her from her thoughts. Krycek jerked awake, alert and a bit disoriented, too accustomed to living under contrast. He noticed her in the corner chair and relaxed just a fraction, leaning back against the pillows. "You don't have to guard me." "I'm not," she replied. Their voices seemed loud after hours of hush. He rose from the bed and inspected the street below. "You don't want me here..." he murmured, his back turned. Kayell pulled herself out of the chair and moved to face him. "Why are you here, Krycek? Tell me what this is." He clenched his jaw and sighed, lowering his eyes to the floor at his feet. And when he spoke, his voice was low. "The game has changed. Evolved." Even in the moonlight he looked affected by something, and she thought it might be fear. Kayell knew it had to be serious, to bring him here and risk the discovery of collusion. "We have to operate separately if we want to operate effectively." He glared at her. "Spare me the rhetoric, Kayell." "What is this, Krycek?" she demanded. "What has changed that you've come for my help? Or maybe that isn't it. There's another reason." He turned away from the windows and faced her, standing much too close. "What, Anna?" he breathed, "you know what I know. It's your job to know what's going on. We're looking at a force larger than any world power. It goes way beyond that." He could sense her tense suddenly, as if preparing for an attack... and he could see the flash of fear in her eyes. "Are you afraid of me?" he whispered and she couldn't tell if it was disbelief or menace in his tone. "Am I a threat to you?" "You're not the danger I'm afraid of," she replied. "Like you said yourself, it's evolution. We all have to decide which part we play. And you don't have many personal references right now." "Don't worry about it," he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. "I have everything under control." Kayell snorted and fought a smirk. That she doubted. And whatever alliance he thought they had could be easily voided. "We have a common goal," he continued, more to reassure himself than her. "And I know you need help." "I've told you everything I know. I can't give you information I don't have yet, if that's why you're here," she said, staring past him to the windows. "My methods have protocol. I can't beat things out of people." He studied her for a moment in the darkness, recognizing the walls she had built between them over time. But obviously she had been thinking while he slept and those considerations only made it harder for him to influence her in his favor. Overcoming her apprehension and skepticism would take a softer touch; something had held her to the idea of a new alliance or the conversation would have ended much sooner. He inched closer, hoping some small connection remained despite her doubts. Kayell was unnerved by his closeness...it brought up an easiness she hadn't expected; the intimacy a gravity that pulled her in a direction she wasn't prepared to deal with yet. She had learned to separate herself from those feelings; it was the only way to survive. But with him so close she could feel that warmth and his breath on her cheek and it was hard to bring back the anger. "Take me to Russia with you," he murmured, his tone hinting to a more personal invitation. "We can do this together." But his plea had a more devious effect on her. She was more afraid of his dangerous nature than whatever secrets awaited her on the mission. She had witnessed his technique too many times to think a refusal would be met with quiet resistance...he was quite capable of eliminating any opposition. Even so, it was this buried emotion she assumed had brought him here, despite their distance. And it was that distance she knew gave him too many reasons to kill her. She expected that any second she would feel cold metal against her skin and it would all be over, the whole situation reducing to one simple fact; their paths had crossed one too many times. He was close enough to feel a shiver that passed through her and realized her anxiety was not of the mission, but because of his proximity. Her nervousness excited him and the thrill of a dangerous pursuit in conquering her suspicions something he'd missed. She felt his lips brush her face and for a moment the temptation of a kiss overwhelmed her. But she moved away, retreating in the knowledge what a kiss would mean. He looked at her in the dim light and could see the touch had flushed her pale face but there was still a haunted emptiness in her eyes. Krycek neared again, closing the distance to mere inches and she allowed it with a restraint that took added effort. "I'm here to help you," he whispered, feeling the walls she had forced between them beginning to crumble. "I can handle myself fine," she replied, though her eyes said the opposite. "I've done quite well without your help." His lips touched hers, almost hesitantly, and seemed to ask a silent question that she finally answered with a return that surprised him. She opened to him, drinking him in, trying to remember what it was once like. But as she felt his arm tighten around her, the embrace exposed a vulnerability that felt threatening as much as it was exhilarating. A terror rose in her, the acceptance of the submission evoking a fear of the hold he still had on her. Her arms circled his waist, drawing him against her and he took the hint, pressing his body to her. Anna slowly eased his gun from its place in his waistband and broke away from the kiss. "This doesn't work anymore, Alex," Kayell growled, the muzzle of the weapon pressed under his jaw. "I'm smarter now." "Do it," he snarled, "pull the trigger." She pulled the hammer back with her thumb locking it firmly in place. "Get out of here before I change my mind." He seemed stimulated by the challenge at first, unable to break himself free from her smallest hint of passion... but saw the anger in her eyes and backed away. His gaze flickered between lust and challenge, a dangerous expression of predatory humor on his face. "Think about this, Anna," he said and she followed him to the front door, nudging him every few steps with the muzzle of his gun. "Between the two of us, we could change things." He opened the door and she gave him the gun, her manner defensive against the way he had made her feel again. He tucked it away, recognizing her anger as mere fear in what the kiss had done. "Think about it," he smiled. Kayell slammed the door in his face and locked the latch. She waited for him to leave the hallway and turned to press her back to the heavy wood, her mind reeling. It had taken special effort to tear herself away and toss him out, but she knew she had to do it. She slid to the floor and sat that way for a long time, trying to put it all in perspective. The past had definitely collided with the future. *** 10: No Return Downtown Washington, D.C. Kayell stood in the cold rain without an umbrella. Her coat did little to keep out the wind but she didn't really notice since her mind was wrapping itself around the problems that lie before her. "Meeting someone?" A voice asked, and it shook her out of her thoughts and back to the crowded sidewalk. For a moment she was one of these miserable in the masses that walked to wherever their mundane lives took them. She turned and steeled herself, knowing a decision had to be made. "We have to do it together if this is going to work," Krycek said and pulled her along the flow of pedestrians. "This is a really bad idea," Kayell told him in lowered voice. "We aren't supposed to admit we know each other, much less plan a Russian invasion." He pulled his jacket collar up against the rain and hooked his arm through hers, guiding her through the crowd. "We both want information that has a direct effect on our job security and you can't do this alone. You need me." She ignored her personal reaction to his words and tried to discount the fact that in some bizarre way he was right. "Then there's just one problem," she said, and they ducked into a deserted coffee shop to escape the rain. The wonderful smell distracted her for a second, and Krycek waited for her response. "I don't trust you," she finally finished. Kayell left him to place her order at the counter and he waited at a faraway table, trying to come up with *something* to use in his favor. "Don't think I've forgotten what you can be like," she said when she returned with two containers. "Good things get no credit?" He smiled, and she rolled her eyes, taking the opposite seat of the plastic-covered bistro table and sliding his cup toward him. "None," she replied, shaking a sugar packet and popping the lid off her cup. "The good things are what I was referring to. They don't matter." She was trying hard not to look at him; keeping her emotions as detached as possible. "I can't let anything get in the way of this assignment, including personal opinion," she continued. "No matter how sincere you seem now I know what you're capable of." He sighed and sipped his coffee, watching as she lit a cigarette. There was an angle here somewhere, he just had to recognize it. "The good soldier," he said, measuring her with his eyes. "Separating personal views from professional duties. That's commendable, Kayell, but I know what you're capable of, too. I'm sure Mulder and Skinner and even those who think you're on their side would be surprised to know who *really* jerks your chain." His voice was solid, bordering on malicious. "And then your word would mean as much as mine. You aren't as honest as everyone thinks, or you would have shot me on sight. I know you better than anyone." Kayell laughed, a bitter, broken sound. "Now *there's* the Krycek I know. Patron saint of the propitious and faithless. I hate you, Alexei...ot'ebis khulio pakastnik." Her Russian curses surprised him and he smirked, eyes narrowing. "So then," he replied sarcastically, "tell me how you really feel." She blew a cloud of smoke across the table at him. "I'd really like to pump a 15 round clip into your skull, but the line is so long I wouldn't bother. If there wasn't a glimmer of sincerity in your offer I wouldn't be here right now; I'd be on a plane to St. Peter to get myself killed." