The Promise

Alex Krycek stealthily slipped into the front door of the apartment, leaving the room dark. The hour was late, and he knew the occupant would be fast asleep. His eyes, from years of practice in night vision, easily made out the shadows of the furniture. In the six months since he'd been here last, thankfully nothing had changed. The couch and love seat still sat facing the entertainment center, a series of bookshelves filled one wall to his right, and just before reaching the hallway to the rest of the apartment, a wooden rack stood in the corner, with a single coat hanging from it. The details of the rest he could see tomorrow.

He peeled off his leather jacket, placing it on the empty hook next to hers, then silently toed off his boots and sat them below the rack. His socks soon followed. As he made his way down the hall toward the rest of his home, he un- tucked his shirt in preparation. He was ravenous after only eating repulsive prison gruel during his time away, and the bland, miniature food on the plane had barely made a dent in his hunger, but first things first.

The bedroom door didn't creak as he opened it, as he knew it wouldn't since he greased the hinges purposely for that reason. He left it ajar, not wanting the sleeping woman to wake up when she heard it catch if he closed it fully.

Her back was to him, so he couldn't see her lovely face in repose, but what he could see sent a thrill down his spine. Thick hair fanned out on the pillow, the red dusted with streaks of gold in the moonlight. Her curvaceous body, naked under the sheet, and the pale skin of her neck and shoulders. He knew from experience how soft it was, and the knowledge that he was here again, able to feel her warmth under his fingertips, made him discard his plan to strip the rest of his clothes before he slid into bed next to her.

She stirred as he rested on the mattress, his long frame spooning against her shorter one, and he kissed the tantalizing curve of her shoulder as his arm wrapped around her waist.

"Honey, I'm home," he whispered. "Sorry I'm late."

She shivered once against him, and he felt the relief tremble through her bones. "Did you remember to pick up milk?" she asked, instantly fully awake.

He chuckled into her ear, more breath than sound, as she reached for the lamp on the nightstand next to her, flipping it on before turning to face him. In the beginning, he had tried to stop her from waking when he returned after a long absence, but until she saw his face she was never satisfied. Which, really, was fine with him, because he was possessed by the same urgent need to see hers. That oval circle of white flesh, the forty-seven freckles splattered across the bridge of her nose, the pretty lips curving into a sweet and delighted smile. Lips that could make him laugh or cry or come.

Her eyes sweeping over him, she cradled his face in her delicate hands, and the cool yet warm metal of her wedding band pressed against his stubbly cheek. She only wore it at night, never outside their home. He had done the same until the hand he wore it on had been viciously and needlessly amputated. After that, they kept his in a box on her bureau.

For a moment, neither spoke, simply enjoying the quiet pleasure of being together again. They lay side by side on the pillows, both smiling like court jesters, until her curiosity got the better of her.

"Where've you been?"

"Africa."

"You went on safari without me?"

She kept the banter light, drawing the reunion out deliciously to its inevitable conclusion. In their six years of marriage, there had been many, many such occurrences; they'd made a welcome-home ritual of laughter before loving. She knew what he did, what he was, and she loved him all the more for it. At first it had been difficult to explain to her his chosen path, and he'd known she would resist him.

But the second he'd laid eyes on her outside Walter Skinner's office, he knew he was a goner. The sweet smile she'd given him as he introduced himself had his heart thumping so hard against his ribcage he'd thought it was going to break a bone. In two seconds flat, he'd asked her to dinner; by the end of the night, they were standing in front of a justice of the peace in Virginia. He deliberately swept her off her feet, not giving her any time to think about their actions rationally. As his wife, she had had no choice but to eventually forgive him once he revealed his duplicitous role to her the next morning. It had taken about a month to convince her of his sincere love and veracity regarding her, but luckily he was as persistent in this aspect of his life as he was in all the others. Failure was not an option.

As he answered her question, he knew he was risking breaking the levity, but he told her the truth. He always did. She was the only person alive he never lied to.

"No. I was in prison."

Her reaction was instantaneous. She sharply inhaled, and her lovely soft eyes filled with tears as she wrapped her arms around his head, pulling him closer and burrowing her head in his neck.

"Oh, Alex..." she breathed.

"Sssh. You can cry now, honey. I'm here."

Her muffled sob against his skin both shattered and strengthened him. She was the one person in the world who cared if he lived or died, and with that knowledge came security. Power. He'd believed, long before he met her, that being powerful meant being in charge of large groups, or aware of other men's secrets. With her, he came to learn that real power emanated from within, with understanding that you loved and were loved.

He hated to make her cry, and he knew he often did. His work was dangerous, and there was continually the risk that someday he wouldn't return to her, but he'd made her a promise, and his one ambition in life was to keep that oath.

So he caressed and soothed her, listening to her tears, whispering sweet nothings in her ear until she released all the pent-up worry and anxiety. When he felt her sobs die down, he cupped her face and pulled her away from his neck so they were facing each other, wiping the trail of wetness from her cheeks with his thumb and his lips, kissing her softly.

"I was so worried, Alex."

"I know, honey. M'so sorry. But what did I promise you?"

She gave him a small smile. "That you'll always come home."

"Have I ever broken that promise?"

A headshake. No. Despite all evidence to the contrary, he was a man whose word was his bond. She knew that better than anyone.

"So why would you think I would start now?"

She exhaled a shaky breath. "This was the longest you've ever been gone. I tried to keep thinking positively, but..."

He stopped her with a kiss. He'd only meant to give her a swift peck, but the moment their lips met, his bottomless craving for her took over and the embrace extended itself. So soft, so warm, so everything. Their tongues and limbs tangled, and he knew he was where he was meant to be.

As she helped him finish undressing, so he could be as naked as she was, she looked over his flesh, searching for wounds. Her eyes narrowed as she noted the fierce rawness of his shoulder, chafed from the straps of his new prosthetic. His old one had been confiscated by the guards, and its recent replacement, cheap and ill-fitting, had been a last-resort choice. Now that he was home, the spare they kept in the closet would be pressed into service.

She started to rise off the mattress, murmuring, "Let me get the cream," but he pulled her back near him.

"Later."

"But you need--"

"I only need you."

It was, quite possibly, the truest thing he'd ever said.

Her hands on his skin, small yet all-encompassing, erased the other pains he'd endured since he'd touched her last. At first, he simply basked in the feel of her caresses, in the understanding that he was the center of her life, but before long, her brilliant smile and intoxicating smell drove his desire for her to the point of action.

He nuzzled and lapped at her skin, kneading her full breasts with his fingers, suckling on her as she moaned. There wasn't an inch of her that he failed to stroke, not a place on her body that wasn't worshipped by his mouth or his hand. He'd wanted to go slow, to make this last for both of them, but too many months of mutual celibacy made that a ridiculous goal. She was as starved for him as he was for her.

She pushed him so he lay on his back and straddled his hips. Deep down, he knew he was exhausted, so he let her take control. There would be time later for more. She was open, ready for him, and to be engulfed in her hot wet flesh was the closest he'd ever get to sheer paradise. Heaven. She moved slowly against him, letting them savor the connection, and leaned against his chest so their faces were close, kissing lazily, her hair framing her face like a crimson halo. He reached up to feel it flow through his fingers, a silky waterfall running over his palm.

"Missed you so much," he breathed into her mouth, running his tongue along her bottom lip before sucking on it with a gentle nibble.

She sighed, mumbling her agreement, levering back up to deepen her thrusts, and the feel of her after so long, her smile, her love for him emanating from her pores, easily took him to the place he only reached with her. There had been others, certainly, and even once they were married, they'd both been forced to use sex as a tool for manipulation with other people, but it was never like this. Never with the body, the heart, the soul.

Just when he thought he couldn't hold on any longer, she quivered around him, the beginnings of her orgasm clenching her muscles involuntarily, and he felt himself get swept up in it with her. They moaned in unison, and for one endless and yet brief instant, they were caught in a vortex, trapped between time and space and reality.

Together. Man and woman. Husband and wife.

When he could breathe again, as his brain unscrambled and his thoughts became coherent, only one ran through his mind. She lifted her head off his chest, giving him the sweet smile he recognized as designed for him and him alone, and brushed her fingers against his cheek.

"I love you Alex," she said simply, beating him to the punch.

"I love you too, Kim," he responded.

Later, in the dark, feeling her husband's arm loosely draped around her waist, as he whispered in her ear, bringing her up to speed on what had happened to him during their separation, Kimberly Cook Krycek felt a sense of tranquility like none she'd experienced in her life.

Being married to Alex was the best thing that had ever happened to her. She only wished sometimes that she could tell the world. To shout it from the rooftops, that he was the most extraordinary man she'd ever met. But of course she never did. It was too dangerous for both of them for such a vital connection to be exposed.

"Kimmy, you falling asleep?" he asked quietly.

"No. Just getting comfy. Keep talking," she encouraged him.

He stroked the hair at her temple, smiling at her, as his stomach grumbled loudly, demanding their attention. They both laughed, and she started to get out of bed.

"I'll make you an omelet," she offered. She should have known he'd skip dinner in his rush to get back here. It was so typically Alex.

He shook his head no and swung his legs over the edge of the bed, heading for the dresser. As he pulled on the bottom half of a set of pajamas, he handed her the top.

"Mrs. Krycek, you are an amazing woman, but God love you, you're a terrible cook. I'll make myself one. Are you hungry too?"

She stuck her tongue out at him and he chuckled. "No, but I'll make the toast for you. I think I can manage that."

As corny as it was, she loved being with him in the kitchen as he cooked. He puttered from fridge to counter, humming to himself a little, brushing against her on purpose and dropping a kiss onto the roots of her hair as he jostled her. Once she placed the bread into the toaster, she hoisted herself up onto the counter and watched him as he gathered up ingredients.

Lord, he was a beautiful man. His face, which had been honed down by stress to sharper angles over the last few years, was still classically elegant. When she first met him, she had thought he was almost pretty, but the masculine air of his manner overpowered the femininity of his features. And that addictive body; it took most of her self-control not to touch it constantly. Long and lean, like a statue carved out of alabaster. She worried about the lost weight from his most recent incarceration, but knew, with time and hard work, he would be back to his normal fighting shape. Alex always recovered more quickly than she thought he would from his all-too-frequent injuries.

"Do I pass inspection?" he teased.

"Mmm...oh yeah. So how'd you get out of prison?"

He sighed, avoiding her eyes as he cracked the eggs against the metal bowl one-handed. "Marita came and got me released. Spender sent her, she didn't come on her own," he finished hastily, fully cognizant of the fact that Kim despised Marita.

Just because they both had had to take lovers to get closer to the truth didn't mean she had to like the idea. Alex was just as bad; the idea of her brief liaison with Walter Skinner had gotten his blood boiling. It was one of the reasons he'd injected Mr. Skinner with the nanocytes in the first place; although she'd disagreed, he'd said he'd rather manipulate the AD that way than by dangling her in front of him.

He handed her the bowl, setting it on her lap, and got a whisk out of the drawer next to her. "Hold this," he requested as he beat the eggs.

"What does he want, Alex? I thought this was just about over. Actually I thought Spender was dead by now. Scully had said he was fatally ill."

"I'm not sure. I'll find out in the morning when I meet with him. Has anything been going on with Mulder and Scully?"

Her role in the business side of their relationship was to keep him abreast of any Syndicate business the two Agents might be poking their noses in. So she culled out the reports of aliens from the other mystical mumbo-jumbo they dealt with, memorizing verbatim the information she was only supposed to type and file, and passed it on to him.

"Not lately. They've had this auditor going over their files for the last week or so. It's been pretty amusing watching them justify all their expenses on their cases. And of course, this guy is looking at them like they're out of their minds."

Laughing, he got a knife out of the drawer. "You mean, the 'c'mon, aliens?' look?"

"That's the one."

He was having difficulty both chopping the green pepper and keeping the cutting board steady since he wasn't wearing his prosthetic, so Kim slid off the counter and stood behind him, her left arm reaching out to hold the wooden board for him, in place of his.

When he finished cutting, she lifted the board and he scraped the vegetable into the egg mixture, held the bowl again while he stirred, then dumped all of it into the waiting frying pan. He'd been devastated when he lost his arm, sending himself into a tailspin of regret and humiliation, but she had found ways, such as this one, to help him without making him feel like less of a man. She kissed him on the shoulder blade when they were done, and he lifted her back onto the counter, standing between the shelter of her legs.

