Season Six:
Episode 4

A military compound
Somewhere in Canada
6:57 pm

The members of the Consortium (minus the man from Tunisia) are gathered together in the observation room from where they had observed Well Manicured Man test the vaccine that he obtained from Krycek on Covarrubias. They are looking down at the scene below and at one another. The mood in the observation room is palpable to the observer. The men of the Consortium look impatient and angry. The restless movements of their eyes and their appendages could be mere manifestations of that impatience and anger. Those motions might also connote an underlying emotion. Fear. Basic primal fear.

The First Elder observed his colleagues thoughtfully. Something must be done. The stress of waiting and wondering was fraying already raw nerves. The Consortium had not yet recovered from the necessary elimination of one of their number. It was only the second such occurrence in the Consortium's history. And now, this debacle had occurred.

The cause of this consternation is lying on a hospital bed, attended by three physicians (of various specialties). Alex Krycek had been unconscious since he had been returned to them. The resulting lack of information was an unacceptable state of affairs to the First Elder. "Wake him. Use whatever means necessary."

The physicians were startled by the sudden command issued over the intercom system. "We don't know what that would do to him," one of them stated. "It's too risky."

"We decide what level of risk is acceptable. I thought that was made perfectly clear." The First Elder looked at the more junior member of the Consortium who had spoken. Support from that quarter was unusual. Highly unusual.

The physicians looked at each other, and one of them selected a stimulant and a syringe. Sighing, he approached the patient and injected the stimulant into a an IV port located at the inside bend Krycek's elbow. His left elbow.

Special Agents Mulder and Spender were in Assistant Director Skinner's office. Upon receiving the summons and seeing Spender there upon his arrival, Fox Mulder had assumed that another Scully videotape had been received. Now he wasn't so sure. Skinner looked from one Special Agent to the other and then down at two file folders on his desk. "It has been suggested that the two of you work together on two matters, pending some lead with regard to Agent Scully's location." Skinner was not surprised to see shock, chagrin and near hostility from both men.

"By whom?"

"By persons who are in a position to make such suggestions, Agent Mulder. Moreover, I would be personally grateful if you could see your way clear to direct your attention to these matters, as one of them involves me."

"Sir?"

"It is all in the files, Agent Mulder. As for you Agent Spender, I believe that you might benefit from working with Agent Mulder. He may even be willing to help you with your unsanctioned search for your mother."

"Sir, I'm not..."

"Of course not. Now gentlemen I expect you to devote your time to the matters of Ms. Covarrubias and the four immunologists. Progress reports would be a nice change, Agent Mulder. You may go."

Mulder got up from his chair wondering what Walter Skinner had to do with either case file, and what had happened to Marita Covarrubias after her mysterious disappearance from a roadside telephone booth. That helped him keep from wondering about Scully or who had suggested a Spender-Mulder investigative team.

Special Agent Dana Scully was bored. At some level, she knew she should be scared or concerned or something like that. She wasn't. She was really bored. She had been held now in a single stark room, with attached bathroom, for almost nine days. For all but part of one day, she had been alone.

As if someone had realized that she had had quite enough time alone with her thoughts, the door opened. A young man with a cheap navy blue suit entered the room. The vertical striped red, white and blue tie completed the ridiculous ensemble. "Come with me please."

"Polite anyway," Scully thought as she moved toward the door.

Spender and Mulder were in Assistant Director Skinner's apartment. Neither man was sure what they hoped to find there, but something would be required. The initial examination by an evidence team had turned up nothing. No extraneous finger prints were found. Not even Marita Covarrubias'. That struck Mulder as strange, but did not seem to overly trouble Spender.

"It is unlikely that she went anywhere other than this room, except for maybe the bathroom," Spender postulated. "If those that took her did a once through for their prints, they removed hers as well."

"Two questions. Wouldn't they have worn gloves and why were Skinner's found?"

"Maybe they did. Maybe they were trying to eliminate any evidence that Ms. Covarrubias was here. As for Skinner's prints, they were found only on items situated at the room's periphery. You know, areas unlikely to be entered in a quick extraction scenario."

"Or by Marita, if Skinner's recollections of the evening are accurate," mused Mulder. "She comes to the door, extremely frightened. You be her."

Special Agent Spender sighed and moved to the foyer. "I'm not going to offer you sexual favors for protection, Mulder."

