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Part One Manhattan Alex Krycek sat in the British Gentleman's New York office pecking one handed at his computer keyboard. He stopped in once a day to check the email account that kept him in contact with his benefactor, currently summering with his grandchildren in the English countryside. Finding nothing, he idly brought up another web based email account he kept, one that tended to be more active than his official address. This was the account he used to check the pulse of the world of conspiracies. Several different mailing lists dumped into the address, mailing lists that would probably intrigue Fox Mulder. Alex was fairly certain Mulder was, in fact, a fellow member of at least two. Sometimes he would come across a post that read just like Mulder - his vocabulary, his distinctive humor. He scanned the subject lines, searching for anything that might interest Mulder. The X-Files were currently closed, but that didn't mean Mulder and Scully were keeping their noses clean. He read a few but didn't see anything extraordinary. He left the window open on his inbox and opened a new window to check the newsgroups. Again he found nothing that might catch Mulder's attention. The world was a quiet place lately. Alex turned his attention to the regular mail. The Brit kept a secretary in this office, but he preferred that Alex handle the few day-to-day tasks that kept up the illusion the Brit was just as invested in the Project as everyone else. She knew Alex as 'Steve Alexander', American nephew of the Brit. After 20 minutes of work he turned back to the computer to shut it down. His inbox had refreshed in the meantime and a new subject line screamed out from the screen, "!!!***Strange Doings in Texas***!!!" He opened the post and read: "Something really weird is going on here in my home town! This morning a couple of the local kids were playing just outside town, digging a hole, when my neighbor's kid fell through into some kind of tunnel! The fire dept came to get him out. Not much later some semi trucks and helicopters showed up and we all got herded away. Now there's some kind of camp set up and nobody can get close enough to ask any questions! My neighbor is frantic cuz her kid was choppered out and she wasn't allowed to go along! The other kids keep talking about seeing his eyes turn black and him having a seizure. You can't tell me the government isn't in on this! The response time was too quick! I'll keep you all posted!" Alex's blood ran cold. Black eyes! It couldn't be! He quickly linked to the mailing list server and checked the member profile for the author of the post. No real name was listed and they'd given their location only as Texas. Alex tried to remember who the Consortium had in Texas. The speed of mobilization hinted at more efficiency than the government could manage. It had to be one of their own operatives. Well, this situation merited a phone call. Email would be just too slow. He dialed the international number and listened to the odd double-tone ring of the British telephone. A man with a very proper British voice answered, then Alex was placed on hold. There was a click and, "I've told you not to call here." Alex mentally rolled his eyes. The Brit was always paranoid speaking to him no matter how often Alex assured him the office phone lines and those at the manor were completely secure. "This is too important to wait," Alex answered. "There's been an incident, a boy reported with black eyes." The Brit gasped. After a moment of silence he asked, "What have you found out?" "Not much so far. It happened in Texas but I don't know exactly where. Someone has already moved in and secured the site. Considering the speed I'd guess it was one of ours." "Bronschweig," the Brit hissed Alex started in surprise. He hadn't known were Bronschweig was located. He had collaborated with Spender in the past and the two men backed each other during any Consortium in-fighting. If Bronschweig was in control then Spender already knew what had happened. "I want you in position within 24 hours. Leave immediately for Dallas. I'll contact my sources outside regular channels and have a location for you by the time you reach there tonight." "Yes, sir," Alex said as the Brit hung up on him. He released the dead line and immediately called his travel agent. After a series of transfers he finally heard, "Travel Service Associates, this is Becky." "Hi, Becky. It's Steve Alexander." "Good afternoon Mr. Alexander, how can I help you today?" "Sorry to spring this on you so short notice, but I just found out I have to be in Dallas tonight." "Well, let's see what's available," she replied agreeably. Becky always called him Mr. Alexander, but she was one of the few people who knew his real name. He'd met her during his Quantico days, then ran into her again a couple years later. She'd been hired by a travel agency to his good fortune. He spun her a tale of undercover identities and working outside the FBI mainstream that explained his inability to use the FBI travel department. Eventually she confessed that she knew how to access the FBI travel department files and he jokingly promised not to turn her in. On a whim, he'd asked her to check for any reservations Mulder and Scully might have. He let her assume they were his friends and she started to keep track of them for him. Becky set him up with a reservation and made sure his frequent flyer number was transmitted. It was a little thing, but next time he had to hide out in Hong Kong he sure as hell was flying there for free. She reserved him a car and hotel room, emailed him his itinerary, and told him Mulder and Scully had no current reservations on file. Either Mulder was slipping or he was on a very short leash. Alex had just enough time to stop by his apartment to pack before his flight. He packed light, not wanting to check his bag, and took a taxi to Laguardia. Four hours later he arrived in Dallas, picked up his car and went to find his hotel. As he had expected, there was an email waiting for him when he finally got his laptop hooked up. The Brit now had the exact location for him. By this time tomorrow night he'd be staking out this so-called camp. Author's Notes: On July 23, 2001, the MSKipperVille mailing list was created. The first chat was held August 4, 2001. One of the first topics posed certainly wasn't a new one: What would the movie have been like if Nick Lea had been available for filming? Suddenly my mind was filled with images from the movie, but, inserted into each scene was Alex Krycek. Don't get me wrong; visions of Alex Krycek are not a new experience for me! But, for the first time I really considered the question seriously and decided this was definitely something I wanted to read. I was pretty enthusiastic about the topic and, somehow or other, I got volunteered to write it! I've haven't written much fan fic before. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it. *** Part Two North Texas near Amarillo The little motel was perfect; just down the street from all the action. Alex could sit in his room with the curtains open and see the whole show. Never had surveillance been this easy. The setup was definitely Consortium. The location made it impossible for him to get near. It was open on all sides with nothing to use for cover. Guards and workers were constantly present and all seemed too familiar with each other. Alex didn't have a prayer of infiltrating. For nearly a week he stayed in his hotel, only venturing out twice a day to eat at the small cafe. In such a small town he couldn't go unnoticed. The waitresses grew too familiar after only a couple of days. He explained his presence by claiming he was an author and wanted a quiet, secluded place to work on his book. He flirted mildly with them and found it easy to pump them for information almost without their knowledge. They readily gossiped but none had more than speculations about what was going on at the edge of town. The Brit kept busy behind the scenes gleaning his sources for information. Discretion was vital: no one could know he and Alex were following the situation. For the time being, Spender and Bronschweig were hiding the presence of the oil from the rest of the group and the Brit was desperate to know why. Five days into his vigil, Alex received an email from the Brit. The bodies of the infected boy and the firemen who had attempted to rescue him were being held in the FEMA offices in downtown Dallas. 'Why there?' Alex wondered. FEMA suggested government involvement. Why would Spender and Bronschweig turn the bodies over to the government and still not inform the group? For the first time, Alex left his post and drove to Dallas. He located the office building housing FEMA and familiarized himself with the area. He wished he could visit the Consortium holding in Dallas but knew it was unwise. Finally, in frustration, he returned to his motel. The next morning there was an email waiting for him from Becky. Mulder and Scully had left Washington that morning bound for Dallas. So, Mulder had finally gotten wind of the story. Alex tuned the tv to the local Dallas network and started his morning workout. After his field trip the day before, the buildings behind the reporter were glaringly familiar. He grabbed the remote and turned up the sound. "Early this morning a bomb threat was called in to the Federal Building. The building has been evacuated and Federal Agents are now searching floor by floor." Bomb threat... the Federal Building... The bigger picture jumped into focus: the bodies needed to be destroyed and what better way than in a bombing? But the bodies weren't in the Federal Building, they were in the FEMA offices across the street. Would a bomb do enough damage to take out that building too? No, at worst the windows would shatter, a few people might die from flying debris, but the structure of the building would remain intact. So either the bodies had been moved or the threat was called in for the wrong building. Mulder and Scully were arriving in Dallas presumably to help with the bomb threat and not to investigate the black oil as he'd thought. He checked the email from Becky again and saw they were still in the air, ETA 1 1/2 hours. More than enough time for him to shower and grab some breakfast. He had the cafe prepare his usual sack lunch and stopped by the gas station convenience store next door to stock up on snack food before returning to the motel. Mulder and Scully should have arrived and were probably enroute to the Federal Building. He'd give them another hour to get downtown and up-to-speed on the situation there. Then he'd aim Mulder across the street and let him fly. *** One hour later. Alex took a deep, steadying breath and dialed Mulder's cell phone. "Mulder," he answered. It sounded like he was outside. Alex could here wind blowing across the mouthpiece of the phone. "Welcome to Dallas, Agent Mulder," Alex hissed. He tried to change his voice enough so Mulder might not recognize him. "Who is this?" Mulder demanded. "A friend," he answered, then winced. Had Mulder taken the time to translate what Alex had said to him the last time they'd met? If he had then this charade might not last very long. "How did you get this number?" Mulder persisted. "Agent Mulder, you're searching the wrong building." "What? Who *is* this?" Mulder interrupted. "Look across the street, Agent Mulder," Alex forged ahead. "See that white office building? Your real target is there." With that he hung up on Mulder's next demand. He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and dried his sweaty palm on his thigh. He prayed fervently that he hadn't missed some other white office building in the area yesterday. He'd just have to trust in Mulder now. It was time to call the Brit and confess what he'd done. The Brit couldn't tell him 'no' after the fact. "There've been some developments in Dallas," he began when the Brit came on the line. He explained the bomb threat and the arrival of Mulder and Scully. The Brit wasn't very pleased with Alex taking his own initiative, nor did he know at first why Alex chose to take steps to stop the bomb in the first place. "Spender and Bronschweig are orchestrating this bombing to eliminate those bodies for some reason. If this isn't stopped they remain free to follow their agenda, whatever that is. By stopping the bombing, we force their hand and bring this out into the open. I can't find out what's going