"Thank you," he said around the gentle smile on his face.

"You're welcome. Anyway, I think they went to Washington or Oregon today. I can confirm that tomorrow when I get in to work. They might have gone back to the place where they had their first abduction case, I think."

Alex digested that tidbit. "Could be related. I'll contact you when I know more." He stirred the eggs, gazing at the pan in a thoughtful manner. "Kim, I think I'm going to have to kill Spender. It may be time."

Six years ago, a sentence like that would have horrified her. But that was then, and this was now. One thing Kim Krycek had learned about herself since she'd met, fell in love, and married this man in less than a day, was that there was no limit to what she'd do to be with him.

So she didn't argue the point. "Be careful, Alex," was her only response.

He brushed her cheek with the back of his fingers, and moved from her to get a plate, still lost in thought. "He set me up so I'd be thrown in jail, and now he pulls me out, expecting me to be grateful and therefore willing to do his dirty work. Enough is enough."

While the omelet sizzled and thickened into shape, she leaned her head into the crook of his neck, sniffing that Alex smell that belonged solely to him. In turn, he shifted his body a little closer to her between her legs, lifting the egg mixture at the edges with the spatula, and silently encouraging her to keep touching him. So she lifted her hand to the back of his head, running her fingers through his dark hair, trailing her fingers along his nape, until his concentration broke away from his thoughts and his cooking and he kissed her, hard.

When he pulled away from her mouth with a sigh, she stifled a giggle as she glanced at the wall clock behind them. Fifteen seconds. It had taken her fifteen seconds to distract him from his task. Surely she could do better than that next time.

"Do you think we could be getting near the end?" she asked as he slid the omelet from the pan to the plate.

"I don't know," he said honestly, tugging her off the counter to join him at the table. He glanced at her as he sat and started to eat. "Why? Do you want us to get out?"

That wasn't a yes or no answer, and Kim wanted to get him fed before she headed the conversation in this direction. So she shrugged and waved her hand at him. "Eat that before it gets cold. I'll butter your toast."

He was clearly too hungry to argue, so he chewed quickly in silence. When his plate was clean, he pushed it to the side and took her hand, pulling on it so she moved over to his lap.

"Do you want us to get out, sweetheart?" he repeated, ready to pick up right where they left off.

She stroked his cheek. "I want a lot of things. For you to be safe, for this to be finished, for us to be a family, and for us not to have to hide anymore."

Steady green eyes met hers. He had to know which one she wanted the most, just by the way she had tossed it nonchalantly in the middle. "We are a family, Kim."

"I know we are. But isn't it time to..." She paused out of a small sense of fear. She hadn't really considered this before, but what if Alex didn't want to have children? They'd gotten married so fast, and the timing was obviously not good during all this madness, but lately Kim had heard her biological clock ticking. Loudly. And this too-long time that he'd been away just made it worse. If he had been killed, then she'd have had nothing. Nothing of him left to hold onto, and it had shaken her to her foundation.

"Do you want to have a baby?" His voice was raw, and she looked at him in surprise. Normally she could read all of his looks, but this one confused her.

"Yes." She could have wavered, or evaded the question, but that wouldn't have been who she was, or what they shared. This was the only place in the world where each of them trusted someone implicitly. "Do you?"

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unfocused. Then he gave a laugh and kissed her shoulder, squeezing her to him. "I never really thought about it in-depth before. I mean, I did picture it of course, how glorious you'd look pregnant, what any child of ours would be like, but I guess it just seemed so far away I didn't get much farther than that in my thoughts. It didn't seem fair to want to bring another life into the world when the future was so uncertain." Then he met her blue eyes with his green ones, and the joy and the love radiated off of him like a physical wave. "But yes, I want to have children with you, Kim. Lots and lots of red-haired little kids running under our feet. We just have to get to the end of the line before we take that step, okay?"

"Okay." Her eyes slid away from his so he wouldn't see the glimmer of disappointment in them. He cupped her chin with his fingers until she looked back at him.

"We're almost there, honey. I'll find a way to make it happen. I promise."

Of course she believed him. He'd never, ever not kept a promise he made to her. It wasn't a phrase he used lightly, so when he did, it carried all the meaning which he intended.

"Okay." This time she kept her gaze steady on his, satisfied for real now, until he smiled and lifted her easily onto the edge of the table. He perched forward on his chair, and she spread her legs so her feet rested on either side of his thighs. He made quick work of the buttons of her pajama top, sliding it off with a still- hungry look on his face.

"Time for dessert," he said with a knowing leer in his voice. Another welcome-home ritual they shared.

She leaned back against the wooden table as he buried his head between her thighs, kissing his way upward slowly. His tongue moved like a serpent against the sensitive inner part of her leg, making her moan and spread herself wider for him. When he finally reached her wetness, she was by then so ready, it didn't take long. He lapped at her like a cat luxuriously savoring a bowl of cream, sucking on her right *there* until she quivered and tightened and loosened, all in one fluid motion. She looked down at him, and his eyes, dark green with passion, watching her, pushed her right over the edge, where her brain spun deliriously and she cried out his name.

When she was still, he sat back onto the chair while sliding her bonelessly back onto his lap, and they kissed and kissed and kissed. She felt like she was dazed, floating in a sense of unreality, and soon ready for more, even as she came back down to earth.

"I think I'm hungrier than I thought," she purred in his ear, and he shifted under her, rocking himself against her until she stood up.

"Mmm...very tempting, but I want something else. Let's go back to bed, Kim."

She frowned, momentarily disappointed, but he took her hand and led them back into the other room, where he quickly got them into the position he wanted. Missionary wasn't an option for them unless he was wearing his arm, and she wasn't about to let him do that, even with the antibiotic cream she'd spread on him earlier. He needed to heal.

He spooned against her back, curling himself around her, and she lifted her leg so he'd have access. His fingers danced over her outer folds, sliding in and out, until she unconsciously rocked between his hand and his erection rubbing against her from behind. When she moaned and lifted her arms up to pull his head to hers, kissing him sloppily, he replaced his hand with his shaft and entered her in one clean thrust.

He paused briefly when he was all the way in, and it felt for a moment that he was melting into her, like molten lava deep inside. The rhythm he set was even slower than the first, smooth and deep. He kept up a constant stream of whispers in her ear as he plunged into her, words of love and desire and togetherness. His hand glided over her breasts down to her clit, and he stroked her where they were joined, gradually increasing the tempo of his thrusts until they both lost control and each gave in to their unquenchable need for the other.

When they came, his orgasm immediately following hers, he held onto her waist so tightly she couldn't breathe. She felt him rasping out shaky air against her neck, and his heart pounded against her shoulder blade.

"Welcome home, Alex," she murmured, when she could string words into sentences again.

He slid out of her, spent, and she rolled to face him. His forehead had little beads of sweat across it, but his expression was serene. Content.

"Thank you, honey. It's good to be back. Very good."

She wiped his brow and his eyes slipped shut. The exhaustion on his face that she'd seen when he first woke her up had returned. Now it was time for sleep, the last part of their ritual. So she curled him into her arms, where he nestled and soon dozed off, a small but euphoric smile on his face. As she felt the rhythms of his body at rest leading her in the same direction, she sent a quick thanks upwards for bringing him home to her, safe and sound.

TWO DAYS LATER

When Mulder stepped out of the office to talk to Scully privately in the hallway, Walter Skinner took the opportunity of the break in their discussions to review the situation and the other occupants left in the room.

Seven years ago, he'd been a Bureau man through and through. He followed the rules his entire career prior to that point, and had been rewarded handsomely for his loyalty and hard work, vaulting up the promotional ladder, until he reached the near-top and became the Assistant Director. But once Scully had joined the X Files, something inside him had begun to shift. As the years progressed, he'd found himself in predicaments and scenarios he'd never foreseen. And his proper behavior, his innate instincts about right and wrong, had blurred and been erased as he picked his way through each one. He realized, slowly, that he was beginning to believe, and now he may have reached the point where there was very little he wouldn't do to uncover the truth, once and for all.

As a result of that, he currently found himself surrounded by a group of people that seven years ago, he would have never agreed to work with in any capacity, unofficially or officially. On either side of him stood the three Lone Gunmen, noisily debating amongst themselves the pros and cons of various electronic equipment they would need to assemble for Mulder for this assignment. Across the conference table stood Marita Covarrubias, the icy blonde from the UN whom he knew had assisted Mulder occasionally in his quest. She wasn't as loyal to the X Files as his previous two secret contacts had been; her personal agenda remained a well-guarded secret, and Skinner took every piece of the puzzle she gave to Mulder with a cautious grain of salt.

Alex Krycek stood next to her, silent and brooding. To be on the same side as the murdering, traitorous bastard again was one of those earlier predicaments that Skinner didn't expect would ever occur. Their newly-minted partnership was tenuous, at best, and it was really only the threat of death from the nanocytes that had made Skinner agree to it. But he had, and now they were here. Skinner planned on keeping as close an eye on Krycek as possible, far closer than the one he would bestow on Marita. At least she hadn't killed anyone, not that he knew of, at any rate.

Skinner was curious about the relationship between those two. When they'd burst into his office earlier this afternoon, with Kim trailing helplessly behind them, he'd been shocked. He hadn't even known they knew each other before that instant. And as all four of them had stood in his office, he'd sensed something unstated, a secret connection that went beyond business.

It had been almost a kind of heat, a sexual heat. The oddest part of that moment as the four of them had all frozen into almost a tableau, was that he wasn't 100% certain that it was due to Krycek and the blond woman. For one fleeting second, he imagined that the intimate connection was between his secretary and his former subordinate. But that hadn't made any sense, and Skinner had brushed aside the wild thought.

Looking back on the scene in his mind's eye, he recalled that Kim, facing Skinner and behind the two uninvited visitors, had glared at Marita's back with blatant disgust. That had been unusual, since she normally kept her feelings hidden from public scrutiny, but Skinner knew that his admin was keenly aware of what truly lay within the X Files, and he assumed she mistrusted the woman's disingenuous assistance as much as he did. Kim's gaze had shifted briefly to Krycek, her face blander and cooler, before looking to her boss with a more open questioning look on her face. "What would you like me to do, sir?" had been the only words she'd spoken. At the time he'd dismissed her, and proceeded with the impromptu meeting.

He refocused on the moment yet again, recalling the shadowed, unreadable look Kim had shot at Krycek's back. Skinner suddenly remembered the only other time he'd ever seen them together, the first day the new Agent had been assigned to his jurisdiction. When Skinner had stepped out of his office, Krycek had been leaning against her desk, on her side of it, far too physically close to her for a business discussion. From the animated looks on their faces, it had been clear they'd been flirting, and both enjoying it immensely. But as Skinner had made his presence known, they had slipped quickly back into professional mode, and that had been that.

He didn't think she had had any further contact with him, since Krycek and Mulder had immediately been sent out of town on the Augustus Cole fiasco and then, after the Duane Barry incident and Scully's kidnapping, Krycek had left the Bureau and gone renegade. Skinner couldn't think of another single instance he'd seen Kim and Krycek together in the same room after that one time; for that matter, even on the same floor of the Hoover Building. So an involvement between the two seemed impossible. It had taken he himself seven years of working side-by-side with her daily before their own relationship moved temporarily to another level.

As Scully and Mulder extended their discussion outside, Skinner continued to reflect on his admin. They'd been lovers for a brief time four years ago, but it had ended soon after it started, with no regrets on either side. It had occurred soon after Sharon's senseless murder, and Skinner had found himself adrift and achingly lonely without his wife. He'd never wanted the divorce, and the guilt that ate at him for being indirectly responsible for her death had propelled him into Kim's arms, he saw in hindsight. He'd never quite understood why she had been a willing participant in that; until they found themselves in bed together, he'd always assumed she had someone significant in her life. There had been so many mornings when she had strolled into his office with such a satiated look in her eye, her lips seemingly swollen from endless kissing, that he had assumed she was a woman deeply cherished by some unidentified man.