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. Kayell stared down at her cup, trying hard to find the sensibility that had helped her when her will was melting. She knew if this assignment wasn't so dire, it would be easier to consider him a threat. It was the lesser of two evils; to make the trip alone and risk failure, or to make the trip with Krycek and risk relying on him. "I don't trust you..." she repeated quietly, "not because what you've done to everyone else, but what you've done to *me*. I trusted you despite what you could do and I hated myself for a long time for letting you get to me like that." She looked up, meeting his gaze. "I thought we had something beyond the secrets. But I was wrong. And being wrong in this line of work gets you dead." He knew she had never expected to be one of his casualties but it hadn't been his intent to hurt her. With everyone he couldn't count on, Kayell was someone he'd hated to cross. "I'm sorry, Anna," he said softly. Though he sounded like he meant it, it only angered her. "No..." she said harshly, snapping forward in her chair, "don't apologize. You taught me something very important... I knew what I had been taught, that good agents have no vices because leverage is obtained through the exploitation of weakness." Her eyes flashed and she bared her teeth as she spoke. "But I didn't really understand it until you *showed* me." She had practiced these words, going over them in her head countless times over the years, waiting for the chance to say them. But now that the opportunity was here they didn't have the resolution she'd hoped for. And in the empty silence that followed, they didn't sound convincing. "The mission end of it isn't what's stopping me with this," she said finally, taking a long drag on her cigarette. "Business was business and I know the trades and deals we make are mostly bluff and call. I don't doubt you can help me now, but..." she looked away for a second. "When you used my soul, I couldn't forgive you for that. Alex Krycek does whatever it takes to get what he wants, even if that means eliminating the competition. And I didn't even know I was a threat to you. What's to say that's not true now?" "That was a long time ago, Kayell. I didn't want to do it, Anna, but I had no choice... you know how desperate the game can get." "Do what?" She asked, "Make me care about you? Trust you? What about now? I'm supposed to forget I took a bullet for your greed and stupidity?" He reached across the table and touched her hand. "I didn't plan what happened. I didn't want to use you to make the deal." She jerked her hand away and glared at him. "But you did it. We had nothing. We had nothing more than lies, and that's all we have now. I wouldn't cut you in on anything more than a sandwich. You make too many bonehead mistakes." "All I can tell you is that I know we can do this," Krycek whispered, his voice a low rasp. "Anisheweh... stop treading water...swim out to the deep end." She looked at him, startled, unsure if his mentioning of her long-forgotten name implied anything more than the fact that he knew more of who she was than anyone. "Don't call me that," she murmured. "Don't ever call me that." A thin smile formed on his lips. "We cannot deny who we are. We cannot deny -what- we are. *They* made us like this and we're the ones with the power to make them pay for what they've done." It seemed frighteningly simple; use the power she was given to tip the scales in her favor. If they were trusting enough to give her free reign to accomplish her tasks, she could use all available recourses to do so. She took a long look at him and realized this was perhaps that famous point of no return she would never be able to retrieve. All her duplicity in the past had served selfish purposes and went along lines she was comfortable crossing. But this was something she knew was larger than anything she had dealt with before. "When do we leave?" She asked finally, and he handed her an itinerary envelope he pulled from his jacket. "Tonight," he smiled, green eyes alight. *** Part Two 1: Spin Doctor FBI Building Agent Mulder sat in Assistant Director Skinner's office, watching him as he read the report he'd brought. He chewed on his lip and guessed at what could be going through his bosses' head. Surely it was the same 'Mulder is nuts' type of banter from the creases growing in his brow. "Agent Mulder, how did you decide the Trunnans were involved in something other than a robbery? Their yacht was ransacked and missing all its valuables." Before Mulder could answer, the side door opened and Agent Scully entered. She flashed an apologetic look to Skinner and took her seat next to Mulder in front of his desk. Again Mulder opened his mouth, but this time the A.D.'s desk phone rang. Skinner muttered an apology and turned his back as he answered, leaving the two agents to whisper amongst themselves. "What did you find?" Mulder asked, his eyes on the back of Skinner's bald head. "Agent Kayell has a phone extension that corresponds with the electronic division upstairs but she has no office listed." Scully said and handed Mulder a printout of Kayell's FBI Bio. "I spoke with a few agents that should have attended the Academy about the time she did." She continued, voice low. "But nobody really remembers her." Mulder nodded, looking over the bio sheet. It was the same woman from the bar, her dark hair cut shoulder-length and very subdued. Some of the descriptions in the education and work history were strangely vague, listing only the simplest of answers. "She's the one." He said, staring at her photo. "That's not all," Scully continued and glanced back at Skinner, still secreted in his extended distraction. "There were some interesting things said about her from people who didn't even know her." "What?" Mulder asked. "There are those that firmly believe she's not what she seems. They are under the suspicion she might work for another agency and was sent here as a mole of some sort." Mulder smiled and handed his partner back the bio. "What, Scully, just because she wasn't popular at the Academy, speaks six languages and doesn't have an office, she's CIA?" Skinner hung up the phone and they turned their attention back to the meeting. "Sorry about that." Skinner said, focusing back to the report. "Agent Mulder, you were going to tell me why you think the Whileaway's owners and crew were killed because they witnessed the crash of a classified military craft." "It could have been a military craft, or something the military was very interested in. Either way, Elizabeth Trunnan called her daughter from the yacht's satellite phone at 6 p.m. on the 14th and mentioned Whileaway was not alone. She had been watching a large ship in the area making some sort of salvage operation. That call was the last anyone saw or heard of the yacht's inhabitants." Skinner fixed him with an almost irritated stare. "And how did you discern Mrs. Trunnan saw something she wasn't supposed to?" Mulder glanced at Scully and she handed him the bio. Mulder rose and placed it on the desk before Skinner. "This woman told me." Skinner looked over the bio and then up to Mulder. "*She* told you?" He questioned. Mulder nodded. "Off the record last night. She followed me." Skinner took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. Mulder returned to his seat and exchanged a glance with Scully. "What do you know about Agent Kayell?" Scully asked and Skinner leaned forward again. "She's an agent without an office, for one." "Is that on her badge, or something?" Mulder smirked. "She's officially called an Information Agent." Skinner said, his voice lowering. "It's a fancy way of calling her a monitor. She finds information when it's needed, and sometimes that involves channels most of us can't use." "I talked to a few people who think she's CIA." Scully suggested. Skinner looked down at his desk for a moment and the two agents noted his silence. "Off the record," he began, voice low, "that's a possibility. It's not unusual for other government agency to plant covert agents in plain sight. But then, it's not unusual for an Information Agent to work outside on official building. Just because it looks as if something's wrong doesn't mean it is. Agent Kayell hasn't given me any proof she isn't exactly what she appears." "So you know her?" Mulder asked. Skinner nodded slightly. "I can't really go into it, Agent Mulder, but she serves a purpose. Her work falls under my jurisdiction most of the time. And actually," Skinner said, rising from his desk "she's quite familiar with the X-Files." This alarmed Mulder. He had always felt the X Files were his personal business and something everyone else steered clear of. "What do you mean?" Mulder asked. Skinner sensed his concern. "She's a proverbial ear to the train rail, Agent Mulder. She was the one who alerted me to this case and various others in the past." Mulder took a minute to think. He knew there were those close to him that operated behind a curtain and he was used to that. But to realize the tentacles stretched beyond his reach worried him. He liked all contacts under his control, if it was possible. "So why did she contact Agent Mulder, after she had already sent you the case?" Scully asked. Skinner paced back to his desk and gathered the file. "That's a good question, Agent Scully, but unfortunately I can't ask her. She was given an assignment from outside this office and will be unavailable for a while." Skinner handed Mulder the file and the agents stood to leave. Scully had already left the office when Skinner motioned for Mulder to stay for a moment. "Agent Mulder, " He began quietly "the fact that Agent Kayell contacted you personally gives me cause for concern. That's a little outside her normal operation." "Do you think there's something about this one she doesn't want on the record? Is that why she wouldn't come to my office?" "It's possible." Skinner replied. "But I wouldn't take everything she says as the truth." "What do you mean?" Mulder asked. Skinner set his jaw and took a deep breath. "I'm suspicious of her, just as I am with everyone that passes along information I cannot confirm. There are things in her past that I always take into consideration." "What do you mean, the mole rumor?" Skinner nodded. "And the fact that at one time I believed the Smoking Man had her under his control. I never had any proof, and it was more a gut feeling I had, but I would watch my back." Mulder nodded and knew he had a lot to think about. "When did she begin her interest in the X-Files?" He asked. Skinner looked as if he didn't want to answer. "About the same time Alex Krycek was assigned as your partner while Agent Scully was missing." Mulder tried to hide his concern but Skinner recognized it. He left Skinner's office and caught up with Scully at the elevator. He waited until they were inside and alone before he told her what he had learned. "What do you think this means?" She asked. "I don't know." Mulder replied. "But it puts a whole new spin on things." *** 2: Vicious Circles Paris, France It had been so long since she had been to Paris that it all seemed new. The crowded streets...the ancient buildings dirtied with centuries of smog and ill weather, it felt more romantic than it once had to her younger self. Kayell even thought she appreciated it more since world travelling wasn't a part of her duties anymore. She wasn't gauging the clouds to tell if it might rain and looking for good places to hide if operations fell dangerous. Kayell rolled the taxi's window down and the cool wind whipped her face with smells that weren't possible from American bakeries. She could already taste the warm bread nestled in the windows ready for evening meals. "I've changed my mind." She told the driver in French. "Cafe Rinous on Rue de le Mison." He nodded and swung a sudden right turn against the traffic that honked behind the small taxi. She smiled with his frenzied efforts that were as foreign as anything could have been. "You must be here for Fashion Week." He said and glanced at her in the rear-view. A real Genuis, she thought to herself. All tall young women that come to Paris only carrying one change of clothes, a laptop computer, and handgun are models. "Oui." She replied. The taxi pulled alongside the cafe and she handed him a wad of bills pulled from the pocket of her coat. He smiled to her through the window and roared away leaving her at the empty sidewalk of tables. She chose one wire patio table and lowered her bag to the ground, sliding into a metal chair. Kayell ordered a coffee and sat in the waning afternoon sun, not realizing how comfortable the lazy clouds and warm brew were lulling her into a near state of sleep. Kayell let her thoughts drift, trying to remember why she was doing this, despite everything that circled in her mind. The memories chased each other like bored sharks in a shallow pool, waiting for one to get tired enough to be eaten. She closed her eyes, sinking into the warmth her stillness had created and relaxed for what she guessed was the last time for a while. The first thought to settle was of the reason why she was here that very person that brought her here to this foreign city...that entity that brought her to every memory she couldn't forget. And it was the same reason she felt like her insides were trying to chew their way out of her belly. Alex Krycek. She remembered