"But if you were, you'd move closer to me. And if I were Skinner, I'd back up a few paces, turn and steer you to a part of the room where I could dictate how close you'd get to me." Both men looked at Skinner's couch, coffee table, easy chair arrangement. "The couch?"

"I think so. Either there or the kitchen, but the AD said she stayed in this room. So I would sit here." Spender sat at the end of the couch closest to the easy chair. "You'd sit in the chair and try to calm me down."

Mulder sat where indicated. "Then I'd offer you something. Probably a drink of water or something stronger. I'd go into the kitchen, and you...you would.... Well, if you were going to hide something, now would be the time."

"If I did, it would be somewhere that I could reach or almost reach. I'd have no idea how long you were going to be gone." With that Spender and Mulder began an earnest examination of their immediate vicinity. At the other end of the couch was an end table with a plant on it. Both men approached it. Spender lifted the pot and water catcher (Skinner had used a small plate). Nothing. Mulder stuck his fingers in the dirt. Nothing.

Convinced that their reasoning was awry, Spender surveyed the room again. Mulder stared at the plant. Suddenly, Mulder lifted the pot only. On top of the plate, folded once, was an envelope. "What have we here?" queried Mulder.

Cigarette Smoking Man was smoking, and looking at Alex Krycek's still form. His vantage point was a smaller observation area situated to the right of the bed and slightly elevated. The Consortium members were in the large one directly overhead. The smaller room suited Cigarette Smoking Man. Besides, the smell of panic put him off.

When the order to wake Krycek had been given, Cigarette Smoking Man made a decision. Calculated risks had been part of his life for so long that cost/benefit analyses were nearly instantaneous. "It will be interesting to see if this particular gamble pays off," he thought as he heard the door open behind him. Without turning, he exhaled and said, "Good evening Agent Scully. I thought you might be interested in this."

Dana Scully mastered her shock quickly. Then her eyes followed Cigarette Smoking Man's gesture toward the observation panel. "What are they giving him?" she asked.

"Some sort of stimulant or combination of stimulants, I imagine. Alex has had the poor manners to keep some impatient and self-important men waiting. His allotted time for unconsciousness has regrettably elapsed, regardless of the nature or extent of his injuries."

Something struck Scully as odd about the scene before her, but she couldn't identify it. Still, examining the room for the anomaly was better than having a conversation with Cancerman. "Must be meet your enemy month," Scully thought with a slight smile. That smile disappeared when she realized what she had just seen. A doctor (well, person that Scully assumed was a doctor) had just administered whatever stimulant that he was using via an IV tube in Alex's left arm. Alex hadn't had a left arm much below the shoulder when she saw him last. "His arm?" Scully found herself turning toward Cigarette Smoking Man for an explanation.

"Surely you have encountered something similar before. Friends in the Social Security Office, perhaps?"

Scully didn't get a chance to reply. Cigarette Smoking Man, suddenly more alert, moved toward the observation panel. Scully followed and saw that Alex Krycek had opened his eyes and was looking around the room. The look on his face was one that Scully had never seen on him before, and one that took her a moment or two to identify. At that moment, Krycek looked lost.

"Steady, Alex."

Scully glanced at Cigarette Smoking Man, wondering at the note of concern she had heard in his voice.

The room was brightly lit. The lights were in his eyes, so he could see nothing clearly. He was strapped down, and it seemed to upset some people if he tried to get up. It hurt his head as well. Not to mention most of the rest of his body.

What happened to me? Why am I here? Where the hell is here? Wait a minute. One thing at a time and first things first.

Alex Krycek's thought process was interrupted by a guy in white with a stethoscope (ok - a doctor) leaning over him. "Mr. Krycek? Alex? Can you hear me? If you can hear me, nod your head."

Alex nodded, and thought "Alex Krycek seems to be the answer to the "who am I" question. Why can't I remember anything?"

"Just relax now. You've been through some trauma, and some disorientation is normal. It is nothing to be concerned about."

Alex hadn't realized how tense he was, until the doctor commented on it. With an effort, he tried to relax. He couldn't stop the flood of questions in his mind though.

"Ok. Now, can you speak? If you can't, don't worry..."

"Yes," Alex answered in a voice much raspier than normal. "My throat is dry though."

"Ok, a glass of water coming up."