on here until they decide to bring the rest of us in." "You still can't get inside?" "Not a chance. None of them interact with the town in any way, they even chopper in all their meals so they don't have to eat here. I can't find out shit!" Alex's frustration was building. Normally he'd never swear at the Brit, but the Brit didn't reprimand him. "What makes you think Agent Mulder alone can find this bomb? What makes you so certain the bomb *isn't* in the Federal Building." "Well I can't be entirely positive of course. For all I know the bodies were moved to the Federal Building and the bomb really is there. I'm counting on Mulder's instincts here. If the bomb is there he's more likely to zero in on where it's been hidden." "What's done is done. Time will tell if your reasoning is sound." *** Afternoon Alex stayed tuned to the local station covering the bomb threat. With lack of activity, the station resumed normal programming but went live once an hour for updates. Daytime tv sucks everywhere. The live crew pre-empted the 3rd soap opera of the day, much to Alex's relief. The camera was no longer focussed on the federal building. Behind the reporter, crowds of people streamed from the entrance of the FEMA building. "The focus of today's activities has shifted," the reporter advised. In the back round, figures in dark jackets with 'FBI' emblazoned across the back bucked the tide of evacuees to enter the building. "It appears the wrong building has been the focus of the bomb search teams. With us is Jennifer Starr who works in one of the many offices located in this building. Jennifer, what can you tell us about what's happening inside?" "All I really know is that a bomb was found in the vending room." Jennifer told the American public. "They evacuated us and that's it." "Jesus, Mulder," Alex spoke aloud. "The vending room?" He would never cease to be amazed at how Mulder's mind worked. On screen the live crew was being herded further down the street, away from the activity. "We'll relocate and be back with you in a moment," the reporter informed them. The station took that opportunity to go back to the new room for analysis. Alex still stared at the screen in amazement. Slowly a smile spread across his lips and he felt a flush of pride that he'd been able to figure it out. He also felt a flush of awe in Mulder for finding the damn thing. They'd done it, they'd successfully thrown a spoke in Spender's wheel. Granted, Mulder didn't know Alex was his informant, but that hardly mattered. Alex had a brief flash of What Might Have Been. He and Mulder could have been a great team. He grabbed up his cell phone and dialed internationally again. "Me again," he said by way of introduction. "He actually found it! They've evacuated the building and I think the bomb crew has already gone in." Alex knew he sounded too excited but he was bursting with his success. "Good work, Alex," the Brit rewarded him. On the tv the live crew was back and filming from a distance down the street. "They're back on," Alex said. "Is CNN picking this up? I'm watching a local station here." He knew he was babbling but he just couldn't seem to stop. "We've got him. Spender can't hide this one. The FBI is vested in this now. They're definitely going to be investigating why the threat was called in for the wrong building." The reporter was updating those who had just joined the broadcast. A flash of movement in front of the distant building caught Alex's attention. A car pulled away from the curb with a squeal of tires that was picked up by the reporter's microphone. Seconds later the bottom floors of the building disintegrated, the camera went wild and then the picture blanked. "Alex? Alex?" the Brit was repeating. "Alex, what happened?" "It blew," Alex breathed. An ache gripped his throat. Had they made it out? Did he just see Mulder and Scully die? "Well, then CNN will definitely be broadcasting. I'll contact you later when I've determined our next course of action." Alex listened to dead air a moment before regaining control of motor functions enough to turn off the cell phone. It dropped from his numb fingers to bounce on the bed beside him. The local station news room was reassuring it's viewers the reporter and her crew were not injured and would be back when power could be restored. Alex's mind was frozen. The thought that he had sent Mulder and Scully to their deaths just might incapacitate him. Soon the live crew was back. And there were Mulder and Scully! "Thank God," Alex breathed. "Moments ago a bomb destroyed this building in downtown Dallas," the reporter advised, still in update mode. "With us are the last two people to evacuate before the bomb detonated. These two FBI agents barely escaped with mere seconds to spare." The reporter was laying it on thick. Mulder was ignoring the reporter and camera crew. He gazed up at the destroyed building with a blank look on his face. Alex could imagine the guilt running through his mind already. Scully almost seemed to be hiding behind Mulder. The reporter approached them and asked, "Can you tell us what happened inside?" Mulder ignored her. Her pleasant reporter's smile faltered a little until she focused on Scully. She shoved the microphone at Scully, fully expecting an answer. Scully shot a poisonous look at Mulder, then turned it on the reporter. "The FBI is unable to comment at this time." 'Way to go, Scully,' Alex smirked. He watched as she grabbed the tail of Mulder's jacket and attempted to pull him out of range of the camera crew. She couldn't budge him. The reporter tried again, "Surely there's something..." "The FBI is unable to comment at this time," Scully repeated in a near snarl. Her hand snaked up under Mulder's jacket and he started. Alex's jaw dropped. Had she just goosed him on National TV? Whatever she did it worked. Mulder followed her across the street to join a sea of navy FBI jackets. Satisfied that Mulder and Scully were fine and satisfied he'd successfully stalled whatever Spender and Bronschweig were planning, he tuned the tv to CNN to run in the back round while he once more checked his mailing lists and newsgroups. Author's Notes: Continuity has never been a strong point of CC and Co. At least, not in more recent seasons. Fight the Future is just as full of discrepancies as any average episode. One of the biggest questions I've always had was "Why were Mulder and Scully searching a different building to begin with?" Mulder's answer in the movie has never satisfied me. When I took on this project I asked myself all those same old questions I've always asked about the movie. Suddenly I had one simple answer to every question: Alex Krycek! *** Part Three North Texas near Amarillo The sound of helicopter blades chopping through the night air sent Alex careening from his bed toward the window. In the 8 days he'd been watching, no helicopters arrived or departed the site after dark. Two helicopters set down on the outskirts of the camp and Alex saw figures exit both. One dark shape was chillingly familiar. Spender had finally arrived. Alex remained silently vigilant at the edge of his window for over an hour before Spender left the white, dome tents and crawled back into his helicopter. The second helicopter remained. Alex watched through the remainder of the night, pulling over a chair when he couldn't stand any longer. After years of surveillance he had perfected a near hypnotic state which allowed him the relief of rest while remaining watchful. By dawn the camp showed definite signs of breaking down. The flatbed semi, which had been parked furthest from the tents, was moved in close and slowly began gathering crates. Alex packed his own things and stored them in the car. By noon the final tanker truck had been moved to the side and there were signs the trucks were prepared to depart. All morning Alex had waited for a decision from the Brit. His hand was forced when the tankers and several cars pulled out in a convoy headed toward the main highway. He had to make a decision: follow the trucks or stay 'til the bitter end? He chose the trucks. Alex stayed a discrete mile behind the convoy, occasionally letting the distance increase, then closing in again. After 45 minutes Alex was forced to make another decision. The highway had ended at a crossroads and the convoy had broken up. For several minutes Alex deliberated. The tankers had gone left while the cars had gone right. Grimly he turned to follow the tankers. *** Dusk Alex surveyed the site from the vantage of the top of his car. Row upon row of corn fields filled the basin. Two dome structures he recognized from a Consortium project he thought had been discontinued rose from the center of the fields. Alex had followed the tankers to another small town and watched as they pulled in to the grain elevator. A train with empty flatbeds waited. The first tanker had been disconnected and was being laboriously loaded onto the train when Alex left town. For several hours he zig-zagged his way along the desert roads following the railroad tracks. He took another gamble when a spur line broke off from the main tracks. He followed the new trail. Hours later he found himself at the end of a road at the top of quite a substantial hill for this area. Below him was a sight he'd only seen once before in an old file from the Brit's office. Alex drove back down the hill and canvassed the area until he found an access road that allowed him to get in closer with his car. Corn plants grew high over the car and the only way to see anything was to climb up and stand on top. It was now after sunset. The domes, lit from within, glowed from the center of the basin. If this project ran true to form, the bulk of the installation would be underground and minimally staffed. That situation might not last for long. Alex suspected the scientists and crew from the town site were relocating here. If he wanted to investigate the domes he had to get in now before everyone arrived. Alex jumped down from the car and started down a corn row. The tops of the plants rose more than a foot above his head. The edges of the long leaves were blade sharp. He shielded his face with a leather clad arm and broke out into a light jog. Abruptly the corn rows ended in a clearing around the railroad tracks. Alex jolted to a stop and stepped back into the edge of the field. He quickly surveyed his surrounding, then darted across the tracks and into the next field. Moments later he could see the white glow of a dome beyond the end of the corn. He slowed and edged his way to the end of the row. The place appeared deserted. He could see the entrances into the domes but those weren't what he was looking for. He needed to find an entrance to the underground labs. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as he moved out into the clearing. He felt horribly exposed. Close to the dome its white glow was almost blinding. He moved quickly around to the side opposite the dome entrance and was relieved to see another entry way. This one had to be what he was looking for. The door lock yielded quickly and he found himself at the top of a stairwell. He glided down past 2 landings, making very little sound on the rubber edged concrete steps. The door at the bottom wasn't even locked. It was either apathy or stupidity at work here. He hoped whatever it was would work in his favor. He eased the door open and slipped through into the hallway beyond. The hallway would have been horrifying if Alex had a problem with bugs. The walls and ceiling were thick Plexiglas allowing an uninterrupted view into the dimly lit bowels of the hive. Alex was surrounded by a maze of honeycombs and bee nurseries. They hung suspended from a network of support beams and pillars like stalactite in a cave. The air was thick with bees. He gaped around him, turning in all directions as he made his way down the hall toward another distant door. Here, finally, was security in full force. Alex studied the door and the electronic panel beside it: a card swiper with a 12-key pad and an LED display. He crouched down until his eyes were level with the panel. He'd barely begun analyzing a way past the security measures when the LED came to life with the number 30 and began counting down. 