Mikhail's Fire

Part One: Mikhail's Fire

"Maybe this world is another planet's hell."
--Aldous Huxley

He had expected to be greeted with hostility, but the gun pointed in his face was a little much. Leaning innocently against her door frame, his hands in plain sight, he didn't really think he posed much threat. But Dana Scully was another story altogether. Her two-handed grip on the Sig was only slightly hampered by the car keys she still held. Staring at him down the barrel, she narrowed her eyes.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I came to help you find him."

"Bullshit."

"How do you think I know Mulder's missing?"

"For all I know, you've got him tied up somewhere."

"As much as I'd like to see Mulder bound and gagged, I'm not in the mood for kinky right now." He blinked slowly, wondering when her arms would begin to tire. "You mind putting the gun down?"

"Not a chance. How do you know about Mulder?"

"Skinner told me."

He saw the flash of confusion that made her pupils flare. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't care what you believe. I have business to take care of, and I'll do it with or without you."

"My ass. Turn around and face the wall."

Son of a bitch. She always had a knack for doing things by the book, so procedural he almost felt the urge to yawn. "Can we forget the cuffs this time? I don't like the way they chafe."

"Shut up."

Facing the wall, he rolled his eyes, waiting patiently while she patted him down, stifling a dirty little comment as her hands brushed his ass. When she found no weapons, she stepped to the side and he could see her perplexed stare out of the corner of his eye. Still holding the gun on him, she unlocked the apartment door with one hand before pushing him inside.

"Hold it, right there." He could hear her pick up the receiver of the nearby phone and start dialing.

"You've been looking for him, and you can't find him...can you?"

She didn't say a word, but paused between buttons.

"You need my help, Scully. I can get you beyond restricted access."

"What's in it for you?"

"Witnesses, for one thing."

"What are you talking about?"

He turned slightly, meeting her gaze over his shoulder. "I'm going to expose them."

"The Syndicate? What good will it do you now?"

"I don't mean media exposure, although that's included." Turning all the way to face her, he gave her a little grin. "I'm cutting myself a deal."

"A deal?"

"With the colonists."

"What kind of deal?"

"I can explain later. We're wasting time. The New Year starts in a matter of hours."

Almost reluctantly, she lowered the receiver onto the cradle. "You could have any witnesses you want. Why us?"

"Witnesses to the Syndicate's secret projects...the abductions, the hybrids, the vaccine, everything. I'm taking them down, Scully. Don't you want to watch that happen?"

Even more hesitantly, she finally lowered the gun. "Why did you run, if you were just going to come back?"

"I had business to take care of." He held up his hand. "And I didn't quite think my threats against Majestic would be taken seriously while handcuffed."

"You should be in jail."

"And Mulder should be in a mental institution, but we don't need to quibble about that now." He ignored her loathsome glare. "When was the last time you saw him?"

"Nearly a week ago, in Chilmark. He was trying to persuade his mother to pack up, but she refused. He and Marita were still there when I left to get my own mother on a plane. When I called an hour later, Mrs. Mulder told me he was gone."

"Where have you looked?"

She lowered her gaze. "Everywhere. I've tried calling a hundred times, but his phone is always out of range. I just tried the Gunmen, but they're gone. Mulder must have already told them to pack up and leave."

"Let's go."

"Where?"

"If he's out of range, I have an idea of where he's headed"

"Why should I listen to you?"

"You don't have a choice."

Standing in front of a television set in the middle of the K-Mart electronics department, Sabryn watched fireworks explode from the Eiffel Tower in Paris. The locals, in the small group around her, smiled, grateful that no signs of the foretold Y2K bug had been reported. News crews had been covering the World-Wide celebrations since they first began in Kiribati's Millennium Island. Not a single calamitous incident reported. But as she paused in her panic to buy last minute emergency supplies before heading to the silos, she couldn't help but wonder when the true 'New Year' would begin.

*These poor people. They have no idea.*

Pushing the cart past them, she hurried back to the sundries, meeting Caroline as she grasped a large package of bathroom tissues.

"Carly, we aren't even going to have toilets."

Her sister-in-law blanched. "Where are we supposed to go?"

Sabryn shrugged. "We'll figure something out. Which reminds me..." She reached across the aisle, picking out a large box of tampons. "I'm going to run out sooner or later."

"You finally started?"

"Yeah. I think it was stress." She'd been late for a few days, and overwhelmed with fear about bringing a new life into this nightmare. And yet when she'd gone to Caroline for support, she'd forgotten the woman was facing the very same fear herself. Foot firmly planted in her mouth, she apologized profusely. Luckily, her sister-in-law had understood. "I know this is going to sound stupid but, for a few minutes this morning, I was almost disappointed."

Caroline glanced down at her own swollen stomach. "I can easily understand that. I'm scared to death, but I wouldn't give this baby up for anything."

Sabryn gave her a shaky smile. "We should get going. John and Walter are going to wonder what's taking so long."

When they'd made their purchases and headed for the Buick, snow was lightly falling...the sky camouflaged with a layer of thick gray clouds. There could have been alien ships hovering overhead that very second and they never would have seen them. Shivering, Sabryn scooted behind the wheel and turned the key.

Nothing but an ominous clicking sound came from the engine. She tried again, with the same results.

"God, not now..."

She turned the key again, and nothing.

"Are we out of gas?" Caroline asked.

"No, it says we have half a tank."

"Well, I hope you know something about cars, because I sure don't."

Blowing hot air on her hands, Sabryn gave her a hopeless glance. She tried the key again, pressing down on the gas pedal. It didn't help. It was too damned cold for the old car. Hell, it was too damned cold for human beings.

"Should we call the guys?"

"What for? They don't have a car."

"Well, maybe a tow truck?"

They were running out of time. No one knew when the invasion would begin. And still, it was the only option. Nodding, Sabryn started to reach for the door handle, only to start and let out a shriek as someone knocked on the window. Heart pounding, she rolled down the icy window and tried not to look like a deer caught in headlights as she stared up at Erik Larsen.

"Sounds like you ladies are having some trouble."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. "We're fine, Mr. Larsen. Thank you."

She was about to roll up the window when he spoke again. "I hope you don't think I was following you again, Ms. Bryn. I just can't resist a blue light special."

"Do you know this gentleman?" Caroline prompted, her voice light with amusement.

He crouched down slightly, peering past her to her sister-in-law. "We met a few days ago. I'm Erik Larsen."

"Caroline Warner-Pruitt. Nice to meet you."

"Likewise, Ma'am." Glancing back at Sabryn momentarily, he smiled. "I have a house on the other side of the ridge from where you're staying. Can I offer you a ride?"

"That would--"

"No, thank you."

"Sabryn!" Caroline elbowed her. "We need to get home."

"I can't just leave you out here," Larsen urged. "What kind of a man would I be?"

She could think of a few suggestions. Glaring back at Caroline, she said, "We'll be fine."

Reaching for the door handle, her sister-in-law gave her an admonishing look. "You can wait for a tow truck if you'd like, but I want to get back to my kids. It's getting late."

Her last words were heavy with veiled symbolism. Reaching for the bag in the back-seat, Caroline climbed out of the car. Narrowing her eyes, Sabryn stared back at Larsen's grin.

"Will you be staying then, Ms. Bryn?"

"We'll be right there."

She waited for him to walk away, keeping her eye on him in the rear view mirror as she opened the glove compartment. Pulling out the loaded pistol hidden inside, she tucked it into her purse. Caroline gasped.

"Sabryn...this man is being a gentleman by offering us a ride. How can you be so rude?"

"Trust me, I have a bad feeling about him."

"Would you rather sit here with your bad feeling, or get home before midnight?"

She cringed, Alex's warnings about Larsen echoing in her head as she got out of the car. Heading for his truck, she couldn't help but wonder which was worse--Erik Larsen, or the aliens.

The drive to New York City, with Scully in the passenger's seat, was about as awkward as a blind date. Exiting the Lincoln Tunnel, he concentrated on the road...trying not to notice her continual stare in his direction. She watched him like she expected him to rip off a mask and reveal the true evil underneath.

"Just how are you planning to get us in?"

"My security code." He gave her a sly smile. "Damned near as good as Diplomatic Immunity."

"That may work for you, but what about me?"

"You worry too much."

"Stop fucking around, Krycek--"

"We're both going to walk right in the front door. How the hell do you think Mulder planned on getting in?"

"Planned? I thought you said he'd be here?"

"No, I said I thought I knew where he was headed."

She gave him a lethal glare. "Pull the truck over."

"We're almost there."

He groaned at the sudden congestion on the street. New York on New Year's Eve was a nightmare. The closer they got to Times Square, the slower they moved. Turning the wheel suddenly, he raced past a couple of pedestrians to cut off a slow moving taxi. The honking behind him increased twofold.

"I don't give a damn. Pull over."

"Look, you're going to have to trust me." He pointed to the building across the intersection, just past the 42nd Street sign. "That's it right there. Now would you like to go in, or are you backing out after coming all this way?"

He stopped at the red light, turning to look at her. Her fingers tightened around the door handle. Swearing under her breath, she sat back and crossed her arms. "The light's green."

Pushing down on the gas, he drove through the intersection and past the Gentleman's Club. Turning right into the next alleyway, he slowed down. Wide enough for only one car, the space was dank and deserted but surprisingly clean. Wouldn't want to get mud or garbage stuck to the tires of rich old cars, or to the feet of even richer old men. About halfway down the alley, a wide opening in the side of the building led to a ramp. He turned the wheel, driving down into the parking garage, making a U-turn just before the end of the lane, not even bothering with a parking space. Shutting down the engine, he gestured with his head towards the metal elevator doors on the right.

"All the way to the top."

"How am I supposed to know this isn't a trap?"

"I could have just as easily hidden in your apartment and knocked you over the head as you walked in the door, if I really wanted you so badly."

"And what about them? They could be waiting for us to walk right into their hands."

He crouched down again, pointing out two security cameras in the corners ahead of them. "Those are just the ones they want you to see. They know we're here, Scully. My guess is, the only reason they haven't shown their faces by now is because they aren't here themselves."

"Then why are we going in?"

"To find out where the safe base is. El Rico is out of the question. So is Fort Marlene and Skyland Mountain. They need a new place to hide, somewhere the rebels won't find them."

"And you think that's what Mulder was after?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't think he would have left me behind, if that was the case."

Alex shrugged. "How many times has Mulder left you behind, before?"

She glared at him, groping for the door handle, before getting out and slamming the door behind her. Storming over to the elevator, she pushed the button.

He had to admit it was a low blow. He even felt a slight twinge of shame as he retrieved his gun from the center console, stepped down from the truck and shut the door behind him. But he hadn't said anything that wasn't true.

Hitting the button to set the alarm, he called out, "You need a pass card."

She turned around. "What?"

He pulled out his wallet, holding up a little card with a magnetic strip on the back. "You need one of these for the elevator."

"If that's true, how would Mulder get in?"

"He probably used Marita's." Swiping his card through the slot, he stood back and watched the doors open. She gave him another dubious glance before stepping into the carriage and turning around to face him. "He might not have been here at all. For all I know, he could have used mental telepathy to find the base. But chances are he'll show up there sooner or later."

"You better hope you're right, Krycek."

Stepping inside and pushing the button to the top floor, he smirked. "Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise."

She was silent on the ride up, watching the numbers above the door increase with each floor. Leaning against the wall, he studied her face. Not even bothering to hide his gaze. She looked older than he remembered. No doubt she felt older, too. After all the crap she endured for the X-Files, she was probably about ready for retirement. The rings under her eyes were darker than usual, a testimony to too many sleepless nights. Months ago, he would have dismissed the sign as stress over her job or the situation. Now, however, he recognized her anxiety for what it truly was. She was in love with the bastard. And Mulder was too damned dumb to see it.

*I don't think he would have left me behind.*

Her words echoed in his head, along with an irrational anger at the other man. What kind of a jackass would do that to a woman? He realized, too late, that he could have asked the very same thing about himself.

"He's trying to keep you out of danger, Scully."

She turned her head towards him just as the bell signaled their arrival at the top floor. She stared at him for a moment, before walking through the opening doors.

"I don't need saving."

He followed her down the hall, towards the walnut double doors. "All I'm saying is--"

"Krycek, just get the information so we can go."

Her harsh tone suggested she was at her limit. Nodding silently, he reached under his coat for the gun. Turning the door knob with his prosthesis, he pushed it open with his foot. He expected the usual "door man" to stop him in his tracks, before recognizing him and allowing him to proceed. But the guard was suspiciously absent. Stepping through the doorway, he gestured for Scully to follow. Yet as she stepped through the door, it slammed behind them. Alex spun around, staring down the barrel of his gun...and straight up the barrel of another. He narrowed his eyes, before his lips curved into a smirk.

Scully gasped. "Mulder."

"At last...my love has come along. My lonely days are over, and life is like a song."

Squished against the passenger's side door, Sabryn cringed as Mr. Larsen softly sang along with the radio. Her fingers clutched her purse at her side, ready for the slightest indication that he was driving them anywhere but back to the cabin. She was almost certain he could hear her heart beat, pounding violently in her chest. She wanted to grab Carly's arm, bail out of the truck, and run the rest of the way home. But they wouldn't even make it a mile before they froze solid.

"Do you know this song, Ms. Caroline?"

Carly sounded like a flirty teenager. Her voice tended to raise an octave whenever she was nervous. "I believe I've heard it before."

"This used to be one of my wife's favorites."

"Used to be?"

"She passed away, Ma'am."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She held her hand to her chest and shook her head in sympathy, giving Sabryn the urge to gag.

"I was telling Ms. Bryn the other day how much she looks like my late wife." He flipped down the sun visor in the front of them, revealing a picture clipped to the back side. "That's her right there."

Caroline leaned closer, peering at the picture, before turning back to look at Sabryn with wide eyes. "That's plain creepy."

Curious in spite of herself, Sabryn looked closer at the picture. Sitting on the grass, her legs folded beneath her, the young woman stared at the camera with large blue-gray eyes. Her hair curled around her face, falling in glossy waves over her shoulders to rest just above her waist. Surrounded by dense patches of clover, her mouth was curved in a Mona Lisa smile as fat bumble bees darted around her. She was serene, delicate, with short fingers as annoyingly stubby as Sabryn's own. Her hair was tinted bronze, from the sun, and her skin was a bit darker...but if she hadn't known otherwise, Sabryn would have sworn she was staring at a picture of her younger self.

She glanced back at Mr. Larsen. "You weren't kidding."

"It's uncanny, isn't it?"

She wasn't sure the nose was quite right, and it had been quite a while since she remembered being that skinny, but the similarities were so startling that she pushed the visor up to keep from staring.

"Where was she from?"

"Ingrid? She was born in Grand Forks."

"North Dakota?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"They say everyone has a twin somewhere," Caroline said, "but I didn't think it was that literal."

"Now you know why I was so curious. Ingrid once told me her sisters look a lot like her, as well."

"Maybe you're related, Sabryn...a cousin, maybe?"

"I don't know." Her voice was a near-whisper as she stared out the window, lost in thought. She'd never considered herself psychic, but she could usually trust her gut instinct...so why was she suddenly wondering if Mr. Larsen's harmless interest in her was completely genuine? "I do have cousins I've never met. It's a possibility."

She was grateful when Caroline steered the conversation towards Mr. Larsen's plans for the New Year. By the time they rounded the last corner and the cabin came into view, she couldn't wait to get out of the car. Genuine interest or not, his gaze lingered far too long for Sabryn's taste.