But she wasn't married, or at least she didn't wear a ring in the office, let alone mention anyone important in her life. On the other hand, neither had he until it was too late, and he wasn't married anymore. So he hadn't pressed the issue. During their short affair, he'd never been to Kim's apartment; she always came to his. Willingly, without discussion. And there they had made gentle love as if there was no tomorrow, which back then he had believed might truly be the case. It had been during that time together that he had discovered her awareness about the covert nature of the X Files, and he'd heard himself confiding details not found in the reports she typed up for him. Thankfully she was as loyal a creature as he was; she'd never let their pillow talk extend beyond his bed, even after the liaison was over, for which he was greatly appreciative. The information he'd imparted to her, in the wrong hands, could have been extremely damaging to Mulder and Scully's quest.

For example, in the hands of the man in black standing across the room from him now. If Krycek had ever learned those same secrets, he'd have used them to his advantage without a hitch in his stride. When Skinner recalled the time frame of his affair with Kim, he remembered that it was during it that Krycek had abandoned Mulder in Russia. Imagine what would have happened if he'd known why Mulder was there in the first place, Skinner thought to himself with a inward sigh of relief. That could have ended the situation even more disastrously than it did.

The door opening at the end of the office caught everyone's attention. But it wasn't Mulder and Scully, as they had all expected, and quickly the occupants turned back to whatever they were doing as Kim closed the door behind her and threaded her way through the small crowd to Skinner. As a part of the personnel staff, and not an Agent, her role, by the sheer nature of it, moved her to the background. Very little notice was normally paid to her, except by himself, since she was integral to the success of his work.

While she approached him, Skinner caught in his peripheral vision that he wasn't the only one who was paying studious attention to her presence. Krycek's eyes had lifted from the maps on the table to her face, his expression blank but intense. She, in turn, kept her eyes on Skinner, ignoring everyone else.

"Sir, here are the faxes you requested. They just came in."

She handed him a folder, and as she did, he shifted his body so he stood between her and the table, blocking Krycek's view. Something about the man's unwavering focus was raising Skinner's hackles, and until he could figure out what it was, he intended to keep her as far away from the traitor as possible.

"Thank you. I'd like you to make travel arrangements for a trip to Bellefleur Oregon. Book two tickets, one way, leaving tonight. I'll contact you with return dates once I've assessed the situation."

Her eyebrow lifted. "Yes, sir. In whose names?"

"Mulder and myself."

She seemed both confused and relieved, but she merely nodded at him and turned to leave. As she did, Skinner watched her eyes as they slid curiously and momentarily in Krycek's direction while she continued her path toward the door, leaving without further ado.

He started to muse on that further, when Mulder and Scully re-entered the room, and they all went back to work. In the back of his head, as he listened to Mulder explain to them all his plan for locating the alleged alien craft, he kept a snapshot of the look that had passed between Kim Cook and Alex Krycek. Perhaps he had been mistaken about what did or didn't exist between them, but now was not the time to start an investigation.

But start one he would. Eventually.

LATER THAT NIGHT

Kim paced the living room, near frantic with worry.

The only real contact she'd had with Alex all day was his brief phone call that morning, asking her to distract the guards so he could enter the Hoover building. He hadn't explained, and she hadn't asked for details. So she'd been shocked when he had blown into her office soon after with that horrid woman, and not in disguise, as he had other times she'd smuggled him in.

But she'd put on her work face, and carried on as usual. She thought she'd gotten away with it, until Mr. Skinner had stopped by her office after the meeting in his had broken up. By his remote and slightly distrustful attitude toward her, she knew something was wrong. Ever since she'd taken him to bed to find out what he knew about the possible vaccine in Russia, he'd always treated her as an equal, as if they were in on this together. But the cold shoulder he'd given her this afternoon sent a corresponding brisk chill down her spine.

He *knew*. Or at the very least, he suspected. How had either she or Alex given their secret away? They hadn't even spoken, and she'd only given him a brief sideways glance, positive her expression had been blank as she did it.

Not that it really mattered, at this point. What was done was done, and now was time for damage control. She only hoped that by telling Alex about it, she wasn't causing Walter Skinner extreme physical anguish. She had enormous respect for him, and although she never had any romantic interest in him even when they had been lovers, she did care for him, in a way she could never explain fully to anyone, least of all herself.

On the other hand, maybe what had happened in Oregon tonight was going to take precedence in his mind, and the more extraordinary events would push what he might have seen or not seen between her and Alex to the back of his memory, until it was forgotten entirely. At this point, he certainly had bigger fish to fry.

He hadn't told her directly, especially not after today's troubling coolness, but she heard the stunned disbelief weaving through his voice when he had called her this evening, requesting arrangements for a return ticket back to DC.

Only one ticket. For himself. She didn't need to ask where Mulder was; she knew, even if Walter Skinner was fighting hard against accepting it.

Mulder had been abducted by the aliens. It was the only possible conclusion to draw.

So she paced, waiting for Alex to come home so she could tell him what had happened and they could figure out what to do next. She didn't have any ideas, and she'd been turning it over in her mind for hours. But he would have at least one or two; he always had a back-up plan.

When she finally heard the lock on the door unbolt, Kim nearly wept with relief. Her emotion flipped to one of concern as she studied his face. It was frozen, black with rage, so she stepped toward him cautiously.

"Alex?"

He didn't even flick his gaze in her direction as he strode down the hallway, shrugging his jacket off as he walked. "I need a bath" was his only terse comment.

She followed him, her stomach sinking to her feet. He'd killed someone today; he always jumped into the tub immediately when that happened. And until he felt clean again, he wasn't in any shape to talk. So she shoved her worries aside and helped him prepare his ritualistic bath, turning on the water, pouring capfuls of bubble beads into the bottom of the tub, while he began to strip off his clothes.

His only request when she had been looking for an apartment for them at the beginning of their marriage had been that the bathroom have a large claw-foot tub, not a shower stall only, and she had looked long and hard before she settled on this place. She'd selected their home entirely based on the bathtub, because it was large enough for both of them to lay in it, either due to this necessary habit or simply when they wanted to make love.

It was odd, but it was this particular ritual that made her wish the most that there was someone she could confide in about their relationship. A girlfriend like Holly maybe, to whom she could say, 'listen to this, how the allegedly ruthless assassin soaks in a bubble bath after he's committed murder, not to relish his victory, but to cleanse his soul'. It was one of the intricate contradictions about him that she loved. He had explained to her that in order to do what he had to do, he had to go to a very dark, very cold place within himself. A place where he didn't even feel human. When his job was complete, he needed the soothing sensation of water sloshing against the enamel and around himself to come back to what was real, to help him push the dark place back down.

"Do you want me to join you?" she asked. Sometimes he did, other deaths he preferred to wash away on his own.

"Please."

As the water ran, she aided him in undressing, watching his face carefully until his expression began to soften as she touched him. He was coming back to himself faster than other times, as if he felt less remorse over this particular death than prior ones. When Melissa Scully had been the inadvertent victim, he had sat unmoving in the water for hours, until the bubbles had all dissipated, and his skin had been as wrinkled as a prune. He had barely even acknowledged the fact that she had to pull him out and put him to bed, he'd been so lost within himself. It had taken her days to get him back to normal after that.

"Was it Spender?" she asked as she folded his sweater, smelling the cloyingly sweet perfume Marita wore lingering on it, and wrinkling her nose in automatic response.

"Yes." He paused. "And Marita."

Her hands stopped mid-air as she looked at him in surprise. While neither of them trusted her, Kim hadn't expected Alex would ever kill her. When he'd seen her at Fort Marlene the last time, severely weakened and brutalized by the tests, he'd simply left her to make her own escape, instead of taking a more active role in her demise. Not that he had cared for her in any way, especially after she had betrayed him so vindictively, but still not willing to permanently eliminate her.

Naked now, he started helping strip off her clothes, explaining, "She was an accomplice in Spender's death."

Kim didn't need him to finish, understanding why he'd done it instantly. He'd told her once that the only time a conspiracy truly survived was if all the members, save one, were dead. So when Marita had helped him with Spender, by the sheer nature of the act, she had to die as well. She then held a dangerous secret over his head, and with Marita being who she was, Kim knew she would have manipulated that situation to further her own ambitions. Alex knew that as well, and that was unacceptable. So now she was gone, and while Kim regretted the passing of a human life, she didn't give the woman herself another thought. Spender, she had already assumed was gone, and deservedly so.

He turned off the water when the tub was filled, while Kim finished folding her clothes and placing them on the pile of his. As they moved around the small space, he asked, "Did Skinner contact you yet from Oregon?"

She had wondered when she was going to get a chance to tell him. Now he'd taken the decision out of her hands. "Yes. Something bad happened there, too. He only wanted one return ticket for himself."

Suddenly Alex went very still, his back stiffening. He stood unmoving in the center of the bathroom, his expression clearly one of shock, and Kim grew increasingly alarmed as the minutes ticked by. Although there had been many unexpected developments in the course of the last six years of the X Files, Alex had rarely been rattled by them. In the beginning, as he was drawn deeper into the Syndicate, he'd certainly made mistakes, but as he learned more about the different areas that They controlled, those errors in judgment became fewer and fewer. By now, when something occurred that baffled Mulder and Scully, Alex took it in stride, half-expecting the situation before it happened. But it was clear this was a development he hadn't foreseen.

Finally he spoke. "If he's been taken, I think they may have accelerated the timetable. I'll look into it tomorrow. If it's true, then I'll have to get him back, and quickly." His eyes, which had been distant, refocused, and he gave her a curious look, as she slid into the tub and rested her back against the rear section. "What else happened today that I missed?"

"I think Mr. Skinner may suspect something about us."

This he absorbed more calmly, joining her in the water, and as he placed his body between her legs, he leaned back so he rested his back against her front. "Us? How?"

"I'm not sure. He was...aloof when the meeting broke up. He didn't say anything directly about it, but his manner was unusual, and it concerned me. But he was very shaken by what happened in Oregon when he called me tonight, so perhaps that will distract him enough."

"Perhaps. Try to find out more tomorrow."

She was both temporarily relieved that Alex wasn't prepared to use violence yet, and anxious about what would likely transpire when she probed into this with Mr. Skinner. But this bath wasn't for her release, it was for his. So she reached for the sponge and began to wash his chest, squeezing excess soapy water over his shoulders, caressing his skin with her hands while she did. He closed his eyes, tipping his head so it fell against her shoulder, and after a few minutes, she felt his body relax in her embrace.

"I may have to--"

He cut her off. "I know. Using the nanocytes will only confirm his suspicions. You...going to him will be the best approach, because it will throw him off the scent. I'd prefer a different method, but I can't think of one. I've got to concentrate on finding Mulder."

He leaned his head toward her neck, and licked upward to her ear, his voice shifting from a flat business tone to raw silk. "For tonight, let's just concentrate on each other. We're going to be busy in the days to come."

She looked at him then, and they smiled at each other. So she pushed the other thoughts aside, and focused on the sensations of his body against hers. Her hands, which had been gliding across his chest, slid down into the bubbles, and she stroked him, feeling him harden rapidly. He moaned, and moved his head so she could reach his neck, kissing a slow trail around, behind his ear, nuzzling his hair. After a few moments, he tried to reach behind him to do the same to her, but she murmured, "No. Let me."

As they kissed, and her hands continued their steady pressure on his engorged cock, they began to twist in the water, shifting until he was against the back of the tub. He slid up until he sat on the edge, his groin above the bubbles. On her knees, she splashed clear water on him to rinse away the soap. His eyes never left her face as she moved her mouth over him, running her tongue upwards along the vein on the underside. As she sucked on the tip, drawing him into her mouth slowly, his lone hand gripped the side of the tub to keep himself in place. His soft moans and whimpers as she brought him to the edge thrilled her, and she increased her rhythm a little faster, a little deeper.

She loved doing this to him, making him lose control and forget about everything but the feel of her mouth on him. Just as he often did to her. Soon he was thrusting himself into her, and she opened her throat and took him all the way in, as he breathed her name over and over, like a part of his exhalation process. An involuntary reaction. She looked up at him as her head bobbed up and down, and his eyes were closed, his head tilted against the tile of the wall, and a look of utter bliss on his face. She felt him expand and pulse against her tongue, and she knew he was close.

So she increased the suction, and within moments, he was jerking wildly into her, all restraint gone. Then she saw him and felt him and tasted him as he reached the peak, spasming and panting as he shivered, still murmuring her name with each shuddering breath. When the last of the tremors left his body, he opened his eyes and looked down at her with a beatific smile. All remnants of his earlier black mood had vanished, and she moved from him so he could slide back into the bubbles with her.