thinking that some days just aren't worth getting out of bed. She closed her eyes and let it all go. //////And that was the same thing she was telling herself that day years ago as she pushed open the double doors of the Quantico Library and left the stifling spring heat behind her. It was much too early in the season for weather like that, with the gray haze that never quite burned off and an oppressive humidity that loomed. Besides all that, she had a forensics paper to research and she had hated investigative classes anyway. Detective work was for the birds as far as she was concerned. Give her tactical or defenses, hell, anything but how long maggots took to chew through a corpse. The library had been crowded, to her dismay, with very few tables uncluttered. She considered lugging her armful of folders to the upper level but all the reference material was down here. Kayell sighed and chose the last empty table near the windows, glancing around at the future agents that filled the room. Her eyes landed on one lone candidate, a dark haired young man at a table not far away. Books piled around him, his attention turned first to one, then the other. She felt the hairs stand on her neck in some unfocused raze of instinct. She had learned to listen to this sense. It was something these fresh-faced newcomers would learn later. You had to trust your gut. And there was something about this stranger that had tripped her wire. Her eyes remained on him as she neared, making her way past his table, and he glanced up from his studies. Then he looked up again. He was almost glaring, with the intensity of someone suddenly caught off guard. She passed his table, his eyes still on her, and her eyes flicked to the notebook under his hands. Cyrillic. Kayell looked away and made her way to the empty table, plunking her folders in a neat pile before settling down to become the student again. But no matter how many times she tried to turn off that still small voice in her head chanting 'Slovic, Anna, Soviet, Anna, Cyrillic, Anna." It wouldn't shut up. She tried to will her instincts to silence, but they still railed at her thoughts like moths to a lit bulb... something like his writings had no place in the F.B.I. Quantico library. Other secret study halls, sure...but here, it had no reason other than to catch her attention. Surely the stranger hadn't planned on anyone being that observant, or it was an unconscious habit he assumed these dull students overlooked. Either way, he had underestimated the government's ability to see beyond the obvious. So she secreted another glance at the stranger and this time he was still leaning over the books, but had turned his head full to stare at her. But there was no smile or welcome in the gaze, just a silent warning. She knew that look. It was the same leveled statement predators fix on one another when a competitor trespasses on marked territory. The din of conversation and learning faded to nothing as she held his eyes, answering his silent aggression. And then as quietly as it had started, it was over. He broke first. The standoff ended as he turned back to his books and she had the sudden urge to high-5 herself. It didn't last long, however, as a throng of bodies crowded her table and assumed positions across from her. "You don't mind, do you?" One asked. The others set books and bags down, scooting into chairs and Kayell's hard won space shrank to one small seat. "I was just finishing up anyway," Kayell smiled and gathered her folders. "Don't let us run you off," the polite one offered, and the others chimed in suit. //you already have, idiot// "Oh, no problem, I was done." Kayell pushed her chair into place and left the table, crossing the stranger's path again to make her exit. His eyes left the books again, gauging her as she neared and she found herself staring openly. //My, but he is an attractive man// Dark hair cut in an efficient style that looked a little too normal, a bit too mundane. She caught the slightest hint of reddish highlights near the tips that told of a little too much time spent in the sun once...fading to a silky black. He wore the small twist of a smirk that must have been subconscious, just a curve of lips that turned them into shape. Wide, quiet eyes that no doubt spoke volumes; a murky green that bordered on malicious. But this time, the look wasn't a challenge, just a simple expression of interest. Once she was directly near his table, the chair across from him lurched into the aisle, skittering across the marble floor. Kayell halted and looked to the chair, then to the stranger. "I won't bother you." He toned, his voice sending a shiver up her spine. It had a certain lilt, like dust clouding up from a dark corner. Kayell waited for a moment, thinking. A split-second decision was what this had all boiled down to, his glimmer of invitation more than she could resist. So she eased into the offered chair and set her folders down gingerly. And not a word was exchanged. He returned to his work and she leafed through her papers with diminished curiosity. Every so often she caught a scent of his cologne and her thoughts derailed each time. She fought the urge to gaze at him again, wanting madly to follow the line of his jaw with her eyes, and stare at the pixie uplift of his nose. Even as she read through her notes, she could see the sweeps of his ungodly lashes, shifting to look at this book, then that book. Eventually she sneaked a peek as he pursed his lips in concentration, scribbling madly in his notebook. But she wasn't concentrating at all, not on her books. The words and teaching of her officers, in all her months of training kept creeping into her mind. "You might have to use your feminine wiles" they had told her one day, almost embarrassed. But Kayell had laughed, pointing out the fact that those days were dead and gone since before Matahari. "Oh, no." One almost ancient operative had murmured, leaning nearly into her personal space. "They're most certainly not. You're in quite the position to get whatever you want, Kayell. You could reduce any man to the point of admission or submission." They had even gone as far as to send her to certain professionals to learn the tricks of Dirty Trade. They would leave noting to chance, and prepared her accordingly, down to the smallest kinky detail. Any sort of vice was a possible ploy, and sex was one of the surest. She wasn't sure why this was crossing her thoughts now, however, it only reminded her of the promises she'd made to herself in the beginning: no matter how deep the game went, she would not forget that she was, in fact, human. But duty was duty, and she wasn't here for fun. This endless argument had been going on in her head for months; when did Anna the human get to have a little fun? "What's your name?" He asked suddenly and she felt her mouth go dry. He hadn't looked up from his papers. She was glad, feeling the redness racing across her face. "Anna Kayell," she replied and waited for his own admission. But there was none, only his pen scratching against the paper. So she only stared at him, taking in the boyish curl of his hair over the left brow, the wide shoulders that hinted of power. And then he looked up at her, finally registering her assessment. She was struck suddenly with the impression he was much older than he looked; and that was his trick somehow. He was not what he seemed. "Alex Krycek," he said and tapped his pen on the table. "Nice to meet you, Anna Kayell." She nodded and felt her blush deepen. //Fuck. I don't blush. And here I am, getting all geeky over a guy. Next thing I know, I'll be doodling his name and listening to Michael Bolton.// She ducked back into her work and he followed suit, the both of them retreating into silence again. Kayell was relieved. It had all stopped there with no further preamble, and she dove in to the specifics of drug residues retained in body fluids with full force. "So you want to go for lunch?" He asked close to an hour later, when she had almost tuned out his cologne and technique for a proper seduction. It was the same delivery as before, with his eyes on his notebook and his pen traveling across the page. "I have a class," she replied quietly. //I will not allow this to become anything// "Dinner, then." He said with finality and she looked up, matching his stare. //I will not.// "Alright." //Fuck, did I just say that?// He smiled, a glorious gleam of straight, white teeth and solid laugh lines and she felt that blush creeping again. //I will not be reduced to a simple school girl swoon// And for all the world, she knew her growing grin was something short of plain idiocy. It seemed to match the flush of excitement over actually having a date with an actual person, instead of books or News Wire Reports. And for all the world, she knew her growing attraction was something short of plain idiocy. She had to remind herself over their continuing lunches, dinners, and study sessions that growing close to anyone beyond simple aquaintance was dangerous, but Alex knew not to ask the forbidden questions. He taught her proper Russian, amazed at her ability to inhale accent, slang, and localisms and make it her own. With linguistics, she was in her element. And being charming to the point of an innocence she knew very well was a put-on was Alex Krycek's. Somehow he knew not to ask the forbidden questions about the past and a silent understanding formed that they each had secrets they couldn't tell. It created a mysterious bond of gray areas that excited her. He was as guarded as she was about the subjects that were too dangerous and it was a relief for them both to have found someone that didn't mind the secrecy. And this secrecy, she was about to realize, was what would keep them together. But the kinship grew into something beyond simple likeness one-night months later when her curiosity urged her to wander through his sparsely furnished apartment. With the minimalist decoration his stay felt temporary, as if not much thought had gone into anything beyond function. They had dined as usual on pizza straight from the box and drank bottles of beer, sitting against the wall of his empty living room. She had wanted to know more about him than why he was in the accelerated program as she was, and why someone such as he lived how he did. But she didn't dare ask, knowing it was one of the subjects they both carefully avoided out of necessity. Kayell wandered into the equally empty bedroom discovered a brightly finished gun on the bed and couldn't help but touch it, the tips of her fingers sliding the length of the muzzle. This was something intimate, a person's weapon, and it gave her an erotic rush to touch something so personal of his. He had appeared at her side and she melted in embarrassment as he picked it up, unloading the clip, and popped out the bullet that waited in the chamber. "I know you want to." He said and handed it to her. She smiled and took it, feeling its weight. Kayell admitted that she held a disjointed fascination with guns and their wonderful variety and quirky habits; they had a personality and class just like the people that owned them. She took aim at a faraway wall and squeezed the trigger feeling the hard click of the hammer. "Very nice." She breathed and handed it back. "It's Russian, right?" "Ever shot one?" He asked, re-loading the clip. "I'm not into Soviet weaponry." "There's nothing wrong with Russian guns." He defended and laid the gun on the bedside table with a clunk. "Probably not...I haven't dealt with them much." Krycek shrugged and smiled. "I'll have to acquaint you with Sovietik. I can't imagine anyone would care what gun you used as long as orders were carried out." She was silent and watched him for a long moment. The long sweeps of the dark lashes, the fine upturn