She opened the door as the truck pulled to a stop, watching John open the front door and head down the steps to meet them.

"What's going on? We were about to start walking to town in search of you."

"The car broke down."

"Mr. Larsen was kind enough to offer us a ride," Caroline added.

Walking around to the driver's side of the truck, John shook the man's hand. "That was very thoughtful of you. These two mean the world to us."

"It was my pleasure." Larsen bent slightly, meeting Sabryn's gaze as she was shutting the door. "You never did tell me what you were doing for the New Year. Any plans?"

"We'll be staying in. Just a night for the family."

"All right, then. You're welcome to head on over to the house if you wanted to see some fireworks later."

"We'll keep that in mind. Thank you for the ride."

He nodded as she shut the door, waiting as they headed for the house. She didn't bother to look back, but hurried inside and away from his gaze. It was almost a palpable thing, and as she sat down on the couch she shuddered. She let out a sound of disgust, making Walter look up from the coals he was stirring.

"Something bothering you?"

"Not anymore, thank God."

Standing up, he headed over to the chair next to her and sat down. "I figure we should leave at dawn tomorrow, unless something comes up earlier. Are you going to be ready for this?"

She sucked in a deep breath. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Your brother and I talked to the kids while you were gone. I think Chris finally understands, but he's so quiet we can't really be sure. Jolie said she'd help look out for him."

"They're good kids. I think they'll be OK, for the most part."

"How have you been doing, Sabryn? In the last four days, the only time I've seen you slow down was when you went to bed at night."

"Keeping busy leaves me little time to think."

Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on his thighs and laced his fingers together. "I realize that," he said, as John and Carly walked in the door. "I'm just worried that you're bottling all these things in. Whether you think about it or not, it's still going to happen."

"I know that, Walter." She stood up and headed for the ladder, ready to pack up her few remaining belongings in preparation for the morning. "But the world as I knew it ended a long time ago."

Part Two: New Year's Day

Summary: With a tiny spark, it begins.

For Tara, who'd better write more of that WIP, before I'm forced to hunt her down and strangle it out of her. And you think I'm kidding.

"To everyone is given the key to heaven; the same key opens the gates of hell."
~Ancient proverb

"Mulder, what the hell is going on here?"

His gaze flickered towards Scully, before continuing the angry glare in Alex's direction. "I was about to ask you the same thing."

"We were looking for you."

"We?"

Lowering his own gun to his side, Alex glanced impatiently at the clock on the wall. Ten forty-two. One hour and eighteen minutes until the new year. "Come on, Mulder. Get your head out of your ass and tell us what the hell is going on."

"What are you doing with him, Scully?"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, lowering her voice considerably. He must have took it as a warning, as his gaze drifted towards her. "I couldn't reach you for five days, Mulder."

"I didn't have time to wait for you to return."

"And you couldn't have called?"

"I lost my phone somewhere between here and El Rico. Getting your ass chased by MPs doesn't leave you a lot of time to reach out and touch someone."

Alex asked, "Where's Marita?"

"What hell are you doing here, Krycek? And why isn't he in cuffs?"

"He helped me find you, Mulder."

His skeptical laugh made Alex exhale heavily. "We're wasting time. What have you found?"

"Oh, I'm sorry I'm not on your schedule, Krycek--"

"Damn it, do you want to see your sister or not?"

The agent's gaze darkened and fell suddenly serious. "Aside from the two guards, when I came in, I haven't 'found' much of anything. I'm standing watch, while Marita looks through the files."

He nodded towards the open doorway further down the wall, light spilling into the conference room from beyond.

"Where are the guards?"

"Taking a nap behind the security desk."

"Please tell me you didn't shoot anyone," Scully muttered.

"Of course not. At least not with a pistol."

Tucking his gun into his waistband, Alex headed for the open doorway. He could hear footsteps following close behind him.

"Wait a minute. Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Just as soon as you tell us, Mulder," he called out, over his shoulder.

Pushing the door farther open, he saw Marita start at the sound.

Wow. If he hadn't seen her the previous week, he wouldn't have known there had been any change in her at all. Aside from the obvious weight loss. A blond wig covering her tufted hair, makeup hiding her gaunt complexion, and wearing a tailored suit, she looked exactly like the woman he knew so well. And the realization was startling. Blue eyes wide, she stared at him in confusion. Surprised by his presence. She couldn't have been nearly as surprised as he was.

Stepping into the small office, he left the door open as he passed the desk and leaned against the filing cabinet she was raiding. Various files lay in disarray on the desk top, even more piled on top of the cabinet, and not one of the papers inside was less than fifty percent blackened to hide their content.

"Find anything interesting?"

"You came back." Her voice was still scratchy with exhaustion, but she sounded more like her old self than she had previously. "Why?"

"You told me to finish it. That's what I plan on doing." He tilted his head, inspecting her weary face. "I thought you said you were too weak to continue."

"I'm not doing much," she said, softly. "Agent Mulder thought I might remember some things through hypnosis. Turns out he was correct."

He turned to see Mulder and Scully standing just outside the doorway, arguing in hushed voices. Standing toe to toe, neither backing down for a second. And he didn't even notice the impulsive brush of his fingers over the picture in his coat pocket.

"What did you remember?"

"Several vague things. The address of this office, for one. Things mentioned in my presence when they thought I was too incoherent to know what was happening." She paused for a moment, pulling out a new file and opening it. "The tests they were doing on me...trying to replicate the Russian vaccine...Alex, they never used that vaccine on me. They used the American imitations. None of them worked completely, and when I almost died, they brought me back to continue the project."

He looked away in disgust. He'd brought this upon her. If he hadn't been so damned determined to prove his power, to rub Majestic's nose in the fact that the Russians were winning, this never would have happened. But it had been her who stole the boy from him. He wasn't completely to blame. Still, he felt the guilt all the same.

"I'm sorry."

She looked up from the file, her penciled-in eyebrows pinching together. "I don't think I've ever heard you say those words before."

"Don't get used to it."

"She must be quite a lady."

He didn't bother to feign ignorance and ask who she was talking about. He merely ignored the comment altogether. Thinking about Sabryn was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment. Especially with little over an hour to go.

"Where have you and Mulder been in five days?"

"Where haven't we been, is a better question. Chilmark, DC, Virginia, El Rico...anywhere there might be a lead to where they're headed. We even followed one of the men out of New York, but he lost us...so we came back here."

"Why is Mulder involving you, and not Scully?"

"Mrs. Scully was supposed to persuade her to go along to stay with her brother, but that obviously didn't work." She looked him straight in the eye. "I'm already dying, Alex. Mulder didn't want to take the same risk with her."

They took special liberties on their last night in the cabin. With just enough gasoline left over to keep the generator running for a couple of hours, Walter rolled out the television set from the largest bedroom and hooked it up to the antenna line. It was hard to laugh at sitcoms anymore, let alone the awful Friday night line up, but the real program of interest didn't roll around until eleven o'clock. Feet propped up on the coffee table next to John's, Sabryn lay bonelessly on the couch, too tired to sleep, her head lolling against his shoulder. Jolie sat next to her, blinking lazily as she watched what had to be the eighth episode of the Sci Fi channel's Twilight Zone marathon. With Walter slouched in the chair, and Caroline curled up in a deep sleep with her son on the love seat, not a single one of them had spoken a word in hours. Despite the outward calm, there was an underlying tension that made the air seem to crackle.

They were all waiting for the ball to drop. Literally, and figuratively.

"Dad?"

Jolie's sleepy voice roused John out of his weary stupor. "What, honey?"

"If the aliens come, do I have to go back to school?"

"No, Jo," Sabryn interrupted, "you have to deal with your dad's brand of teaching, and that's even worse."

She grunted as her brother elbowed her, smiling as Jolie giggled.

"I wouldn't be a bad teacher," he said, defensively.

"Yeah, coming from the man who teaches his kids dirty words, doesn't wear a seat belt, cheats on his tax returns, and answers the door in his underwear."

Walter chuckled, using an authoritative tone to say, "I can let the other ones fly, but I may have to arrest you on that last offense, John."

"It happened once!"

The statement was so ludicrous, Jolie and Sabryn both laughed--waking Caroline out of a sound sleep.

"Is it time yet?" she asked, yawning.

Walter checked his watch and cursed under his breath, quickly flipping the channel. "We almost missed it."

"Twilight Zone-induced coma," Sabryn muttered.

The screen was suddenly filled with a sea of cheering people, their screams just shrill enough to give her the willies. The camera panned the crowd, showing smiling faces, people dancing, horns being blown, everyone in a myriad of bright colors and excitement. And as Dick Clark's voice-over started the countdown, she could feel her stomach begin to drop as well. Her fingers clenched in the pillow on her lap, knuckles turning white with the tension. The glittering ball, a mass of light and mirrors so bright it illuminated the bodies below did nothing to stir her excitement. If she squinted, it almost looked like a blazing fireball, falling from the sky, ready to blow them all to smithereens.

Jolie counted along, her soft voice tinged with the slightest tremor. And when it reached the bottom, instead of the powerful explosion Sabryn had imagined, the lights of the 2000 sign glowed with sonic proportion. And she jumped all the same. Closing her eyes against the images of celebrating faces, happy couples kissing each other with renewed passion, smiling people singing Auld Lang Syne as they were showered with snow-like confetti. Joyous human beings, who had no idea they were hours, perhaps minutes, from being eliminated.

She released the harsh bite on her lip, sitting up and pushing away from the couch.

"Bryn?"

She barely glanced in John's direction. "I'm going to bed. I need some sleep."

"You're not going to stay up for midnight?"

"I've already seen it. I don't think it gets better than that."

She edged past Walter, his concerned gaze catching her eye. She tried to smile as she passed, but wasn't successful. Climbing the ladder, she stepped into the loft and headed towards the far back to strip out of her clothes. She heard Caroline say good night, but couldn't find the breath to respond. Exhausted, mind spinning a mile a minute with horrific thoughts, the only thing she could manage was to pull on her nightgown. And when she lay down on the bed, pulling the covers over her, she buried her face in her lover's pillow and breathed in deeply.

*Happy New Year, Alex.*

The street below was brightly lit, packed with people, even blocks away from the Times Square celebration. Standing alone in the quiet conference room, on the top floor, Alex could still hear the sounds of shouting and canons firing confetti onto the crowd. He leaned his forehead against the cold window pane, closing his eyes briefly against the sight before him. And just for a second or two, he was no longer in New York--he lay in a darkened room, on a messy bed, in the arms of a soft and gently smiling woman. Her eyes searching his face, before flickering closed at the touch of his lips. He could almost feel her sweet mouth against his.

*S novym godom, Sabryn.*

He'd made the stupid mistake of promising he would come back to her. There was no telling if he'd actually be able to keep the oath. Just as there was no guarantee the promise he'd made to Marita nearly an hour ago, to find some way to save her from her cancer. Although neither of them thought she'd hold him to his word, or that a cure was even possible, the moment still hung in the air like a black cloud. Maybe because the idea was so absurd--Alex Krycek, messenger of death, vowing to save a life.

His breath clouding against the window, he rubbed the back of his neck in effort to ease overly tense muscles. Over an hour after entering Majestic's offices, they still hadn't gotten anywhere. After dragging the guards, one by one, into the nearby copy room and breaking the key off in the lock, he'd come back to find Scully sitting on the floor with files all around her. Marita still stood by the file cabinet, emptying every drawer with methodical efficiency. And Mulder, not bothering to hide his suspicious glare, shadowed Alex's every move. Even now, as he stood motionless looking out at the city, he could see the agent's reflection from across the room.

Glancing over his shoulder, he muttered, "Would it make you feel better to strip search me, Mulder?"

"As a matter of fact, it would."

"I bet." He turned leaning back against the window ledge. "What the hell did you leave her behind for?"

"I already explained that to her, and it's none of your damned business."

"You treat her like shit, Mulder."

"Go to hell."

"Kurite moju trubku."

"Alex."

Marita didn't even have to yell to make him feel chastised. Her icy blue eyes cut across the space between them like laser beams. Standing in the doorway, holding a piece of paper, her gaze skipped between the two of them with the effect of an irate school marm.

"If you two are almost finished insulting each other, I think I may have found something."

Scully appeared in the doorway behind her, slipping her jacket back on, looking ready to roll.

"What is it?"

Marita handed Mulder the piece of paper, pointing out something on the page. "See, there, where the ink doesn't quite cover the bottom of the letters?"

"Yeah..."

"I remembered something when I saw this. A long time ago, before Fort Marlene, I arrived early for a meeting. The door was partially opened and the discussion was hushed, but they were talking about--"

As she spoke the rest of the sentence, Mulder read off the page, saying the rest of the words with her.

"Mount Deception."

"That's not too far from here," Alex said, walking towards where they stood.

Scully shook her head. "About a three hour drive, tonight."

"Then let's go," Mulder said.

"Hold on a minute." Alex stood his ground. "First you better figure whose side you think I'm on. If you're gonna walk in there thinking I'm the enemy, I'd rather do this alone."

"Fat chance."

"I'm serious, Mulder. You're useful to me, yes...but if you hesitate, you'll end up getting us both killed."

All three of them stared at him in silence. Disbelief. Especially Marita, the one who knew his selfish motives better than the others. But things had changed, and it was about time they realized that.

Exhaling heavily, he added, "Skinner sent me here to find you. Do you really think he'd do that if he thought it was a bad idea?"

Holding his gaze, the tension in his body gradually dissipating, Mulder shook his head slightly. "You drive, Krycek. I'll take shot gun."

She woke up choking on her own scream, shortly after midnight. The room below was dark, everyone else having retired to their beds for one last night of comfort. What little sleep they were able to claim came only at the mercy of exhaustion.

The nightmares were getting worse. There was no telling what awful images would come into her head when she crawled into bed. Monsters and demons; hideous little beings with almond eyes and beastly claws; women and children screaming in terror while the men tried to act brave to hide their fear; human beings ripped in half as the spawn of hell tore its way to freedom; little babies spitting up black blood and screeching in agony. The nausea was enough to make her stumble out of bed and scurry down the ladder towards the bathroom.

The food she'd managed to choke down at dinner time was completely wasted. Rinsing out her mouth and swishing around some mouth wash, she spit into the sink and leaned weakly against the counter. She couldn't catch her breath, hot tears gathered in her eyes, and her stomach was still painfully clenched. Yet somehow she managed to walk out into the living room and sit down on the couch next to the purring cat.

The room was cast in gray scale, a charcoal drawing of shadows, silent and eerie as still life. But it wasn't long before she realized the silence was undernoted by a soft, distant rumble. Frowning, she glanced at the door. She didn't really want to know what was out there. She suddenly felt like one of those horror movie bimbos who walked right towards the hidden killer while the audience screamed not to go in there. Still, the compulsion to step forward was almost magnetic.

Stepping only close enough to pull aside a curtain and peer out the window, she kept herself hidden as she stared out at the early morning sky. Other than the hint of cobalt in the far distance, the sky was still midnight blue...stars glittering overhead and shimmering, in the form of frosty snow, on the ground below. She couldn't see anything that would be making that noise. That worried her even more.

It was too quiet.

It couldn't be far past midnight. She should have heard the sound of fireworks, and celebrations all around them. The only explosions she heard were too far away to even be seen. What had happened to Mr. Larsen's party?