After a pause, while she watched as his pupils adjusted, and he came back to being fully being her Alex, his arm slid around her shoulders and he pulled her to him for a long, hot kiss, tasting himself on her tongue.

"Love you, Kim," he said against her lips.

She knew the work ahead of them would be long and difficult, but until then, she only wanted to be with him, and shut out everything else. With him, she would gain the strength she needed to get through the rest. And he would do the same with her.

THE NEXT EVENING

Walter Skinner sat on the couch in his office, his face in his hands. Upon his arrival back at Dulles, he had forced himself to keep moving forward, burying himself in his work and not allowing the thundering conflicts within his brain to control his thoughts or his actions. He'd nearly fallen apart in Scully's hospital room this afternoon, but he somehow had kept it together. Barely. And then she had stunned him even more with her news.

My God. She was pregnant. And the father of her child, the one who should have been the first person she told, was missing, disappearing right before his own eyes in Oregon. Now that the day was over, and everyone had left the building, Walter was valiantly trying to face the truth. Not disappeared at all. Mulder had been abducted.

By *aliens*.

He thought he had believed, but until he saw the bright light lifting away from the ground, brilliant and blinding against the pitch-black sky, he knew that a key piece of him had been holding out against the truth. Any of his previous understanding was so small in comparison to the enormity of the reality that he was diminished, defeated, by it.

He didn't know what to do, what to think. And the one person he wanted to ask was the one who had vanished into thin air, and created all this havoc in his mind. Mulder.

When he heard his office door open, pure instinct had him lift his hands to see who it was. Kim walked in quickly, heading straight to his desk with a handful of folders, but stopped short when she saw him at his perch on the edge of the couch cushion.

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't mean to disturb you. I thought you were gone for the day."

"Why are you still here at this hour?" He heard the curtness in his tone, but couldn't bring himself to soften the blow. He'd given more thought to the possibility of a relationship between her and Krycek during the plane trip to Oregon, and had had to admit to himself that he had no reason or proof to suspect her of anything, really, but after so many years of inexplicable events, anything seemed possible at times. So the sliver of doubt very well could have been a product of his overtaxed imagination.

She patted the pile she'd just placed on his blotter. "With everything happening today, I got behind on my typing, and I wanted to make sure you had everything you would need for all your meetings tomorrow." Her voice grew curious. "Sir? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." A lie. He didn't think he would ever be fine again.

"Do you need me to do anything for you?" she asked gently, apparently unconvinced. His throat tightened, so he shook his head mutely and placed it back in his hands, hoping she would take that as a dismissal, certain that if he tried to speak, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from breaking down completely.

After a moment, listening for his door to creak as she left, he instead felt a soft hand sweeping across his scalp, and he looked back up in surprise. Kim stood over him, her eyes grave and kind. He'd tossed his glasses onto the side table when he'd collapsed onto the couch, so she was a little blurry in his vision.

"You don't seem fine, Walter," she said in that same gentle tone. "I've never seen you look more distraught. Please tell me what I can do to help you."

*Walter*. She had only called him that during their affair, and then only in bed. He continued looking at her, wondering. But she seemed sincere, and when her hand ran across his head again, he found himself speaking before he knew what he was doing.

"There's nothing anyone can do, Kim. Nothing at all." Was that even his voice, sounding so puny and conquered?

"Don't say that. You can't give up. Now is the time to fight, not withdraw into a shell."

In that instant, he realized that she had believed from the very beginning, and somehow had made her peace with it. That the terrible moment he was experiencing now was one she had already gone through, and she had emerged on the other side, unscathed.

"How did you do it?"

Her forehead furrowed. "Do what?"

"Accept this as the future."

She knelt suddenly in front of him, covering his hands, still cupped around his face, with hers. "It's *not* the future, Walter. Not if we fight hard enough." Her tone was fierce, but it gentled again before she continued. "It's a horrifying shock at first. To know. I was as terrified as you are now. But believing isn't the same as accepting. And you, of all people, just can't accept it and give up without a whimper. You have to fight, to make sure that future never happens, that we make our own, better one."

He knew she was right, and wished he could feel half of the conviction she did. Unbidden, the question popped out of his mouth.

"Did Alex teach you that?"

She looked stunned. "Alex who?...Alex Krycek?"

Simply by her incredulous tone, he suddenly realized how ridiculous his suspicion was. Kim Cook had been nothing but steadfastly loyal both to himself and the X Files since day one. Why on earth he had ever thought any differently based on the flimsy fact that she and Krycek had looked in each other's direction for a half-second as they both stood in the same room seemed insane to him now.

"Never mind," he muttered, mortified that he had even let the idea enter his mind.

"Walter." She paused until his eyes met hers again. "I learned that from you."

"From me?"

A smile played along the corners of her mouth. "I've watched you fight for many years, to allow Mulder and Scully the chance to get as far as they have. It's been a source of immense pride for me to help you in that. You're a warrior, Walter, a soldier in an invisible war. If you truly believe now, then that should spur you on to fight harder, not to surrender."

Her words were making a strange sort of sense, but somewhere in him they were getting lost among the other, more frightening memories and images of what had happened already, what could happen later. He tried to hold onto what she was saying, but all he felt was despair drowning them out.

As she continued to kneel close to him, her hands still on his, he could feel the last of his control ebbing away. He closed his eyes, trying to find his center again, his strength, when he felt her hands leave his and reach around his neck, pulling her to him.

"It's okay, Walter," she whispered. "You can let go."

<Let go.> Her soft words traveled through him like a wing on an arrow, piercing his resistance, and shattering the final thin shell of his soul. He felt her hands caressing him, silently encouraging him to do what he so badly wanted to act on. So he followed her order, switching roles with her for once, and his arms slid around her as he buried his head into her neck and he cried.

As he wept, letting the pulsing, terrifying emotions that had stormed within him for so long take over his free will, his body felt the physical comfort she was providing. The warmth of her skin at her neck, the curves of her body pressed between his chest and his arms, her hands stroking his head and shoulders steadily, her breathy, soothing whispers in his ear.

A still-vivid memory suddenly emerged of his wife. Sharon, standing in the middle of his tiny rental house after he'd been removed from the Bureau, her red coat like a flag of betrayal. She had tried to comfort him then, to help him through what at the time was the lowest he'd ever sunk, and he'd pushed her away. If he'd only relented, then she would still be alive. She'd died in the car accident that occurred immediately after leaving his house.

He burrowed his head deeper into her neck, murmuring, "M'so sorry, honey," not even realizing that it was a different woman this time in his arms. She shushed him, and held him tighter. And then somehow they were kissing, tongues and lips melting together, and the pain and the loneliness drifted away, replaced by heat and softness and need. God, he'd missed her so much, her absence felt like a physical blow to his chest. His hand slid from her back to cup her breast through the silkiness of her blouse, and it felt different, firmer and larger.

Opening his eyes, his vision focused onto Kim. He reeled, aghast, as his brain cells recorded that it wasn't Sharon embracing him. How could he have mistaken the two? How could he have taken advantage of her innocent desire to ease his pain?

"Kim, I..."

He was cut off when she kissed him, deep and demanding, and he could only respond in kind. Before, it had only been gentle, never out of control. But this woman ravishing *his* mouth, she was igniting a fire in him that was going to burn hot and fast. Within seconds, all his problems and worries evaporated, and Walter simply surrendered to the physical. Total primal hunger enveloped his mind.

He squeezed her breast in one hand while the other slid down the curve of her buttocks to the hem of her skirt. When it glided under the fabric, lifting it upward, his fingers recognized a garter belt at the end of a stocking and he groaned, pulling away from her to catch his breath. She dipped her head to his neck, licking and kissing and even biting a little, while her hands dropped to his lap and she stroked him through his pants, making him even harder, even crazier, than he thought was humanly possible.

When his hand continued its upward journey, and he discovered that her wet heat was uncovered, that she wasn't wearing any panties, the firestorm in him raged that much hotter. He plunged his finger into her, and the feel of her flesh around his digit instantly recalled for him how incredible she had felt when they had made love. He needed to be in her, now, with a depth of passion he hadn't experienced in years, not since his wife.

She must have recognized that need innately, for she pulled away and lay back onto the carpet, her skirt hiked up to her waist and her legs apart, brazenly exposed to him. For a moment, he simply stared at the jarring yet alluringly vibrant contrast of her red pubic hair and moist pink flesh against the professional confines of his office, and his latent sense of decency tried to slow him down. But she beckoned him with a lift of her hips, narrowing his entire universe to between her legs, and murmured one word.

"Walter."

Later, when he tried to remember what had happened, he found that large passages of time were missing. He recalled slamming into her mindlessly, burying himself in her up to the hilt, her hands digging into his back and his ass to spur him on even faster, her back arching and her clenching around him, drawing him in more firmly. But he couldn't recall exactly when she'd come or even the moment when he had. It had all passed by in a blur of needy desperation.

And when he was drained, his head crashed against her neck, slowly beginning to realize they were both fully clothed and in his *office*, for God's sakes, he remembered that she had lifted his head with her hands, wiped the last of the drying tears from his cheeks, and pressed her lips to his forehead, as almost a gesture of farewell. Then they had separated, and as she adjusted her clothing to go back outside, he saw a small smile of satisfaction on her face.

"Now you're ready to fight again," she had said, and he understood what she had done, and he was humbled by her generosity and faith in him. She had walked him through the fire of belief, and he no longer was afraid of the future. By allowing him to indulge in what is the most basic of all physical acts, she had helped him find his strength again. He knew that this was not the beginning of another affair between them, but simply a solitary act of human compassion.

From that moment on, he dismissed the idea of her being with Krycek entirely. He was far too inhuman and monstrously evil to ever appreciate a woman as incredible as Kim.

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Alex looked over the papers spread across the table, very worried. After months of fruitless searching, flying all over the country and the globe to inspect former bee farms, test facilities, and secret laboratories, his anxiety was about at peak level.

Nothing. Not one scrap of evidence that Mulder or any of the groups of abductees had ever been at any of them. Now he was following endless paper trails, but still coming up short at each dead end.

Time was running out, as more groups were beginning to disappear. Kim had relayed prompt information about each one to him, and the worry that tightened her features was as palpable as his. He had been correct; after the destruction of the ship in Antarctica, and the problems caused by the Rebel resistance, the aliens had shifted the timetable up by twenty years, an event for which the Syndicate, back when it had reigned, had not made accommodations.

But Alex knew that such large groups of people could not feasibly be in outer space. There was still too much work to be done on the alien's side before that became an possibility, so they had to have transported the abductees to some location on Earth, where they were keeping them hidden from all prying eyes. If he could find it, then he could destroy it, and leave the aliens with nothing. Then, as he had promised his wife, it really would be over.

The problem was, he couldn't find it.

He sifted through a stack of papers on his right again. Lists of warehouses owned by the Syndicate, which they had used in rotation to store supplies, switching from one to the other in no particular pattern, so as not to cast suspicion on what was held in them. Alex had been to each place personally on the lists, and found them all vacant.

As he felt Kim's hands on his shoulders, he tiredly leaned back into the dining room chair.

"Any luck?" she asked.

"None. I'm starting to feel like a hamster on a wheel, running around in circles."

"Scully and Mr. Skinner are having the same frustration."

That, Alex didn't doubt for a minute. Without Mulder or Spender or Marita, the two remaining Bureau officials had almost no contacts within the few remaining players in the Syndicate. It had taken Alex himself a lot of money and a lot of cajoling to get the papers sitting in front of him.

Kim kissed the top of his hair. "Want a shoulder rub to maybe clear your head a little?"

He lolled back so he could look at her, his smile enormous. "You have to ask?"

She laughed, and her fingers began to dig into the tight muscles in his shoulders. Alex let his head droop, closing his eyes, and his mind gradually emptied. One of the very pleasant side benefits of using his home for work was that situations just like this could occur. He doubted if he'd stayed at the Bureau or worked in an office as a desk jockey, anyone would massage him when he was as tense as this.

Her hands moved methodically; as each section under her ministrations loosened, she shifted to the next. Across his shoulders, down his one arm to his fingers, back up to his neck. By the time her hands reached his hair, rubbing his scalp, he was nearly floating, feeling lulled and happy and whatever had been eating at him was long gone.

When she finished, he pushed back his chair, and pulled her onto his lap, kissing her thoroughly until she laughed.

"So I helped, huh?"