The First Elder noticed that the patient was focused on his doctor, and didn't see the little boy who approached from the corner of the room. Gibson Praise had been stationed there for one purpose. The Consortium wanted to know what Alex Krycek was thinking. Preferably they could get that information before Krycek could assert conscious control over his thoughts. His disorientation played into that strategy quite nicely.

"Gibson, what can you tell us?" the First Elder asked into a microphone that had a receiver embedded in the set of headphones that the boy was wearing.

"I'm not sure. He doesn't seem to be thinking about anything." The boy's voice, picked up by the microphone attached to his shirt collar, was calm and matter of fact, albeit a little puzzled. "If I were him, I'd be thinking about a lot of stuff."

"Is this their way of telling us that they know of Gibson's capabilities?" one Consortium member asked with a hint of panic in his voice. "Can they know that much?"

"More likely that whatever happened to Krycek had some influence on his brain function. It wouldn't be the first time something like that has happened."

"Marleton again," the First Elder considered his new found vocal supporter. "I must investigate this further." Aloud he added "Perhaps the boy is being less than honest. My men indicated that Krycek seemed to get along well with him."

"Regardless of what they know about they boy, they repaired the man's arm--Why?" another member of the Consortium asked in a contemplative tone. None of the men in the observation room offered an explanation.

"What is the child up to?" Marleton asked, directing (or perhaps diverting) the attention of the Consortium members to the scene below.

Gibson had walked up to the bed and sat down on the edge. "Alex, are you ok? You look kinda sick." Gibson didn't add "and kinda scared", but he thought it.

Krycek looked at the kid (who he was sure he had never seen before), and drank some of the water that the doctor had given him. "I don't feel that bad, but I don't remember much." Krycek didn't particularly feel the urge to disclose that he knew his name only through its use by others. That made him feel vulnerable. He didn't know why that bothered him, but he knew it did. Very much.

"Gibson!" Agent Scully exclaimed. "What on earth...my God, you want him to tell you what Alex is thinking. You would use that little boy..."

"Not me, Agent Scully. I am merely an observer here, as are you. Gibson has been deployed by others."

"Whoever is trying to use him won't be successful, at least not right now."

"Why is that?"

"Look at him. He is completely disoriented. His reaction to his own name was delayed. He's not even sure who he is, much less what happened to him on that quote-unquote mission. Right now, Alex is thinking much more basic thoughts."

Cigarette Smoking Man nodded. Scully's observations were consistent with his own. Perhaps she could be more useful than he had anticipated. Further conversation was interrupted by the First Elder's command to the doctors. "Put him under. Now."

"Mistake," murmured Cigarette Smoking Man. Scully was about to ask why when she noticed Alex Krycek's reaction. Gone was the lost expression. Before unconsciousness overtook him, the survival instincts had kicked in and the expression on his face was far more familiar to her. The man that wore that expression was formidable.

The document in the envelope was a letter, apparently generated on a computer and printed with a laser printer. Mulder had the letter out of the envelope before Spender could react. "Mulder, wait! That's evidence. We need to ..."

"Jeff, where's your sense of adventure? Let's see..." Mulder grinned as Spender approached quickly to read over his shoulder.

Marita,

I am very very disappointed in you. After all I have done for you, you repay me with betrayal and ineptitude. When your benefactor took a bullet, who did you turn to in a panic? Me.

What did I give you? Protection. Money. Information. Helpful suggestions (such as cultivate the handsome Agent Mulder) and advice (do not overtly, or even covertly, directly oppose the men you "work" for). Only very little did I ask in return (information on a certain research program). Only one favor did I ask (cripple that research program using the information provided to you by me).

What did you do? You took my protection, my money and information that did not come cheaply or easily, and returned...what? Little information and even less action, except that you managed to find the time to expose yourself for the manipulative whore that you are.

Not to worry, Marita. I have taken it upon myself to dismantle the research program in question. We will discuss these matters when we next meet.

Katarina

"So how cultivated were you Mulder?"

"Barely sown, Spender."

"Seriously, Mulder," Spender began while fighting a grin. "Why would she hide this here? What would Skinner, or anyone else for that matter, get out of it?"

"Don't know. However, I'm always curious about coincidences. The other case we're investigating deals with four immunologists that turned up dead. The loss of four key scientists could cripple a research program, don't you think? Also, I've had some recent contact with bees carrying viruses and associated vaccines. Marita Covarrubias might have been involved somehow."

"A research program in vaccines could involve immunologists," Spender offered.