Cheeser scratched at the door next to her, meowing to be let out. Shivering with indecision, Sabryn let the curtain fall back into place. Just a few steps out the door couldn't hurt. Certainly not far enough away that she couldn't sprint back to the cabin if anything should happen. Slipping on her shoes by the door, she grabbed John's heavy winter coat and draped it over her shoulders. Wearing only her night shirt, her legs bare, she wouldn't be able to stay outside for long anyway.

Unlocking the door, she eased it open, jumping slightly at the creak the hinges emitted, shuddering at the sudden cold. The rumble was louder outside, continuous, like engines of eighteen wheelers. And yet as she stepped off the porch, she knew she wasn't hearing a group of semis.

She looked up again, over the house, over the ridge, at every piece of canvas the night sky offered, and there wasn't a thing unusual about it. The same bright half moon lit the sky. Nothing out of place. Nothing new. Not a single invading space ship in sight. Maybe Alex had been wrong.

Waiting patiently for the cat to finish its business, she picked it up and huddled it against her chest. She tucked the coat tighter around them, daring to walk out a bit further. Down the drive way, towards the corner, with Cheeser rubbing against her all the while. Keeping the cabin in plain sight, her body poised to run. Her gaze darted around nervously, ready for an attack from any direction. She wondered if she was worrying for nothing. The rumble grew louder the closer she got to the corner. The cat tensed in her arms, growling at the sound. Sabryn could hear the crunching of tires on gravel. It wouldn't be that unusual to hear someone driving on the road...if it weren't for the fact that it sounded just like a convoy.

No sooner had the thought popped in her head than she reached the corner and saw trucks moving down the road beyond. One vehicle after another, some camouflaged, some black. Some moving faster, others moving as slow as a tank.

Most likely because it was a tank, she realized.

Shaking from head to toe, she buried her face against the cat's fur and whispered a repeated refrain under her breath. "Oh no...oh no...oh no...oh no..."

Alex hadn't been wrong at all. With the help of the military, FEMA was taking control. It was undoubtedly only a matter of hours before they'd start to round up the American citizens like cattle.

New Year's Day was finally at hand.

Part Three: Come The Dawn

Summary: Tick tock, tick tock...

For Evie Hammer, my 12th grade Creative Writing teacher--first person to see my writing as more than a hobby. Thank you for making me believe.

"Mankind must put an end to war, or war will put an end to mankind."
--John F. Kennedy

She flung the door open with such force the windows rattled.

Hurrying into the cabin, barely aware of the cat that brushed past her legs, racing to the bedroom doors. She didn't bother to knock, but rather shoved them open in her haste.

"Get up! Something's happening!"

John grumbled in his sleep, turning over, as Caroline sat up. Sabryn didn't wait to explain. Moving on to Walter's room, she gave the door the same absent-minded treatment...only to be faced with the man's naked torso as he moved to clothe himself.

Still retaining enough composure to blush, she quickly looked away. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right," he said, yanking on his jeans and zipping them up. "What's going on?"

"FEMA. They've started mobilizing."

"You saw them?"

She nodded, slightly out of breath. "Out on the road. A convoy, heading west."

"Get your things, I'll make sure the others are getting up. We need to get the hell out of here, fast."

She didn't wait around. Hurrying to the ladder, she climbed up to the loft and grabbed the clothes she'd left out the night before. She nearly ripped her cotton panties as she tugged them into place. Barely taking the time to fasten her bra, she pulled on the sweat shirt and jeans. She could hear Walter urging her family to hurry as she grabbed her bag and pillow, and headed for the living room once more.

"What were you doing outside this early in the morning, Sabryn?"

Pulling on his plaid shirt, his hair standing on end, John was his usual cheerful morning self.

"I could hear them on the road." She sat down on the couch, pulling on her socks with shaking fingers. "There has to be an entire army out there."

"If they're on the road, and we don't have a car, how are we supposed to get to the silos?"

Before Walter could answer him, Sabryn interrupted. "There's a trail over the ridge, and the silos are just on the other side. It's probably a few miles, but it'd be safer than the road."

"Good idea," Walter said, lacing up his own boots. "Have we got everything we need here?"

Sabryn stood up abruptly. "Cat food."

"You're taking the cat with you?"

"I can't leave her here. She'll starve."

"She'll probably die anyway," John muttered.

"Not if I can help it."

Hurrying into the kitchen, she opened the cupboards, frantically searching for the unopened bag of cat food she'd picked up at the store. Boxes of stale cereal fell onto the counter, one spilling its contents all over the floor.

"Shit."

"Bryn?"

She turned around to see her niece staring up at her, her eyes wide with panic.

"Jo, have you seen the cat food?" Jolie pointed to the bag on the end of the opposite counter, in plain sight. Taking a deep breath, Sabryn leaned against the cabinets. "Thank you, sweetie."

"Are you scared?"

She wasn't sure how to answer. If she admitted it, she might scare the kid even more. But lying was even worse. "Yes, I am."

"Me too."

"I think we all are." Grabbing the cat food, she stepped over the mountain of crispy rice and handed the bag to Jolie. "Will you do me a favor, Jo?"

"What?"

"I think Cheeser is scared, too. And I really need someone brave to take care of her. Do you think you could do that for me?"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm not going anywhere. But I need to help your mom, and your brother, so I'm hoping you can carry the cat for me. Can you do that?"

Jolie nodded, suddenly looking determined.

"Thank you. Come on, you can put that food in my bag, and then we can go."

Leading the way to the living room, Jolie set down the food the minute she reached the couch and picked up the cat...holding it tight against her chest like precious cargo. Stuffing the food into her bag, Sabryn glanced at her family. Dressed and wearing their coats, they checked their bags one last time. Caroline zipped Chris and Jolie into their parkas. Looking antsy to get started, Walter stood with his hand on the door knob. John handed Sabryn her coat and waited patiently for her to zip up before taking her bag.

"Are we ready?" Walter asked. No one was enthusiastic about speaking up. Finally Caroline nodded. "Then let's go."

Taking one last look around, Sabryn shivered as they headed out the door. With her pillow tucked under her arm, she squeezed her hands into little fists. Fighting the urge to fidget. She shut the door behind them and hurried to catch up to Caroline.

"I can take Chris," she said, looking at the still sleepy little boy as he lagged behind.

"Would you?"

"Sure." She bent down to pick him up, jostling him slightly, letting him rest against the pillow on her shoulder. When she'd expected him to fall right to sleep, he stared at her with terrified eyes. "We're gonna be OK, kiddo."

"I wanna go home."

She blinked rapidly as the thought of her parents and that beautiful farm flashed through her mind. "Me too."

The cold air made breathing painful as they trudged up the hill. Every breath seemed to rip through their lungs, making icy clouds with each exhalation. Her ears were frozen, her face stung, and her back was starting to hurt. But she wasn't about to put the little boy down. Keeping Jolie just in front of her, she smiled slightly as Cheeser bounced around with each step. Poor cat. It looked positively miserable.

"How you doin', Bryn?"

She glanced over her shoulder at her brother. "I'm starving."

"We'll have plenty to eat as soon as we get down there."

"If we ever do. I don't remember the walk being as long last time."

"There wasn't as much snow."

"That, and I had more than five minutes of sleep last time."

"Somehow I doubt that."

She frowned at his wry comment before realizing what he was talking about. Alex had been at the cabin then. "John!"

"What? It's the truth, isn't it?"

"Well, I'm certainly not discussing it with my brother. Especially in front of a five-year-old."

"You miss him, don't you?"

She slowed down a bit, turning to look at him. Since when did he give a damn?

"Yes, I do."

"He'll come back."

She dropped her gaze, before walking once more. They had crested the top of the ridge before she said, "I hope you're right."

"He will." He sounded awfully smug. "I told him he'd better come back to you, or I'd hunt him down and kick his ass."

She stared openmouthed at him. "You didn't."

"I did. And I told him he was going to make an honest woman of you, too."

"Johnny!"

Before she could wipe the grin off his face, Walter jogged back to where they were standing, slightly out of breath, his expression grim. "We've got a problem."

"What is it?"

"The military has taken over the base. The silos, everything. There's no way we're getting in there now."

They were flying down the road at eighty miles per hour when Alex was suddenly forced to pump the brakes to keep from slamming into the row of cars ahead of them. At three sixteen in the morning, twenty miles into the Adirondack Park, he hadn't expected to see so many damned people. Although a site for excellent skiing, the park was relatively quiet over night. But as the truck shuddered to a stop just inches from the car in front of them, he suddenly realized what was going on.

There was a road block ahead.

"Fuck."

"What do we do now?" Marita asked, leaning forward from the back seat.

"Good question," Mulder muttered, casting a glare in Alex's direction.

"Oh, and I suppose you think this is my fault?"

"If you hadn't forgotten to stop and get gas, we would have been there already."

"These cars have probably been here for hours!"

"Will both of you shut up?" Scully pointed to the side, where an old maintenance road was cut off from traffic by a heavy rusted chain. "Go that way."

"You want me to ram my truck through that?"

"You've both got guns. Use them."

Alex glanced at Mulder, seeing his own dubious expression reflected back at him. Still, as military personnel could be seen walking from car to car, questioning the occupants inside, and directing some of them to pull over, there didn't seem to be any other choice. Pressing his foot down on the gas, he yanked the wheel hard and drove them off the main road. The truck tipped dangerously, teetering on the edge, before beginning a hard skid down the bank. They hit the ditch so hard Mulder's head hit the ceiling without his seat belt in place. If it hadn't been for the ominous crunching sound of his bumper, Alex would have been tempted to laugh. But there wasn't time to stick around and survey the damage. They'd been spotted driving off the road, and he could see flashing lights as the military police sped down the opposite lane in pursuit.

"Shit." Flooring the gas, he spit mud and rocks out from under the tires before the truck finally decided to move. Bouncing over uneven terrain, they drove up the other side of the ditch and onto the maintenance road. "You better get your gun ready, Mulder. We aren't gonna have much time."

Stopping in front of the chain, he watched Mulder get out and leave the door open as he raced towards the barrier. He shot once, at close range, the sound drowning out the sirens. Still the chain didn't budge. He pulled the trigger again, only succeeding in chewing a ragged slash through the metal.

Alex rolled down his window. "Get in! We don't have time."

The MPs were already pulling through the break in traffic as Mulder ran back to the truck. Alex barely waited for him to shut the door before he hit the gas. The others braced themselves, expecting him to slam into the chain, only to be tossed like rag dolls as he turned the wheel and drove straight through the line of shrubs beside the barrier.

The scraping, scratching, crunching noise made him cringe as they barreled through, only to get hung up on something below. He pressed down hard on the gas, throwing up rocks and sticks in their wake, making slippery depressions in the mud below, getting them nowhere. Watching the Jeep descend the bank in his rear view mirror, he shifted into reverse, gunning the engine once more. Backing far enough to escape the snag, he shifted again, turning the wheel, slamming his foot down on the pedal. Bouncing and rocking over the ground harder than a carnival ride, the truck jumped over the crushed bushes and crashed onto the road once more. He barely gave the shocks a chance to settle before speeding away from the scene, putting as much distance between them and their pursuers as possible.

"What the hell are they doing down there?"

"Beats me, but they've got the whole place covered." Walter pointed to where soldiers were taking equipment off of flat bed trucks. "See over there? They're setting up new fencing around the area that isn't already chain-linked. They've got barbed wire, piping, anything they might need. And they've been moving in and out of the silos, too."

Letting Chris slide down her side, Sabryn stood up on her tiptoes to peer past them. Down the hillside, between the heavy growth of trees, she could see dozens of trucks, most likely the same ones she'd seen earlier, dotting the area around the base. Men, like little ants, scurried back and forth, setting up tents and artillery, turning the once deserted land into a veritable war zone.

"What are we going to do now?" she asked, quietly, not wanting to alarm the kids. "Our food is down there."

"And our weapons," Walter reminded her.

"We'll have no place to hide. We can't stay at the cabin. And it's freezing out here."

John nodded. "We're going to have to come up with something, and fast. It looks like it won't be long before some big shit starts hitting the fan."

"We can't go into town," Walter added. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were already broadcasting the FEMA takeover on the news."

Sabryn shivered, imagining the worst. Road blocks closing off the towns. People taken from their homes as a 'safety precaution,' only to be herded into military camps to be given the virus. That was when it dawned on her.

"I know what that is."

"What?"

"That base. They're setting up a concentration camp. Their own little private jail. They're going to round everyone up and expose them to the virus." She laughed slightly, without the slightest trace of humor, remembering something she'd heard Alex say. "Purity control. They're going to kill them all."

Walter and John stared at her in horror, and she could see Caroline out of the corner of her eye, huddling her kids to her, as she cringed in fear.

Sounding slightly resigned, Walter said, "But they can't do that to you. All of you have had the vaccine."

"They can't kill us with the virus. But they can shoot us when they realize we can't be infected."

He nodded, his expression hardening. "All right, we have to get out of here."

"I think that's a very good idea."

The foreign voice made Sabryn jump and she spun around to see Erik Larsen and two other men walking out of the forest. She didn't even realize she was backing up until she slammed into Walter's chest. Holding the cat tight in her grip, Jolie reached for Sabryn's hand as she stared at Larsen with wide eyes.

"We didn't mean to startle you. We thought you heard us coming."

"What are you doing up here?" Walter asked, wary, even though his voice did not betray him.

Larsen gestured at the men with him, both of the same height and build as he was, so similar in appearance that they could only be brothers. "We were down at my house when we heard them coming. By the time the third tank rolled around, it was looking damned suspicious. There have been army vehicles on that road before, but never that many. And when we caught the news report, we decided to come up here for a better look."

"Just what did they say on the news?"

Larsen frowned. "You had to have caught the report. Why else would you be up here?"

Ignoring the question, Walter stepped forward a bit, placing Sabryn and Jolie behind him. "I think you gentlemen should head on home now. It's probably best that everyone stays inside and doesn't panic."

"What would we have to panic about, Mr. Skinner?"

Sabryn saw Walter tense...a moment before she realized Walter never gave Larsen his name.

"Right or left?" They were coming up fast on a fork in the road, dust flying up in their wake, the military police completely lost in the brown haze. "Right or left!"

"Right!" Scully said.

The truck bounced over rocks and potholes, careening around the corner to the right, the dirt road being ripped to shreds by the racing tires. In the back, the women held on tight, watching the road behind them for any sign of the Jeep. Every few minutes they saw the flash of lights on their tail, but so far no sign of the hunter followed them down the forked path.

"We aren't going to lose them. They'll see the dust."

"Do you want to drive, Mulder?"

"I'm just saying you should slow down."

"And I'm saying you should shut up."

Glancing in the rear view mirror, he saw Scully hide her smirk as she reached up to rub her neck.

"Do we even know where we're going?" Marita asked.

"We weren't far from Mount Defiance when we left the main road," Scully said. "If we keep going right--"

"We should reach Vermont," Alex interrupted.

"We should get there," she finished.

"What is that noise?" Mulder sniffed the air, doing a great imitation of a blood hound. "Are we leaking gas?"

Alex glanced down at the gauge. "Oh shit."

"No sign of them behind us yet," Marita said.

"It's a good damned thing. We're about to make an unscheduled stop."

"We can't stop now," Scully said, her voice sounding distant.

"We don't have a choice."

Slowing down, Alex pulled off the side of the road behind a group of tall fir trees. No longer worried about the truck's under carriage, he drove far enough into the woods that they wouldn't be easily spotted from the road.