"Very. Thank you."

She smiled, and glanced at the papers. "Maybe I could help with this."

"I wish you could. I just can't figure out where they've secreted so many people without anyone noticing. We're up to *hundreds* of missing people now, honey. Where the hell could they be without capturing anyone's attention?"

Kim mulled that over. "Well, let's think about this a different way for a minute. Where do groups of people congregate en masse already?"

"What do you mean?"

"In a normal situation, where do groups gather and remain unnoticed. For example, churches."

He got her point then, but didn't see how this would help. But he brainstormed with her anyways, since it certainly couldn't hurt.

"Shopping malls."

She grinned at him, and reached for a pad of paper and a pen, and started to write down their answers, which came out faster and faster as they got used to the pseudo-game.

"Schools."

"Hospitals."

"Office buildings."

"Prisons." That one earned her a grimace, but it earned him a peck on the cheek.

"Movie theaters."

"Ball parks."

"Amusement parks."

"Cruise ships."

Then they paused, looking at each other, waiting for the next idea to emerge. "Let me see the list," he said, something itching at the back of his brain. He scanned the words, then closed his eyes, trying to let the idea come to him.

When it hit, it struck like a lightning bolt. *Prisons*.

Specifically, the gulag in Russia.

"Honey, I think you did it," he said, and she looked pleased, while he reached across the table to grab at a farther, thinner stack of paper. He thumbed through it, found what he was looking for, and showed her the document.

The surveillance report described how the gulag from which he and Mulder had escaped had been shut down and abandoned after he had returned and stolen the vaccine and the boy. It had not been in use since then, but still it stood, its multiple cells and testing rooms intact.

She looked at him, her face pale. "You think he's there?"

"It makes sense. And the irony is just too overwhelming to brush off as coincidence. It's the last place anyone would consider. Remote and outdated, too."

She shuddered and he wrapped his arm around her waist. But she only said, "Be careful, Alex." He knew, above all else, that was what mattered to her.

All this time later, he was going back to the gulag. He knew Kim had to be badly frightened, so he suppressed his own shudder as the memories of what had happened there the first time returned.

After a moment, he realized that her hands were around his face and her compassionate blue eyes were staring at him. So he regrouped and kissed her softly.

"Come back to me, Alex," she whispered against his mouth.

"I will," he promised.

A vow he intended to keep.

TWO DAYS LATER

Mulder sat in the corner of his cell, ignoring the sounds that clattered on the floors above him. For the most part, he tried to shut out the outside world, preferring to live in the happier memories that floated like smoke in his head. After five months of hearing tortured screams echoing against the walls, of being assaulted by probes and tests, of near total isolation, he was weakened to the point of thinking in childish, infantile terms.

They had broken him, in body and spirit.

He was only lucky that he had Scully with him this time. He looked down at her leaning against him, her eyes closed, and brushed his hand across her hair.

<Sleep, Scully. I won't let them wake you.>

The noises grew louder, and dimly Mulder recognized gunshots and running feet. Then a voice was shouting, growing louder as whomever was yelling approached his cellblock. The voice was raspy, and was calling his name.

"Mulder! Mulder! Mulder, if you can hear me, make a sound!"

Mulder clutched Scully's shoulder and pressed his lips tightly together. He didn't want anyone to upset her, and he knew the man was only searching for him to do more tests or something, because that was the only time he got to leave his cell. And those hurt. A lot.

Eventually his thick door opened, and a shadowy figure appeared in the entryway. In the wavering light, Mulder couldn't see who it was, but it didn't look like the beings who had been transporting him from his cell to the testing rooms. It was much taller than those things.

"Jesus, Mulder. Why didn't you answer me? Can't you talk?"

The man, a real human, stepped forward and crouched down, peering intently in his face.

"Mulder? Can you hear me?"

As he looked at the man, something came into focus out of the haze of his mind. He *knew* this man with the green eyes.

"Krycek?" he choked out, his throat scratchy after so long being quiet.

"Yeah, Mulder it's me. Time to get you out of here."

Krycek stood and held out his hand but Mulder shook his head, another faded memory crossing his cloudy mind. "You're just going to sell me out again."

A bittersweet laugh. "Not this time. Come on, we've got to hurry. They're starting to burn this place down, and we've got to get out before it blows."

Mulder looked up at him, and Krycek's face was bland. Not angry, not sneaky, not anything. "Why should I go with you?"

A sigh. "You don't have a choice. Don't argue, just put down that thing and let's go."

Thing?

He looked down at Scully, still sleeping, and nudged her. She'd know what to do.

"Scully, wake up. I have to ask you a question."

Krycek made a noise in the back of his throat, giving him an odd look. Then he bent back down and his voice was surprisingly gentle. "Mulder, that's not Scully. She's back at home and she's worried sick about you. She wants you to come with me so I can take you there."

"She's right here, Krycek!" What was he, blind?

Krycek's voice was still calm, soothing. "Mulder, did you have a cellmate in here?"

He nodded. When he first got here, but it hadn't been for very long. He had yelled and yelled and yelled, and then one day he woke up to find Scully sleeping on his lap. Then he didn't yell anymore. He didn't want to disturb her sleep.

"And did something happen to the cellmate?"

"He...he died. Too many tests on his brain."

"What did they do then?"

Mulder thought about that, squeezing his eyes shut. "Nothing. They just..."

<Left him here.>

He looked down at the figure in his arms, and finally saw the rotting corpse of his nameless cellmate. He froze, unable to fully grasp that the person he'd known in his heart was Scully wasn't her at all. After what seemed like an eternity, he watched Krycek's hand as he reached over and untangled Mulder's fingers from the dead man's hair matted with dried blood. Then he pushed the body aside, and lifted Mulder from under the arm to a standing position.

But Mulder couldn't stand. He'd been curled up in the corner for days, and his legs felt like boiled spaghetti. He started to fall, but Krycek leaned him against the wall, his human hand solidly against Mulder's chest to keep him erect.

"Can you walk?"

"Not...not really."

Krycek frowned, then his face smoothed as he apparently made a decision. "Don't fight me on this. I'm going to have to carry you."

Before he could protest, Krycek bent over toward Mulder's waist and lifted him onto his shoulder, his right arm over Mulder's hip to keep him from falling off. Scully wanted him to go with Krycek, and he wanted to make Scully happy. So Mulder went limp, like a rag doll, and closed his eyes.

In that position, he missed what was happening as they walked through the corridors, and the bodies, human and alien, that were everywhere. There were other men, dressed in black as Alex was, but they had sealed orifices on their faces. Rebel aliens that Alex had contacted to run this raid, his only condition being that he be allowed to bring Mulder out alive. The rest of the abductees, Alex couldn't concern himself with. He had enough burden as it was. More importantly, their deaths would ensure the aliens would be unable to proceed with colonization for a very long time, perhaps even forever.

By the time they reached the outside, where it was brighter but a lot colder, Mulder had started to collect his scattered wits, and he struggled against Krycek's shoulder. He felt himself flipping over again and when his feet touched the ground, he opened his eyes, looking at Krycek curiously. He could smell an oily, meaty smoke starting to seep from the building.

"What are they doing?"

"Destroying it. Once it's gone, then we can leave. I want to make sure that fucker's burned to the ground."

Mulder understood Krycek's vengeful tone. He hadn't exactly had a tea party there, either.

His teeth chattered, and he realized he was cold, and that little puffs of air were appearing out his mouth when he breathed. He looked down at his feet, vaguely acknowledging he didn't have any shoes on. Krycek did, dark boots with no laces, but they were dirty. There was a black clump on the tip.

Suddenly the clump moved, and Mulder mutely watched as it slid up Krycek's pants leg. He followed its slow ascent up until it slid into the neck of his shirt and disappeared. Krycek didn't seem to notice, because he was too busy viewing the fire. He watched as the flames started to engulf the building, and Mulder could see the heat and light reflect off Krycek's cheekbones and shining eyes. Out of the corner of his vision, Mulder saw something wriggle on his neck. Something under Krycek's skin.

"What's that?" he asked, alarmed.

Alex's hand flew to where Mulder indicated, feeling the oily worm inching its way up to his face. He glanced down at his feet, and saw too late that he was standing in a long-forgotten pool of black oil. Whether it was vaccine or virus, he couldn't tell. Thankfully, Mulder didn't seem to be infected. In as steady a voice as he could manage, he said, "Mulder, I'm about to collapse. You have to get me out of here and back to DC. We have to go home. Okay, Mulder? Promise me."

The traumatized man nodded cautiously. "I'll try."

Alex's hand left his neck, where he had been trying to thwart the worm's movement, to firmly grasp Mulder's shoulder, in a futile attempt to shake reality back into him.

"Not try. You *have* to do this. Mulder, please. I saved you, now it's your turn to save me. PROMISE ME, MULDER!"

A firmer nod. "Okay. I promise."

As Mulder watched, Krycek's eyes began to glaze over with a filmy black oil, and his knees buckled, so Mulder tried to catch him before he fell. As he did, he heard Krycek whisper, "Kim..."

Then he was gone.

Mulder looked at him worriedly. He hoped Krycek would wake up soon, so he could tell him where home was.

Maybe he should ask one of those people with no faces standing over there.

FOUR DAYS LATER

Kim walked into the cafeteria of the Hoover building, keeping her face cast down. It had been a terrible weekend for her, full of strange, horrifying nightmares about Alex and aliens and grisly deaths. She'd barely slept two full hours at a stretch.

She made her way through the food line silently, in no mood to talk to any of the other secretaries in her department. Discussions of the latest movies they'd seen, or of their new boyfriends, would put her right over the edge. It was funny sometimes, the way they all took pity on her for being perpetually single, and often, one or the other, Holly mostly, would try to set her up on a blind date. But she wouldn't see any humor in it today, so she deliberately sat alone.

She was halfway through her meal when Holly came over and sat down in front of her, breathless and excited.

"Kim, have you heard the news?"

Kim shook her head. Mr. Skinner had been out of the office all morning without any word to her as to where he was or when he'd be back, and his cell phone was inexplicably turned off. Since the night she'd seduced him again, he'd dropped his distant demeanor, but thankfully he hadn't inquired into pursuing the affair any further. His unexplained absence today, though, was part of why she was feeling so unsettled.

"No. What happened?"

Holly leaned over, not wanting to look like the gossip she was. "Agent Mulder's back."

Her stomach clenched. Then why hadn't Alex returned? <Don't, Kim. Not yet.>

"Wow. Where was he?"

"Nobody knows. He came back on Saturday, I heard, and he's been in the hospital ever since. St. Luke's. I heard he was really out of it, and they think he might have gone crazy again. He was rambling about aliens and men with no faces." Holly rolled her eyes to indicate her disbelief, and Kim wanted to laugh at her innocence.

"Well, I hope he's going to be okay," she said conversationally.

"Oh sure, me too. Oh, and here's the best part. You'll never guess who he brought with him to the hospital."

"Who?" <God, please.>

Holly's eyes danced as she spilled her secret. "Alex Krycek. Do you remember him? God, he was *so* cute. Gorgeous eyes."

Kim felt a wave of relief run through her, and she bit the inside of her mouth to keep herself from grinning like a fool. <He was alive!>

"I remember him, Holly. But he's not exactly a guy you want to bring home to Mom." <Actually, he was. Her mother adored Alex.>

Holly giggled. "Yeah, I know. But you know how those bad boys can just get you right in the gut. And he had that intense look, it just sent shivers down my spine. I remember, I couldn't help but think if that's how he'd look at a woman in bed, then she'd have to be the luckiest woman ever, to be the object of that focus and passion. It's a shame, really."

<Holly, you don't know the half of it.> "What is?"

"Oh, that's right, you don't know. Apparently, he's got some kind of weird infection. He's not expected to live. That's..."

Kim never heard the rest of the sentence, because she was running for the door.

THAT SAME DAY

Walter Skinner sat outside Krycek's room, waiting for Scully to finish her examination and come out to tell them the results. He understood that Krycek was dying, slowly but steadily. Whatever was filming his eyes was doing terrible damage to the rest of his body, and he was hanging on by a thread. How he'd made it this far was a miracle unto itself.