of his nose... clean cut angles of his face. Surely no diluted mix of American blood had produced such a stunning creature. And with the way he lived, the next to nothing existence...she also knew it made for easy travel when you spent little time in any one location. He seemed to catch her suspicion and met her critical gaze with an uneasy smirk. "I see those wheels turning." "Can't help it." She said. "Well whatever you're thinking, you're wrong." "Am I? You sure speak Russian well...accelerated program..." "And you speak it as well as I, now, and no telling how many other languages. It means no more than that." He said and set his jaw in silent warning. "I could think the same of you...what are you? CIA? NSA? CID?" "Something like that." She replied quietly. "But you've known that all along. Now that we know who we are and what we are, why are we playing these games with each other?" "Because it's all a game, Anna." He murmured and leaned closer, those perfect lips parting for a kiss. "This is really pointless," she whispered and leaned back a fraction. "We know nothing about each other. We won't." "We know enough." He breathed and kissed her suddenly; a storm of lips and tongue caressing hers, melting her fear. It was too good, too real and she forgot all of her suspicions and warnings as his hands traced her neck and left her tingling. The thought crossed her dazed mind that a decision had to be made...she had to choose whether this was all too clouded to allow personal involvement...whether it was all worth the risk. But with his lips on hers all those doubts and careful considerations withered. And then she found herself on the bed, completely uncaring to everything but him and decided that for once, it didn't matter. Whether he was just another covert operative or foreign spy, she was oblivious to everything but just how damn good his touch felt. His hands sliding over her clothes, fingers on her face and in her hair, his soft moan against her mouth as she finally wrapped her arms around him and accepted it for what it was. For what he was. Beautiful, and warm and needing it as bad as she did. That first sting of his warm skin on hers after their clothes were shed ripped across her nerves. He tremored slightly as he slid home inside of her and murmured something she didn't catch, too lost in the sensations. His mouth grazed her neck as he began a slow rhythm, hot breath stealing her thoughts and reasoning for why she ever considered this as wrong. Something this incredible could never be wrong. It was different than the mindless groping of dull frat boys in college and the scared trembling of native New Mexico boarding school kisses. Alex was someone who focused intently on a goal, never wavering until his agenda was met. And at the moment, it seemed he wanted nothing more than to drive them both insane with pleasure. His hands tangled in her hair as he moaned through their kiss, his breathing growing harsh... but his deep, slow thrusts never wavering. This was defintely not anything like the stupid, selfish screwing of an oversexed young male, Kayell thought to herself, amazed her brain was still functioning enough to pull one thought together. But those boys had all been victims of her cold nature, just enough sex to notch the bedpost. Someone in her position could never allow for personal attatchments. It just wasn't done. But Alex had melted the fear, thawed the ice her life had collected. The strangled cry that he barely contained as he spilled deep inside her drove Anna over the edge, clutching to him madly as her own orgasm pulsed through her like fire. And after, it was so easy to lie with him, wrapped in his strength and trust. Whether or not that trust was real. When Kayell woke in his bed the next morning with him sleeping peacefully beside her she didn't regret her decision. Dawn hinted in the windows as she took in the contours of his face and how the shadow of a beard was forming; she wanted to burn every fraction of him into her mind, wishing he could tell her everything about his life. Before now men had been nothing but recreation, but there was something about this Alex Krycek that truly fascinated her. She didn't know if it was the secrets or because he wasn't put off by her intentional distance, but she wanted to immerse herself in everything about him from his Russian language to the smell of him on the pillow under her head. She knew life would go on, they would probably go their seperate ways... and one day Alex Krycek would be nothing but a memory. Kayell was already dreading that day, having to let him go without asking why, or knowing what she was losing him to...it was all part of the game. She would just have to move on when the time came. And somehow they skated the line they drew for each other, carrying on with this hidden life away from the prying eyes of the Academy community. They never admitted true allegiance and kept the understood confidences away from each other, forming a bond of something that nobody else could comprehend. She passed the days among the throng of normalcy, learning what the FBI thought she should know, and spent her nights with Alex fulfilling their every indulgence in his bed. She was surprised that after Quantico they took separate but connected positions within the FBI. They continued the secrecy of their hidden kinship, knowing it was an alliance not even their true superiors expected. They became a professional asset to each other and developed a trust that made up for the gaps that lapsed under a necessity for duty. She gave him information that crossed the lines of official ethics. He whispered secrets to her that developed a duplicity that progressed into murderous cunning and growing involvement in something that was more than a simple career. Krycek soon left the FBI to win the favor of those that had called on him for actions outside the regiment of governmental restraint. These were the same rules that she clung to, knowing how far she could bend truths and play her hand. But Krycek still relied on her for the information she reserved for the highest bidder. And when she learned of his imprisonment in a North Dakota missile silo she secreted his release and expected no explanation for why he no longer needed her help in deciphering the stolen Navajo files he had been selling. The group of powerful men never expected it was one of their own that rescued Krycek from certain death. But inevitably, this reliance broke them apart. What had drawn them together drove them away from each other. With one too many secrets traded, the gray areas they had respected cultivated too great an opportunity for him to resist, and Kayell became another of his casualties in the dangerous game. Greed and a thirst for power overshadowed loyalty and trust...two elements hard to find in their world. Kayell accepted his betrayal as inevitable; their type were solitary. It was easier to play the game alone. But through her anger and shattered trust she didn't exact the same revenge she reserved for those that cheated her and let him go without retribution. It was as much her fault for believing as it was his for burning one more bridge in a quest for power and influence; she had always known all he was capable of. Surely someone as decisive as she could rid herself of him. Yet here she was, poised on the brink of something that was as dangerous as it could ever get with him at her side. And yet again, they were forming some sort of alliance despite what they both knew. The last time she had seen him was in Russia after his forced trip to Tunguska with Agent Mulder and she thought she might have missed him since then, had she allowed herself such sentiments. Their last encounter was equal parts accident and intention but it had been clear even before then that the involvement was over, severing all ties was their only choice. Kayell was so wrapped in the past she didn't remember ordering another latte and barely noticed it was a leather-gloved hand that set it down on the patio table, instead of the thin pale hands of Jaques the coffee boy. "You're early," a low voice said and she looked over her shoulder to see it was Krycek instead of the young Frenchman. He took a seat opposite her in the late evening glare and glanced across the street to a high-rise apartment building. She took in a deep breath. "You're lucky I'm here at all." He looked at her again in amused regard, his green eyes hard. Kayell fell silent under his stare, watching some birds argue over a handful of crumbs spilled on the sidewalk. "You're quiet today." He said finally and it drew her from her thoughts. "I'm still thinking what a bad idea this is, to get mixed up with you again and again." "We want the same thing, Kayell, that's all." She laughed. "We wanted the same thing before, or so I thought..." "It's been a long time since then." "You're right. And you're nothing to me now." He looked away to the shadows the Parisian apartment building threw on the street beside them and she thought he almost looked hurt. That was, if Alex Krycek allowed those sentiments. "You should have been nothing to me then." She added, chasing the thin sign of something that hinted on his face. She wanted to maul him with the rage that still boiled under her restraint and send him reeling like when he had turned on her. "You still hate me..." he muttered, more to himself than to anyone. "I work with all types of people I hate." She replied. "Job's a job." "We have to trust each other on this one. Hate has no place for us in this." "Then don't give me more reasons to detest you further, Krycek." A short red-haired man crossed the street toward them and took a seat at the table, his drab olive coat pulled tight against the evening chill. "This is Claude." Krycek told her. "He'll give us a lift to Psov." The man slid folded papers toward them both and shoved his hands back into his pockets. "Papers in case you are caught." He said in English thickened with French accent. "But I assume that will not happen." Kayell opened the documents and looked them over, noticing they were quite good for forgeries and stuffed them into her bag. "We leave now." He said and rose to his feet. Kayell took one last look around and followed Claude and Krycek across the street to a subcompact that waited. She couldn't help the soft sinking feeling settling into her gut, knowing this might be her last taste of freedom for a while. Krycek seemed to notice her reserve and gripped her shoulder, squinting a smile of support. Kayell attempted a return, but only one side of her mouth twitched. Somehow seeing his smile just made her stomach knot tighter. *** 3: Alice down the Hole St. Christopher International Airfield The weather wasn't cooperating when the agents' plane touched down in tropical Bermuda. Dark clouds loomed in the distance and the wind had a cool current. "Guess it's not a good day for a tan." Mulder quipped. Scully looked out over their view of palm trees and tourist buses. She wondered just how their usual business attire was going to blend with the throng of tourist garb and wished she'd brought more vacation-type clothes. Mulder had also realized their predicament. "We're the only ones not in shorts, Scully." "Just hope they think we're here on business." "We are." He said and stopped outside the airport entrance to survey a sidewalk vendor's array of cheap sunglasses and straw hats. "Then don't buy any of that." Scully called over her shoulder. Neither agent was very impressed with the motel. There was no view, no room service, and the ice machine was broken. Mulder tossed his travel bag on the bed and switched on the television. No cable. Scully thought her room smelled like the back dock of an open-air fish market and could only guess a former guest had cleaned fish