"I said we can't stop now."

Shutting down the engine, he turned to glance at her. Scully wasn't even looking at him. Yanking hard on the door handle, she was trying desperately to get out of the truck. Frowning, he hit the child safety lock on his door and her next yank nearly sent her toppling to the ground.

"Scully?"

Mulder opened his door and jumped down out of the truck. By the time Alex and Marita did the same, Scully was halfway to the road. Mulder jogged after her, reaching out to touch her shoulder...and the moment he did, she turned on him.

Frozen in place, Mulder rose his hands slightly. When Alex reached his side, he stopped in his tracks.

Her eyes slightly wild, her arm trembling, Agent Scully pointed her cocked pistol straight at her own partner.

Marita gasped, stepping back behind Alex as she stared at the other woman.

"Scully?" Mulder's voice was softened, barely even audible. "What's going on?"

Without a touch of emotion, she said, "We can't stop now."

"We ran out of gas."

"You can't stop me. I have to go."

Mulder started to step forward when Alex grabbed his arm. "It's not her."

"What?" Meeting his gaze, the agent scowled. "What are you talking about?"

"It's the chip. They're calling her."

A flash of momentary recognition sparked in Mulder's eyes. "Calling her where?"

"To get the hybrid genes. To become their soldier." As his attention went back to his partner, Scully was already walking away. Hurrying to catch up to her, Alex put his hands up as she spun and pointed the gun at him. "I only want to help you find a ride, Scully."

"No, you're a liar."

"Then Mulder will do it. You trust him, don't you?"

For a moment, she hesitated. Exactly what he'd been waiting for. Her gaze focused on Mulder, she wasn't prepared for him to kick her legs out from under her and wrestle her to the ground. Her gun fired, the bullet whizzing into the bushes, her whimpering struggles echoing in the forest. She was like a wild animal beneath him, fighting and lashing out to get free, biting his hand as he tried to subdue her. He shouting, yelling for help, as she nearly got free. Trying to get between them, Mulder snapped a cuff onto her left wrist as Marita held down her kicking feet. The second the other cuff snapped into place, her struggling ceased. The wrenching sob that escaped her made her partner fall flat on his ass and stare at her in horror.

Still sitting on her back, Alex glanced over his shoulder at Marita. "In the truck, there's a pocket knife in the glove compartment. Bring it here."

As she hurried to retrieve it, Mulder regained his composure. "What are you doing?"

"We're going to cut the chip out."

"The hell you are!"

"It's the only way, Mulder."

"No. She'll die without it."

"Would you rather she dies, or becomes one of them?"

"I'm not letting you do this, damn it!"

The sudden violence of his former partner's grip dragged Alex to his feet. Mulder slammed his back into the nearby tree, his face mottled with barely controlled rage. Jesus, how many times had he seen that expression before? The man had more anger than he could handle, like a snarling dog struggling to break its weakening chain.

"You want to hit me, Mulder? Do it."

"Shut up!"

"You're a fucking coward, Mulder. Hit me!" He laughed bitterly. "You can't do it, can you? You know I'm trying to save her."

Walking back with the pocket knife in hand, Marita stared at them before looking at Scully on the ground.

"Cut it out, Marita," Alex said. "It's the only way."

His eyes filled with hate, Mulder looked about ready to release his rage...yet before he could, Alex broke free from his grasp and landed a solid punch square in his clenched jaw. Unprepared for the blow, the agent flew back onto his ass.

Shaking the pain out of his hand, Alex stared at him. "Shocked the hell out of you, didn't I?"

The agent didn't say a word.

"I've never hit you back before, Mulder. You ever wonder why?"

"Fuck you."

"I'm on your side, you stubborn piece of shit. And don't you ever forget it."

Part Four: Where There's Smoke

Yet Another Note: D'OH! I wrote down the wrong destination of Alex & co. in chapter two. I meant to say Mount Defiance, *not* Mount Deception. Ooops! At least I got it right in chapter three. (In case you're wondering Deception Pass is a beautiful region of Washington State, where I live--and Mount Defiance is in the Adirondack Park, New York. Yep, my brain had a big ol' meltdown.)

For those of you (and there are far too many to mention) who stood by me, held my hand, and made me feel appreciated, even when I had nothing to say.

"Mankind must put an end to war, or war will put an end to mankind."
--John F. Kennedy

"Do I know you?"

Sabryn watched Erik Larsen digest Walter's question, looking for any sign that he knew he'd been caught. Instead of the telltale malevolence she'd been expecting, he merely smiled with chagrin.

"You'll have to forgive my nosiness, Mr. Skinner. You see, Miss Bryn holds a striking resemblance to my late wife--just as I told her brother yesterday afternoon. Before I gathered the courage to speak to her myself, I happened to notice your name on the credit card receipt before the cashier at K-Mart put it away. I was only wondering if she might be your wife."

Walter glanced down at her, his dark eyes searching her expression.

"We met a few days ago," Sabryn said. "And his wife did look like me. But that doesn't explain why your name is of any relevance."

"It was wrong of me to have looked," Larsen admitted. "Just curiosity really. No harm done."

Yet, she thought. Still, given the situation, between the colonists and the man before her, Larsen seemed the least likely threat.

"What do you propose we do, Mr. Larsen?" Walter's voice hadn't lost a touch of skepticism. "You've seen the news reports."

"We were told to remain in our homes."

"And yet you haven't."

"It was a little too noisy in my home, with dozens of trucks and tanks rolling past. We wanted to see what was happening. And being neighborly, I had intended to see if you all were all right."

Walter glanced at Sabryn again. "Maybe you and Caroline should take the kids back to the house while we decide what to do."

"No."

"Sabryn--"

"Everything we need is in those silos." She didn't care anymore if Larsen heard her. She was more afraid of the invading military forces than she was of him. There was no point in going back to the house if they were just going to be rounded up like cattle. And she'd be damned if she ended up as an alien experiment. "We have to find a way to get in there and get it."

"What do you have in there?" Larsen asked.

"Food and weapons," Walter said, impatiently. "And there's no way we're getting in there with the fences."

"They can't possibly fence the whole area, Mr. Skinner. Those sheds and underground tunnels reach on for miles."

Walter stared at him for a moment. "Do you know a way in?"

"I might."

Sabryn turned her gaze to John. "Is there enough gas for your camper?"

"Enough to get us to a gas station...assuming the pumps are still working."

"What's going on here?" Larsen asked.

"It's a long story." She licked her lips. "You'll have to trust us."

"Sounds a bit funny coming from a woman who thought I was stalking her."

"I hate to tell you this, Erik, but that's the least of my problems."

"Taking a quite conspicuous camper out on the roads, to a public gas station, isn't a great idea," Walter said. "They may even have the roadblocks set up already."

"I have horses." They turned to stare at Larsen, frowning. Finally getting their attention, he smirked. "You don't have to look so shocked. There's obviously more going on here than some 'chemical spill,' or there wouldn't be an entire army marching past my front door."

"Just what are you suggesting?" Walter asked.

"Would four people be enough to retrieve those supplies?"

"I suppose."

Nodding his red head towards the man to his left, Larsen said, "Dane does not ride, so he'll have to stay behind. But he's an excellent shot with a rifle. He could protect the children, and whomever stays at my house."

"I don't know if I like this idea," John muttered.

Sabryn met Larsen's gaze through the icy fog of her own breath and swallowed heavily. She couldn't stand that intense stare for long. Reaching over, she took a hold of Walter's sleeve, and pulled him back a distance away from the others.

"Are you honestly considering this? You don't even know this man."

"I don't see a lot of other options."

"I don't trust him."

"Well, you're going to have to trust me." He stopped her with a look before she could say anything more. "Krycek isn't here anymore--"

"I know that."

"You made a decision and I'm well aware of that. But I'm the one who's going to get you through this, Sabryn. Not him."

She blinked up at him, fighting the urge to argue. "I know."

"We do this thing together, or we don't get through it at all."

"All right. But when Larsen rips his flesh off and starts talking like the Terminator, don't say I didn't warn you."

"You're going to have to hold her. This isn't going to be pleasant."

Holding Scully down was obviously the last thing Mulder wanted to do. He glared at Alex in frustration before moving down to her ankles, unable to see the cut when it was made. Kneeling astride her waist, the switchblade in his right hand, Alex took a deep breath. This was why he didn't kill women. It made his hand shake just to contemplate cutting her. He knew it was completely psychological. Her flesh may have been softer, her movements more delicate, but that didn't make her feel pain any more so than a man. It only seemed that way. Still, as he nodded to Marita to pull back the collars of Scully's jacket and blouse, the tender flesh exposed underneath made him pause.

"God damn it! Just do it and get it over with."

At Mulder's angry order, he flipped open the knife and felt for the tiny bump under her skin. Piercing the knife into her flesh, he winced. She cried out, her body going taut, her arms struggling against the cuffs. A sanguine pearl formed in the knife's path, growing, before dribbling in a lazy stream down her shoulder. Using the tip of the blade, he found the chip and pried it from her flesh...trying desperately to ignore the agonized shriek that escaped her throat. The chip surfaced, stained red much like his knife, and he picked it up as he got to his feet. Turning to face Mulder, he handed the broken man his cure, his curse, before walking away from the mess he'd made.

Heading back to the truck, he crouched down to peer at the undercarriage. What a fucking mess. Tangled limbs, ripped jaggedly from bushes, hung with as much ugly chaos as the back bumper. And judging by the steady dripping coming from the engine compartment, they'd stopped just in time. Cursing under his breath, he yanked the handle to the hatch and tugged hard to open the door. Catching momentarily on the scarred bumper, it lazily gaped open as he reached for his bag.

Unzipping the duffel just enough to see that everything he needed was in place, he tossed his keys in the bushes and turned to face the others.

"Let's go."

Marita paused in the middle of bandaging the agent's shoulder. Sitting up, cuffs off and her glare directed at Alex, Scully didn't look the slightest bit pleased to have had the chip removed.

"Where do you expect us to go?" Mulder asked.

"Up. We climb from here, until we can find another truck. Mine is toast."

"Climb? It's a damn mountain."

"You got a better plan?" He nodded towards the road, which was steadily getting brighter with the approach of oncoming headlights. "You can stay here if you want, but I'd rather not get caught."

He didn't wait for an answer. Passing the truck, he started walking deeper into the woods. Hugging his coat tighter about him to keep in the warmth. More intent on getting to the safe zone than ever before. He'd known what those chips could do, had imagined the single-minded determination of the implantees...but he'd never before seen one in action. This was only the beginning, the calling. Once those chips were completely activated, it was all over. He wouldn't have been able to stop Scully if he'd tried. She would have been a mindless killing machine.

And there were millions more, just like her.

Before he'd even walked twenty steps, he was grabbed from behind and spun around by a strong pair of hands. He was surprised to see Marita glaring at him, instead of Mulder.

"You're not just going to walk away."

"No one's forcing you to stay here. Let's go."

"She's in no shape to walk all the way, and neither am I."

His gaze swept over her gaunt face, the tired eyes. Damn it. He knew she was right. "So what the hell do you want me to do about it?"

"I think Agent Scully had the right idea. We need to get that Jeep."

"You want us to hijack the military patrol?"

"Have you got a better plan?"

"You're going to get us killed, you know that?" When she didn't answer, he muttered a curse that made her grin and opened his duffel bag to hand her a gun. "Let's do it."

"How many guns do you have in there?"

"Enough. I hope."

He started back towards the road, Marita following closely behind him as she checked her clip and popped it back into place. Just as he was about to throw his bag to Mulder, giving the agent a chance to arm himself, he was swiftly reminded that the man had more of an arsenal than he could handle.

Special Agent Dana Scully daintily wiped the dirt off her slacks before turning and slamming her fist right into Alex's mouth. He wasn't sure what was more shocking--the bitter taste of blood on his nipped tongue or the sudden burst of laughter that escaped from between his lips.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Marita trying hard not to giggle herself. As Scully walked past her partner, the two of them shared a momentary meeting of palms...an odd secret handshake that wasn't quite deliberate, but meant more than Alex could hope to contemplate. Their last strike against him? Maybe. Spitting a frothy pink gob of saliva onto the ground, he fervently hoped it was the only blood he would shed that day.

Jogging to catch up with them, he thrust his pack into Mulder's hands and readied his own pistol. Time for the game to begin.

Larsen's home wasn't a palatial estate by any means. It wasn't even half the size of the cabin they'd spent the last few days in. But it had power. And when the heat washed over Sabryn's face as she walked in the door, she could have kissed the man. Stranger-be-damned, she was about two minutes away from unpacking her belongings and taking up residence.

"Make yourselves comfortable," Larsen said absently, as he walked into the kitchen. "Find yourselves something to eat, take a nap, whatever you'd like. I don't think we need any formalities at this stage."

"Who's going to go to the silos?" Carolyn asked, keeping her children tight against her body.

Pausing, Larsen looked from John to Walter. "That's a good question."

John crossed his arms. "No offense, Larsen, but I don't know you or your brothers. I'm not leaving my wife and sister, not to mention my children, alone with a complete stranger."

"Understandable. No offense taken. In that case," he looked at Sabryn, "I guess you'll be accompanying us on the horses. You do know how to ride?"

John opened his mouth to speak when he suddenly seemed to realize his dilemma. They'd need as many hands as possible to carry the supplies--and if he stayed behind with his family, that only left Walter to follow Larsen's lead. Squeezing his arm, Sabryn nodded to Larsen.

"Yes, I do."

"All right then. Let's get the horses saddled."

They'd been prepared for ambush, but the MP's Jeep rounded the corner to find nothing but an open stretch of road. Reducing speed at the first sign of gasoline on the roadway, the driver never saw it coming. The tiny pulse flash of breaking glass, followed by the sudden jolt of his body was his only indication he'd been hit. He didn't even live long enough to see where the bullet had come from.

Forced into action, the passenger shoved his way over the stick shift and hurried to move his dead partner out of the way. Yet before he could get behind the wheel and get the hell out of harm's way, the shooter stepped right in the vehicle's path.

Screeching to a halt just inches from Alex's legs, the soldier lifted his hands in surrender.

"Good idea, pal," Alex muttered. "It's not worth dying for."

Stepping out of the thick foliage along side the road, Mulder stood beside him with his weapon drawn. "You got that right. What the hell did you do?"

"I stopped the car."

"You shot him. Jesus, you didn't even--"

"What did you expect, Mulder? I'm a trained killer, remember?"

The agent glared at him. "All too well."

Gesturing to the man in the Jeep, he shouted, "Get out of the truck."

Faced with two armed men, and suddenly confronted with more guns as Marita and Scully stepped on the roadway from the opposite direction, the soldier didn't hesitate. He carefully opened the door, keeping his hands visible, before standing and lacing his fingers behind his head. His expression was neutral, neither showing fear or anger, as Scully checked his body for weapons. As she took his sidearm and stepped back, he swallowed heavily.

"Who are you people?"

Alex smirked. "Majestic, asshole."

"That's not possible, sir. We would have been notified of your presence."

"Consider this notification." His finger started tightening on the trigger when Mulder shoved his hand to the side, sending his shot careening into the woods. Alex swore as the soldier turned and ran, disappearing down the road. The sudden shove he gave to Mulder's arm made the agent stumble backwards. "What the fuck are you doing? You let him get away!"

"We didn't come here to kill innocent people," Marita said, stepping between them. "He can't get far on foot, anyway."