He stole a glance at Mulder sitting placidly beside him. Thank God he'd been returned, although no one knew how he and Krycek had ended up in DC or where they'd been before that. Now he just needed to come back to his normal self, and Walter could feel confident about the situation again. His progress uphill was as maddeningly slow as Krycek's was down. When he'd first arrived, he'd been a shell of his former self, unsure of what to do or say, acting in many ways like a child. His physical injuries were minor in comparison to the mental ones.

The only thing he'd been adamant about was that Scully take care of Krycek. "Make him wake up," he'd said firmly. And since then, Mulder had hovered over his isolation tent, watching him and talking nonsense to him occasionally. It had reminded Skinner of a big brother watching his new sibling sleeping in his crib. The fierce protectiveness Mulder was displaying toward his worst enemy was a sight to behold.

"When's she coming out?" he suddenly asked.

"Soon, Mulder. Just wait."

So they did. Eventually, the door opened, and Scully exited, a medical folder in her hand and her brow furrowed. Skinner stood up to give her his seat, and she sank down wearily on the bench beside Mulder, sending a grateful look up toward him before focusing on her partner.

"Mulder, can you remember what happened yet?"

He shook his head. "Not really. Just bits and pieces. Why?"

"I need to know how and where Krycek got infected. I want to help him wake up, and knowing this could help identify what's inside him."

He closed his eyes tightly, thinking. In the last few days, he'd flipped between the old Mulder and this more fragile one, and both Skinner and Scully tread very lightly around him. He still could turn on a dime.

"He was standing outside, watching the fire. And I saw a wriggly thing in his neck." He shivered, and Scully patted his hand reassuringly. "Wait. I remember when he fell down, I saw that he was on top of this black spot. His shoe was dirty."

Scully's voice was calm. "Do you remember where this was, Mulder?"

"Outside the bad place," he whispered, sounding as if he were almost in tears.

Scully sighed and wrapped her arms around him, rocking him a little until he relaxed. "Okay, that's enough for now."

"Did he wake up yet, Scully?" he asked plaintively.

"No, not yet. He might not wake up. You have to be prepared for that possibility."

"What's wrong with him?"

She sighed again, and uncurled one arm from his shoulders, reaching for the file on her burgeoning lap. Then her eyes met Skinner's and she began speaking with him directly. They both hoped that if they took a more professional tone, maybe it would bring Mulder back to reality again. It had worked a couple of times already, before he reverted back to his prior, more immature state.

"His blood levels are all over the place. I can't identify the oil in his eyes, but we've seen it before, and it exists throughout his system. It may be extraterrestrial in origin. But it seems to be battling other, more human, components within his blood stream."

"What do you mean?" Skinner asked.

"When he first got here, he had an exceptionally high level of carbon in his system, which continued to rise every day. Then today, it's begun to drop dramatically, then shoots up again off the charts. I can't explain it. Moreover, the levels of the oil are dropping and rising in direct opposite proportion to the carbon."

"That's because the carbon is the vaccine. It's fighting the alien virus, the oil."

Both Scully and Skinner looked at Mulder in surprise. "How do you know that?" she asked cautiously.

"The man with no face told me. He said Krycek must have stepped in an old mixture of vaccine that the Russians were working on before..." Then he stopped, grinning, as a piece of the puzzle snapped into place. "I was at the gulag in Russia. I remembered, Scully!"

She patted his hand. "Yes you did. Good for you. Do you remember what else he said?"

Mulder paused, making that eyes-screwed-shut expression, but before he could answer, Skinner was distracted by the sound of running footsteps. He heard a breathless, vaguely familiar voice at the nurse's station and he turned his head at the woman's question.

"Excuse me, what room is Alex Krycek in?"

Skinner couldn't see the woman's face since she was on the other side of the station, so he began to walk toward her slowly, while also listening to the nurse's reply.

"I'm sorry ma'am, but only immediate family members are allowed to--"

"I'm his wife. Kim Krycek."

Skinner heard her say her name at the exact moment he saw her face. Both stopped him dead in his tracks.

My God. It was *her*.

He'd been absolutely right, there had been a connection between the two. But not one he'd ever imagined, even in his wildest flights of fancy. They were married???

Kim's eyes met his, and she looked at him silently for a long beat. She seemed to expect seeing him there. From behind him, he heard Mulder and Scully both rise and join him in the middle of the hallway.

"Kim!" Mulder cried out animatedly. "Krycek was talking about you."

She shifted her focus to Mulder as she walked closer. "What did he say, Agent Mulder?"

He shrugged. "Just your name. Then he fell down." He looked at his feet, shuffling them against the linoleum. "I'm sorry I didn't call you before to tell you. I just remembered it."

She hesitated, then she smiled as she picked up his chin with her hand. "It's okay. Did you bring him here?"

"Yes. He made me promise to bring him home."

Her eyes filled with tears, but she didn't cry. "Alex...Alex always keeps his promises. I'm glad to know you do the same. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

The two locked gazes for a moment, smiling, then Kim looked over at Scully. "I'm going to go in and see him first, then I'd like you to tell me what's wrong with him, please."

Skinner spoke for the first time since she'd arrived. "Only family members are allowed," he snapped. Now that he recognized her for a liar, he wasn't about to take anything she said on face value. He'd fallen for her fabrications one too many times as it was.

Her eyes blazed angrily. "I'm his wife. You are not my boss outside of the office, Mr. Skinner, and you are *not* keeping me from my husband when he's dying."

Scully interrupted. "Kim, I'm afraid AD Skinner is correct. I'm certain that you may think you have some kind of a relationship with Krycek, but there's no proof."

She shot a loaded look at all three of them, then dipped her hand into the purse on her shoulder, bringing up a piece of paper, and shoving it at Skinner's chest. He took it from her hand, and they studied the certificate. Alexander Krycek and Kimberly Cook, married in the Commonwealth of Virginia on August 2, 1994. It had an official-looking notarized seal at the bottom, just over their two signatures.

Skinner looked at the date again, then over at Mulder and Scully, who both seemed equally amazed.

"You married him the day he started working with me?" Mulder asked incredulously.

She smiled. "That night. A short courtship, but a long and happy marriage. We've been together ever since." Then her voice grew impatient. "So can I go see my husband now?"

Stunned, they all nodded in unison.

Kim took a deep breath, and stepped into the hospital room. On her frantic dash out of the Hoover building, it had dawned on her that Scully, Mulder and Mr. Skinner would most likely all be here, and she had prepared herself for that. She'd been terrified that she'd wasted too much time running home and getting their marriage certificate and some other things she thought she might have to use to get through to them, but she was glad as hell she had. One thing she'd learned working at the Bureau, is that proof was the cornerstone of their existence. None of them had any ability to accept something simply on faith.

Her heart stopped when she saw the isolation tent surrounding his bed, the various beeping machines on either side of him. She'd heard Holly say he had an unidentified infection, but it wasn't until this moment that she fully comprehended her words. She'd only been relieved then that he hadn't been shot, or was missing yet another limb.

He'd been infected with the alien virus. But this time it wasn't leaving his body out of his eyes and mouth, trying to return to the mother ship. This time it was killing him from the inside.

She and Alex had discussed the black oil many, many times. He had said that it wasn't really an oil or a virus; that it was actually the alien species' life force. Their blood, in a way. The vaccine that everyone had been working on was hopefully, two-fold. One, it was supposed to be designed to kill the life force, and two, it would create a carbon block to prevent the force from spreading too far within the body. The goal had been to create something that would handle both parts of the resistance; only the Russians had come close, and theirs consisted mainly of the carbon builder.

When she reached his bed, she willed herself not to cry when she saw him there, unconscious and so weakened and frail-looking. This wasn't her Alex. He never looked like that when he slept. And his veins were black, his skin mottled and grayish in color. The only thing she recognized as his was his mouth, the air slowly moving in and out, making his lips vibrate as if he were talking soundlessly. If she could lean her head close, she wondered if she could hear what he was trying to say. Was he breathing her name?

She looked over the tent again, and saw a set of attached gloves that went inside to where he lay, so the doctors and nurses could touch his body without exposing themselves to him directly. She placed her hand in one of them by his head, and brushed his hair off his damp forehead gently with the rubber glove.

"You did it, Alex. You came home," she said softly.

The door opened behind her, but she didn't tear her eyes away from him to see who was disturbing them. She simply kept stroking his head, and talking to him. There were things she wanted to say. That he needed to know, now more than ever.

"I'm so proud of you, honey. You did exactly what you told me from the beginning you were going to do. Mulder's back too, and he's going to be okay." She certainly hoped that was true, because she couldn't lie to him, even on his deathbed. "I love you so much, Alex. You're the best thing that ever happened to me."

Two machines to his right beeped suddenly, and she glanced over at them as Scully appeared out of nowhere, where she began to read the monitors. She looked surprised, as her gaze flickered from them to Alex and back.

"What's the matter?" Kim asked out of the corner of her mouth. If he could hear, she didn't want to upset him.

"Both the excessive carbon and the oil levels dropped slightly, in tandem this time. His own blood made a small gain in volume."

Kim moved her hand out of the glove, and faced Scully directly, shocked. "He's got both in his system?"

"Yes. Do you know what's causing this?"

Kim nodded, as understanding and joy flooded her nervous system. He might not die after all. He just had to fight, which he knew better than anyone how to do.

"He's got the Russian vaccine in him. It's a combination of a weak virus strain, and a carbon builder. They hadn't perfected it yet, which is why they kept a piece of the virus in it, but the idea was that if a person was infected by the black oil, the carbon would halt the progress of it, and that person would be able to resist being taken over by the aliens."

"Then why did both just drop?" she heard Mulder ask from behind her, clearly more alert than in the hall. Perhaps she hadn't lied to Alex about his condition after all.

"The problem with all the vaccines was that the two parts of them, the virus and the carbon, clog the blood vessels, and the body's own system can't work properly. So although the person might be able to resist total infection, they died anyways because the blood couldn't move from the heart to the organs, which is necessary to sustain human life. Alex's heart must have started pumping faster for some reason, and it pushed the foreign elements aside."

Scully nodded, reading the heart monitor. "That looks like it's correct, since his blood pressure increased temporarily. But it's gone back down now."

"You should keep talking to him. What you said must have made him excited, that's why his heart rate jumped. When I was in my coma, I could hear everything," Mulder chimed in. She looked over her shoulder at him in surprise, and she noticed without comment that Mr. Skinner stood silently beside him, just watching her with his stern, brooding look. Mulder's expression seemed sincere, and his eyes flickered back to Alex, where they stayed. It struck her then that Mulder wanted him to survive almost as much as she did. She'd wonder later on what on earth had happened between the two of them to change their relationship so significantly. Now she had to focus on her husband.

Kim leaned over the tent, placing her hand into the second glove, and squeezing his limp hand in hers. "Alex, you have to fight. Harder than you ever have. You can beat this, honey. You just have to concentrate." Her voice grew deliberately firm. "You've made me two promises, Alex, and I'm holding you to both of them. It's not good enough that you simply came home. Do you remember the other promise?"

She didn't want to say it in front of the others in the room. This was *theirs*, and six years of hiding their life away from the world made her hesitate. But when she glanced at the heart monitor, noting the lack of response, she knew she had no choice. So she took a deep breath and spoke with as much ferocity as she could muster.

"Alex Krycek, you promised me that we were going to have a family when this was all over. Well it's over now, and you have to keep your promise." Her voice broke, and she swallowed back her tears. It would be counter-productive for him to hear her cry. She knew how much it tore him up when she did.

"You're going to be such an amazing father, Alex. You've got so much love in you, and you can teach our children all the things you know how to do so well. Think about that. Picture yourself showing your son how to make your secret- recipe lasagna. I can't do it, you know what a horrible cook I am. You never would tell me what you put in that, but it's delicious. You have to pass that on to our children."

The heart monitor picked up a notch, and she knew she was on the right track. So she kept talking, exposing the secret facets of their life that until this very moment, had only been between them. He might be upset when he woke up that she had done it in public, but she didn't care in the slightest. If it was going to bring him all the way home to her, then she would do it.

She would do anything to be with him. Even shout it from the rooftops.

Alex heard Kim's voice fade in and out. Dimly he tried to think how she could have found him in Russia. Had Mulder, even in his shell-shocked state, gotten him out somehow?

He wanted to open his eyes, to see where he was, and figure out a way to get them out of this safely, but his lids wouldn't obey the command from his brain. He was tired, beyond any level of exhaustion he'd felt in the past. And his entire body ached with a sharp, pulsing pain. An agony that felt worse than the amputation. Eventually that had diminished; this was never-ending, seeming to throb harder with every heartbeat.