in the bathroom sink. The picture over the bed was a seascape, complete with flapping gulls and breaking waves. She frowned at the picture and knew -that- was the scenic view the sign had boasted in the front office. "Whew." Mulder said as he walked through their open adjoining door, waving the air with one hand. "This room reeks." Scully was still frowning as she unzipped her bag. "Let's just go find the Whileaway." *** McNally's Pier, Bermuda The boat was much larger than Mulder had expected. It had been hard to gauge the size of a yacht from one small picture. He could tell even Scully was impressed. "Call Robin Leach." He muttered and stepped up the ramp to board. They walked across the deck, taking the scene in. Everything seemed relatively normal, except for the yellow tape criss-crossing the entrance to the lower decks. "I wouldn't go down there." A voice called from the dock. Scully walked to the railing and looked over the side, squinting in the sunlight. "It still smells real bad." The man standing below looked like what she thought was everyone's vision of an old salty sailor. His potbelly was barely covered by a soiled blue T-shirt and his half-bald head mostly covered by a sweaty red ball cap. "You here to pick 'er up?" The man asked, climbing the boarding ramp. Scully waited until he reached the deck before flashing him her badge. "We're Federal agents from the U.S." She said, and he fumbled with a pair of reading glasses, propping them on the end of his nose to read the letters on her I.D. "We're investigating the deaths of those who were onboard this boat on the orders of the American government." The man re-positioned the cap on his sweaty head, letting the glasses drop by the chain that held them around his neck. "My name's Pete McNally I own this little landing. I'm from Maine, myself. Fine with me if the FBI noses around." Scully showed him a picture of the Trunnans standing by the Whileaway. "Bill and Elizabeth Trunnan owned this yacht." She started and noticed Pete was scanning the deck for something. "You said we?" He asked, re-sitting the cap again. Scully turned and realized Mulder must have already descended below. Mulder thought he was just too tall to spend too much time on a yacht. Although the furnishings were beautiful and perhaps nicer than his own land-locked apartment, the low doors were hard to maneuver and undersized rooms confining. Each compartment looked like it had been ransacked and pieced halfway together. The beds weren't made and drawers still had clothes hanging out. He found what appeared to be a man's office, complete with phones, a computer, and television. A pair of binoculars hung from a hook near the small, square window behind the desk. He stood for a moment, trying to imagine what Elizabeth Trunnan saw as she had looked out that last evening. He heard Scully and a man talking in the room next door and he left the study to see what they had found. A short, well-weathered man stood next to her as they both studied a tape-form of a fallen body. A black stain around the outline seemed to point toward another outline at the other end of the room. Scully noticed Mulder had entered and gestured toward the man, who stood with his back turned, looking down at the red stain. "That's Pete McNally. He owns this landing. The boat was brought in five days ago, and he's waiting for someone to sail it back to Miami where the Trunnan's lived. He says the bodies of the Trunnans and the crew have already been sent back for burial. I don't think there'd be anything in the autopsy. It was clear they had been shot." Mulder looked at the dark stain on the white carpet and didn't doubt that. "That'll have to be replaced." Pete said, already figuring how many square feet of carpet was ruined. "But it looks like they were already planning that." Mulder noticed the swatch books on the nearby couch. "Any idea how far out they were found?" Scully asked. She was beginning to tire in the heat of the unair-conditioned hold. She didn't doubt the bodies would have deteriorated quickly in the heat if not found for a while. "Pretty far. Currents were not in their favor. I guess they drifted for at least a day 'cause the log book said they were over by the Mullicano reef." "Mullicano Reef?" Mulder asked, fishing for a notepad inside his suit jacket. "They were anchored?" Pete left the room and the agents followed as he made his way to the ascending stairs. "That's what it said. Kindof out'a the way, but good fishin' there early in the morning. Lots of fish. Sea's not as deep. Bermuda sits on a rise out of the ocean floor, with other smaller rises." Scully was relieved to be above board and the cool sea breeze felt good. "I think I know how Alice felt when she fell down the hole." Mulder joked and Scully nodded. "They fit a bunch into a small space." "But no." Pete continued, producing a handkerchief and wiping his brow. "They weren't anchored. Not when they were found." He scratched his grey-whiskered chin. "You think it was pirates, or just someone who saw a big boat and wanted a ride?" Mulder looked up at the helm station on the highest level. "Neither." Pete looked to where Mulder's eyes stared and tucked the handkerchief into a back pocket. "Modern-day pirates been bad out here lately. I think they got more to do with boats missin' than some triangle story." Mulder's attention diverted to what he had said. "You mean the Bermuda Triangle legend?" Pete grunted and shrugged his shoulders. "We got a lot'a them not coming home lately. But that doesn't mean they're just dropping off the face of the earth." Scully looked back from her gaze over the ocean, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Have any others dissapeared recently?" Pete nodded. "Day before yesterday a deep-sea day fisher didn't come back. It was rented for the day, though not many on board. Good thing, too, cause they pack 'em on those things. 50 deep sometimes. And I think that one goes out to Mullicano." Mulder fished for his notepad again. "Daydream." Pete told him. "She was called the Daydream. Owned by the Sandstone landing up the way. Good people." "You don't believe the Bermuda Triangle legend?" Scully asked. Pete looked over his shoulder to her. "Nope. I got my own theories. But they're just as far fangled as the Triangle thing. I sell those maps of all the wreckage up at the marina. You look at it long enough, things start to piece together." The agents followed him off the boat and off the docks to a small building that needed paint years ago. Fish netting draped the sides of the windows, stuffed with plastic crabs and lobsters. The side of the building was painted with big letters announcing that Pete's was *the* place to buy souvenirs and authentic 'Bermuda Tragedy Maps'. Once inside the store, the air-conditioning was a welcome. Pete stepped behind the sales counter and picked up a used 'store copy' map, unfolding it. Mulder studied the dots that spread across the blue ocean terrain. Boats and airplanes littered the ocean floor, the dates and names of those missing listed next to the corresponding numbers on the map. "Lots of 'em." Pete said. Mulder nodded. "And nothing's popping out at me." The old man traced an outline of most of the wreckage with a knarled finger. "I think something's out there. But its not some black hole or 'nother dimension. Most of this wreckage was wreckage before it sank. You have to get up on it to see it, but I think someone is hiding a secret out there. And whoever gets close, gets dead." Another well-worn but much younger man sat behind a cash register, toothpick sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Scully handed him money for two sodas she had plucked from the rows of cold boxes. "You don't look like you're here for the scenery." He said idly. She shook her head and popped open one can. "Nope." She sighed after taking a long drink. Mulder's eyes darted across the map. "Give me five of these." He said, pulling out his wallet. Pete's leathery forehead wrinkled. "Five?" Scully handed Mulder a soda. "Souvenirs." She said, rolling her eyes at Mulder and Pete dipped his hand into a box behind the counter. "Damn." He muttered, then realized Scully was within earshot. "Sorry 'bout my language, ma'am." He shot to Scully and shuffled over to the other man at the counter. After an exchange of heated whispers, the other man blurted out "but I just put a new box out this morning." Both men returned to the cardboard container, scratching their heads. "Just'a minute." Pete said and retreated through a door. "I don't understand. That's the third box this month to just be empty all of a sudden." The man called. "Jack!" Pete yelled from behind the door. "What's the number on that box?" Jack looked at a label on the side. "Thirty-three ten." He called back. Mulder shot Scully a glance and she shrugged. Pete reappeared with an identical box. He fished an old pearl-handle folding knife out of a back pocket and cut open the new box. "Sorry 'bout that, agents." Pete repeated, handing Mulder the top five maps. Jack heard the word agents and started, looking Mulder and Scully up and down. "This is my brother Jack." Pete said, jerking a thumb toward the other man. "Jack, this is Agent Mulder and Scully. They're with the FBI." Jack's eyes moved back and forth. "FBI inn'rested in the Bermuda Triangle now?" "They're here looking into the Trunnan murders." Pete sighed and rolled his eyes. "My brother's kind of...slow." He whispered after Jack had returned to his stool by the register. "But he knows where the fish are. Sixth sense, or something." "Where can we find out what ships were registered to a salvage operation at the Mullicano reef last week?" Mulder asked after folding the store-use map up and pocketing his five. "Salvage?" Pete said and re-positioned the cap. Mulder watched him pull it over his bald head and mentally counted how many times he had done that since they had left the yacht. "Wouldn't be salvage out there." Pete continued. "No wrecks there. No 'nothin, really, except fish." "Could there have been a research vessel?" Scully asked. Pete frowned and shook his head. "Don't know about any, and we know about them all. Hasn't been much out there lately. Currents are turning this time of year." "Where can we find out if any ships passed by that area?" "Coast guard station, I s'ppose. British folks don't do much 'round here, really. Coast Guard does it all." Mulder and Scully thanked Pete and Jack waved from his register, watching as the agents exited the store. Mulder hesitated before getting in the car. He opened the door but looked back at the Whileaway before getting in. "Hey Mulder." Scully called from inside the car. "That sign says Pete charters fishing trips." Mulder looked back at the building and the sign said 'By the day or by the hour, Pete and Jack will find you fish'. Mulder slammed the door shut and re-entered the building. "That sign says you charter trips." Mulder said. Pete nodded. "You wanna check out Mullicano?" Mulder nodded and gave him a card. "My cellphone number's on this." "Bright and early?" Jack asked from his perch. "We usually leave a five am." Pete said and Mulder nodded. "And I would wear something...lighter." Mulder looked down at his suit and nodded. Scully waited for Mulder to return and finished her soda. "Five am, Scully." He said and slammed the door after climbing in the rental. "We're goin' fishin." *** 4: Back in the U.S.S.R. Rural Western Russia A small plane touched down on the dirt of a makeshift runway under the cover of darkness. The pilot obviously knew the area well, using nothing but his eyes and instinct to guide the plane to a stop at the end of the field. "Welcome to Russia." He said to his passengers and unseen hands opened the plane door from the outside as the engines