"Innocent people? You don't get it, do you?" Losing patience, he stalked over to the Jeep and yanked the remaining body onto the ground. Scully grimaced, staring at the hole in his head. "If I hadn't shot him, he would have killed me first. Not only are those his orders as a military officer, but once this chip in his neck is activated he won't stop until the job is done. Or until he dies trying. That's his one objective. He won't eat, sleep, or think of anything else."

"Is that what you tell yourself every time you pull the trigger, Krycek?"

"Actually, Mulder, I usually think about shooting you."

As Mulder was about to step forward and knock the grin off of his face, Marita glared at Alex. "All right, knock it off, both of you. We're wasting time."

She was right. The sky wasn't nearly as dark as it had been when they left New York City. If they wanted to reach the mountain top before dawn, they had to hurry.

"Get in the car. I'll drive."

"I don't think so. I'll drive."

Before either one of them conceded to the other, Scully climbed behind the wheel. "I think I can handle a stick better than the both of you. Let's go."

Despite the utterly different circumstances, an errant thought of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse fluttered through Sabryn's mind as she dismounted her mare in front of the silo shed.

She never would have imagined that Larsen would lead the way down the narrow dirt path to the opposite end of the military base. Walter and Larsen's younger brother, Skyler, brought up the rear. Detouring around the base had taken them at least three miles in the wrong direction. Chilled and bone-tired, she was glad they hadn't had to go on foot. She never would have made it. Still, the icy temperature wasn't what sent the shivers down her spine...there was no telling just what they would encounter from here on.

Pulling a crowbar loose from behind his saddle, Larsen set about breaking into the shed. Catching Walter's eye, Sabryn noticed that he didn't look a bit more comfortable that she did. Although armed, their weapons wouldn't do them much good if surrounded by a surprise group of military guards.

And that was only the human threat. She knew what this place was. The Army wasn't setting up a safe zone. They'd built themselves their very own concentration camp. Unlike the Nazi treatment of the Jews or even the US Government's imprisonment of the Japanese-Americans in WWII, the colonists weren't selective. They would exterminate everyone. This was war at its worst. They'd learned nothing from the past. Not a Goddamned thing.

She flinched when the lock finally broke free, sending the door on a squeaky inward creep. Pushing his way inside, Larsen flipped on his flashlight and turned to the others.

"Ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Walter answered.

Glancing back at his brother, Erik Larsen gave Skyler a grim nod. And even though there wasn't a touch of malevolence in that two-second stare, it made Sabryn shiver all the same. She met Skyler's gaze over her shoulder. Younger than she was, yet taller than all of them, he didn't smile, didn't even blink. Glacier blue eyes stared at her, burning a hole right through her skin. Attractive enough to turn heads, there was something ugly about this man. She couldn't help but crowd closer to Walter's side.

With only three flashlights among them, the trip down the sixteen flights of stairs was slow and treacherous. Twice she had to grab Walter's arm when she stumbled blindly down the steps. Pitch dark. She couldn't see more than a foot in front of her. If it hadn't been for the uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she could have pretended it was Alex walking behind her. So much for that idea. What was it about the Larsen men that made them so damned intimidating?

Leaning closer to the light coming from Walter's flashlight, she checked her watch. Jesus. It would be dawn before long. Where the hell were they going to go? They couldn't stay at Larsen's home forever. And they had to get out of this base, fast.

"Do you remember the number of the silo you stored your things in?" Erik asked.

"810."

"Shit. That's clear on the other side. Those soldiers are probably crawling all over that area by now."

"We haven't seen anyone going into the sheds," Sabryn mentioned. "They might still be putting up the fences."

"I don't know if I want to take that chance." Skyler's voice was gravely, and far too close for her comfort. "What's so damned important down here, anyway?"

"We've got enough supplies and guns for an entire army, ourselves."

"You don't have any guns now?"

"Just the two we have on us."

Skyler's hand slipped into her pocket, removing the weapon in one smooth move before she could react. Reaching for it, she hit the solid wall of his free arm and was immediately knocked backwards into the wall. She hit hard, banging her head against solid concrete, but the ringing in her ears was nothing next to the booming sound of a gunshot in the enclosed space.

Panic raced through her veins, numbing, as she frantically climbed to her feet. She wasn't hit. And as she met Skinner's gaze, then lowered her eyes to see him pull his bloody hand away from his right shoulder, her knees nearly buckled.

"No!"

She scrambled forward, only to be restrained tightly in Skyler's grip. She cried out in pain, lifting to her tiptoes as he wrenched her arm behind her back. Walter hollered in agony as Erik gave the same treatment to his injured arm.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his voice laced with pain and anger.

Skyler's harsh breath rasped past her ear. "Just stay out of it, old man. We're doing you a favor."

"What are you talking about?"

Erik Larsen's voice carried considerably less rage than his brother's, sounding almost like regret. "You don't understand, Mr. Skinner. That 'woman' is not human."

The Adirondacks in winter, on a maintenance road. In retrospect, Alex realized it wasn't one of his smarter ideas. Then again, he hadn't had much choice at the time. Luckily, the commandeered Jeep had chains on the tires. That probably saved them at least an hour of uphill climbing. Which only left an hour or so to go. Over a mile of trudging through knee-deep snow. Sweating from the exertion, he resisted the urge to peel off his coat. The unprotected parts of his body, namely his face, were frozen solid.

His breath coming out in aching bursts of fog, he glanced back down the hill to see the rest of them lagging behind. Injured and holding her left arm immobile, Scully leaned heavily on her partner through the rough climb. A few steps ahead of them, managing to keep moving only by dragging herself on low hanging tree limbs, Marita gave Alex a withering glare.

"Aren't we there yet?"

Looking past her, out at the panoramic view of Lake Champlain, he nodded. "We have to be. This mountain isn't that tall."

"Tell that to Guinness. We've been walking forever."

"If someone had turned when I told her to, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"Fuck off, Krycek." Out of breath, Scully slumped down onto a fallen log. She scowled, hopping back up as the snow soaked through her pants. "Damn it, I'm tired. Screw the invasion. I'm staying here."

"We're almost there--"

"Just give us a minute, Alex." Marita shuddered in the cold. "We'll catch up with you."

"Fine. Mulder and I will go--"

"I'm not leaving them here," Mulder argued.

"Yeah, well I'm not sitting around. Hurry your asses up, and maybe you'll survive."

Turning on his heel, Alex continued up the hill. His boots were soaked, he was colder than hell froze over, and he couldn't breathe. But he'd be damned if he was going to stop now. Jesus, a few more steps--was that too much to ask?

He didn't let the impulse to turn around sway him. Guilt nipped at his conscience, making him fist his fingers in irritation. But the minute he stepped foot onto flat ground, the racing of his heart didn't have a thing to do with blame. In the distance, just over the tree tops, light spread across the sky like a brightly lit stadium. An old historical site, a British post in the Revolution, the mountain certainly wasn't a huge tourist attraction in winter. He had no doubt that the road up the mountain hadn't seen so many trucks in months. And he was damned certain the people of the region had never seen anything like this.

Cut off by military vehicles, the surrounding forest cleared on all sides, the summit hummed with activity. Yet the men scurrying about the ground below looked like ants compared to the ship that hovered overhead.

How many times had he seen UFOs? More than he cared to count. But the sight of them still managed to take his breath away.

Staring up at the sky, he didn't notice the other man's presence until it was too late. The hard muzzle of the gun pinched against his neck, making him flinch. He didn't have to look over his shoulder to find out who was standing behind him.

The stench of freshly puffed cigarette smoke made it all too clear.

Part Five: The Return Of Alex

Summary: Time to reclaim what was never his in the first place--his life.

For Yvi, the generous creator of the music video for my series You can see the video at http://www.angelfire.com/stars/isahunter/groundbeneath.htm. I've also included a link to her previous music videos, including the one that inspired the name for this chapter, The Return of Alex. She did an amazing job. Thanks Yvi!

"The Return of Alex" is property of Die Toten Hosen and JKP, and the lyrics are used without permission. No copyright infringement intended in either case.

"So you watch the meter rising
and the silent pressure grows
the hate inside is rising
the one you've always known
when the time is past for talking
and you've stepped across that line
I will return, vengeance will be mine..."
--"The Return of Alex" by Die Toten Hosen.

Sometimes love could be such a cruel little bitch.

A month ago, if she'd only stayed home instead of covering another volunteer's shift, she never would have met Alex Krycek. And if she hadn't, she would have spent the morning of January 1 snug in her bed, completely oblivious to the nightmare to come.

Ignorance was bliss. Much to her dismay, so was lying in her lover's embrace.

No, she wasn't sorry she'd met Alex. Not one little bit. But she'd come to rue the day she ever laid eyes on Erik Larsen.

Her body contorted in the most uncomfortable of positions, rendered breathless by the brutal grip Skyler had on her arm, she stared at Erik in horror. Walter's words sounded no less astonished.

"What do you mean, she's not human?"

"What part of that didn't you understand?" Struggling to hold Walter in his grip, no easy task even if the man was injured, Larsen held Sabryn's stare. "I know exactly what you are. You, my dead wife...how many of you are there?"

Her heart had to be pounding so loudly they could hear it. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't fuck with me!" His sudden roar made her flinch, the tensing of his body causing Walter to grimace in pain. "Give up the act. Skinner's going to find out the truth one way or another. You might as well say it while you have a breath left in your body."

"Please, Erik, just let me go. I don't know--"

"My wife didn't die in a car accident, Miss 'Bryn.' One day when she was washing dishes in the sink, a knife slipped through her soapy fingers and cut her deep enough to bleed. I hurried to grab a towel to bandage her with...but when I returned it wasn't blood coming out of her fingers." He laughed almost hysterically, leaning his mouth closer to Walter's ear. "Have you ever seen alien blood, Mr. Skinner? That nasty green goo that creeps out like so much toxic waste, choking and blinding, burning right through the countertop?"

Walter's voice was considerably lower when he finally answered, neither his authoritative Assistant Director voice or his carefree everyday style. The sound of it sent a chill up her spine.

"Let her go, Larsen. This doesn't have a damned thing to do with her."

"What's the matter, Skinner? Has she gotten to you?" Erik smirked, his gaze traveling the length of her body. "Did she rub up against you, tempting you like she did to that other one who couldn't take his hands off of her?"

"Go to hell."

"I fell for one of them, too, Mr. Skinner. I know exactly what hell looks like."

Skyler finally spoke, startling her. "He was in a coma and had chemical burns all over his body when we found him. He's lucky he survived."

"And what about your wife, Larsen? What happened to her?"

For a moment Erik finally sobered. "I did what I had to do."

Sabryn gasped. Struck with renewed terror, she fought against Skyler with all of her strength. Kicking at his shins, scraping his arm with her free hand. Managing only to piss him off even more. Just as she heard Erik shout out, "Hold on to her!" she was pitched sideways. Picked up off her feet and slammed into the nearby wall. Pain ricocheted down her shoulder, the breath leaving her lungs in one gasp. Her head banged the concrete for a second time, stunning every motor reaction in her body. Her entire frame went as limp as a rag doll, sliding down the wall to crumple on the cold floor. But despite the blackness blooming in front of her eyes, she didn't pass out. Not yet.

Distantly, she could hear Larsen and Walter struggling, before Skyler took hold of the Assistant Director in his stronger grip.

"Don't touch her!" Walter yelled, as the toe of Larsen's worn leather boot came into focus before her eyes.

"My wife was an alien clone, Mr. Skinner. Not human flesh. She was a liar, just like this one. Raised in a normal home, treated like one of us. But the people who raised her were working for them. They knew exactly what she was. And so did she. I didn't find out until it was too fucking late." He knelt down slowly, his hand next to her shoulder, brushing the hair out of her face. "Such a waste. You're a real heartbreaker, you know that?"

The odd tenderness in his voice made her almost as nauseous as the pounding of her head.

"I truly did love my wife. But she betrayed me. And I won't let--"

He pulled his hand back suddenly, as if he'd been singed. Staring at his fingertips, his mouth hanging open. And when she finally concentrated hard enough to bring his hand into focus, she saw the smear of bright red blood he'd wiped away from her scalp.

Caught red-handed, she thought wryly.

It was the last coherent thought to skip through her throbbing brain.

"So nice of you to join us, Alex. Now throw down the bag."

He hated the way his name rolled off old man Spender's tongue, familiar and intimate, with the lightest hissing lisp, reminding him so much of the evil serpent the bastard was. Letting the strap over his shoulder slide loose, he carefully tossed the duffel bag to the ground.

"You really think I'd miss this party?"

"I don't remember inviting you."

"No, I believe that was Diana...after I removed my tongue from her throat."

The muzzle of the gun bit so hard into his flesh he had to take a step forward to keep from falling. True, it had been a dumb confession, but he knew he might as well get one good jab in before he died.

"Luckily, that one isn't my problem anymore."

Alex didn't have to ask what he meant by that comment. Getting rid of excess baggage was a task he knew all too well. "Probably a good idea. She never did know how to keep her mouth shut." He let out a bored sigh, staring at his shoes. "Why don't you shoot and get it over with, Spender? We both know I'm going to die anyway."

"Curiosity, really." He felt the man pull back the gun, but it was no doubt still clutched tightly by his side. "I can't help but wonder why you've come. You'd have to be stupid to think you have a place here."

Turning slowly, Alex met the old man's gaze over his shoulder. "Oh, believe me, you're going to be glad I showed up. I've brought you a gift."

Clearly intrigued, Spender smirked as he crushed his cigarette under his shoe. It hissed in the snow, the spark barely dying before the lighter clicked and released the potent stench of burning tobacco.

"What could you possibly bring me that I don't already have, Alex?"

"Mulder and Scully, for starters. And I'll throw in Covarrubias to sweeten the pot."

"Am I supposed to believe you have them tied up somewhere, waiting for me?"

"No. They came along quite willingly...once I convinced them I was here to kill you."

Spender grinned. "Get off my mountain, Krycek."

"Do you really think I'd bring all of these guns," he nudged the bag with the toe of his boot, "just for me?"

"So where are they?"

"About a mile south of here. Resting. The women aren't quite up to mountain climbing in their condition." At Spender's quirked eyebrow, he elaborated. "They've removed the chips."

"What are you trying to get out of this? Why would I even want them?"

"I thought you might want to end this. Mulder and Scully are your main opposition to the project. Killing them in the past would have caused chaos from the FBI and their techno-geek friends. Finish them for good now, before they can gather a following, and the invasion will be yours."

"And you? What's stopping me from putting a bullet through your head?"

"Not a damned thing. But I think we both know I'm more use to you alive."

"What's your price, Alex?" Spender took a long drag on the cigarette before blowing the smoke in Alex's direction. "You could have stayed lost and saved yourself the trouble. What do you want from me?"

"Immunity. I want to survive this thing as much as you do."

"And a new arm, maybe? They can do that, you know."

He knew that very well. Among the colonists, healers could practically bring men back from the dead. Regenerating tissue would take little more than alien material, genetically enhanced, mixed with his own flesh. A hybrid limb. Nearly as fake as the one he wore now...but far superior. And the idea of having both arms again was more than tempting.

"Maybe. I wasn't planning on pushing my luck."

"Until I see this 'gift,' you're lucky you're still standing."

She woke to total darkness. Or at least she thought she was awake. Lifting her hand to her face was a task not easily accomplished. Her head throbbed painfully as she concentrated, her cold fingers sliding over her skin to swipe at her eyelashes. Yes, her eyes were open. Staring up at a nonexistent ceiling, towards invisible walls. And her first instinct was panic.