"...how you sneak your hand in when I'm not looking and eat all my popcorn at the movies..." he heard her say.

<I don't do that. You're too busy watching the screen to notice your own hand dipping in the bucket.>

"...can lie in bed between us on rainy Sunday mornings, reading the newspaper to him, and you can explain to him why Lucy is so determined never to let Charlie Brown kick that football..."

Him? He struggled to remember who she meant, and warmth seeped through him as he imagined their son in the position she just described. The pain faded, just a little.

<I want a daughter first. A miniature of you, with red hair and freckles across her nose.>

"...take him with us on vacation. I suppose we won't be able to stay in that bed-and-breakfast anymore up in the mountains, since they don't allow children. Do you remember the first time we stayed there, Alex?"

<We never left the room, or even the bed. It was our first anniversary. We wore nothing but our wedding rings, and huge smiles the entire time.>

"...build a fire on the beach, and teach him how to bury the clams in the sand with hot stones and seaweed, so they can steam open, fully cooked. And at night he'll fall asleep watching the fire, tucked into his sleeping bag, and we'll crawl into ours and make love quietly so we don't wake him up..."

<...and watch the sunrise in the morning over the water, still curled around each other. Just like we did on Nantucket that one memorable long weekend.>

Gradually, Alex began to piece together what she was doing. His mind flitted back, and rested on, what he'd heard she and Scully discussing. If he could outlast the internal struggle between the virus and the carbon, keeping his own blood coursing through his veins, then he would survive. And he knew he could do it. He just had to hang on long enough for the two to wipe each other out.

Then he could go home to his wife and they could start on the new chapter of their lives that both of them yearned for so badly. They could have the family, the future, he'd always wanted. He'd never been able to tell her that before she'd asked him when he returned from Africa. He didn't want to get her hopes up, in case he'd failed in his mission.

<Keep talking, honey. I can hear you.>

Alex focused all his efforts, his waning strength, on one goal. After what felt like forever, as she continued to talk, reminding him of all their shared moments of the last six years, both large and small, his lids fluttered. So he shut out her voice, and concentrated even harder.

Slowly, his eyes opened. Through a thin, shifting, black cloud, he could see her. Her red-gold hair framing her face, her blue eyes watching his, her sweet smile. The smile that was his. He watched as her hand lifted to rest against something transparent between them, something preventing her from touching him, as he ached to happen. His eyes shifted from her beautiful, unforgettable face to her hand, and he saw her wedding band flash in the overhead light.

<I love you, Kim.>

"I love you too, honey. Now close your eyes, and fight. Fight dirty if you have to, but fight to win. You have to come home to me. And don't forget the milk when you do."

As his lids flickered down again, a laugh bubbled in his chest, but it didn't make it out of his mouth. It stayed inside him, keeping him warm and secure. It gave him the strength, the power, he needed to win. Power comes from loving and being loved, he reminded himself. Because of her, he was a powerful man.

So he buckled down into himself, preparing for a long battle.

TWO DAYS LATER

Walter Skinner slipped through the hospital room door, not wanting to disturb the sleeping occupants, but taking this quiet moment to confront his feelings about the extraordinary situation. Perhaps if he watched them silently again, as he had the first day Kim had arrived, he'd come to some sense of understanding about it all.

He viewed the two of them with a pained eye. Krycek lay inertly on the bed, still unconscious. The levels of both things in his blood stream had lowered over the course of the last few days, but he wasn't cured yet. He still had a long way to go, if he was able to get there at all. A part of Skinner that he tried to deny wanted the man to die; when he'd first seen him lying there, he had recalled how he himself had looked when Krycek had implanted and activated the nanocytes in his blood. The resemblance between their two conditions was too similar to ignore. The veins, the skin. It had created a small sense of satisfaction in Skinner to see the man who'd done that to him going through the same type of pain and anguish.

Skinner's gaze shifted to Kim, dozing in the chair beside Krycek's bed. Her head leaned against her shoulder, and her legs were curled up in one arm on the seat. Her other arm was inside the glove, and she held her husband's hand, connecting with him even in slumber.

Her *husband*. His heart shattered from even thinking the word.

He had so many questions he wanted to ask her, he had actually debated making a list. How could she have married him the day she met him? How could she still love that monster after knowing all that he'd done? How could she have betrayed Skinner's own trust in her, and have helped Krycek all these years?

Skinner knew without question now that she must have told him what she'd gleaned from her position as his admin. It was the only explanation he could come up with to answer how Krycek had always ended up in the right place at the right time. She must have told him where Mulder and Scully were, and what they were working on.

But the biggest question he had, he could barely consider without wanting to weep. How could she have made love to him, both the first time years ago, and the last, in his office, when her heart clearly belonged to someone else? Why had she encouraged him that time, just months ago, to take her like that? At the time, he'd thought she was trying to help him; now he was horrified to admit that it had only been a way to distract him from uncovering the truth. He'd fallen for it, hook, line and sinker.

She stirred, her eyes opening and automatically first going to the man in the bed. After a moment, she rolled her neck, catching sight of him standing across the room. Her back stiffened, as she unfolded her body from its position on the chair. Looking at him, she stood up and made her way to where he was, her arms wrapped around her chest in a defensive position. This was the first opportunity they'd had to be alone since she arrived.

"Did you need something, sir?" she asked placidly.

*Sir*. He wanted to laugh at her still-polite demeanor, behaving as if nothing had changed between them. His entire universe had been altered irrevocably. She had worked for him for eleven years, and had lied to him for more than half that time. He realized he was angry, so he let himself act on it. The bile that churned in his stomach and throat was so bitter, his mouth tasted like he was chewing tinfoil.

"I'll expect your resignation letter on my desk as soon as you return to work, Mrs. Krycek," he said coldly.

Her eyes widened, and she matched his tone, only a few degrees less chilly. "Why? I haven't done anything wrong."

"You're married to a fugitive from the law. A known criminal."

"Being married isn't illegal. Quite the opposite."

Stubbornly, he said, "But passing classified information is."

"Prove it," she spit. "I'll bet you don't find one shred of evidence to support your accusation. And as we both know very well, the Bureau only accepts hard factual proof. Conjecture or theory is never enough."

He knew she was correct; as Krycek's wife, she must have spent years under his tutelage, and would have learned how to erase any trail leading back to herself.

"Then I want you to transfer out of my jurisdiction. I never want you in my office again."

She looked at him thoughtfully for a long beat. When she spoke again, her voice was gentle, as it had been that night when she'd comforted him, and then lain on the floor of said office, legs spread, luring him into her web of deception. "I never wanted to hurt you, sir. Neither did Alex. We both have a lot of respect for you."

"You have a very unusual way of showing that," he retorted.

She shrugged. "You know, I hate to say this, but you used me as much as I used you. I'm not quite sure you should take this holier-than-thou attitude toward me."

Now he did laugh, without a trace of humor. "*I* used *you*. That's rich."

"You used to call me by your wife's name when you would come inside me."

Her voice was so delicate, so demure, he almost missed what she said. But when he did catch it, he was stunned into speechlessness. He had done what??

Her eyes lifted from the spot on the floor she had been studying to meet his shamed ones. "Every time, even the last. I didn't mind. I know exactly how it feels to love someone so much, that when they're gone, you can't even function. That was part of why I agreed to make love with you, when Alex recommended it against his better instincts. You were so devastated when she died, and I guess I wanted to make you feel alive again. To encourage you to move on, to accept the crushing loss. Maybe," and her eyes dropped down again, "maybe I was hoping if I ever ended up in your shoes, and Alex did the unthinkable and died, then someone would be generous enough to show me that same compassion and kindness."

Chastened, Skinner tried to take her hand from its place fisted against her elbow, but she resisted, stepping away from him. "Kim..."

"Sir, please don't. He's not going to die. He's just *not*," she whispered raggedly.

Now that his anger had vanished into thin air, he could recall more clearly what she'd said to Krycek as he lay there, prone and weak. She had described a full, blissful life to him, and even through Skinner's haze of fury and betrayal, he had recognized similar moments and gestures of his life with Sharon. What these two shared was far more than just a business arrangement, or a mere trading of information. They were a family, like he had had with his own wife so long ago. He'd simply never considered that Alex Krycek was capable of that much humanity, but the pictures she'd drawn for all of them were incontrovertible. As much proof as he would ever need.

"I'm sorry, Kim," Skinner heard himself say.

Her eyes opened, the tears brimming unfallen against her lashes. "For what?"

For everything, he wanted to reply. For using you so callously, for never seeing you for who you are, for not being the one who makes you feel happy and secure and treasured.

"For not believing in you," he answered. When he saw her slow smile in response, he knew that irregardless of everything, he didn't want her to leave him. Despite all the things she might have done to help Krycek further his goals, she had also assisted Skinner in his. Without her support, he'd have never reached the point he had. He'd have never been able to find out as much as...

The light began to dawn. Alex Krycek had encouraged her to continue supporting him the entire time he'd also worked at thwarting their efforts. Just as Kim had done, Krycek had played both sides of the fence, working with the Syndicate, but also trying to bring Mulder and Scully as close to the truth as possible without giving himself away. He remembered Mulder telling him about the time Krycek had broken into his apartment, with some complicated but accurate explanation of what was happening. Feeding him information so Mulder could act accordingly.

Could it be possible that, in reality, Krycek had been on the same side as them the entire time? Some niggling loose threads began to take shape in the back of his head. The illness both he and Krycek experienced. The talk of the vaccine. He just couldn't weave them together yet.

"Kim, why did he put the nanocytes in my system?"

She sighed. "I suppose I should be honest with you about that. There were two reasons. One, he didn't want me to have to go to bed with you again. He...he hated when it came to that."

Skinner could appreciate that sentiment. The thought of Sharon in bed with another man would have driven him insane. Part of why he'd been so shocked when she had come to him after he'd slept with the prostitute was that he couldn't believe she was able to put that aside and still want to comfort him. He knew he wouldn't have been able to do the same, if the situation had been reversed. <God, I'm so sorry, honey. I'd do it so differently now if I had the chance.>

"What was the second?"

She swallowed, and glanced back at Krycek on the bed, then squared her shoulders, as if making a decision. "I need to give you some background first. The Syndicate has been trying to both serve and resist for a long time, almost twenty-five years now. As time progressed in creating a vaccine to prevent infection, other, more modern technologies emerged. The nanocytes, while horribly painful when activated, create the carbon block in the blood that is necessary to fight against the virus. It was still in its early stages of development when the Syndicate fell apart, but it has proven to be effective, because once the virus has been pushed out, the machinery will immediately lower the level of carbon back to an acceptable, healthy range. So anyone with the nanocytes in their blood stream is sure to survive the alien attack."

She continued. "As I said earlier, both of us have a lot of respect for you. Alex is the one who told me that you were a soldier in this invisible battle, and that more than that, you were and are a leader. So by putting those inside you prematurely, not only was he able to manipulate you if he needed to now, he was ensuring that you would be able to continue your role of command in the war that would inevitably follow colonization, if he was unable to prevent that from occurring in the first place. He said that you were the best man for the job."

My God. Of all the strange, abnormal, out-of-this-world events and situations that Walter Skinner had almost come to expect from the X Files, he had never, ever foreseen that Krycek was trying to save his life. Not in a million years would he have believed it.

If it hadn't been Kim who was telling him this, he probably still wouldn't. But the conviction and brutal honesty in her voice couldn't be denied.

"But...why didn't he inject himself with the same device?" Walter was desperate to understand the entire picture, and there were still some missing sections.

"He was only able to steal one sample. He debated who to inject it into for a long time. At first he considered me, but I refused. I wasn't willing to survive the holocaust without him. And while I'm smart and capable, I couldn't lead an army. And Alex...Alex is a soldier. He'll fight to the death, but someone following him?" She shook her head, a sweet smile on her face that he didn't recognize. "Probably only I would. Of course, he also didn't want to live without me, as much as I couldn't without him. So finally he settled on you. I was surprised as you are now when he said it. He'd hated when...I couldn't believe he was able to get past that, and still want you to survive. God knows I didn't feel that way about Mari--"

She stopped herself, but Skinner knew who she'd meant. Marita, Mulder's former contact. Her body had been fished out of the Potomac two months ago, a single bullet to the brain determined as the cause of death. He didn't think Kim was the one who'd shot her, but at this point it didn't matter to him. Apparently he'd been right about that too. There had been a sexual connection between Krycek and the blond. Not that he cared if Krycek had pulled the trigger, either, he realized with a start.