'What the hell?' he wondered. He hadn't even touched anything yet. Or had he? Alex dashed back down the hall swearing profusely. It had to have been a trigger in one of the doors or maybe a pressure sensitive panel in the floor, linked to a time lapse before requiring a key card and access code entry. He should have known it wouldn't be this easy. He sent up a prayer of thanks that the system hadn't locked him into the hallway and prayed all the way up to the second landing that he'd still be able to make it back outside. He burst out of the dome, almost surprised not to see a full security team waiting for him, and sprinted for the edge of the field. As he barreled down a row he struggled with his left arm. Finally he was able to wedge his hand into the pocket of his jacket and running became easier. He stopped again at the railroad tracks to catch his breath and make sure the way was still clear. His blood thundered in his ears and masked the sound of the helicopter blades on the night air. He almost stepped out of the corn before he heard them. The search lights from the general area of his car sent waves of fear down his spine. The lights began to search in a grid pattern moving in his direction. Alex crouched, fist clenching in the dirt as he furiously analyzed his options. All the fields had been planted so that all the rows emptied out into the clearing around the domes. Crossing rows was too risky; the localized disturbance as he pushed through the plants would be too obvious. If he was lucky he'd have enough time to cross the clearing again and disappear down a side field. With a muttered curse he bolted back in the direction of the domes. Surprisingly, Alex kept ahead of the search lights. He burst from the field, angled left and ran for his life. He rounded the first dome and came upon a sight that nearly stopped his frantically beating heart: Mulder and Scully, facing him and the search lights. All 3 froze in shock at the sight of each other. Mulder moved first, fumbling at his side to get at his gun under his jacket. Alex felt the spell break and time resumed. "Run," he shouted and broke for the field again. Behind him he heard Mulder's shouted "Krycek!" and Scully's frantic "Mulder!" Within moments the helicopters were above them and the searchlights hemmed them in. Overhead the corn thrashed in the wake of the rotors and those knife edged leaves threatened his face again. He tried to duck under the swaying plants to stay in his row, then gave up and crossed rows knowing, with the wind, there was no way the movement would be seen from above. Below the roar of the helicopters Alex heard Mulder's "Talk to me, Scully!" Then, more urgently, "Scully!! Damn it! Krycek, wait!" Had Mulder realized the enemy above was worse than the sometime ally in the field with him? Alex stopped and crouched in the dirt. Mulder was moving, calling for Scully, sounding more frantic as the seconds ticked by and the helicopters continued to harass them from above. Alex left his spot and homed in on Mulder's voice. He entered Mulder's row from several feet away and called above the roar, "Mulder! Come on! She'll head for the end of her row and we'll find her there!" Surprisingly Mulder followed but kept calling for Scully to answer him. The field ended at the base of the cliff. Alex braced his hand on his thigh and gaspingly struggled to catch his breath. Mulder moved off, still shouting Scully's name. Seconds later Alex heard Scully's relieved "Mulder" from his other side. They converged on each other next to Alex. Mulder briefly clasped Scully's wrist as if to prove to himself she was real, then he turned on Alex and drew his gun. "Don't move, Krycek," he ordered. Alex, still breathless, huffed in disbelief. "Where'd they go?" Scully asked. They both scanned the sky above the fields. "Probably back to stake out my car," Alex admitted, finally able to breathe. He stood up catching Mulder's attention again. "What are you doing here, Krycek?" Mulder demanded. "I could ask you the same thing." Mulder stared at him for a moment, then ordered, "Come on." He gestured with his gun in the direction of the cliff. "You're coming with us." "Yes, sir," Alex smirked. Right now they were his only ticket out of here but he didn't think it would be wise to point that out to Mulder. He'd very likely leave Alex just for spite. "No funny stuff, Krycek," Mulder threatened as he started up the steep slope. "I'd just as soon shoot you as haul your ass in." Alex labored upward. His left arm was still immobilized against his side. He freed his hand so he could use the weight of his arm for counter balance as he steadied himself on scrub and brush clinging to the hillside. He was out of breath again by the top. He'd stopped working out as much after the Brit took him in and tonight was a good example why that had been a stupid idea. He took solace in seeing Mulder and Scully seemed just as tired as he was. Mulder glared at Alex, panting, gun once again trained on him. He shook out his handcuffs and gestured for Alex to turn around. He locked one cuff around Alex's right wrist then reached for the left. He took a good grip then jerked his hand away. "Jesus!" he swore. "What is it?" Scully asked. Mulder must have indicated his arm. Scully took his left hand, then skimmed her other hand up his arm, feeling him through the thick leather of his jacket. "Don't cuff it, Mulder," she advised. "He could free himself easily enough." Mulder frisked him, took away his guns and cell phone, hustled him into the back seat of the car, and clipped the other cuff around the door handle. Scully slid in the back from the other side. No gun for Ms. Scully; maybe it was her turn to play 'good cop'. Mulder was driving too fast. Alex and Scully clutched at their door handles to avoid being thrown against each other. "Mulder, it's after 11," Scully said. "I don't think there's any hope any more of making it on time." "What's up?" Alex teased. "Late for a hot date, Mulder?" "None of your business," Mulder snapped back. Beside him, Scully pulled out her cell phone and dialed. After a moment she identified herself and gave a number that sounded suspiciously like her badge number. Then, "I need to know if there are any more flights tonight out of Amarillo, Texas that would arrive in Washington before 10 tomorrow morning." She waited silently for several minutes. "Dallas?" More silence. "And the first tomorrow morning?" Finally, "Thank you," and she hung up. "Nothing from Amarillo, the last flight out of Dallas was 10:30, first flight tomorrow doesn't get in until almost noon." She sounded defeated. Mulder was silent but he'd slowed down a bit. Alex gazed speculatively between them in the dark car. "Maybe we can make a deal," he offered. "Shut up, Krycek," Mulder growled. "Unless you want to tell us what you were doing tonight." "Sure, I'll tell you," he offered. "I'll even get you two back to DC as you seem so desperate to do, and in return, you don't arrest me. You know as soon as the cell door closes I'm a dead man." "Mulder?" Scully asked. He drove on in silence for over a minute, then he nodded. "I need my phone," Alex said. Mulder handed it over his shoulder to Scully. "Can you take these off?" Alex asked, rattling the handcuffs. "Those stay on," Mulder said. "You're such a hard ass," Alex advised him. He clumsily dialed with his cuffed hand then crouched over in the seat so he could hold the phone to his ear. The call connected and Alex heard a sleepy male voice answer, "If you don't know what I need to hear then you shouldn't have this number." Mitch had a smart mouth on him but he was a solid Consortium man. Alex rattled off an alpha-numeric string and waited for Mitch to process it. "Okay, Krycek, what do you want this time?" "I'm outside Amarillo and I need to get to DC right away. What do we have around here?" He heard a keyboard clicking, then Mitch said, "The closest would probably be Oklahoma City. It's closer than Dallas even, and the Dallas jet was used last night anyway." "That'll be fine. Get it ready for me. I'll be there in 3 or 4 hours." He hung up on Mitch and clumsily flipped the cell phone across to Scully. "Oklahoma City," he said. "There'll be a jet waiting. If we're lucky we'll be in DC by nine. Nine thirty at the latest." Author's Notes: I'm a travel agent and the time stamps in the movie have always made my teeth ache. There is absolutely no way Mulder and Scully could be in Texas after dark yet make it back to Washington DC 11 or so hours later! Not on commercial flights anyway. It is also completely impossible for CSM to make that evening meeting in London unless he was somehow transported privately to New York in time to take a morning Concorde. CC, could you spend a little time on Expedia.com or Travelocity before filming the next movie? *** Part Four They stopped on the outskirts of Amarillo for gas. Mulder and Scully left him cuffed to the back door while they argued over who was going to drive. Alex rolled his window down a bit so he could listen. "You've been up for two days now, Scully." Mulder pointed out. "So have you," she shot back. "Yeah, and I may need you to take over in a couple hours." That shut her up. "Please, Scully, try to sleep for a while in case I need you." Mulder could be such a manipulative bastard. Scully went in to pay and get coffee. Mulder yanked open Alex's door, nearly pulling him out of the car. He bent to unlock the cuffs. "Last stop, Krycek. No potty breaks 'til we get there." Mulder ushered him around the side to the men's room and waited while Alex went in. Then he took him back to the car and cuffed him in the front seat. Scully came out balancing three cups of coffee. Mulder rescued two from her and put them in the cup holders in the console. Then he went off in the direction of the men's room and left Alex alone with Scully. She'd bought a road map. She opened it and marked their route with a pen. Alex watched her in the yellow dome light. "How've you been, Scully?" he asked. She glared up at him. "Why should you care?" He faced forward again so he didn't have to see her hate. "I heard you were sick for a while. I'm glad to see you're better now." He *was* glad. He'd always felt Scully could have been his friend if things had been different. "My sister isn't better," Scully pointed out. Alex swallowed painfully. "I never meant that to happen." It was like deja vu. He'd already had this conversation once with Mulder in a plane over eastern Europe bound for Russia. "That doesn't change the past, Krycek. She's still dead." "Fucking bastard and all his secret agendas," Alex muttered. "Who?" she damanded. "You know who," he snapped back over his shoulder. After a quiet moment he couldn't take it any more. He turned in his seat as far as the cuffs would allow and snarled back at her, "You were just supposed to be a bargaining chip! How the hell was I supposed to know my so-called partner had other orders?" She remained calm in the face of his anger. "Cry me a river, Krycek." Alex gave up. Mulder was coming back and he didn't want to get into it with both of them. Mulder opened Alex's door again and unlocked the cuffs. "Don't spill coffee in the car," he ordered. He walked around the front of the car and slid into the driver's seat. Scully handed him the map, refolded to show their route. He studied it a moment and then they were off. *** Interstate 40 Scully had lain down in the back seat as soon as they started. Alex didn't know if she'd fallen asleep or not, but she remained quiet. They'd barely hit the Interstate when Mulder started grilling him. "Okay, Krycek, give. What were you doing there?" Alex had been considering how much to tell Mulder. "About a week and a half ago a boy was infected by the Black Cancer here in Texas." Mulder hissed his surprise. "A faction of the group I work with came in and took over the site. They're working outside the mainstream and not informing the rest of the group. We're not sure exactly why. I was sent in to find out." "And did you?" Mulder prompted. "No," he admitted. "I'd tracked their activities to that facility back there but you saw what happened. I didn't have a chance." "What was going on back there? Some kind of experiment?" "I've only seen mention of it in a file once. Something to do with genetics. From what I read, the project was abandoned about 2 years ago." "I think I saw it," Mulder mused. "A farm in Canada. There were bees there, too, but gensing instead of corn." Alex snorted. "You *do* get around, don't you Mulder?" "What is this 'faction' you mentioned?" Mulder continued. "The group has never been as cohesive as they'd like to think. You've seen some of them already. Our smoking friend for one and those in Russia