She sat up so abruptly her stomach lurched, leaving her swaying unsteadily. "Hello?"

The high squeak of her voice made her wince.

"Sabryn, I'm right here." The voice came from behind her and to the left, unmistakably Walter.

"I can't see."

"It's OK." He grunted, and she could hear his clothing rustle as he attempted to move closer. She felt his shoe nudge her arm. "I'm right here."

"Where are we?"

"Silo 1028."

"Inside the silo?"

He answer was careful, gently breaking bad news, as if talking to a child or a homicidal maniac. "We're locked in. Larsen and his brother threw us in here before taking off with our guns."

Suddenly the dark didn't seem so bad after all...at least, not in comparison to the sudden claustrophobia. "We're trapped."

"Yes."

"We're gonna die in here." She started to get to her feet, her head swimming as bursts of red exploded before her eyes. If she hadn't moved her hand to support herself, she would've landed flat on her ass. "We've gotta get out of here, no one knows where we are!"

"They'll come for us sooner or later. John knows--"

"That's assuming that Larsen hasn't gotten to them first. Oh God." She toddled less than gracefully through the darkness, stumbling over his leg in the process.

"Damn it, sit down. You probably have a concussion."

"Where's the door?" Damn her night-blindness, she thought, waving her hands in front of her. "We have to let someone know we're here."

"How? Do you expect to find--" His words broke off in a hiss as he shifted once again. "Do you expect to find an intercom and tell the Army to come looking for us?"

"What would you rather do, starve to death? We can't chew our way through concrete."

As her fingertips touched the cold metal surface of the door, she let out a sigh of relief. Pounding hard with the heel of her hand, she yelled out, "Help! Somebody help us!" But as the sound echoed off the walls with a hollow pitch, reverberating with dead weight, she let her head fall forward until her forehead rested against the cool glass window. She was marginally surprised that she didn't hear the fragile pane shuddering with each throb of her skull.

She was shaking. Her fingers wet with perspiration, her heart pounding double-time in her chest. "Oh God, Alex...I'm so sorry."

"What did you say?"

"This is what he went through, Walter. All alone. And he knew, he knew they weren't coming for him. He knew he'd die down here."

"But we won't."

"And he knew no one would care." She covered her mouth with her hand, as if that would keep the panicked sob from escaping. "I don't think this is what he meant when he urged me to stay underground."

"Hey." She felt him tug on her pant-leg, and used the wall to slowly lower herself to the hard concrete floor. "Don't lose it now, Sabryn. I need you to help me get out of here."

Her hysterical laughter was just north of insanity. "Unless you have a jackhammer hidden in those jeans, I don't think I can help you."

He actually laughed at that, until a surge of pain cut off the sound and made him suck in an agonized breath. Shit. She'd completely forgotten he was shot. Scooting closer, her hands moving up his arms, she tried to feel her way to the wound.

"Where is it?"

She felt him take her hand, placing it lightly over the sticky material of his flannel shirt. She grimaced in the dark, pulling her hand away abruptly. The wet, slimy blood on her fingers was still warm...growing thicker as it dried to his skin.

"Oh God." She sat up on her knees, stripping off her coat, reaching for the buttons on her shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"How well can you see in the dark?"

"Not very well."

Something in his tone told her he was lying through his teeth. "Uh-huh, and FBI just managed to overlook that. Well, like it or not, you're about to get a show." Yanking the cotton blouse free from her waistband, she stripped it off her arms and tried to ignore the urge to cover her white Maidenform bra. "We need to bandage that. How long have we been down here?"

With stiff movement, he angled his injured arm closer to the other and pushed the button on his watch. It lit up, glowing softly, barely illuminating the contours of his face. "About eight minutes, give or take a few."

"Do you know any first aid?"

"Some. Not enough to guide you to remove a bullet in the dark."

Carefully inching around him, she pulled the fabric of her blouse over his shoulder and used the sleeves to tightly secure it in place. "Your arm isn't going to fall off if that stays in there for a while, is it?"

He managed a half-heart laugh. "I think your shirt might hold it on, for now."

Snagging her coat, she pulled it back on. "What now?"

"Now," he shifted again, carefully reaching his good hand into his pocket to pull out a familiar red object, "our only choice is to try this in the door and hope like hell that it works."

"A Swiss Army knife? I didn't know those came with lock picks."

"It doesn't. But it does have a pair of tweezers and a toothpick."

"Whoopee."

"Here." He took off his watch, handing it to her. "It's not much, but the light is all we have."

"You expect me to open the door?"

"It's either you or no one. This arm isn't going to let me do much of anything."

Fuck. Why didn't it surprise her that their freedom rested in her hands?

They didn't realize the danger they were in until they were up to their asses in trouble. Stepping out of the dense tree line into the clearing, Mulder and his female companions only had a second to meet Alex's gaze before being surrounded by a camouflaged battalion of fully armed military guards.

Keeping his expression neutral, Alex watched Mulder's gaze as he looked from him to the smoking man, and then back again. The agent stood perfectly still, except for shaking his head, as the handcuffs were slapped into place.

"I should've known," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "You'll never amount to anything but a back-stabbing traitor."

"I knew you wouldn't want to miss this, Mulder."

"You sick son-of-a-bitch!" His control suddenly snapped, and Mulder lunged at Alex, rushing forward only to be callously dragged back into the soldiers' grip.

"What do you want us to do with them, Sir?" The lieutenant looked like he was itching to kick someone's ass, no matter who that person was.

"Alex is right. I think you would enjoy this, Fox." Spender nodded to the convoy of covered trucks over his shoulder. "Take Mr. Mulder and his friends to the Jeep for now. Make sure they're secured. We'll come for them later."

The smug look on the old man's face was nowhere near as sickening as the blatant hatred Mulder was shooting in Alex's direction. He gave barely any resistance as he, Scully, and Marita were led away from the man who'd betrayed them. Scully kept her eyes downcast, no doubt seething under the surface but unwilling to admit it. Marita, however, held Alex's gaze the entire time he was in view. There was a look of such extreme hurt and astonishment on her face that he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from turning away in shame. She'd betrayed him once before, but never like this. She'd never handed him over to the devil.

And as he turned back to stare into Satan's cold dead eyes, he felt sick to his stomach. "How long until they arrive?"

"Not long now. They're close enough to hear the signal when we give it."

"So what are you waiting for?"

"Not everyone is here, Alex. We're still waiting for Mr. Strughold."

No sooner had the words been said than one of the soldiers came running over to where they stood. The radio in his hand crackled with static, in between brisk orders given out in code. "Sir, the car is on it's way."

Spender nodded, watching absently as the soldier ran back to the trucks. "It won't be long now, at all."

Alex's gut knotted in anticipation. Not only was it the first time he'd ever seen Conrad Strughold, Majestic's esteemed leader, in person...it was also the first, and maybe only, time he'd see Strughold and Spender in the very same place.

His hand sweating inside his glove, he watched Spender out of the corner of his eye. Feeling very much like the only fox in the hen house.

*Yes, Mulder...you definitely won't want to miss this.*

Squinting, the tips of her fingers nearly bloodied from gripping the tiny tweezers so hard, she shifted them around in the lock for what had to be the billionth time in more than three hours. But she refused to sit idle on the floor. That only left her time to think, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

*Jesus, Alex, I'm so sorry.*

She couldn't even begin to imagine the kind of panic he'd been facing when he was locked down here. Buried alive, as he'd said so eloquently. For days, maybe weeks. He'd never said how long. He'd never mentioned it at all. And she couldn't blame him. God only knew what he'd been forced to do to stay alive. A sudden flashback from one of her favorite books, Stephen King's Misery, ran through her mind, making her shudder. In his captivity, alone for days without food and water, the hero had been forced to drink his own urine to stay alive. The thought made her so nauseous she had to stop to catch her breath.

"Are we really going to get out of here?"

Walter voice was groggy, as if on the verge of sleep. "I hope so."

"Don't fall asleep on me, please. I don't think I could handle being in here with no one to talk to."

*Who did you talk to, Alex? How the hell did you survive?*

"I'm just closing my eyes for a bit. Promise."

She swore again, pushing the button on Walter's watch as the glowing light went out once again. Each time, she had only seconds to work before she was forced to start all over again. Damn light. Damn silo. Damn aliens. Damn damn damn!

She heard a shallow clicking noise, felt the tweezers turn in her grip, and almost shouted with jubilation at her success...until she realized that she hadn't unlocked the door. She'd broken the tweezers off in the lock.

"No!"

"What?"

Dropping the useless plastic to the floor, her eyes brimming with tears, she stood up and slammed her fist against the door. "Let me out of here, you fucking bastards!"

"Sabryn..."

"I want to go home! I will *not* die here!"

"Sabryn, stop. No one can hear you."

His free hand gripped her sleeve as she sagged back to the ground, shaking with anger and fear. She blinked rapidly, whisking away excess moisture. Refusing to cry. Not yet. Those damned aliens had gotten her once. They wouldn't do it again. Not if she had to dig the door hinges loose with Walter's knife.

He carefully maneuvered his arm around her, pressing her head against his shoulder. "It isn't going to end this way. It can't end this way."

"What makes you so sure?"

"I just know, OK?" She sniffled, rubbing her cheek against the rough fabric of his jacket. "You didn't just wipe snot on me, did you?"

Surprisingly, she actually laughed. "No. Not yet."

They sat in silence for a moment. Total and complete silence, broken only by the sound of their breathing. It was scary how much she was used to the every day white noise. Airplanes passing overhead, cars driving through the city, honking, televisions blaring, people yelling at each other on the street. Even the wind through the trees. But down in the silo, eight stories underground, there was nothing. Not even the subtle scratching of a mouse beyond the walls. It was like being inside a coffin. The thought made her shiver.

*How did he get out of here?*

She didn't realize she'd said the thought aloud until Walter answered, "I don't know, for sure. All I know is that Reginald was a part of it. Whether he found Krycek's whereabouts for himself, or if the Cancer man told him, remains a mystery."

"What happened to Mr. Reginald, anyway?"

"He was killed, in a car explosion."

Shades of deja vu. "Don't these Syndicate men know how to kill anyone a simple way?"

He chuckled softly. "I guess not."

"Do you think it's true? What Larsen said about me?"

"No, I don't think you're an alien."

"That's not--What I mean is, do you think his wife...that I have alien clones?"

He was quiet for moment. "It's a definite possibility. I think I'm willing to believe just about anything these days. And with your childhood abduction, it's more than likely true."

"She looked so much like me. She could have been my sister."

"I think the family you have is already more than you can handle."

"Walter, I need..." She swallowed heavily, fighting the knot in her throat. "I need to tell you something, but I don't want to insult you."

"OK..."

"Please don't take this the wrong--"

"Sabryn, just say it."

"When we first came here, before Alex returned, I didn't--I never meant to--"

"Kiss me?"

"Yes. I mean, not that way. God, this isn't easy."

"Look, we were both under stress, it was a difficult situation, and we both needed something to hold on to. It's perfectly normal. This is how Stockholm Syndrome develops. Victims of dangerous situations need someone to latch on to, to make them feel human. And unfortunately, in that case, the only ones they have to latch onto are their captors."

"Maybe, but I don't think that's entirely it. You just--this is going to sound really revolting, considering that I kissed you, but--you reminded me a lot of my father."

His silence made her lift her head, spitting out her words in a hurry to explain.

"I'm not saying I wanted to kiss my father or anything like that, because that's gross. Eww. And I'm not attracted to my father, or you for that matter...Oh, God, that sounded so mean..."

She broke off suddenly when he started laughing. "It's OK, I think I get it."

"I just...I wanted to show my appreciation for the way you were taking care of me, but I went about it the wrong way. I got all confused and made you into something you weren't. I wanted my father here, and I wanted Alex back. And I made the mistake of turning you into both."

"Could have been worse."

"I don't see how."

"Well, you could have decided to throw rocks at me."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. Listen, it's over. I realized my mistake and you realized yours. My heart isn't broken. Honest."

"Then you forgive me?"

"There's nothing to forgive. You were a friend when I needed one. That's all I ask."

"And you aren't mad that I compared you to my father?"

He sighed heavily, shifting against the wall at his back. "Well, answer me one thing. Do I remind you of the man who hurt you badly enough to make you cry on Christmas Day, or someone else?"

Her resolution to keep from crying went to hell with the completion of his question. "You've never hurt me, Walter. You remind me of my daddy, when I was a little girl."

"Good." He reached back up to tuck her head beneath his, pulling her tighter against his side. "That I can handle just fine."

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that. Long enough to dry her eyes. It was a struggle to stay awake, but she had to. She knew enough to keep awake in the risk of concussion. And she didn't think the sickening roil of her stomach would allow her to sleep, anyway. Still, she was drowsy enough to flinch when Walter's voice finally sounded in her ear.

Barely a whisper, his voice deliberately hushed, he said, "Look."

Carefully lifting her head, she looked to her left and opened her mouth in shock. In a narrow sliver, barely enough to illuminate the knife and watch she'd left on the floor, light slithered under the doorway from the hall beyond. Pulling away from his side, she rolled on to her knees and sat up. Overhead, the same dim light poured through the window in the heavy door.

"Oh, God! They're here!"

She scrambled to her feet, ignoring the hand that reached for her jacket. Peering to the left and right, through the window, trying to make out the source of the illumination. A yellow beam bounced off the opposite wall, shaking up and down in time with someone's footsteps. As she was raising her hand to the door, Walter's hand grabbed her with more determination.

"Hel--"

"Shhh!" She looked back down in his general direction, still unable to make out his form. "You don't know who that is."

"Why are you whispering?"

"That could be the Army out there, looking for more people to infect with their virus."

She paused, realizing the implications. He hadn't had the vaccine. The Army would kill him. "But it could also be John."

"Or Larsen, coming back to finish us off. Trust me...wait until they pass, and then you can make all the noise you want."

Crap. It was like asking her not to breathe. Biting her lip, she did as he asked, waiting to the side of the door, making sure the beam of light wouldn't illuminate her face as they passed. It seemed like forever, the light growing brighter and brighter, before the could hear the muffled footsteps beyond. And when the person passed, their blond ponytail clearly visible against a dark shirt, she felt her heart pound even louder.

"In here!" She pounded viciously on the door, barely hearing the scrape of Walter's shoes on the floor as he got to his feet. "Here, help us! Let us out!"

The person in the hallway paused, listening carefully, before slowly swiveling on their feet. As the flashlight beam came back around, Sabryn squinted, unable to see the figure's face. She pounded even harder, screaming through the glass.

"Here!"

Moving closer, the blinding light still masking their features, the stranger reached for the door handle and turned.

Part Six: New World Disorder

Summary: The more things change, the more they stay the same.

Notes: Also, I may have taken quite a few liberties with the Aurora spy plane...but then again, this craft doesn't really exist, does it, boys? <g>

For Shael, who never fails to make me do the impossible--think.

"Can't stop what's coming, can't stop what is on its way..."
--"Bells for Her" by Tori Amos

Sabryn closed her eyes for a fraction of a second, long enough to see her entire life flash before her. What a pathetic waste. Now all that stood between her and certain death was a steadily opening metal door. A sickening crunch decimated what was left of the tiny tweezers stuck in the lock. Blinking rapidly, her vision adjusting to the onslaught of brilliant light, she resisted the urge to reach for Walter's hand.