wound down. Shadows moved to wait at the doorway, saying nothing to Krycek and Kayell as they hopped out. The pilot threw mail sacks of supplies out to waiting hands and exited the cockpit after the cargo was unloaded, the shadows taking the bags to waiting cars. "Sergei will take you as far as St. Petersburg." Krycek nodded then eyed the stocky man who watched them from beside the other car, waiting for the word to leave. "Five days and I can take you back." Claude said, watching as the shadows loaded boxes onto the plane. "If you're not here, I'm leaving without you. Understand?" Krycek and Kayell nodded in unison, watching as a truck backed up to the plane and hooked a hose to the side, refueling for the trip back. "Good trip, comrades." The pilot said, and Kayell realized his wish for good luck was really a warning; they were now committed to a dangerous mission in a very foreign land without any help or outside knowledge of their whereabouts. If anything were to happen, they were on their own. Sergei opened the car doors for them, Krycek taking the front passenger seat and Kayell climbing into the cramped backseat of the tiny sedan. {We should be there by morning,} he said in Russian. Sergei cranked the engine and left the secret runway behind them, the headlights switched off until they found a paved road. Kayell watched the passing scenery and couldn't help but feeling overwhelmed already. With all that she had done in her covert career, this trip should have seemed like nothing out of the ordinary. But with Krycek along, she was already uneasy. This trip was as dangerous for him as it was for her since his latest actions against his former allies. She had fancied more than once that double, triple, god-only-knows-how-many agents were not that far from what she considered herself; they reported to all sides and took what they needed for themselves. It took a special skill of self-reliance and strategy to know where you stood within the twisted alliances. "The only true alliance is with yourself" he had told her many times, almost becoming a mantra in the trades they made. It was a belief he instilled as a justification to the double dealing. It was how he lived. So even before they reached the sullen gray streets of St. Petersburg, she knew the information she was there to steal held many opportunities. It was just another game piece in the game, something to trade for money and power and control. It was how *she* lived. By dawn they had reached the sleepy streets of St. Petersburg. Kayell shook herself awake, reaching over the small dividing seat to rouse Krycek from his slump against the frosted window. Sergei let them out on a side alley in what seemed to be the worst part of town. And what appeared to have been the nice side wasn't all that great; the tourists saw only a small piece of real Russia through the lenses of expensive cameras. The whole city seemed determined to ignore the reek of despair and depravity that hinted of an economy on the edge of squalor. Tight, cramped apartment buildings shadowed plain retail shops. An almost hind-sight attempt to make the riverside beauty of St. Petersburg appealing looked strained, as if simple elegance was the Russian excuse for modern aesthetic. "We'll leave on the last train north." Krycek said as they made their way through the slums and broken streets. "I have to get our itenerary straight." "Plans?" Kayell asked, side-stepping a group of teenagers blasting obnoxious music from a boom box. "Don't you know where we're going?" Krycek asked, turning to make sure the youngsters didn't follow. One walked a few feet behind them and Krycek yelled for him to go another way, his forceful command sending the kid running back to his friends. {Damn pickpocket lowlife throwback,} Krycek muttered, scowling at the traffic speeding past. Kayell ignored his outburst. "I was given only locations. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to look for when I get there." He glanced at her, a little surprised. "Pretty vague, don't you think?" "It's not like they could sit me down and show me a brochure." He smiled and nodded, understanding what she meant. Kayell was a professional and most definitely capable of carrying out whatever orders she was given. Her role in this was no different than his, only more direct. "I hope you know where we're headed." She said, looking around to the crumbling buildings and desperate souls that clung to the threads on their backs as if it was the only thing that kept them alive. The urchins milled side by side with smartly dressed businessmen on their way to meetings, gray haired Babushkas laden with shopping bags full of overpriced vegetables and tourists agape at the lack of order. "39 Tamurev." He replied, gesturing down the street. "And what's at 39 Tamurev?" He said nothing and kept up the pace, stopping only when they reached a tall building of apartments. "I hope you remember all your language." He whispered before opening the front doors. "It's all native from here on." {No suspicion.} She replied in Russian and he nodded, relieved she had taken the hint. He opened the wide doors and she followed him inside to the counter at one side of the quiet entrance. Krycek talked to the young woman behind the counter and traded a wad of money for a key to an empty room, glancing for Kayell to follow up the stairs to the upper levels. After five flights, they found number 512 and unlocked the door, taking in the musty dwelling. {What is this}" Kayell asked, looking around to the confining quarters of one room, one dirty window and a worn couch in the corner. At one time someone had lived here but they were long gone, leaving in what had seemed a hurry. A soiled blanket that had once served as makeshift curtains now lay in he floor catching dust and rodent droppings. {This is where you will wait while I get the information.}" Krycek replied, moving toward the door. Kayell caught up to him and stood in his way, one hand on his chest. "You're not going anywhere without me." She hissed, dropping the Russian for Engligh. "For all I know, you won't come back." Krycek tried to shove her out of the way, but she fought against him, pushing him backward. He shrugged his coat back into place, a bit ruffled from her force and told her to get out of the way, menace in his voice. "I'm not letting you out of my sight." She said, still guarding the door. "You're going to have to trust me." He replied. "Or this is going to be a very long week." Kayell's eyes narrowed. "My trust is something you'll have to earn back." He shoved her against the door and held her there with one hand, trying very hard to restrain his growing anger. He didn't need this added stress before a full day into the trip and had hoped her lingering suspicion would have faded with the danger they were both in. "That goes both ways." He said coldly and kicked her feet out from under her, Kayell falling to the floor. He opened the door and slammed it behind him, the dust rising from her fall. *** 5: Daydreams and Missing Time Bermuda Island, U.S. Coast Guard The Coast Guard Naval office was bright and spit-shine clean, a far cry from the oily grime of Pete's landing. The officers at the desk took one look at Mulder and Scully's credentials and called their superior officer in. "You here about the Daydream?" Captain Rishk asked after he had ushered the agents into a side office. "Because she hasn't turned up yet." "Nosir." Mulder said, and Scully took out the photo of the Whileaway. "We're here about the Trunnan yacht." Captain Rishk slowed his steps toward a filing cabinet and turned. "The Whileaway? Why's the FBI looking into that one? We wrote that one off as a pirate attack" Mulder took in a deep breath while Rishk rifled through the cabinet. "We have reason to believe it could be more than just a robbery." He began, and the Captain returned to his desk, file in hand. "We are also interested in any cargo ships that were in the Mullicano reef area last week." Scully added. "Cargo?" Rishk asked, flipping through the file. "Not that I remember." "A ship large enough to carry a bus, probably unmarked. It may have had a crane arm." Mulder offered. Rishk didn't look up from his desk. "No, nothing like that lately." "How about any research vessels?" Scully asked. The Captain looked up at them and down to a desk top calendar. "We don't really have a port big enough for any cargo ships, unless they went to a Cruise ship landing, but we'd know about that." Mulder wondered if the Coast Guard would even know if the ship carried secret cargo. And then if they did, would they hide all movement of a ship that size. "I'll go check the books, though." The Captain said, rising from his chair. The agents followed him out and down a gleaming hall to a large glass-walled control room that overlooked the harbor. Uniformed men and women sat at desks and monitored radios at different command centers. The captain leaned over a counter and got one Guards' attention. "Hey, Simms, look to see what big ships docked last week and the week before." The man scanned a computer screen. "The Lakiago Commercial Fisher and a British state ship." The man replied. "Were any in the area?" Mulder asked. Officer Simms pressed a few keys and watched the screen. "Some came close." He said, and the Captain told him to print out the list. He looked at the paper the Officer handed him and then laid it on a nearby table. "You can rule these out." Rishk said, scratching through the names of three with a ball point pen. "They're well marked." Mulder and Scully read over the names and registries as Captain Rishk marked some out. "Usually a cargo ship will have some sort of marking." He explained but that still left many. "You wouldn't still have the Whileaway's log book, would you?" Scully asked. Captain Rishk nodded. "Meant to send it off today, but forgot. It's in my office." The three returned to his small office and he pulled a bottom drawer open in his desk. The book was oblong and leather-bound with The Whileaway, Miami, FL embossed in gold on the front cover. He removed it from a plastic wrapping. "No prints from it, though." He said and set it down for the agents to look at. The last entry was the night of the call Mrs. Trunnan made to her daughter. Bill had listed what fish he caught that day and the condition of the water. "Big ship still there this morning." Scully read. "Elizabeth is obsessed, watching it with binoculars all morning. We saw the crane lift a large triangle craft out of the water and onto deck." The Captain took off his glasses and read the entry himself.Mulder turned the pages back a day, and they all craned to read it without crowding. "Big Black cargo ship." Mulder read, and they all followed along as he continued. "No distinct markings or registry numbers. Only what looks like a seagull painted on the starboard side, near the bow. Yellow anchor. Arrived 9 am this morning and sits a half-mile away." The Captain returned to his chair and scanned his readout. "No, no, no..." he droned, and then realized he was talking to himself. "Here, it's probably this one." He circled a registry and handed the paper to Mulder. "The Laughing Gull 4." Scully read aloud. "She's pretty darn big. And I think she does have a gull painted on the side. All the Gulls do. That's a ship lease agency out of New York. They lease ships out to the larger transport companies. But she wasn't in the Mullicano area. She stayed out in the lanes." "Can you tell who leased the ship?" Mulder asked and the Captain shook his head. "Nope. Their home office would know, we just know the numbers. Traffic's heavy out there and we're just crowd control." Scully jotted notes and Mulder handed the log back to the Captain. "Here's the file on the Whileaway." Rishk said and handed it to