for another. Some think cooperation with the colonists is the only way to save themselves. Some think resistence is the only way to save the rest of us. Some operate under the guise of cooperation and work behind the scenes with the resistence. Nobody can agree. It's a wonder anything gets done." Alex picked up his coffee cup with his right hand knowing Mulder was watching him. "That happened in Russia, didn't it?" Mulder changed the subject. "Yeah," Alex answered. "No arm, no test," Mulder muttered. "Yeah," Alex agreed. Mulder braked hard and brought the car to an abrupt halt in the emergency lane. Scully let out a squeak as she was thrown to the floor of the back seat. Mulder jumped from the car and darted to the shoulder. Scully picked herself up off the floor and left the car to go to him. Mulder was pacing, rubbing his hands together. Alex rolled his window down to eavesdrop again. "God, Scully, it so easily could have happened to me too." "It didn't, Mulder," she reassured him. "You're fine." She took his left hand in both of hers and linked their fingers. He gripped her hand fiercly. Alex stepped out of the car and joined them. "Krycek, I never would have wished this, even for you." Mulder's face was agonized. "Your worst enemy you mean?" Alex asked snidely. "I don't need your pity, Mulder," he snarled. "You've seen me once already since this happened and you never even noticed. I kicked your ass single-handedly, no pun intended. I don't need anyone's pity." Mulder stared at him a moment, then nodded. "Come on," Alex turned back to the car. "You said no potty stops and you're wasting time." *** Oklahoma City The small jet had been fitted with couch-style seats and decorated like someone's living room. Alex directed Mulder and Scully to sit and belt themselves in while he stepped forward to the cockpit. He spoke briefly to the crew, then joined Mulder and Scully. "Our ETA in National is about 9:30." Alex still didn't know why it was so imparative they reach DC before 10am. They felt the plane begin to taxi and soon they were in the air. Scully took one of the couches and curled up to continue her nap. "So, Mulder, what's the big rush anyway?" Alex asked. "Scully has a meeting," he answered shortly. "And it can't be postponed?" Alex questioned. "You don't put off the OPR," Mulder drawled. "Professional Review?" Alex asked. "What's that all about?" "You heard about the bombing in Dallas a couple days ago?" "Who hasn't?" Mulder was suddenly silent as he stared at Alex. "That was you, wasn't it?" Alex raised his eyebrows at him. "That boy you said was infected. His body was in that building." He jumped to his feet and drug Alex up by his lapels. "You knew about this!" He shook Alex. Scully had appeared behind him and had one hand on his shoulder. "I only figured it out that morning," Alex gasped. Mulder released him and he dropped back into his seat rubbing the back of his neck. "It was a guess on my part that the boy and the firemen were still there but I wasn't sure. You proved me right." Mulder stalked toward the back of the cabin and stared at the wall, Alex looked at Scully in confusion. "Mulder and I broke proceedure by investigating your tip alone and not reporting the call. We're being held responsible for the bomb and the for deaths of one FBI agent, that boy, and several men who were found with him." "Those men and that boy had to have been dead long before the building blew," Alex protested. "They were," Mulder confirmed. He still faced the wall. Alex turned back to Scully. "You're responsible for saving the lives of everyone else in that building," he pointed out. Scully was shaking her head. "If we'd reported your call the building would have been evacuated earlier. By waiting we endangered their lives needlessly." "*I* did Scully," Mulder corrected. "Mulder..." she chided. It sounded like a subject she'd grown tired of beating. Alex propped his elbow on his knee and buried his face in his hand. "So..." "So I have a meeting at 10:00 for reassignment." Alex stared up at her in shock. Silently Scully walked back to Mulder. She spoke softly to him and together they sat at the back of the plane and left Alex up front with his thoughts. *** Two hours later Alex had left them alone long enough. Neither one had tried sleeping again. He ventured to the back of the cabin and sat on the couch facing theirs. "You knew those men and the boy were already dead," he began. Mulder nodded. "How?" he demanded. "An informant told me." "Who?" he asked. "I don't give away my informants, Krycek." "It had to be someone in the Consortium," Alex mused. Mulder just shrugged. "Whoever it is they're deeper inside than I am," he continued. "I had to piece together the situation from scraps and someone else just handed you the whole picture." "Sounds like you're in with the wrong breed of rat," Mulder taunted. Alex shot him a glare and went back up front. *** Washington, DC Mulder was at the curb getting a taxi for Scully. "Traffic is gonna suck, Scully. I'm sorry we didn't get here sooner." "It'll be fine, Krycek. I may be a little late but at least I'll make it." Mulder had a taxi and was waving Scully over. On impulse, Alex stuck out his hand. Scully glanced at it and then looked into his eyes. Solemnly she shook his hand, then stepped into her taxi. Mulder returned to Alex's side and together they watched the taxi disappear. "What the hell are you still doing here, Krycek? You're free to go." "I still don't have all my answers," Alex answered, "and neither do you. Texas is a dead end now. Sounds to me like there's information to be found here in DC," he hinted. "Fine," Mulder snapped. "We'll go find my informant but *you* stay out of the way," he poked Alex in the center of his chest. "If this person is Consortium, as you seem to think, I don't need them scared off by you." "I'll be the soul of discretion," Alex promised with a smirk. Mulder flagged down another taxi and instructed the driver to take them to what turned out to be a bar. "A little early for a drink, don't you think?" "Shut up, Krycek." Alex had lost track of how many times Mulder had told him to shut up since last night. It was getting old. Mulder stalked into the bar, intent on finding his informant. Alex casually followed and saw Mulder duck into a booth. He walked past the table without looking at them and sat at the bar. He ordered a drink and concentrated on looking inconspictuous. He could hear Mulder and the other man whispering in the booth behind him. He ignored the impulse to turn his head to see who the man was. From the corner of his eye he saw Mulder's informant walk away from the booth. Mulder's voice was suddenly louder as he followed, "Your guess? Whaddaya mean your guess?" He sounded incredulous and mad. "Hey! You told me you had answers." They'd stopped near the rest rooms. Alex decided it was time to visit the men's room. As he neared them he could hear Mulder again, "You've been using me to gather information for your goddamn books!" Alex placed a hand on Mulder's shoulder. He vaguely recognized the man Mulder was arguing with. Unfortunately, the man recognized Alex far too well. "What the hell is he doing here?" the man demanded. "Do you know who this is? What are you trying to do to me?" The men's room door opened, distracting them all, and the man took that moment to stalk out the back door. Mulder shrugged Alex's hand off and snarled, "Don't follow me." Then he was out the door calling, "Kurtzweil! Kurtzweil!" Alex recognized the name but couldn't place any circumstances around it. Within moments Mulder was back and drug him back out the front door to flag down another taxi. "What did he say?" Alex asked. Mulder ignored him. Author's Notes: One of the most confusing points for me has always been why Mulder and Scully would be blamed for the bomb. That's always completely boggled my mind. Once again, add a little Krycek, stir gently, and the answer becomes clear. If anyone can explain it logically without the presence of our rat boy, please send me an email. I'd really like to know. *** Part Five Mulder remained silent all the way to his apartment. Alex followed him up. Mulder stormed through his door and tossed his jacket at a chair. Alex hovered just inside the living room watching. Mulder dug in a drawer of his desk and pulled out an old photo album. He flipped pages a moment, then stopped and stared at one page. Curiosity pricked at Alex and he ventured further into the room. Mulder noticed him again and surged out of his chair, thrusting the book at Alex. He stabbed at a picture as Alex struggled not to drop the album. "Who is he?" Mulder demanded. Alex recognized a younger Kurtzweil standing beside a younger Bill Mulder in a picture of what looked like a backyard picnic. "I don't know, Mulder. He's a bit before my time." "Well he recognized you quickly enough," Mulder pointed out. There was a tentative knock at the door and they both turned to see Scully walk in. Her face held exhaustion and defeat. "What's wrong?" Mulder asked. "Salt Lake City, Utah. Transfer effective immediately." Mulder slumped. "I already gave Skinner my letter of resignation." "You can't quit now, Scully," he insisted. "I can, Mulder," she disagreed. She glanced at Alex and he turned away to give her a sense of privacy. "I debated whether or not even to tell you in person..." Mulder interrupted her, advancing on her. She stood her ground. "We are close to something here, Scully. We're on the verge." "*You're* on the verge, Mulder," she said, not unkindly. "Please don't do this to me." "After what you saw last night? After all you've seen you can just walk away?" "I have. I did. It's done." "I *need* you on this, Scully," he was beginning to sound desperate. Alex wished he were somewhere else. "You don't need me, Mulder. You never have. I've just held you back." Mulder was struck speechless. "I gotta go," she murmured. She walked out the door and left Mulder and Alex staring at each other. Mulder shifted in place, then gave in and dashed after her. "You can tell yourself that so you can quit with a clear conscience but you're wrong." Alex heard his voice fading as he stalked further down the hall. He continued to hear their voices filtering through the open door. He tried not to listen, it was none of his concern. He flipped through the album to distract himself and saw pictures of Mulder as a child. There were pictures of a young girl who must be the elusive Samantha. He saw pictures of group gatherings and was amazed at all the faces he picked out. Mulder grew up inside the Consortium and he never even knew it. How did he manage to remain ignorant of what was going on all around him? A silence from the hall captured his attention. Alex wandered over to the door and peered down the hall. Mulder and Scully were embracing. As he watched, Mulder pulled out of her arms and took hold of her with intent. Alex stepped over to the hall window and parted the blinds. Behind him the silence went on. 