"Looks like we're going to Pennsylvania and Ohio, after we check in with Skinner to see whether there's anything new about Scully."

"Fine."

"Spender, are you really looking for your mom on the sly?"

"Drop it Mulder. Just drop it."

Cigarette Smoking Man and Agent Scully had been watching a flurry of activity in the medical suite. The doctors appeared uncomfortable with the situation. They particularly were uncomfortable with the number of people in the room and with the fact that several of them were hovering over the patient. A man carrying a clipboard pulled a chair over next to the bed and sat down.

"Who are you?" one of the treating physicians asked.

"Psychologist. Wake him up, please."

"Look. We can't keep this up. His system won't take it."

"Fine. I will make the men upstairs aware of your position. When they have dealt with you, I'm sure one of your esteemed colleagues will administer the appropriate drugs."

"Forget it, Jeremy," said a second treating physician. "I'll do it."

Never taking his eyes from the scene in front of him, Cigarette Smoking Man asked, "Is there any danger?"

"Without knowing the results of the tests that they have undoubtedly run, I don't know," Scully replied. "Those doctors think there is though, and I see no reason to doubt them."

For the second time in about an hour, Alex Krycek's eyes opened. The same bright lights were in his eyes, but the restraints holding him in place had been removed. Also, there was a guy sitting beside the bed looking at him like he was some sort of specimen.

"Mr. Krycek, I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Who are you?" Alex asked as he maneuvered himself into a sitting position.

"I'm Doctor Kaspar. I am a psychologist by training. My area of emphasis in my practice is memory disorders. May I proceed?"

"Yes."

"These questions are designed to discover how large the gaps in memory are. First, did you know your name prior to hearing others speak it?" An affirmative nod. "Do you recall the little boy who was in your room earlier?" Another affirmative nod. "Do you know who he is?"

"No."

"Now I'm going to show you some photographs. Do you recognize any of these people?"

Krycek looked at the photographs and tried to suppress a rising tide of panic. He forced himself to look carefully at each one. The pictures showed Well Manicured Man, Cigarette Smoking Man, Fox Mulder, X, several members of the Consortium and a few minor celebrities. With a sigh, he finally had to answer, "No."

Assistant Director Skinner looked at the determined woman and frowned. "Are you certain about this Diana. You can take some more time if you need it."

"Sir, I need to work. I'm going crazy at home. I think even my fish want me gone."

Skinner smiled slightly. "I can always used experienced agents; however, I don't have a partner for you at the moment. We could wait until the academy class is ready..."

"And stick me with some wet-behind-the-ears rookie agent. No thank you. I'd rather work alone."

"I am a firm believer in the partner system. Believe it or not, Mulder and Spender are working together, and blood has yet to be spilled. If you worked with them, we might be able to avoid body blows altogether." Skinner watched Diana Fowley's reaction to his suggestion carefully. Her past relationship with Agent Mulder could tip what had to be a delicate balance between the two men. Her careful consideration pleased him, as did her reply.

"I'll certainly give it a try, but if I'm doing more harm than good, I'd like an alternative other than someone fresh out of the academy."

"Fair enough, Agent Fowley. I'll see what I can do."

"Excuse me, Mr. Krycek. I'm going to have to step out."

Alex watched the doctor leave and then examined his surroundings. Looked like a pretty fancy hospital room to him. "Might not be so bad if they turned the lights down a little," he thought as the door opened. In came the kid that had been here earlier and a pretty blonde woman. As he looked curiously at them, the woman smiled broadly and practically ran across the distance between them.

"Alex. Thank God you're all right. They wouldn't let us in. Well, Gibson snuck in, but they hauled him out again. They said he tired you out. How do you feel? When can you come home?"

"Home?" was all Krycek managed before the woman started kissing him. It seemed to Alex that they had kissed before, although he had no certain recollection of it. There was no awkwardness. No butting noses or banging teeth. When she sat back and looked at him, her happy, relieved countenance transformed to one of concern.

"Alex. You remember me, don't you? I know the doctor said you have amnesia or something related to the stroke, but...Alex? You must remember. I mean, after all..." The woman stopped suddenly and took a deep calming breath. "Alex, its me. Marita." When his look of confusion was not replaced by something else, she reached across his body and took his left hand in hers. "Your wife."

Alex Krycek (as well as Cigarette Smoking Man and Agent Scully) looked at his left hand. A somewhat battered wedding band adorned the relevant finger.