Scully. "You can take it with you if you need to. I have a meeting in ten." Mulder promised they would return with the file and the agents filed out of the office into a light rain. Once inside the car, Scully opened the file and looked over the pages. Mulder drove in silence for a minute, listening to the click of the windshield wipers. "Scully, do you think the Coast Guard would lie to cover up whatever crashed out there?" He asked finally. She lingered over the report for a moment and then looked up. "Mulder, do you think something really crashed? It is possible the Trunnans misunderstood what they saw." Mulder spotted a seafood restaurant on a pier and pulled into a parking space. "I know you're as hungry as I am and I'm starving." Scully looked up at the sky from inside the car. The clouds had moved over the island now, thunder rolling over the water. She put the file in her seat as she exited and locked the car doors. Inside, they realized that once again, they were clearly over dressed. The waitress looked them up and down and then led them to a table at the picturesque windows overlooking the sea. "Since you dressed up, you get the best table." She said, and set menus on the table. Scully looked out the windows and noticed the sky was clear beyond the clouds that had rolled in. The sun peeked out of the end of the squall line, bisected by the horizon. "Tonight's special is shark, Scully. Ever had shark?" She wasn't listening, watching the sun dip slowly and disappear with amazing speed. "What happened out there, Mulder?" She asked, eyes still on the water. Mulder pulled his attention away from the paddles, mounted swordfish, and assorted marine fare lining the walls. His eyes followed her gaze to the setting sun. "I don't know, Scully." He answered. "Only the Whileaway knows." Mulder followed Scully out to the car, handing her a mint before unlocking her door. She smiled a thanks and lowered herself into the seat. Mulder rounded the car and opened his door. "Wait." Scully said, squirming around. Mulder climbed in and shut his door. "Where's the file on the Whileaway?" She asked, turning to look in the back seat. Mulder felt along his floorboard. "Where'd you put it? You didn't take it in." Scully gave him a concerned frown. "I left it in this seat, but it's not here." They exited and searched the surrounding parking lot, even the trunk. "Hey, we're in Bermuda." Mulder had shrugged as he pulled the remote trunk latch. Halfway to the motel, they still hadn't said a word. Scully fiddled with her wrapped mint, perplexed with the disappearance of the file. "Do you think someone took it?" She asked finally. Mulder glanced at her. "Why? And the doors were locked." They lapsed into silence again. "You didn't take the file in the restaurant." Mulder stated, although he meant it as a question. "I put it in this seat." She said, pounding the armrest with her fist. "I know I did, Mulder. I remember putting it down." Nothing more was said until they reached the motel. "Five am." Mulder said as they unlocked their motel doors. Scully prepared herself for the fishy stench and took a deep breath before opening her door. But as she stepped inside, the room had no odor. "This was a strange day." She murmured to herself and moved to the bathroom to start a bath. Once she had turned the knobs and exited the bathroom, Mulder knocked on the joining door. "Brought you this from Pete's" He said, hand poking out from the slightly open door. A pine tree car freshener now dangled from the knob. She laughed and shut the door. Mulder slipped off his tie and kicked off his shoes. He flipped on the T.V. and clicked the ancient tuning knob until he found an old rerun. He knew he had seen a remote control on the night table when he first checked in, but couldn't find it now. He ran his hands under the bed and checked in the tables one drawer but found only a phone book and bible. And after five minutes of frantic searching, he ripped back the covers of his bed. Nothing. Scully knocked on the joining door and he opened it, truly frazzled. She stared back at him, just as puzzled. Her hand held out a Manila file. "Is that...?" He asked, and she nodded. "Where was it?" She took a few steps into his room and noticed the bed was bare. "Mulder..." She started but her voice trailed off. "Does your room have a remote?" He asked. She ran a hand through her wet reddish hair, still amiss. "I guess so." She replied. Mulder sat down heavily on the edge of the bare mattress. "I know I had one earlier, but I can't find it." Scully looked past him to the night table. "Mulder, isn't that it?" She said, pointing past him. He turned in place and there was the remote, sitting by the phone. He grabbed it like it had legs and was about to run. "Where was the file?" He asked calmly, acting as normal as he could. Scully kept her eyebrows raised and sat on the other corner of the bare mattress. "I took a bath." She started, and Mulder noticed she was wearing a robe the motel provided. "Then I decided that dinner mint sounded really good, and I could have sworn I put it in my jacket pocket." Mulder nodded, trying very hard to draw her attention away from the wrecked bed. "So I went to get it, and it was gone." She continued. "I thought I left it in the car so I went out there, and the file was in the passenger seat, just where I put it before we ate." Mulder's forehead knitted. "Just like that?" "Just like that." She repeated. They said nothing else. Scully finally rose from the bed and went back to her room. "I'm going to sleep because obviously I need it." She said, and shut the door. Mulder looked at the sheets and blankets on the floor and found a pillow. "Triangle." He muttered and shook his head. Scully was almost asleep when she heard the faint tinkle of what sounded like a cat's collar bell. She lifted her head to listen more closely and something jumped to the end of her bed. She scrambled to the nearby lamp and switched it on. A grey cat sat at the foot of her bed, licking an up-raised paw. It stopped for a moment, looked at her through half-closed lids and resumed bathing. The cat finished as Scully watched in amazement and then leapt from the bed. He sauntered across the motel room, stopping to sniff at her shoes, and then sat at the door, watching her. She climbed out of bed and opened the door for him and he scurried out. She double-checked the bathroom window but it was firmly latched and even painted shut. Assuming he sneaked in when she went out to the car, she turned off the light but laid awake for a while thinking about everything that had happened. "Triangle." She muttered to herself. *** 6: Sovladelye St. Petersburg, Russia The stale air in the old apartment house had the stench of rotting wood and ruined upholstery. Kayell pulled open the small window and stood watching the streets far below, thinking she should have protested more. Her cigarette smoke floated from the small window and over the city, fading gray against the drab landscape. The idea of leaving any details to anyone but herself was as foreign as the loud voices carrying through the thin walls. Voices raised in anger, the sharp cry of a baby, somewhere a door slammed and Kayell jumped despite herself. Her anger had left her hours ago. She had already forgiven Krycek for his angry offense, too used to the absence of any consideration to her supposed nature. Kayell had hardened herself with the knowledge female weakness was out of place in her primitive existence and had learned as a girl in the roughness of backward New Mexico the benefits of defensive protection. Half her resolve came from the knowledge she could take on anyone both mentally and physically with the confidence she wasn't prone to letting the men fight it out...the intelligence community was a man's world and she was expected to rise to any challenge. Besides, her mixed blood gave her certain advantages; at nearly six feet tall she commanded herself with equal parts domination and determination. Evidently her unknown white father had been a large man. And with the strength of her Navajo blood Kayell knew she was deceptively strong. Many saw her as no threat, just a young woman that looked frail in her business suits. But then, you should never judge an opponent by their smile. This wasn't the first time Krycek had treated her roughly and it was something she never took personally, just silent proof he regarded her strength equally. She had given out her own share of beatings to know exactly what she was capable of. She heard a key in the door and Krycek entered, closing the door behind him with diminished severity. He handed her a brown envelope and a white sack that smelled like food, his chin lifted in defiance. "Better study up." Anna glared at him, setting the bag and envelope on the windowsill beside her. "You never change." He ignored her comment and leaned to look down at the sidewalks far below the window. "It's supposed to snow soon." Out of the corner of his eye there was a flash of something and then his chin hit the dusty floor. He didn't remember falling, just the tilt of the room as Anna knocked him into the wall. Her knee pressed squarely against what he figured was a kidney, with the pain in his back. "What the fuck are you -doing?-" He coughed, choking on a mouthful of dirt. Her grip that had twisted his arm behind his back shifted, and he could feel her leaning into his ear. "I'm making damn sure you don't think I'm the same weak little girl you used to know." Kayell growled. "I'm not here to be your backup... we do this together or we both die in this stinking hole of a country... understand?" Krycek's face tightened in a grimace, a strained curse pulled from his throat as she dug into his back with her knee. He nodded slightly, and she let him loose, stepping backward as he rolled to his feet. His eyes stayed on her as they settled onto the dirty floor a few feet from from each other. "We even now?" he grinned. "Forgot how you play rough." "I'm not playing, Krycek." Kayell sighed, reaching for the bag and envelope. I'm serious. Dead serious. If you want to be a part of this little assignment, you have to see me as -Kayell-...not your buddy Anna. I know you're used to flying solo now, but just remember I have as much riding on this as you do." Krycek nodded, taking the sack of food from her. "Still doesn't really explain why you felt the need to take out my kidney with your knee." "Because -you- felt the need to drop me like a sack of potatoes." She ignored his smirk this time, looking over the papers he brought. "Where did you get all this?" He glanced at her, eyes flicking back to the sack in his hands. "I have connections." "In St. Peter?" She could tell from the crease that was growing between his brows she was treading on an area he wasn't comfortable with. "Yes." He muttered, avoiding her eyes. Kayell decided this was a very gray area and dropped her prying. "I know where they're sending me, but I'm just making sure we're on the same page. Plus, I'm a little behind on my reading skills." She said, taking a piece of bread he tore from what was in the sack. "Salmi, Siya, and Kondopoga. The base in Seryitev makes four." He nodded, waving the dust out of the air with one hand. "I want what's in Siya. You cover the other three." "Can we do this in five days and get back?" "That's the plan." He said, stretching his legs out on the dirty floor. "Our train leaves for Kondopoga tonight." "Tonight?" He pulled tickets from his coat pocket and let her see. "It's too dangerous to travel in the daytime. Just a precaution." She nodded, thinking it wasn't possible the bread had been baked any time lately. She studied the information again, committing it all to memory despite the raked angles and shapes of the Russian letters. "Look," Krycek said his