'Get a room, guys,' he smirked to himself. Then he heard an 'Ow!' from Scully and Mulder's voice rumbled soothingly. Alex turned to see Scully sag against Mulder. "Scully!" Mulder said in alarm as he eased her toward the floor. "Krycek!" he called. Alex darted to their side. Scully was gasping and reciting a list of symptoms she was experiencing. "I think she's going into anaphylactic shock," Mulder told him. "No, Mulder," she whispered. "I have no allergy." "Call 911!" Mulder snapped at him. Alex dashed back into Mulder's apartment and dialed rapidly. Alex rattled off the address and advised there was an FBI agent down, possible allergic reaction to a bee sting. He stayed on the phone until he heard an ambulance had been dispatched. He stopped in Mulder's kitchen and wet a hand towel with cold water, swearing as he tried to wring it out one-handed. Scully was already unconscious. Mulder took the towel from him and ordered him downstairs to wait for the ambulance. They arrived surprisingly sooner than he'd expected. He ushered the EMTs up to Mulder's floor. They efficiently bundled Scully onto the gurney to the sound of Mulder's litany of her symptoms. Alex noticed the album he'd left on the floor beside Scully. He picked up the book and the towel and quickly took them back into the apartment. He grabbed Mulder's jacket and locked the apartment door. The elevator was already on it's way down so he followed by the stairs. He reached the ground floor in time to see the elevator open and disgorge the ambulance crew and Mulder. Alex handed him his jacket and he distractedly put it on. He was still rattling off instructions for the EMTs as they loaded Scully and closed up the ambulance. "Wait," Mulder called. "What hospital..." but they had already closed the doors in his face. Alex brushed past Mulder and knocked on the driver's window. "What hospital are you taking..." he trailed off as he recognized the driver: one of Spender's lackeys. The driver's eyes widened as Alex took a step back. Alex saw the flash of a gun and tried to duck. He felt the pain tear into his forehead and never heard the gunshot as he collapsed to the ground. *** Later Alex slowly became conscious of voices. "The 911 call could have easily been intercepted," a strange voice said. "They must have been expecting something like this," he heard Mulder. "They were there and gone before the real ambulance arrived. Have you been able to track it yet?" "Not yet," the first voice admitted. Alex tried to sit up and gasped as pain lanced through his head. "Stay down, Krycek," Mulder ordered, pushing him back against the pillow. Alex opened his eyes. He blinked several times but still couldn't make the room focus. "Scully?" he asked. "She's gone," Mulder said shortly. "Is that something you can help us with?" Mulder's voice was cold with suspicion. "Different breed of rat," Alex quipped, again struggling to sit up. He reached up to finger the source of his pain. "Leave it alone," Mulder chided, smacking his hand away. Alex's vision was getting better. He could see Mulder pacing beside the bed. Three more figures hugged the corners, giving Mulder plenty of room. "Would Kurtzweil be the right breed of rat?" Mulder asked. "I don't know," Alex admitted. "Where's my arm?" he demanded, feeling more defenseless without the arm than without any clothes. Mulder turned to the built-in bureau, yanked open a drawer and pulled out Alex's arm. He dropped it into his lap. Alex winced and hastily grabbed it before it slid to the floor. He pulled aside the top of the annoying hospital gown and began to put himself back together. "I could do without the audience," he hinted. "Deal with it," Mulder snapped. "Hey, if you're looking for a more up-to-date model, we've got connections," the lanky blond in the corner offered. The tall bearded man beside him hastily tried to shut him up. "What?" the blond protested. "Maybe later," Alex drawled. "Why don't you give me your card and I'll look you up when I'm in the market." "Yeah, our card, right," the shortest of the three snorted. "Now, if you'll let me get to the bathroom I'd like to get dressed." Mulder must have thought that was a good idea as well. He was helping Alex out of the bed when Skinner walked in. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded. "We're getting out of here and finding Scully," Mulder answered. "With him?" Skinner asked incredulously. "How far do you think you'll get? How far do you think they'll let you get, especially with him in tow?" "I need him," Mulder admitted. "I need his connections." "They'll know the minute you walk out of here. There's a man loitering out in the hall already, paying too much attention to this room." "What can we do?" the blond asked. Mulder paused a moment, studying Skinner. Then, "You can strip Byers naked." "What?" the bearded man demanded in shock. "I need your clothes," Mulder explained. "We'll dress him in your clothes and you take his place. The four of us will walk out of here like we walked in." "Mulder, look at him," Alex scoffed. "He's a bean pole, I can't wear his clothes." "Hey," the bean pole protested. Mulder considered Byers a moment. "Okay, we can get by with your clothes but wear his jacket." Alex didn't want to leave his best leather jacket behind but relaxed when he heard Mulder making plans to meet up with the three stooges later for an update. Mulder gave him his clothes and let him dress in the privacy of the bathroom. Alex took the opportunity to check his head. The wound wasn't very large but it had been stitched. Great, another scar to add to the plethora. Maybe he would let his hair grow a little longer again to hide it. Back in the room, Byers had taken his place in the bed and turned on his side to face away from the door. Skinner stiffly gazed out the window, disapproval evident in his posture. "So you guys must be the Lone Gunmen, huh?" Alex asked. "Shut up, Krycek," Mulder snapped. "You know, I'm really getting sick of that," Alex raged at him. Mulder stared at him, then a smile crept over his face. "Shut up, Krycek," he repeated in delight. Alex ground his teeth in frustration. All he'd accomplished was giving Mulder ammunition against him. "Let's just get out of here," he growled. "I'll cover for you as long as I can," Skinner said. "Thank you, sir," Mulder replied. He and the two spare Gunmen gathered around Alex and they all filed out the door. A few yards down the hall a tall man leaned against the wall reading a newspaper. Mulder prodded him in the opposite direction and they made their way out of the hospital. Mulder drug Alex into yet another taxi and gave the driver the name of the same bar they'd met Kurtzweil in earlier. "What, does he just sit around there waiting for you all the time?" Alex asked "Or does he live there?" Alex started struggling out of Byers' too small jacket. "He lives near there," Mulder answered. "If he's not at the bar we can try his apartment." "And if he isn't there?" Alex wanted to know. He'd gotten his right arm free and was peeling the jacket inside out off his left. "Then I hope you've got good connections," Mulder threatened. The taxi stopped outside and Alex deliberately left the jacket on the back seat. Mulder noticed only after the taxi had pulled away from the curb. "You're gonna owe Byers for that jacket." "I'll get him a decent one to replace it," Alex said. Kurtzweil wasn't in the bar. Mulder led him through and out the back into the alley. Alex stumbled in shock to see his benefactor standing by a car parked behind the bar. "Mr. Mulder," the Brit greeted him, "Alex," he added. Mulder shot him a dirty look, then turned back to the Brit. "What happened to Kurtzweil?" he asked. "He's come and gone." Alex had killed many people in the line of duty but he was never able to maintain the kind of blasé demeanor the Brit had. "I wanna know where Scully is," Mulder demanded. The Brit held up a small bundle and said, "The location of Agent Scully and the means to save her life," he offered. He gestured toward the car and said, "Please." The driver opened the back door in offering to Mulder. After a moment Mulder moved toward the car. Alex started to follow but the Brit stopped him. "Alex, stay." The two men got into the car and it pulled off down the alley while Alex fumed. 'Alex, stay,' like he was some kind of god-damned dog! He slammed his way back through the back door of the bar and stormed out the front. He paced the sidewalk in rage, then noticed the Brit's town car pass on a side street. That was odd, they should have been long gone already. Moments later the car passed him again. He walked to the corner and kept watch down all four directions. The car passed somewhere within his sight with clockwork regularity. When the time passed when he should have seen the car again, he knew they had stopped somewhere. He loped off in the direction he'd seen the car take last. Minutes later he was sure he'd made the wrong decision in trying to find the car. He was considering going back to the bar to wait when he heard a gunshot from close by. He panicked. He couldn't believe the Brit would kill Mulder. He'd said enough times he admired Mulder and considered him an important player. Alex rounded a corner to see Mulder and the Brit standing beside the car. Relief flooded through him. The Brit's voice carried down the alley, "Go," he ordered. When Mulder didn't move he raised his gun and pointed it at Mulder's head. "Go now!" Mulder backed off. He turned and saw Alex at the end of the alley. Mulder started walking toward him. Alex gazed questioningly at the Brit. The Brit gazed back at him as he opened the front door of the car. Alex started forward to meet Mulder. The Brit slid into the front seat and shut the door. The car exploded. The blast tumbled Mulder off his feet. Alex stumbled from the concussion but didn't fall. Ahead of him Mulder rolled over and sat up. Alex dropped to his knees. He could hardly comprehend what he'd just seen. The Brit was gone, the only one to take him in after the rest of the Consortium had written him off as simply one of Spender's disposable lackeys. There was no one else now; Alex was truly alone. Mulder had climbed back to his feet and jogged over to Alex. "Come on, Krycek," he ordered, "let's get out of here." Mulder didn't understand. "Are you hurt? C'mon, get up." Alex stared at the burning car. "Alex?" He looked at Mulder. "C'mon, Alex. Scully needs us." Alex blinked back the pain that burned behind his eye lids and got up to follow Mulder. Author's Notes: Please don't report me to the ASPCA for rat abuse! It just made more sense for Krycek to recognize the ambulance driver than Mulder. *** Part Six Mulder took Alex to the Lone Gunmen's bunker. They had managed to break Byers out of the hospital already. All three were indignant to have Alex Krycek knowing where they holed up much less inside their lair. Mulder produced a black bundle and handed Frohike the paper inside. He glanced at the coordinates and gaped. "Mulder, this is in Antarctica," he exclaimed. "Yeah, I figured," Mulder agreed. "Where exactly?" They all moved to one of the many computers and gathered around while Frohike called up the exact location. Alex glanced over Mulder's shoulder at what Mulder still clutched in his hand. He recognized the amber liquid immediately and gasped. "He gave you the vaccine," he breathed. "How do you know what it is?" Mulder demanded, edging away from Alex. "Who do you think brought it out of Russia?" Alex asked. "Does it work?" Mulder asked intently. "Hell yes, it works." Alex answered. "I gave an arm for that stuff. It damn well better work!" "Wilkes Land," Frohike interrupted them. "Your best route would be through Australia," Byers advised. "Yeah, but how to get from there to Antarctica?" Langly demanded. "We'll put out the word and see if we can find a way to get you there," Frohike added. "There's that meteorite hunter on alt.games.finalfantasy," Langly suggested thoughtfully. He moved to another computer and began working. Alex's head was beginning to spin. Byers noticed him pressing his hand into his eye sockets. "Mulder, it's late. Why don't you go pack and get some rest. We'll have something for you by morning." "We're running out of time," Mulder balked. "Scully has to get this within 96 hours of infections. We're down to about 90 already." "That's four days, Mulder," Langly pointed out. "And it'll take two days just to get to Australia," Alex agreed with Mulder. "Let me make a phone call." Mulder handed Alex his cell phone and he dialed Becky's home number from memory. "Hello?" she answered sleepily on the third ring. "It's Alex," he said, foregoing the usual procedure. Silence while she processed his behavior. "Mr. Alexander," she stuck to the usual format. "How nice to hear from you." He wondered if someone was there with her. "I have an emergency," he said, "can you talk?" "Yes, Alex," she dropped the formalities. "What's going on?" "I have to get me and one other person to Australia as soon as possible. What do I have to do?" "Ummm, let me think." She paused, then answered hesitantly, "Flights from the west coast are all late: after 9, even later. Are you still in Texas?" "No, I'm back in DC." That gave her pause. She was probably trying to figure out how he got back without her noticing. Then she continued, "There's probably a dozen flights out of Dulles to either San Francisco or Los Angeles. Best bet is probably around 5 or 6, you'd get there by 8 and have a good two hours to make your connection. You definitely want 2 hours if you go through Los Angeles." "How about going the other way?" he asked. "Through Europe? More trouble than it's worth," she answered. "You can leave the US sooner, but you have to connect in Europe somewhere, then probably again in Asia, probably Singapore. I'm not as familiar with that route. You really wouldn't get there any sooner." "Can you hold on a minute?" Alex asked. "Sure, go ahead." Alex put his thumb over the