He had to leave, to absorb everything he'd just heard, and decide what, if anything, he was going to do about it. He touched Kim's cheek lightly, feeling the warmth of her skin for the last time. Then he leaned over her, and pressed his lips to her forehead, in a perfect imitation of what she had done to him the last time they'd made love. A gesture of farewell.

"Thank you for telling me this. Now go be with your husband. He needs you to help him fight, more so than I ever did."

She looked astonished, then her eyes softened and she smiled warmly at him.

"Thank you Walter."

As he walked out, he knew he'd never hear her call him that again. He hoped he could live with it.

FOUR DAYS LATER

When Alex finally opened his eyes for real, he felt as if he'd slept for a hundred years. Once he'd heard Scully say that the virus had disappeared entirely, he'd surrendered to the sleep he'd been resisting for the eight long days the battle had raged within him. He'd gone under so fast he hadn't been able to do more than squeeze Kim's hand through the glove that separated them before he crashed.

But he felt incredibly rested now, although still groggy and slightly disoriented. The isolation tent around him had been removed, and he looked around the room quickly for his wife. Much to his surprise, she wasn't there, but he did have a visitor. Mulder sat in the chair she'd been using, a baseball cap on his head, and a friendly smile on his face.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty finally awakens," he wisecracked.

Alex wiped his face with his hand, and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to shake off the last vestiges of his deep sleep.

"I feel more like Rip Van Winkle right now. How long was I out?"

"Well, you've been unconscious for ten days. But you mean regular sleeping, right?" At Alex's nod, he finished, "Two days."

"Where's ah,..."

"Kim's sleeping in a room down the hall. She wouldn't leave the hospital, but Scully insisted she rest once you were in the clear. I told her I'd go get her once you woke up for good." He paused. "You're a lucky man, Krycek."

<Tell me about it.> "So are you, Mulder."

Alex started to shift, to try to get out of the bed, and Mulder stood up to help him sit upright. "Did you know I'm going to be a father?"

Alex stopped when he'd gotten his legs over the side of the bed and looked at his former partner/nemesis thoughtfully. Mulder seemed to have returned to his more mature self, but there were still some lingering effects of his trauma. His voice wavered, like a little boy, and the fact he wasn't trying to beat him up as per usual was strange but also reassuring, in a way. Apparently they'd come to a truce while he was comatose. Not that he was complaining.

"I heard. Congratulations."

"Thanks. I'm pretty excited about it, especially since I assumed it wasn't possible. Kind of like you, huh?"

Alex chuckled. He guessed Mulder had been in the room when Kim had talked him through the pain. Frankly, it didn't matter to him who had heard her. Not anymore. "Yeah, kind of like me. Can you help me get up? I want to go wake up Kim myself."

Mulder held out his hand, and Alex took it to get himself on his feet, but his legs wobbled so he sat back down fast. It was going to take some time for his strength to fully recover.

"You want me to carry you?"

He looked up at Mulder again, who seemed serious about the suggestion, and Alex laughed in surprise. Déjà vu all over again. "No thanks. Let me rest here for a minute."

Mulder shrugged and sat back down on the chair. "Okay." Then he smiled. "You know, I used to have a little crush on her."

"On who?"

"Kim. I'd try to come up with excuses to go see Skinner, just to catch a glimpse of her on my way into his office. Man, did he think I was pestering him. He thought I was even more of a nuisance then than now." Then he laughed, and Alex found himself smiling at the image. "But that was before Scully came to partner with me. After that, well, you know."

"When you meet the one, everybody else fades into the background. I know that feeling very well," he replied instantly. If he didn't know any better, Alex would swear he and Mulder were bonding. How utterly bizarre and yet completely natural it felt.

"Yep, that's right. I think it was the red hair."

"What do you mean?"

"I think my crush on Kim was a premonition of some kind. So when I met another red-haired woman, I'd know that she was the one. That she was my destiny."

If Mulder was talking about premonition and destiny and other paranormal stuff again, he was definitely on the road to recovery. A road Alex wanted to be on badly. Starting now.

"I think I'm ready to try again. Let's go so I can tell my wife she's my destiny."

Mulder wrapped his arm around Alex's waist and led him slowly down the hall. On the trip, they passed Scully, who watched them approach with a skeptical look in her eye. She only nodded at him, and gave Mulder a quick kiss on the cheek as Alex stopped them both in front of her. He had something he'd been wanting to tell her since he had arrived.

"Thank you for everything Scully. I appreciate your help."

She looked him over coolly. Apparently the cease fire was only between he and Mulder; Scully would always be cautious toward him. He wouldn't expect any different from her.

"You're welcome. I, ah...I want to thank you for finding Mulder and bringing him back. I figure saving your life, just this one time, evens the score."

Fair enough. He nodded and started to walk again, with Mulder's assistance. Skinner stood outside Kim's room, but he stepped away from the door without a word. Alex had heard his discussion with Kim while he was comatose, but wasn't prepared to get into any of it with him at the moment. First things first.

When he got inside the room, and Mulder had closed the door behind him as he left, Alex was struck by the largest sense of déjà vu of the entire episode. Kim lay curled away from him on the bed, her red-gold hair spread across the pillow. She was dressed, unfortunately, but not necessarily for long. He spooned around her on the bed, and felt her stir against his arm and chest, burrowing herself against him as she awoke.

"Honey, I'm home," he whispered. "But I didn't get a chance to pick up the milk."

She turned her head so she could look at him, and her eyes were damp, but shining ecstatically. "Where've you been?"

"Down the hall, stuck under some plastic tent."

"Oh, well you're not much of a Boy Scout anyway. I'll bet you never even earned a single badge when you were a kid."

They both laughed lightly, and he leaned in for a kiss. For the rest of his life, he would remember the soft sob of happiness mingled with relief that she emitted when his lips touched hers. It echoed through him like hope. An emotion he only ever felt because of her.

He pulled away from her mouth when he felt a tear slide onto his finger as he cupped her face. "You can cry now, honey. I'm here."

"No, I'm all done crying. But I am so glad you're home."

"Me too. I love you, Mrs. Krycek."

She smiled, and twisted her body so she faced him. "Ditto. Is it really over, Alex?"

He thought back to the fire that he'd watched in Russia. The Rebel aliens embraced a scorched-earth policy that was very effective in their situation, so he was certain there hadn't been anything left of the place, even after he'd collapsed. And during his search for Mulder, Alex had learned that all of the locations that had been used for the conspiracy had been destroyed or abandoned.

There were still some former abductees with implants around, like Scully, but beyond that, all the plans, the bees, the clones, the testing places, everything that had been so carefully created and preserved by the Syndicate, it was all gone. If colonization was going to occur, it wasn't going to happen in his lifetime, or even his children's or his grandchildren's. It would take the aliens centuries to re-build their efforts. And if that wasn't the case, then he would make sure to include in his lessons to his sons and daughters how to be effective resistance fighters.

"Yes, honey," he answered truthfully. "It's over."

And there was that sweet smile that made his bones melt. "Good," she said with a laugh. "Because I haven't been back to the apartment in over a week, and I left something there."

"My ring?"

"No. My birth control. And I know that look in your eye. I can tell you're just about to make love to me. So you've been warned, we just might make a baby if you do."

He nuzzled her nose, Eskimo style. He'd have to count to confirm it later, but it looked as if she might have a few new freckles. "I certainly hope so. But if we don't, we've got all the time in the world to keep working on it, until we get it right."

Then he kissed her, his tongue slowly filling her mouth, and he realized just before his body took over the thinking for his brain, that maybe Mulder wasn't so off-kilter in his ramblings after all. Kimberly Cook Krycek *was* his destiny.

He was where he was meant to be. Alex Krycek was home for good.

THE NEXT MORNING

When Walter Skinner unlocked the door and let himself into his outer office, the silence that greeted him seemed more unnatural than usual. Kim hadn't been back here since that first day, and he wasn't expecting to see her now, especially since Krycek had been released from the hospital yesterday. Skinner had come in irregularly during the last two weeks to check his email and to keep up to date on other pressing cases and matters, but this was his first full day of work since Mulder had been returned.

There was a flatness in the air that he couldn't quite put his finger on. He stopped at Kim's desk, and nothing looked any different, although it was difficult to judge. She had never kept any personal effects there, unlike a number of other staff members. No silly cartoons, or plants, and now that he knew why, of course no photos of loved ones.

He turned and unlocked his own office door, and the atmosphere in there seemed even more depressed. The first rays of the early morning sun were peeking through his half-drawn blinds, and dust motes floated and shimmered in the thin strips of light that he passed through on the journey to his desk. In the middle of his blotter sat a plain envelope and a small package underneath. The rest of his desk remained as he had left it, a large pile in his in-box, and his laptop closed and turned off to his left.

Skinner sank into his chair and opened the letter first. Addressed to him, it was brief and all business. He read it swiftly, and his heart dropped to his shoes. He'd half- expected it, but seeing the words in black and white still gave him a deep jolt of loss.

Kim's resignation letter, effective today.

After a minute, he refolded the letter and placed it in his in-box. Then he studied the package. A clean interoffice envelope with a small bulge in the middle. There was no indication on the outside of the sender or the receiver. When he unwrapped the string in the back of it from the fastener, he peered inside and found that he wasn't surprised by the contents. At least not by one of them.

Another blank envelope, which he hadn't expected, and a small electronics device, which he had. He slid both out, placed the larger envelope and the device carefully on the desk, and began to read the letter. There was no salutation or signature, but he recognized her tidy handwriting instantly. Too many years of "While You Were Out" pink slips on his desk couldn't allow him to think it was from anyone else.

"I know you told me that I could remain at my post, but it will be better this way. I still believe that my actions were justifiable, that I tried to do what was best for everyone, and I hope that you can agree with that. But I've waited a long time for this opportunity, to embrace the future we've all worked so hard to achieve, and now I can, so I'm taking full advantage of this chance.

"As you can see, we've given you something that is rightfully yours. The ability to control your own fate, and to prevent any further pain for yourself. Keep it in a secure place; in the wrong hands, it could be very harmful to you, as unfortunately you've learned. But we both feel that by giving it to you, we're placing all of our futures in the right hands. *Yours*. We've done our best to change what at first seemed inevitable to something more tenable, but if for some reason we've failed, then both of us have the utmost faith in you, that you will be able to lead the army out of the darkness. And if that never occurs, I hope that you will take a chance like I am, to find the happiness you so richly deserve.

"You asked me once how I was able to accept the future, and although I told you the truth, I didn't finish my answer completely. The main reason I was able to accept it was by cherishing the present, taking each precious moment in both my hands and living every day fully and totally, with no regrets. And yes, he taught me that. It's what I wanted to teach you as well.

"You are a remarkable man, and I know if you let yourself, you could find someone that would benefit from that lesson. You would benefit too. There's a wonderful world out there waiting to be explored and enjoyed, and it's all within your reach. While I never met her, I know your wife loved you deeply, as you did her, and this isn't the way she would have wanted you to go on without her. I only hope someday that you can forgive yourself and take that next step."

Walter finished reading, and folded the letter before he put in on his desk beside the nanocytes machine. After a moment, listening to the empty silence of his office, he leaned into his chair, and looked at the wedding band on his hand. He didn't need to take it off to read what was inscribed on the inside. He'd stared at it a thousand times before, until it felt as if the words were engraved on his soul.

'Love forever, Sharon.'

<How long did forever last if the person you'd made that promise to was gone?>

He sat there, pondering the question, and thinking about the future. As he did, he noticed to his right the pattern made by the blinds against the sunny spot on the carpet. It looked like prison bars.

He stood up then, and planted himself in front of the window, where the strips of light reflected onto his chest. Perhaps Kim was correct; he was in a prison of his own making, and it was time to be released. He looked at his hand again, and slowly took off his ring, placing it in his pocket with a wistful smile on his face.

Then he took the cord of the blinds and lifted them, letting the sun shine on him fully, without any shadows. Walter Skinner looked out the window for a long time, watching the sun rise, and he faced the coming day. For the first time in years, it seemed like a gift, waiting anxiously to be unwrapped and appreciated.