voice softer. "I want something out of this too. No surprises...just like the old times." "That was a long time ago." She replied. "And this isn't like the old times." He nodded in understanding. "We both get out of here with whatever we find. Sovladelye." -Partners- was something she wasn't completely in agreement with, but given the situation it wasn't all that far from the truth. "Sovladelye," she said, searching his face. The alliance was familiar but uneasy; this definitely wasn't like the old times. *** 7: In Deep Bermuda Mulder and Scully waited at the front door of Pete's souvenier and snack shop, drinking coffee. The night had begun to lift around the edges of the horizon, peeling back against the grey dawn. Two shrimp boats slid past the docks, nets strung high in preparation for the day. "Ready to go?" Pete asked. Mulder just wanted to get as far from the ghostly outline of the Whileaway as he could. Her dark front windows looked like sunglasses on a wide face from where he stood, silent to whatever she saw. The agents followed Pete, fresh in a yellow T-shirt to a pair of boats docked next to the gas pumps. Jack appeared on the dock and motioned them toward the larger one. "Either of you get sea sick?" Pete asked, throwing the tie ropes off. They both shook their heads. "My father was in the Navy." Scully said, as if that explained it. "Good man, I can tell" Pete nodded. "I did my best navigating in the war. Love the Navy." Scully smiled at Mulder and he suddenly felt the need to reciprocate. "We had a canoe." He said, and Scully rolled her eyes at him, giggling. Jack began laughing, great peals of braying laughter. That only egged everyone on, laughing harder. "We don't call him Jack for anything." Pete said, and gunned the engines. Mulder stood at the rear of the large deep-sea fishing boat, watching the Whileaway getting smaller. He watched it until the whole island was nothing more than a brown streak on the horizon. "It'll take at least two hours to get there." Pete called over the noise of the engines bowing at full speed. Scully joined Mulder and squinted through her red hair as it blew in the wind. "What do you expect to see out there?" She asked. Mulder shrugged. "I don't know. I just feel something's out there." Scully looked at him in the growing light. "Is it the triangle?" She asked loudly, above the noisy motors. He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I swear that remote wasn't there before, Scully." She hadn't thought about the remote since the night before. "There was a cat in my room last night." She told him. "A cat?" He asked. She nodded. "It had a collar with a bell on it. Grey." They both shrugged. Pete's boat made it to Mullicano reef in just under two and a half hours. It looked just like the rest of the ocean to the agents. Mulder and Scully crowded around the boats' array of equipment in the cockpit. For two seemingly ordinary fishermen, they had a spotless boat and lots of money tied into their gear. Mulder watched the sonar screen and saw the reef's ragged feedback. "Right over the reef." Jack said, pulling back on the throttle. Pete switched on another screen and Jack threw what looked like a microphone attached with a thick cable over the side. An underwater view appeared on the screen. "Easier to see the wrecks." Jack sniffed, focusing the picture. "Only the really big tour boats have this." Fathoms below, fish darted and sea plants swayed. Mulder and Scully watched in amazement as the picture followed the boats' path. "Hey, Pete, what's this?" Jack asked, and stopped the boat. Pete leaned into the monitor and repositioned his hat. A large swath gaped from the coral below. "Looks like it's got a gash." Pete answered and Jack brought the boat back to the hole. Pete pointed a thick finger to the long scratch. "Must be at least, oh, three feet wide and twelve feet long. But there's no wreck. And that's fresh. How long's it been since we've been out here?" Pete asked Jack. "Two weeks." Jack answered. Pete took a clipboard off a nail and noted the GPS coordinates. Mulder wiggled his eyebrows at Scully and she nodded. "Well, this is it." Jack said, gesturing to the screen. "It's all pretty much like this. Wanna see some wrecks?" Mulder nodded and Scully shook her head. Pete looked at them both. "I'm the best. And I'll let you in on what I think the triangle thing is." Scully finally nodded, giving in. Jack reeled in the camera and gunned the engines. Mulder looked around one last time, taking the scene in. He knew something had happened here. They rode on for another hour and Jack slowed the boat, watching the GPS screen. He let the camera out and an old plane came into view, one wing missing. "D.C. 10." Pete said."Went down twenty years ago. Notice how the wing looks like it tore off?" Mulder nodded. "Looks like it was shot down." Jack added. He took in the camera and they went on for a while longer and he let it out again. This time an even older wreck appeared. "Fishing boat." Pete pointed to the screen. "From the forties. It's looked like that from the day she went down." The boat was a jumble of rotted timber. "I think it exploded, burned, and sank." He took them to a number of sunken boats and planes of all types and ages, giving his theory of each manner of demise. They stopped at noon and the two men went below to change the gas tanks over. "Do you see a pattern emerging?" Mulder asked Scully as they ate the sandwiches Pete had brought for the trip's furnished lunch. Scully's look of dismay answered his question. "He thinks all these wrecks were intentional." Mulder took a look at one of the maps he'd brought. He'd been writing down the information Pete was providing for each wreck. Pete and Jack returned. "So what's this theory you have about the Triangle not being so mysterious?" Mulder asked. Pete took a big bite of sandwich and swallowed before answering. "These boats and planes aren't sliding into some other dimension. That's what everyone believes, but it's not happening. They are right here, at the bottom. Something put these ships down there, I'm just positive *what*." Mulder looked back at his map. "Are all the missing craft accounted for?" "Nope." Jack said from the captain's chair. "Some are still out there, but the sea's so big we haven't found them yet." The radio next to him crackled and he bent down to listen. "I think all these boats were sunk because they were in the wrong place at the right time." Pete said, and motioned toward the water. "Planes too. This is a big piece of water out here, and you can see forever." Mulder looked around and realized the horizon melted with the water. "What would be out here for them to see?" Scully asked. Pete shrugged his large shoulders. "I have my ideas but I'm not for sure." "Plane's missing." Jack announced, writing on the clipboard. "Went off the radar not far from here." Pete struggled to his feet, his old age slowing him. "When?" Jack listened to the radio a moment more. "About sunrise." Pete fiddled with the radio and turned up the volume so they could all hear. Coast Guard ships and helicopters radioed back in forth, the shore office coordinating the search. "Let's head back." Scully told Mulder and he agreed. Jack lit the motors and turned the boat toward shore. Almost home, they could see the copters heading back to the shore base. "Must have called it off." Pete yelled over the motors' din. Back at the marina, Mulder asked Pete how he could find out who had leased the Laughing Gull. "That's a big ship." Pete answered. Jack was in the back room, monitoring the radio for information on the missing plane. "I think it has something to do with the Whileaway." Mulder said, hoping it would interest Pete enough to pry his mind open. "We could call around. I know people. Was she out there?" Jack had appeared, un-connected headphones around his neck. "Was who out where?" "One of the Laughing Gulls." Pete said. "Mullicano." Jack nodded. "She came by last week. Well, went past." "When?" Mulder asked. Jack looped the plug-end of his headphones around his finger. He stared up at the ceiling, thinking. "I saw it last....Monday. I was chasing Marlin. I thought it was sort of strange she wasn't in the shipping lanes." "And you're sure it was the Laughing Gull?" Mulder asked and Jack nodded. "Yeah. Big white bird on the side and a yellow anchor." Scully approached, putting away her cellphone. "They called off the search." She sighed. "Said the radar must have been on the blink. The plane just radioed into Nassau." Jack shook his head. "They're still looking." Scully tried smoothing her wind-blown hair. "Captain Rishk just told me it was a false alarm." "Well, they're still criss-crossing out there." Jack said, and moved toward the back room. Scully watched him leave and then said, "Mulder, I think we need to get the file back to Captain Rishk and see if he can help us find out who leased the Laughing Gull. And, to see what the heck is going on." When Scully pulled into the Coast Guard parking lot, two ambulances were backed to a side dock. Mulder got out, file in hand, and started toward the Guard office. Scully watched the ambulances and noticed the paramedics were loading a full gurney. She eased over to the dock, curious. One ambulance was loaded already, a full blue plastic body bag inside. The attendants were back at the dock, unloading something from a Guard skiff. She climbed into the loaded ambulance and unzipped the bag. A man's body, badly burned, stared back. A small bit of his shirt remained and she thought she made out a brown work badge including the name 'Charlie'. A paper was stuffed in the outer pocket of the bag and she re-zipped it. The paper looked like the odd serial of a plane and she pocketed it, and left the ambulance before anyone saw her. "Sorry, Charlie." She muttered as she eased away from the dock, trying her best to look casual. Mulder met her at the office front doors. "Captain Rishk is in a meeting." He said, and Scully glanced back to the ambulances. "I'm not surprised. You know, Mulder, there are two badly burned corpses down there." She said, shielding her eyes from the sun. "I took this from one of them." Scully handed him the small paper, motioning with her free hand toward the docks. Mulder looked at the paper and back down to the ambulances. "I was just in there talking to one of Rishk's men and I heard someone calling these numbers out over a radio. I think this is the plane that's missing." "Captain Rishk told me -himself- the plane landed safely in Nassau." Scully argued. "So unless he's either lying or mistaken...that plane is safely on the ground by now." The ambulances pulled away from the docks and single-filed out onto the street. "Then who were they?" Mulder asked and turned to watch as they flowed into traffic and lumbered quietly away. *** 8: Long Ride Nevskiy Prospekt Railstation The last press of humanity before the train stopped before the platform edged Krycek closer to Kayell. Stragglers and early birds alike pressed against each other, shoving in a hurry for the opening doors. There could have been order among the chaos, but it was hard to tell in the jumble of arms and legs. No one waited for ladies first, youngsters didn't honor their elders by giving them room to move... she felt Krycek's hand snake across her hip and pull her back against him as a rather large and determined woman made her way to the front of the group. Kayell knew she would never miss the Russian mass transit system. But she thought she might miss the warmth of Alex's body rubbing against hers in the frenzy of a pre-board struggle. She could feel his nervousness and smell the dusky scent of his leather jacket and it only brought it all home for her... The game had begun. End Of Part Two Coming soon: |
Deny The Pastby tyen |