receiver of the cell phone and spoke softly to Mulder, "We can't leave the US 'til tomorrow night at the earliest," he said. "Want me to arrange it?" Mulder chewed his lip in frustration. "You don't have any more planes hidden away?" he asked, only half joking. "Not for something like this," Alex answered seriously. Mulder considered him then nodded. Alex raised the phone again, then thought of something else. "Do you have an alias?" Mulder stared. "Unless you want to fly as yourself, of course, and give us away," Alex reasoned. Frohike piped up, "You know we can get you anything you need, Mulder." "How much time can we give these guys to work with?" Mulder asked. Alex raised the phone, "Becky?" he asked. "I'm here." "Can this be done by tomorrow afternoon?" "Time isn't the problem here, but money might be. This is a bad time of year to get last minute flights unless you can do business or first class." "Money's no issue. Put us in first so we can sleep. Can it be done?" "Yes, once I get into the office tomorrow morning I can set this all up in about 20 minutes. I'll need passport information, though, for your Visas." "How long will those take?" "No time at all. They're electronic, I can do them through my system in a matter of minutes. Ummm, I'll need your passport numbers, expiration dates, and where they were issued, your birth dates, and exactly how your names appear on the passports." "Thanks a lot, Becky. You're saving my life here," he said warmly. "I'll call you at work tomorrow." "I'll expect you," she answered. "Sleep well," and he disconnected the call. "You need a passport by tomorrow morning," he told Mulder, handing him his cell phone. "We'll take care of it, Mulder." Frohike told him. "We've got a couple official looking pictures of you we can use. Who do you want to be?" "It doesn't matter," Mulder said, "just something completely unnoticeable: Johnson or Anderson, something that could be a thousand other guys in this country." "We'll pick something normal, Mulder," Byers promised. "By morning you'll have a passport, driver's license, Social Security card, the works." "Mulder, these guys are bigger criminals than I am," Krycek quipped. "Krycek?" Mulder turned to him. "What?" "Shut up," Mulder said. Well, at least he was going for variety now, Alex thought. "Jackpot!" Langly exclaimed. He'd been working so silently Alex had forgotten he was there. "Turns out Qantas runs charter flights out of Sydney!" 'Damn,' Alex thought. He hadn't even thought about asking Becky about charters. "Mulder, go home," Byers urged again. "You can't do anything more tonight." Mulder finally relented and let Byers call them a taxi. "What's with all the taxis, Mulder?" Alex asked. "Don't you have a car any more?" "It's parked at Dulles," Mulder answered shortly. *** Mulder's apartment Alex was ransacking Mulder's kitchen for anything he could eat. He wanted to take a pain killer so he could sleep but didn't dare on an empty stomach. Mulder's cupboards were far from bare, but he had nothing that could be fixed quickly. He finally found a box of instant oatmeal packages. He microwaved two packages of peach flavored and ate while Mulder cleaned off his bed for him. "It's pretty dusty in there," Mulder said, coming into the kitchen. He noticed the open box and empty packages on the counter. He sniffed the air. "You ate the peach ones," he griped. "Those are my favorite." "So buy a whole box of peach ones next time," Alex wasn't contrite. "They *do* make them that way, y'know." Mulder scowled and dug in the box. "There's only one left," he complained. He tossed it back in the box and dug out two of another flavor. Alex finished his oatmeal and rinsed his bowl in the sink. "Night," he muttered, and left the small kitchen. Mulder's bedroom was a mess. Boxes were stacked all along the walls. There was an alley that lead to the closet and a fresher looking one that lead to the side of the bed. Alex stripped down and dropped everything, including his arm, to the floor beside the bed and crawled under the covers. The sheets smelled dusty but not too unpleasant as he slid between them. He could feel the painkiller kicking in and dulling all his senses. He sprawled onto his stomach and, just before dropping off, noticed Mulder didn't have a clock on his bedside table. Author's Notes: For anyone who hasn't guessed by now, Becky would be me. I couldn't resist :) *** Part Seven Mulder's Apartment Muffled thumping and the jangle of wire hangers on a metal rod intruded on Alex's dreams and pulled him to the surface of consciousness. Each thump triggered an answering hammer blow from the maniac trying to pound his way out from behind his left eyeball. A shaft of sunlight maliciously stabbed through a gap in the blinds. Alex groaned and draped his arm gingerly over his eyes. More thumping and muttering got the best of his curiosity. He peeked out from behind his wrist just in time to see the bottom half of a dark body float across the room and hit the edge of the mattress beside him. It slithered to the floor with a hiss of nylon on cotton and Alex realized it was only a pair of navy blue ski pants. Mulder backed out of the closet and noticed Alex was watching him. "We're going to have to go shopping," he advised Alex. Alex grunted. He rolled to the edge of the bed and fished blindly for his jeans and the prescription bottle in the front pocket. Mulder bustled through the room holding a black leather duffel high above the box walls and dragging the ski pants by one leg. "You want breakfast?" he asked as he left the room. "You've got two choices," he continued from the living room, "more oatmeal or we go out." Alex dragged on his jeans and stumbled to the bathroom. The light over the sink pierced his skull but he forced himself to squint into the mirror. Mulder appeared behind him and dropped a towel and washcloth on the back of the toilet. "Try not to get your stitches wet. I don't need your brains oozing out somewhere over the Pacific," and he was gone. "I didn't know you cared," Alex muttered to nobody. *** REI Outfitters Alex was beginning to wonder if the two Egg McMuffin meals he'd eaten had been as good an idea as it seemed at the time. Maybe he should have passed on the greasy hash brown patties and gotten a Coke instead of orange juice. The trip to Wal-Mart for spare clothes for Alex hadn't helped. Who the hell starts hot dogs cooking at 8:00 in the morning anyway? The smell of the mystery meat turning on its rollers set his own stomach turning. Mulder was picking through a clearance rack of parkas, trying to find one with sleeves long enough for him. Alex had already breezed through the Columbia Jackets section and picked out his typical style. It had to say something about his lifestyle that he could go through jackets fast enough that he didn't need to try them on any more to know which ones would fit. "C'mon, Mulder," Alex groused. He'd been fidgeting by this rack for the last five minutes. Mulder pulled a coat off it's hanger and slipped into it. He stretched his arms out in front of him to see the sleeves still covered his wrists. "Whaddaya think?" He asked. "It's a geeky parka, Mulder. There's better coats that'll keep you a lot warmer." "I like parkas," Mulder protested. "Are you done?" "Yeah, let's go." They sorted their cart of winter wear and paid separately. Outside, Langly waited in the van to take them back to the bunker to finalize plans. "I need to stop for my passport," Alex spoke up. "Jesus, we're running out of time here," Mulder snarled from the front passenger's seat. "It'll take five minutes," Alex glared at him. Mulder turned to the front again and Alex gave Langly directions that lead them to a pawn shop. Mulder followed him inside. "Miller here?" Alex asked the Harley Davidson enthusiast behind the counter. The man wore a black leather vest over a Sturgis Rally T-shirt. He sized up Alex and his companion, then nodded at a side door. As Mulder moved to follow, the man spoke, "Not you." Alex glanced back and locked gazes with Mulder for a second, then slipped through the door. To say Miller was pleased to see him was an understatement. He'd grown used to Alex stopping by occasionally for replacement hardware. "Not this time," Alex informed him as Miller enthusiastically started to tell him about some nice handguns he'd recently acquired. "I just stopped by to get my stuff." "You sure you don't need anything else?" Miller asked as he opened the small safe behind his desk. "I'm sure," Alex answered. "But I'll probably be back in a couple weeks," he lied. Normally he'd return an ID package to the same storage location, but with Mulder in tow this time, this place was no longer useable. "Well, I'll hold onto these for you then," Miller promised, handing over the briefcase he'd pulled from the safe. "I don't expect you to do that," Alex protested. "I may be a while." "No, no, don't worry about it," Miller flapped his hands. "I'd rather save them for you than try to display them. They're not my usual fare." Alex was intrigued but knew there wasn't enough time. "I'll definitely be back, then," he promised. Miller ushered him out the door to rejoin an antsy Mulder who'd been seriously thinking about ducking around to the alley to make sure Alex didn't disappear on him. "Let's go," Alex told him and led him out of the shop. They climbed into the van and Alex told Langly to just pull down the street and around a corner and park again. "I've gotta make sure everything is here before we get too far away," he explained. Quickly he dialed the combination locks on the briefcase and flipped open the lid. Inside lay a passport and wallet along with a gun and a full clip. Mulder, surprisingly, wasn't paying any attention. Alex considered his next action very carefully, then took the gun by the barrel and handed it over Mulder's shoulder. Mulder flinched violently away from the gun before realizing the grip, not the barrel, was directed at him. He snatched the gun from Alex's hand and twisted around to stare at him in shock. Alex silently offered the clip and, after a moment's hesitation, Mulder took it from him as well. "I know you think the worst of me," Alex told Mulder, "and I know you don't believe a word I've said in the past, but I'm willing to help you get Scully back. This is... I don't know... a sign of faith on my part that, when this is over, you honor our previous agreement that I'm free to go." Alex could see the wheels turning behind Mulder's eyes as he weighed and discarded several responses. "You help me get Scully back and you're free to go," Mulder agreed. "Okay." *** The Lone Gunman bunker "You are John Anderson," Frohike was explaining. "You work for Invisitech as a consultant." Mulder stared blankly at him. "Aaaaaaannd what do I do?" he questioned. "You're updating company software to be Y2K compliant." "Ah-huh," he accepted. He stared at his new driver's license and passport, wondering where the guys had gotten two such categorically awful pictures of him. Alex snatched the passport from his hands and snickered at the photo. "Well, they say, 'When you look like your passport photo it's time to go home,'" he quoted. "*They* don't say that, Erma Bombeck said that," Mulder corrected him, snatching the passport back. He started changing out his driver's license and credit cards from his wallet, replacing them with the new ones as Frohike doled them out. He hid all the real cards in his FBI ID wallet. "What did you find out about the charter flights?" he asked. "It's the wrong time of year for the regular charters. They run when it's summer down there," Langly explained. "But, with enough moolah anything's possible." "We've commissioned an independent charter service," Byers took over. "You arrive into Sydney just before 7 am and you'll have to transfer from the International terminal to the Ansett domestic terminal. Here's all your information." He handed Mulder a manila envelope. "Your contact will be waiting. You'll be flown to the Vostok base on Wilkes Land. It's a Russian base but on Australian claimed territory. From there you'll have to go by land." Mulder was nodding, thumbing through the papers he'd pulled from the envelope. He dug in again and pulled out another passport and cards. Alex looked over his shoulder and saw Scully's picture on a driver's license. "We set up an ID for Scully as well," Frohike told him. "She'll need to be just as incognito when you bring her back." "Well," Alex broke the silence, "now that I know who we are and where we're going, let's get some flights booked." He dialed, waited through the hold music and heard Becky's familiar voice. "Hi, my name is Russell Klein, I'm an associate of Steve Alexander. I need a couple of reservations to Australia and he's recommended you quite highly." They worked their way through the socially scripted pleasantries as she booked the flights and took all their information. Within minutes their reservations were complete and their electronic Visas were issued. "Mr. Russell, I'll be able to email you your itineraries in just a short time. Your electronic ticket numbers will be noted and a hard copy of your itinerary can serve as a receipt. Is there anything else I can help you with today?" "No, you've been wonderful. Thank you very much." "Thank you for calling Travel Service Associates and have a good day." Alex disconnected and a thought dawned on him. "Y'know, I really should send her some flowers. She's saved my ass more than once." "Flirt on your own time," Mulder said. "We still have to pack." "Seriously," Alex insisted as he followed Mulder and Langly to the door. "We'd still be bumbling around on some god-forsaken website trying to figure out how to do this if it wasn't for her. What's that phone number? 