The flashlight beam struck her face, making her wince, before moving quickly to the man next to her. "G-man?"

Walter paused, his good hand raised to shield his eyes. "Who are you?"

When the light moved away, rising to light up the person's face--like a scary bottom-lit caricature from some horror movie--she stared at the man in confusion. Bouncing off his glasses and illuminating shocking white hair, the light seemed to reveal...Garth, from Wayne's World.

"Langly." The word escaped on a sigh of relief from Walter's mouth. "I've never been more glad to see that face in my life."

Her confusion didn't dissipate in the least. "You know this man?"

Not that it really mattered if he did, she conceded. She would've followed a complete stranger if it meant getting out of the silo. There was no telling what was happening to her family at that moment.

"Yeah, I do. This is Rin--"

"Not the first name!"

Walter cleared his throat. "This is Langly. He and his partners run a conspiracy magazine called The Lone Gunman. And they've also been known to help Agent Mulder out of a pinch or two." Turning his gaze away from Sabryn, he asked, "The question is: what are you doing here?"

"That information is classified." When the assistant director's expression didn't waver, Langly's composure broke. "Mulder told us you were in North Dakota, and if we were smart we'd get here too. But when he didn't know how to find you, we had to resort to our own devices."

"How, Langly?"

"We, uh...we intercepted a phone call from your cellular. You mentioned your 'hiding place' to Agent Scully."

"Then you also know Mulder is missing."

"No, we know exactly where Mulder is...we just neglected to tell Scully. He didn't want her in danger."

"Then he's safe?"

"Why wouldn't he be?"

Shaking his head, Walter stepped forward. "Doesn't matter now, we need to get out of here. Are the others with you?"

"They're around here somewhere. We narrowly escaped capture. This place is crawling with guards." Tugging absently on his ponytail, the blond man added, "What's going on around here? There are trucks full of people coming in from town."

"That's what I was afraid of. It may be too late to get to the other silo now. We're going to have to come up with something else."

"What happened to your shoulder?"

"Later, Langly..."

From around the corner, making Sabryn start, came a short man dressed all in black. A welcome relief from the expected camouflage. With his hair pulled back and a rolled up ski mask on his head, he looked ready to take on Mission: Impossible. But as he pushed his glasses back into place and eyed her appreciatively, his low growled "Hello," was anything but business.

Walter muttered, "Don't take offense, he's like that with all women."

"Who do we have here?"

"Sabryn Jaegar," she answered, cautiously.

"Krycek's girlfriend," Walter supplied.

It was almost amusing watching the color drain from the little man's face. "My a-apologies, Miss. Melvin Frohike, at your service."

She gracefully ignored the trembling of his fingers as she shook his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Where's Byers?"

"Right here," a bearded man called out, bringing up the rear. "Where are all of the others?"

"What others?" Walter asked.

"We'd assumed you weren't alone."

"We're not. Come on, we'll explain along the way."

Following him out the door, so damned grateful to be out of the silo, she smiled appreciatively when Frohike handed her his flashlight. But even as the stairway to the outdoors drew closer, she couldn't ignore the subtle far-off noise at the opposite end of the tunnel.

"Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Frohike asked.

It almost sounded...like screams. Shivering slightly, she nodded towards the corridor behind them. "That noise."

"Probably just the generators--" His words tapered off as they continued forward, interrupted by even more questions to Walter from Mr. Byers.

"What happened to your arm?"

"Long story," Walter said, shortly. "Do you have transportation?"

"The van should only be a couple of miles away."

"Which entrance?" She could tell by his cautious tone of voice, he was worried about encountering Larsen on their ascent.

"This way."

The closer to escape they got, the less of the strange noises she heard.

He was a selfish bastard. There was no denying that any longer. He took what he wanted, did as he pleased, barely taking the time to glance at those he stepped on along the way. And if having the power meant an alliance with the very man who, more than once, tried to have him killed, so be it.

Alex stood in the open clearing, waiting for a man he'd never met. His boss's boss, so to speak. The man holding the cards.

Freshly out of Quantico, Alex had been recruited to the shadowy depths of Majestic to learn under the tutelage of the man before him. C. G. B. Spender. He'd sucked up his doubts, pushed aside any shred of remaining humanity, and became a trained killer for the DC sect of the Garnet project. His orders were simple. Protect the project at any cost. And while those orders came out of Spender's mouth, the man was only a puppet. The true genius was Conrad Strughold.

He'd never met the man before, but Alex recognized his face instantly. Without ever having seen a picture. The embodiment of grace and pride, the short bald man prowled like a lion. Carried his frame with regal air. Stepping out of the black Rolls like an Oscar favorite before the red carpet. Impeccably groomed with a little gray-laced mustache, not unlike Hitler's. Evil, in the flesh.

Amidst the backdrop of the huge hovering craft, he even managed to make a UFO look insignificant.

Strughold gazed up at the craft, nodding and saying something to his driver, before turning towards them. Spender cleared his throat and crushed yet another cigarette beneath his shoe.

"I see our escort has arrived," Strughold said softly, his voice betraying his German upbringing.

"It was flown in this evening. We won't make the same mistake again."

Spender didn't have to elaborate. After what had happened at El Rico, Alex knew all too well what they were avoiding. Alien rebels. With a secret location, and a secured escort, the risk to the few remaining Majestic elders was minimal. They would be flown to rendezvous with the Colonists, aboard the mother ship, by a military crew so classified not even the President was aware of their existence. The Utah base at the Green River Complex made Groom Lake, Nevada, look like a sick prank. And the aircraft before them, part of a top secret fleet reconstructed from crashed alien crafts, was the B-2 "Stealth" bomber's evil cousin. Although rumors surrounding the Aurora had been passed about in underground channels for years, not even speculation could come close to what the craft was really capable of. With the ability to hover silently, breach the atmosphere, as well as remain completely undetected on the radar screen, the Aurora was like a ghost.

Much like Strughold himself.

Looking back from the ship, Strughold caught Alex's stare and held it. Unflinching, a tiny smirk curling his lips. "Is this man one of yours, Spender?"

"This is Alex Krycek."

He didn't elaborate. He didn't need to, really. Strughold's eyes narrowed. "Are you daft?"

"Not in the least. He's brought us a peace offering." Flicking ash to the ground, Spender gestured towards the FBI agents being escorted to where they stood. "I don't believe you've met Agents Mulder and Scully. But I'm sure their reputations proceed them."

Both agents remained stubbornly silent, staring at Strughold with slight familiarity.

"No, we have not met. The pleasure is all mine." He glanced back at Spender and Alex, before frowning at a bit of ash on his wool suit. "What do you plan to do with them?"

"Eliminate them. They are of no use to us anymore."

"Very well. And him?"

"Mr. Krycek means to cut himself a deal. He's given us what we want. He wants immunity in return."

"And you think you can trust him?"

"I think his loyalties can be tested." Turning to Alex, Spender nodded at nearby guard. Alex recognized his bag of guns as it was brought closer. Dumped on the ground, it was shrouded in a haze of smoke as Spender bent to open the zipper and extract the first weapon he found. A fully loaded Glock 36. Handing the gun over, Spender stood back and stared at Mulder. "Since you were so gracious as to share, Alex, I'll let you have the honors. Kill him."

Ignoring Agent Scully's sudden shriek of protest, and Marita's gasp of terror, Alex flipped off the safety and opened fire. Mulder slumped to the ground after the first shot.

They drove past the previous entrance to the silos, spotting no sign of Larsen or his horses. Still, she wasn't a bit relieved. In the grungy old Volkswagon van they'd had to travel over open road, risking exposure to the Armed Forces. And there was no telling what awaited them back at Larsen's home. She could barely sit still, worrying about her family.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Frohike watching her. Studying her like a piece of fancy electronics. Knowing the way Mulder felt about Alex, she was sure these men hated her lover, too. No doubt this man thought she was insane. At this point, she really didn't give a damn.

Rounding the bend on the deserted road, their lights turned off even in the dense morning fog, they could see a line of cars up ahead. Stopped dead in their tracks.

"Damn it!" Walter braced his good hand on the dash board, wincing as the seat belt bit into his injured shoulder. "I knew this wasn't going to be easy."

In the driver's seat, the bearded man, Mr. Byers, looked uneasily at his friends. "What should we do?"

"How did you get here earlier?"

"We parked the van out here last night. None of this stuff was here."

Glancing to the right, out at the misty field and the barbed wire fence surrounding it, Sabryn remembered something about saddling the horses. "That's Larsen's pasture over there. Cut across it."

Turning slightly in his seat, Walter met her gaze over his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"Positive. He said the place reached out for acres."

"All right, let's do it."

With a slight shake of his head, Mr. Byers turned the wheel hard and sped off the road. Jostling over the uneven ground, the van hit the wire fence with a thud, catching momentarily, its tires spinning on the wet ground. Dirty snow flew up from the tires, before the rusted wire finally broke free of the posts. The van lurched forward, an awful screeching sound ringing through the cab as an entire portion of fencing drug along behind them. With a barely disguised moan, Langly buried his face in his hands. "My van."

There wasn't time for the accustomed guilt she normally would have felt in such an instance. She even told Byers to drive faster, causing them to bounce and hurdle over the bumpy field. She had to get back to her family before it was too late.

It was just her luck they'd get stuck in the snow, within sight of the smoking chimney. Swearing profusely, she climbed out of the van after Frohike and Langly. As the men walked behind the vehicle, bracing their hands to push, she shivered and tugged her coat tighter about her. Byers revved the engine, spitting dirty snow and rocks at the men behind the van. Ready to help, even though he had only one good arm, Walter stepped to the front and began rocking the heavy frame.

She wasn't patient enough to stand by or offer assistance. Blinking snowflakes from her eyelashes, Sabryn started trudging through the thick drifts towards Larsen's home. She was already twenty paces ahead before they noticed she was gone. The heavy footfalls behind her, accompanied by low grumbles, made her turn to see Walter in pursuit.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"To get my family, what does it look like?"

"Not alone, you're not."

"I'm not alone now."

"I don't really think you should go in there at all."

"I don't have a choice."

"Sabryn--" He grabbed her sleeve and pulled her to a stop. "You aren't prepared for what you might see in there."

"I wasn't prepared for any of this, but it's still happening. Now either let me go or get dragged, because I'm not stopping."

"All right." He released his grip, but didn't pause to watch her go. Instead, he led the way. "But I go in first."

He'd been right. By the time they got to the house, with the others having abandoned the stalled van to follow, the open door made her heart lurch heavily in her chest. Tire tracks and numerous footprints packed the pristine white snow. She nearly pushed Walter through the door in her haste to get inside.

The house was deserted.

An overturned chair and spilt glass of water stared at her like a beacon in the brightly lit kitchen. She searched frantically through each of the rooms, calling John's name, looking for some sign that maybe they were just hiding. But there was nothing. Standing in the doorway to the master bedroom, she sagged heavily against the frame. Biting her lip. Trying to think of anything that would keep her from losing her mind.

She was already breathing heavily with panic when a blur of movement shot out from under the bed and raced past her feet. She shrieked suddenly, stumbling backwards, nearly toppling over the night stand in the process. Getting back to her feet, she heard Walter in the hallway.

"Found something that belongs to you." He stepped into view, carrying a fat orange furball under his arm, football-style.

"Cheeser!" She groaned. "Damned cat. You scared the shit out of me."

Passing the cat over, he smiled slightly when she buried her nose in its fur. "At least someone's still here."

"Jolie never would have left her."

"We'll find your family--"

He didn't have time to finish the sentence before a look of dread came over her face and she hurried into the living room. Grabbing her bag with one hand, she rushed past Walter again, completely oblivious to his concern, and locked herself into the bathroom. Dumping the cat and her bag on the floor, she yanked the zipper of her jeans down and quickly made use of the toilet.

Cheeser stared at her, as she reached for her bag once more and pulled out the box of tampons. It figured that she'd be having her period now. During school, she used to call it her 'holiday'...because she always seemed to start menstruating on holidays or special occasions. An alien invasion of the earth certainly qualified.

"Being a girl sucks."

The cat didn't seem to sympathize. Then again, she couldn't imagine being in heat as too much fun, either. Just as she was finishing up, flushing the toilet and washing her hands, she heard a thump from under the counter that made her step back and stare. Hair raised, Cheeser looked at the cabinet and growled.

Hastily drying her hands on her jeans, Sabryn took a cautious step towards the door and opened it. "Walter?"

"You OK?"

She nodded, stepping even closer to him. She motioned towards the cabinet under the sink, whispering, "There's something in there."

Still growling, Cheeser stepped even closer and sniffed at the closed doors. There was no telling what was in there. It could have been something as insignificant as a mouse...or as terrifying as an alien hatchling. Grabbing the cat and passing it over to Sabryn, Walter crouched down by the cabinet and listened. When no further noise issued, he glanced back up at her and gestured for her to move back. She hesitantly did as she was told.

And when he slowly opened the cabinet door, the scream that issued from inside the cavernous space made Cheeser tear her way out of Sabryn's arms.

Gasping, her skin ripped with claw marks, Sabryn saw Walter flinch at the continuous screaming. Bending down close enough to peer into the dark cabinet, she stared in horror at her niece's shivering body.

"Oh God, Jo..."

Curled into a tiny ball, shaking furiously, Jolie continued to scream until her throat was raw. A high-pitched, bone-rattling, horrible sound. And as Sabryn tried to touch her, she only cried louder.

"Jolie, shhh, it's me--"

"She can't hear you, she's in shock."

She pulled hard, enduring kicks and flailing arms, yanking the girl out from her hiding place. She'd barely fit in the tiny space to begin with. Getting her out was no doubt twice as challenging. Finally dragging her free of the enclosure, pinning her scratching hands to her sides, Sabryn hugged the girl tightly against her. Rocking slowly, crouched on her knees, murmuring into the girl's hair. Barely noticing as Mr. Byers and his friends appeared to see what the commotion was about. Unaware of her own trembling until she felt Walter's hand on her shoulder.

Finally, hearing her own sobs escape just as her niece's subsided.

Scully's yell was a strange amalgam of terror, rage, and disbelief. She struggled furiously in her captor's grip; whether to get at her partner's fallen body or to strangle Alex where he stood, he wasn't quite sure. Marita, on the other hand, silently took a few steps backwards, forcing the man holding her cuffed arm to do the same.

Averting his eyes from the messy scene on the ground, he glanced up at Spender with questioning eyes. "And the others?"

"I don't think that will be necessary." Spender stared down at Mulder's limp form, nudging the agent with his shoe. The resulting moan threatened to make Alex sick. He wasn't dead. The thought was less than comforting. "I'm not a stupid man, Alex. I know you've been working with the alien rebels."

He didn't bother denying it. "When they were useful to me, yes."

"And you stole that fetus from Fort Marlene, to sell, did you not?"

"I couldn't sell what was already taken."

Spender clearly didn't believe him. "I should have you shot for that, alone. How do I know you haven't led the rebels here, behind our backs?"

"Now you're accusing me of stupidity. I wouldn't knowingly walk into the middle of a war zone." The sound of Scully's tears, no matter how well hidden, was an awful piercing to his ears. "I shot him, what more do you want?"

"You've been working against us for years, and you expect me to accept your word without question?"

"Just get rid of him, Spender," Strughold muttered.

"Even if I collected enough evidence to fry all of you in the electric chair, it wouldn't matter. Nothing can stop the colonization now. The government will go up in a puff of smoke in a matter of hours. You win. I just want what's mine."