1-800-flowers?" He was already dialing. Alex took the entire ride to Mulder's apartment to describe the kind of arrangement he wanted to send and script the card. He disconnected as they pulled up outside Mulder's building. "Hey, man, why didn't you just send her a dozen red roses? Don't all chicks love roses?" Langly asked. "No, see, roses are the 'I know I was a jerk and I'd really like to be forgiven so I can get laid again but I have no imagination' flowers." Alex explained. "They're like a myth that women accept cuz, if they didn't, they'd never get *any* flowers at all. You want to win the babes you've got to show some creativity," Alex advised him. Langly looked like he was seriously considering Alex's theory as they silently rode the elevator to Mulder's floor. Inside they cut tags and threw empty shopping bags on the floor as they tried to cram too much winter equipment into their duffel bags. If it hadn't been so warm they could have worn some of it to save space. Finally the cursing and cramming ceased and they were as ready as they could be. Langly had waited patiently on Mulder's couch, flipping channels on the TV. He lead them back down to the van and they piled in once more. The drive to Dulles was relatively silent. As Langly dropped them off Mulder turned to him and spoke, "I have no idea how long we'll be gone." "Don't worry, Mulder, I'll make sure your fish get fed and I'll keep Frohike away from your videos." He smirked. Mulder grinned back and they High-Five'd each other. "Later, dude," Langly finished. Alex led Mulder inside and joined the queue to check their bags. When he wearied of carrying his duffel, Alex dropped it to the floor in front of him and gave it a shove with his foot for every few inches of progress they made. At the counter they traded their bags for boarding passes. They passed through security without incident and Mulder made a bee-line for Starbuck's. Coffee safely in hand, they strolled the concourse shops to pass the time. They reached their gate with plenty of time to spare and watched the odd plane taxi around their terminal. "Too bad we can't see the runway from here," Mulder said. Alex looked at him in surprise at getting the tiny glimpse inside Mulder. "Did you ever want to be a pilot when you were a kid?" he asked. "Sure, didn't you?" Mulder answered. Alex shrugged. "Maybe, for a while. I wanted to be a lot of things when I was a kid." Their flight called boarding for first class. It was time to go. Author's Notes: Sturgis is a small town in South Dakota which hosts the Sturgis Bike Rally every August. Harley Davidson owners converge on the town by the thousands and turn it into a small city. Vendor booths sell leather biker wear and offer tattooing right there on the sidewalk. Rock artists like Steppenwolf and Three Dog Night play concerts throughout the week. Local pastures turn into tent cities. At the end of the week a bonfire is lit and a Riceburner, a Japanese model motorcycle, is offered up to the flaming Harley god. *** Part Eight 83° S, 63° E Their flight to Sydney had been uneventful. Alex tried to read a book he'd bought during their layover in Los Angeles. Mulder tried to watch the in-flight movie. They both tried to sleep but neither of them got more than a couple hours scattered throughout the flight. They were both feeling gritty eyed when they stumbled off their plane in Sydney, a little wobbly while they tried to get their land legs back. The lines at customs went slowly and their bags were the last to hit the carousal at baggage claim. Australia wasn't making a very good first impression. Using Frohike's maps, Mulder led the way through the airport to the terminal that served Ansett Australia's domestic flights as well as some of the smaller regional airlines. Their contact from Midnight Sun Charter Service was waiting. "Dan Watkins," he introduced himself, shaking Mulder's hand vigorously, then Alex. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. We'd better get crackin' if you want to reach Vostok before sunrise. Y'know, there's only a few hours of daylight this time of year and getting fewer every day." "We understand that," Mulder said. "We're ready to leave." Hours later they landed at Vostok. The sun hung low on the horizon, beginning its sideways track towards its setting point. The air was biting cold but tolerable with no wind. The dawn ground blizzard had already swept through the camp, chasing the slightly warmer path of sunlight as daylight grew. The Russian scientists took them to the oldest snow cat Alex had ever seen. Apparently the price had already been negotiated by the Gunmen. The scientists had packed it with food and water as well as cold weather supplies and a first aid kit. Mulder and Alex expressed their thanks and set out on the last leg of their trek to the bottom of the world. Alex was able to nap for a couple of hours before Mulder forced him to wake up. "I'm jet lagged here, Krycek. Talk to me." "What do you want me to talk about?" "I don't care, anything. I suppose it's too much to ask, though, that you'd fill me in on the men you work for." "I only work for one man now," Alex told him. "Well, since he's dead I guess I don't work for anyone anymore." Mulder was intent on studying the display on his GPS and hadn't heard Alex's last comment. "We're getting really close now," he informed Alex. Just then the snow cat sputtered and died. "What happened?" Alex asked. Mulder tapped a gauge on the dash and grimaced, "Out of gas." Alex groaned. "You let the tank run dry?" he exclaimed. "That means the fuel lines are dry and we're gonna have to pull out the filter and prime this thing to get the other tank to kick in. Damn it Mulder!" "The gauge was stuck," Mulder protested in his defense. Alex sighed and scanned the surrounding area. The featureless white was broken by a few rock outcroppings ahead. "How close is 'really close?'" he asked."We're at the right coordinates but there's nothing here." Alex could only agree. "Maybe we could see something from up there," Mulder gestured to the rocky rise ahead of them. Mulder fought his recalcitrant door open and crawled down over the track to the snow. Alex sighed. He didn't relish the chore of climbing down over the snow cat's track after the struggle he'd had climbing up. Mulder's figure, slowly trudging away from the 'cat, appeared black against the impossible brilliance of the landscape. Alex settled his sunglasses on his nose and popped his door open to follow. The little bit of sun had warmed the air considerably, a fact for which Alex was grateful. Even though Mulder had broken a trail, walking wasn't easy. He didn't need his labored breathing further hampered by his nostrils freezing together. Breaking the trail had been hard on Mulder. He paused to rest just below the top of the rise and gave Alex a chance to catch up. "Mulder, it's gonna be life-threatening out here when the sun goes down. We shouldn't get too far from the 'cat." "Let's just check out the view from the top. Then we'll go switch the tanks." Together they continued up the rise. They both saw the base at the same time and dropped to the ground. Alex flashed back to their first arrival at the Tunguska Gulag, peering over a hill at the workers while guards rode up behind them. Thankfully it was too open here for someone to sneak up on them but Alex couldn't help wondering if he'd get out of this Mulder-led adventure with all his remaining limbs intact. Mulder peered through binoculars at the camp. "I see only two people. They're getting into a snow cat." He paused. "They're leaving the camp." Alex squinted at the igloo-like domes over a mile away. A toy-sized vehicle moved off from the camp and Alex vaguely heard the sound of its engine carried over the snow. "Let's go start the 'cat and get in closer," he suggested. "No," Mulder disagreed. "Someone could hear it and come out to see why those guys are coming back so soon. We should go in on foot. When we've got Scully we can steal one of their other 'cats and get out of here." They waited a few moments until the snow cat was out of site. "Let's go." Mulder said and started down the hill towards the distant camp. Alex followed, again staying in Mulder's tracks to make his progress easier. They'd covered half the distance when the snow pack became a bit harder and Mulder broke out into a trot. Alex picked up his own pace, jogging in Mulder's wake until Mulder suddenly dropped from his sight. Alex slid to a halt and stretched full length on the ground. "Mulder!" he called down into the snow. The hole seemed to go down forever. "Mulder!" he shouted again. "Answer me!" "I'm okay," he heard Mulder call back. He didn't sound okay. "Can you climb back out?" Alex asked. "I don't know" Mulder answered. Now he sounded distracted. "There's some kind of vent down here. I think exhaust from it is what weakened the snow. I'm gonna check it out." "Mulder?" There was no answer. "Damn," he mumbled. He humped his body further over the hole and removed his sunglasses. Just a few feet below the level of snow he was on he could see another shelf of hard-packed snow. Carefully he swung his legs into the hole and lowered himself down. He still stood head and shoulders above the snow. He looked down again and saw the next level. He carefully worked his way down to the point where Mulder had landed and saw the vent Mulder had spoken of. He sighed and followed. He crawled to the end and looked down the over six-foot drop. This wasn't a step he'd be able to retrace without help. Mulder was already out of sight and he had no idea where he'd gone. He eased himself backwards out of the vent and lowered himself to the floor. Looking around he felt himself grow colder than the air. All around him dark pods held human bodies suspended in green fluid. The lighting was too dim to make out much of their features but they were unmistakably human. Alex cautiously made his way down the row of pods and came to a drop-off. He gazed out into an unbelievably vast room. Countless levels stretched above and below him. Tracks loaded down with more pods radiated from the center out to the walls. Most of the tracks were motionless, but a few were slowly transporting pods from one area to another. A sudden sound pulled Alex away from the edge to a hole in the floor. He peered down and saw Mulder making a laborious decent down the wall. "Jesus, Mulder, be careful," he whispered, not wanting to startle Mulder. Just then Mulder's feet slipped from their purchase. He scrambled to regain his footing but lost his grip on the wall. "Mulder!" Alex shouted as he watched him slide out of his sight. Silence. He ran back to the edge and leaned out over the drop. "Mulder!" he shouted again. Far below and dimly he heard, "I'm all right." He sagged back against the wall and started breathing again. "Where the hell are you going?" he yelled. "There's a quarantine chamber down here," Mulder yelled back. "I've gotta check it out!" Alex scanned the level below until he saw Mulder's ant-sized shape moving across the floor. He watched him stoop over the chamber and reach inside. Then Mulder stood up and disappeared down a row of pods. Alex paced at the edge of the drop-off. There was no way he could follow Mulder any further. A six-foot climb he could handle with help. This would be impossible. All he could do was wait. The impossibility of Mulder's search staggered him. There were hundreds upon thousands of pods within his view alone. God only knew how many more levels this underground installation held. Scully could be anywhere by now. Alex saw Mulder dash out from the row he'd gone down and work an oxygen tank off the side of the quarantine chamber. He darted back down the row. After a moment Alex heard a rhythmic clanking drifting up from below. The clanking died away and all was silent. Suddenly the floor under Alex's feet lurched knocking him back against the wall. He fell stunned to the floor and lay still while the ground beneath him settled down into a steady rumbling vibration. "What the fuck?" he asked no one. Then, over his head, a blast of steam seared the air. He inched back to the edge of the drop-off and peered down. All over the vast room steam vented from the walls and floors. The few tracks which had been moving pods had ceased. The ground beneath his feet gave another lurch and shudder and it dawned on him that this might not be an earthquake. He looked around again at the venting steam realized the rumbles and vibrations were unmistakably the sound of engines of incredible size. A sick fear settled in the pit of his stomach. "Mulder!" he screamed. His voice was swallowed up by the distance and ambient noise. Several more minutes passed before Alex saw Mulder emerge from the row of pods with another figure at his side. He tracked their movements back to the wall below his position and waited impatiently. When they neared the top of their climb he laid down and offered his hand to Scully. She took it in a weak clasp and he helped to haul her up to his level. They lay together waiting for Mulder to clamber through the hole in the floor. She was wearing Mulder's snow pants and parka. Her skin and hair were coated in a sticky slime. Scully kept hold of his hand and gripped the sleeve of his jacket with her other hand. He wasn't sure if she even realized who he was. Mulder broke Scully's grip on Alex and pulled her to her feet. "We've gotta keep moving," he told them. "C'mon." "I can't," Scully whispered, sagging in his arms. "Yeah you can," he countered. He stooped and draped her over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. Alex preceded them back towards the vent they'd used to enter. At the entrance to the row of pods he saw they had been illuminated and drained of their fluid. Movement inside the pods froze Alex as he got a good look; horrors he'd never dreamed in his worst nightmares twisted in the pods, scrabbling at the clear fronts with impossibly long claws. They noticed the humans and shrieked inside their incubators. And that's what Alex realized they must have been. Humans were used to gestate these creatures inside mechanical wombs. The birthing fluids had been drained away as the infants shredded their way out of their homo sapiens amniotic sacks; the remnants of human bodies trampled under their demon feet like discarded afterbirth. The words of the Lord's Prayer fell from Alex's mouth in Russian. Mulder gave him a shove between the shoulder blades and shouted, "Move it!" Alex ran the length of the row with Mulder staggering behind. "I need a hand up," he told Mulder and helped him lower Scully back to the floor. Mulder linked his hands and made a stirrup for Alex to step in. Just as he placed his foot in Mulder's hands and reached for the vent, the creature in the incubator below the vent became conscious and went into a frenzy of attack against it's pod window. Alex and Mulder fell back in fear. The window held. Mulder took his place again and Alex swallowed his gorge. He stepped into Mulder's hands and Mulder launched him upwards. He pulled himself into the vent and squeezed around to reach back down for Scully. No one took his hand. He looked down to see Mulder respirating Scully. "Oh Jesus," he prayed. He could hear Mulder urging Scully to breathe. She became conscious again, coughing and choking. Mulder hauled her upright and handed her up to Alex. He pulled her through and started back up the vent towards the open air. Behind him he heard Mulder yelling at Scully to keep moving. The quarters were too tight for him to help her. He reached the end and climbed out. He drug Scully up and out and started helping her climb the successive ice shelves towards freedom. Behind them Mulder escaped the vent seconds before a broiling blast of steam shot from the vent. The heat washed around their legs and dissolved half the shelf he and Scully stood on. In a panic he virtually threw Scully up to the next level and pulled himself after her. Mulder was pushing at his legs urging him on faster. Level by level they helped Scully and each other climb until they dug frozen fingers into the looser snow on the surface and hauled themselves out of the pit. Several seconds passed as they lay panting in the snow. Alex became conscious of an ominous creaking below his ear. Seasons of snowfall squeaked in protest against each other as shudders from below shifted them. Alex and Mulder stared wide-eyed at each other for a second, then pulled Scully up between them and started to drag her further from the hole in the snow. They stopped at what seemed like a safe distance but a distant popping, like the sounds of gunshots, drew their gazes to the camp. The domed buildings dropped from sight as the earth opened up under them. Panic sluiced through Alex and he grabbed Scully's arm with his good hand. "C'mon," he yelled at Mulder. Mulder resettled Scully against his side and followed Alex's dead run across the snow field. The ice and snow continued to crash and shatter behind them but Alex didn't dare look. He must have been several paces in front of Mulder and Scully when he felt the snow pack under his feet falling away. He scrambled and clawed his way to solid ground. Mulder and Scully had disappeared, swallowed by the snow. "Noooo," Alex moaned. But before he could accept they were gone, the snow began to swell up from the depth of the earth. He fled again as ice boulders and shards hailed down from the rising mountain. When he seemed to be clear of the danger zone he stopped again and turned. He froze in amazement at a sight right out of a science fiction movie. A staggeringly huge flying saucer rose silently higher and drifted overhead. It took him several minutes to realize he'd been inside the craft that was disappearing in the distance. It was finally out of sight. He turned back to see the crater it had left behind and stumbled in shock; Scully was sitting in the snow rocking Mulder's still form in her arms. He was too far away to see if he was breathing. Scully was a doctor, she'd be giving him mouth-to-mouth if she had to. That meant he was either okay or he was dead. He approached them slowly, not sure if he was ready to face the fact of Mulder's possible death. He breathed a sigh of relief when Mulder's hand raised to clasp Scully's arm that was wrapped around his chest. He dropped to his knees before them and Scully met his eyes. "Where are we?" she asked in a shaky voice. "Antarctica, nearly the South Pole," he answered. "Oh God,: she breathed. "Scully, we've got a vehicle less than a mile from here but it's going to take me some time to walk there and get it started. You've got to get him up and keep moving. We're all wet and it's almost sunset. You'll freeze before I get back." She nodded in agreement and laid Mulder back down to check him over. "Are either of you hurt?" Alex asked. "I'm not really," she said. "Mulder didn't seem to be a moment ago but then he collapsed." "He's exhausted," Alex advised. "We've been going nearly non-stop for over 48 hours since you disappeared." He paused to check the position of the sun. "Scully, I've gotta get going. Follow me as soon as you can." Author's notes: My apologies to our Australian list members for liberties taken in this chapter. I've never been to Australia so had to wing it on the Sydney airport information. If there is a Midnight Sun Charter Service out there, no infringement is intended. CC played very fast and loose with Antarctic facts of life. If we are to assume the movie takes place during summer in the Northern Hemisphere there would be no sunlight at all in Antarctica. We'll just have to pretend we don't know any better. *** Part Nine The sun was touching the horizon when Alex arrived back at the snow cat. Extra tracks crossing theirs gave him a moment of panic that the 'cat had been vandalized, but he could see no footprints around the vehicle but his and Mulder's. It took him far too long, in his opinion, to prime the engine and get the snow cat started. There were two five gallon cans of fuel in the storage compartments that he dumped into the first tank. It had taken them a full tank to reach this point and they'd need every drop to return. It was pitch dark when he headed the 'cat out to pick up Mulder and Scully. They'd gotten further than he'd estimated they would. As he rounded the side of the hill he and Mulder had climbed earlier that day, the headlights of the 'cat swept over their dark forms staggering through the snow. He stopped beside them and climbed out to help them. Mulder pulled Scully into the back seat with him and started stripping her. "Get one of the sleeping bags," he snapped. Alex pulled out both sleeping bags and both their duffel bags. Mulder snatched one of the sleeping bags from him and wrapped Scully up. Then he and Alex changed into their spare change of clothes, thankful to be dry once again. Alex turned the snow cat back the way they'd come and headed back to Vostok. *** September 8, 1998 Alex Krycek sat at the computer of his office in New York City reviewing the legacy left to him by his benefactor. The encrypted files he clicked through would have been a dream come true for Fox Mulder but Alex was coming to the same conclusion his predecessor had: Mulder should never see these files. Once upon a time he'd believed in exposing the Consortium's plans. Now he realized how useless that would be. The ranks of the Consortium reached too deep into every facet of nearly every major government on the planet. There was no way now that exposure could prevent colonization. He wasn't even sure his tenuous allies, the rebel alien faction, could help. Maybe Mulder's father had had it right from the very beginning. It seemed only inoculation would be the answer. No matter how much he hated the idea, it looked like he was going to have to re-form ties with Spender and his agenda. The thought of crawling back to that cancerous bastard left him feeling cold and sick but he'd do it; he'd swallow his pride, tuck in his tail, and grovel at the old man's feet to get back in where he could do the most good. He finished copying the last of the files to his new laptop. Then he reformatted the hard drive on the desk top: a clean slate. The laptop would go into a safe deposit box and maybe, someday, Mulder would get the key if something happened to Alex. He hoped Mulder wouldn't hare off with the information and get himself killed the first day. If all of them were lucky there'd never be a need for the information on the lap top. A quiet knock on the door made him call out, "Come in." Marie, the secretary entered. "If there will be nothing more, Mr. Alexander, I've finished and I'd like to go." "Of course," he answered politely. As she turned to leave he stopped her. "Do you have another position yet?" "Yes, sir. I start tomorrow so you don't need to worry about me." Alex nodded. "Let me say again how sorry I am about your uncle. It was a horrible thing." "Thank you," he said. "I'm sorry his death means the closing of this office, but I need to concentrate on the main business in England." "I understand, sir. Good luck to you. Good-bye." "Good-bye." Marie left, closing the door after her. Alex shut down the desk top computer and looked at the phone. He picked up the receiver and started to dial Spender's number. He hung up before the call connected and buried his face in his hand. Tomorrow. He'd call tomorrow. The End Author's Notes: Writing this has been quite an experience. I can't say that I'm a better writer for it, but I've definitely been changed. For one thing, I'll never be able to watch the movie again without seeing Alex Krycek in the shadows of every scene. |
One Man Aloneby Boltonia |