"And that is?"

"My freedom."

"I'm sorry, Alex, but that isn't going to happen."

"That's what you think, old man."

Part Seven: Judgment Day

Summary: You gain some...you lose some...

Correction: D'oh again! In chapter six of Mikhail's Fire, New World Disorder, I mentioned the Utah base that is considered the new Area 51...and while I was supposed to write down "the Green River Complex," instead I confused it with the "White Sands" range in New Mexico. I have NO idea how that happened. Somebody slap me! At any rate, I've made the corrections to the version of the chapter on my site...archivists, please use that version. I blame the cold medicine!

For Shael, for calling me on uncharacteristic behavior *before* I posted the chapter! What would I do without you? And for Diadem, my own little cheerleader. <g>

"Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero."
(Seize the day, put no trust in tomorrow.)
--Horace

The old man clearly thought he'd gone mad. He let out a surprised chuckle, resembling a cat with a mouthful of canary.

"You have no cards left, Alex. You're surrounded by guards. You lose."

Nodding slightly, lowering himself to set the Glock on the ground, Alex let out a heavy sigh. "Things would have been so much easier if I'd just shot you long ago."

Before Spender could react, Alex raised his arm and pulled the trigger...aiming not at Spender himself, but the mustached German man beside him. Two shots hit him solidly in the chest, knocking him backwards, pitching him hard against the shiny Rolls behind him. And as the guards were poised to return fire, the poisonous cloud started to release.

Gaseous green fumes filled the air, spilling out of the man as copiously as the bubbling alien blood dripping from his wounds. Gasping and choking, their lungs filling with the toxic billows, the guards were helpless. They tore at their clothes, their skin burning and brilliant red. Only those who had been exposed to the vaccine, Alex, Spender, Mulder and the women, remained unaffected.

Outdoors, the toxic gases quickly began to dissipate. Redirecting his aim, centering on Spender's chest, Alex nodded his head towards the aircraft. "Move."

His eyes still wide with shock, staring at Strughold's oozing body, Spender stumbled as he was forced into movement. Alex glanced towards Marita. "Get the keys out of the guard's pocket, uncuff each other. I'll be back."

She glanced momentarily at Scully, who was leaning over her badly wounded partner, and nodded.

Shoving Spender forward, Alex continued following him towards the craft. "He's one of them." Even with a gun to his back, Spender couldn't help the backwards glance at Strughold. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess, dipshit. Didn't you find it the slightest bit suspicious that Strughold was missing during the El Rico disaster? Keep walking."

"What are you planning? You'll never make it. There are more guards just down the mountain--"

"Which is why you'd better shut up and get moving!"

"And what about the colonists? Do you really think they'll let you get away with this?"

Jerking Spender to a stop just before the landing zone, he watched the plane slowly lower its wheels to the snowy surface. Gusts of wind roared out from the engines, causing the surrounding field to shudder. His coat whipping away from his body, snow flying at his face with whip-like force, Alex winced. He had to shout to be heard over the sound of the air, even though the plane itself barely made a whisper.

"Which would you rather I do, Spender? Walk away now or let the colonists meet Mulder? I'm sure they'd have quite a time with his eidetic memory. Or did you forget that the man could recite every one of your sins?"

"My sins? I've done nothing--"

"The vaccine? You think they'll let you keep your immunity with that knowledge?" He laughed slightly, taking in a deep breath as the Aurora's engines slowed and the craft settled fully onto the ground. "What made you think they would ever honor their promises anyway? You'll be a slave just like the rest of us."

The hatch on the back of the aircraft lowered, sliding down from the belly of the plane like a tentacle, and he almost expected an army of bug-eyed mutants to come scurrying out of the hold. Instead, dressed in black and still wearing his helmet, the pilot stepped down the plank alone. He took one look at the man holding a gun to his superior and froze in his tracks.

Unlike the rest of the men writhing on the ground, military pilots didn't carry guns. He had no defense, and the thought made Alex grin.

"What's your name?"

"Colonel Ian Bradshaw." He paused. "Sir?"

He supposed it was a smart idea calling an armed man sir. "Who else have you got with you, Bradshaw?"

The colonel bristled visibly, before carefully reaching up to remove his helmet. "Lieutenant Colonel Derek Voorhies, Sir."

At the sound of his name, Voorhies appeared on the loading plank and immediately dropped his mouth open at the site before him. A man holding a gun, directed at his superior, surrounded by dozens of dead or dying men. Most crying shrieks of agony as their flesh melted away, leaving them exposed to the icy temperature.

"Jesus..."

"Just the two of you?" Alex asked.

"Yes, Sir."

He didn't like the way Bradshaw said 'sir,' with such disdain and contempt, but he didn't have time to dwell on it. Directing the men away from the plane, his finger still plainly visible on the trigger of the Glock, he motioned them towards where Strughold stood. The man was already healing himself. No matter how many times he saw it happen, he was always amazed at the rapid recovery of the colonists. The wounds seemed to be closing up before their eyes.

Marita stood, fidgeting, next to where Scully knelt on the ground, breathing for her fallen partner. Alex swallowed heavily. He'd never intended for the shots to be fatal. Yet as he saw the gaping holes in Fox Mulder's body, one in his chest and the other in his stomach, he felt like he was going to be sick. The man was damned near dead already.

The unlocked cuffs in her hands, Marita hurried over as Alex approached. "What the hell are you doing, Alex?"

"I need your help, and Scully's."

Scully's eyes shot up, meeting his with such a devilish glare he actually flinched. He wasn't prepared for the moment she shot up from the ground, lunging at him, her bloodied hands reaching for his throat. He only managed to keep some semblance of control by shouting to Marita to grab a gun. Although she didn't understand, she actually did it.

Before the raging woman before him could latch on, he grabbing her flailing wrist and held on. "Damn it, stop this before you get us both killed!"

"You shot him!" Her voice was so hoarse it broke.

"And now I'm going to save him."

"Don't you fucking touch him. You son-of-a-bitch." As Marita came back with the gun in hand, Scully reached for it. "Give it to me, so I can kill him!"

Ignoring Spender's sudden chuckle at the situation, Alex said, "Marita, take Spender and the colonel. Cuff their hands around the trunk of that tree." He roughly shook Scully's shoulder, getting her attention. "You stand watch. We don't have much time, damn it. You can hit me all you want, later."

"I'm not leaving him."

"You don't have a choice!"

Her eyes darted between his gaze and where Mulder lay on the ground, before she hastily took the gun from Marita and pointed it towards the two men. "You heard him. Let's go."

Muttering under his breath, Alex managed a strained "thank you" as he grabbed Voorhies' arm and headed towards where Strughold stood. Looking more than a little worried, Voorhies glanced over his shoulder.

"What do you need me for?"

"You're going to fly us out of here."

"I don't fly that thing by myself."

"There's always a first time."

"What about the other two?"

"They're going to stay right here and watch, while I get exactly what I came here for. Spender was wrong. I win."

Not even four in the morning, and the President was already announcing a state of emergency. As she sat on the counter of the kitchen, Jolie's hands shook so violently she nearly drenched herself with the glass of water meant to soothe her parched throat. The Gunmen, as Sabryn had come to know them, sat in the living room, updating them on the events in the news. It was more of a courtesy than a necessity--Jolie got visibly nervous every time one of them came near. Only with Walter and her aunt was she the least bit calm.

Which really wasn't saying much.

Her eyes ringed with red, her face smeared with tear tracks, she could barely breathe without her breath hitching on a sob.

"Jo, are you going to tell us what happened?"

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut. "They t-took him."

"Took who?" Setting down the glass, Jolie curled her legs up beneath her, her sneakers on the counter, and slowly began rocking herself. She didn't even seem to notice when Sabryn rubbed her back. "Sweetie, I need to know--"

"G-man, we've got a problem," Frohike murmured from the doorway, looking exceedingly uncomfortable.

Sabryn glanced at Walter, but his eyes told her to stay put. "I'll be right back."

When he was gone, leaving Sabryn and Jolie alone in the kitchen, she grabbed a stool and sat down directly in front of her niece.

"Did Mr. Larsen come back here?"

Jolie nodded, slightly.

"Did--Did he take them?" She swallowed heavily at the thought. "Is that who you were talking about?"

"No, that was after." Her voice was almost inaudible.

"After what?"

Her little face scrunched up, bright red and quivering, reminding Sabryn so much of when she'd been a baby. She'd changed the girl's diapers then. Seemed like a lifetime ago. But as Jolie spoke, her voice high-pitched and strangled, she remembered it all too well.

"They shot my mommy!"

It was like being on that spinning carnival ride, just after the floor dropped from under your feet. A sudden terrifying panic, the knowledge that sheer force alone kept you upright. And for a few seconds of disbelief, all she could do was stare.

Jolie's whimpers finally snapped her into movement, and she wrapped her arms around the girl tightly. Pressing her small face against her shoulder. And when Sabryn looked up to see Walter standing in the doorway, she knew. With absolute certainty, she knew everything had just gone to hell.

Hefting Jolie's weight into her arms, she headed towards where he stood and prepared to hand the girl over to him. He stepped back suddenly, holding up his hand.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to see."

"Sabryn, no--"

She didn't bother arguing with him. Depositing Jolie against his left arm, barely waiting for him to get the kid situated on his hip so he wouldn't strain his other shoulder, she turned and headed for the living room. She didn't think about it, didn't even consider turning back. And when the Gunmen saw the look on her face, they immediately stepped away from the back door.

Stepping through the opening, pushing the heavy screen door out of the way, she shivered. No less from the cold than from the sight before her. Scattered footprints dotted the deck, leading towards the stairs and down to the backyard. From where she stood, she couldn't see much of the ground below...but the light dusting of red on the otherwise pure blanket of snow said everything.

Her legs shook, barely supporting her as she neared the steps. Eyes misting over, the heat burning as unshed tears tried to escape. And when she saw them, only the grip of her hand on the railing kept her from pitching down the stairs.

Lying in their own blood, face down and shot from behind, Caroline and her son were still holding hands.

Mulder was wheezing badly, barely breathing on his own, glaring at Alex as he neared.

Trying hard to ignore the sickening sounds coming from the ground, Alex forced Voorhies to his knees and opened the bag of guns. Strughold was almost completely healed, and he swore under his breath. The more strength the man had, the harder it would be to control him. And he desperately needed the healer under his command.

The sleek metal cylinder slipped out of the side pocket of the bag with a whoosh between Alex's fingers, making Strughold flinch. He knew exactly what the weapon was, and started hurriedly backing away.

Before he could take more than two steps towards the disguised colonist, Alex was knocked off his feet, wrestled to the ground by the Aurora's copilot. A vicious blow from Voorhies' fist crashed his teeth together, bringing stars to his eyes. He fought wildly for control, reaching for the fallen gun, but the man was too much of a match for his strength. The harder he struggled to get free, the tighter Voorhies' grip held. They were at a draw, Alex no closer to gaining control than Voorhies was to subduing him, when Scully's welcome voice shouted, "Get off him! Now!"

Voorhies looked up to see Scully standing over them, her weapon pointed at his head. He slowly backed off, his hands raised. As Alex crawled to his feet, grabbing the gun and plam, tucking the first into his waistband, he saw Marita escorting Strughold back to where they stood.

He was starting to get damned pissed off. No more than ten minutes had passed since he shot Strughold, but that was more than they had to waste. Grabbing the healer's arm, he shoved him to his knees before Mulder and unsheathed the wickedly sharp thorn of the plam.

"Heal him, now."

"I can't."

"Bullshit. I've seen it happen. Do it."

"I will not! I'd rather die."

"Die and your colonization goes with you."

He could feel all of them staring at him. Pinching the tip of the plam into the back of Strughold's neck, Alex whispered, "Spender has the hybrid genes in him, doesn't he?"

Although he didn't say a word, Strughold paled visibly.

"Heal Mulder or Spender goes with me. I don't have time for this shit. I can't stop what's coming, but I can make it a living hell for your friends."

Without hesitation, Strughold's hands covered both of Mulder's wounds.

It was like watching a fast-forwarded slide slow. Beneath his hands, Mulder's wounds started to pull together, healing from the inside out, pushing the bullets up and out of his flesh until they rolled innocently to the ground. And the skin beneath looked untouched.

"Jesus," Marita whispered.

Still weak with the loss of blood, Mulder sat up slowly and stared at the holes in his shirt. His fingers shook as they explored his healed skin.

"Now her," Alex said, pulling Marita closer. "Get rid of the cancer. From both of the women."

Scully blinked rapidly, her eyes seeming to tear up as Strughold put his hands over each of the women's foreheads. It was only a matter of seconds before Marita's skin took on a healthier glow, before Scully could move her shoulder with ease. And it was only seconds later before the headlights of an approaching Jeep appeared over the ridge.

Kneeling in the snow, she reached out hesitantly and closed her nephew's open eyelids, before letting her fingers slide down his arm, to cover the place where his and Caroline's hands clasped. They were so cold. So impossibly cold and limp. It was hard to believe this was once the woman who was one of the closest things she had to a best friend. That this was the little boy whom had begged to be held so much that she didn't have time to paint. Tracing the thumb that only recently he had stopped sucking, she felt a shudder rip through her strong enough to take her breath away.

"Who did this?" she asked, sensing Walter's presence before she heard his footsteps crunching across the snow. She looked up to see the top of Jolie's head, just visible as she stood in the doorway. "Who could have possibly shot a little--a little boy in the back of his head?"

His eyes downcast, Walter crouched down beside her and braced his left hand in the snow. "Men in camouflage."

Her gaze flew up to meet his, and he confirmed her horror with a nod. "They drove up to the house, armed, and took the men with them. Larsen and his brothers, as well. Before they left, they--" He gestured helplessly to the bodies on the ground.

Her face was so cold, her eyes seemingly frozen. "Jolie told you that?"

"Not in so many words, but that was the gist of it."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"That's not good enough!" Standing up, she clenched her fists, as much to save them from the cold as to keep herself from reaching for Chris's delicate little body. "He was a baby. And Caroline--Jesus, Walter, they could plainly see that she's pregnant! They murdered my family!"

Tugging her down to his level, he harshly whispered, "Keep your voice down. That little girl is scared enough. She saw her mother and brother shot...she doesn't need to lose you, too."

"They're dead, Walter." She wasn't sure if she was convincing him or herself.

"I know." He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, comforting yet not invasively so. At this point, if he'd tried tenderness, she might well have punched him. Or sobbed like a baby. Neither seemed like a good option. "It doesn't make sense. Look at their footprints. They weren't running. Someone led them out here and did this."

The image of Caroline and her son, waiting to be shot in the head, made her sick to her stomach. *I don't feel so good.*

"A small child, barely three feet tall, and a pregnant woman. It doesn't make sense."

"Neither could successfully incubate an alien fetus," she murmured, on the verge of comprehension. "They'd be torn in half--"

Before she could finish the sentence, she staggered away from where he knelt and vomited next to the wooden steps. Her stomach clenching a second time, she could feel his hand on her shoulder and looked up to see him holding out a handkerchief. When her stomach was completely emptied of fluid, considering it was the second time she'd gotten sick that day, her torso was so cramped it brought tears to her eyes. She sat back weakly, wiping her mouth.

"We should get you inside, so you can rest."

Shaking her head, none too violently, she started to get to her feet.

"I've got to go. They have my brother."