Season Six:
Episode 14

The woods surrounding a lake
Western Maryland
5:35 am

"Get up!"

The order was delivered into near darkness. A dimly lit figure stands. With difficulty. He's holding his left arm at an awkward angle. Broken, he thinks. Suddenly, a bright light is shined directly into his eyes. As he moves his head, the light seems to follow. More likely, it's more than one light. He doesn't know. There is quite a bit he doesn't know at the moment. Like where his is. Who he is with. Concentrate he tells himself. Focus on the voice. You know the voice.

"You are here to be reminded of some undisputed truths. You cannot hide from us. You cannot run from us. You will not disrupt our plans in any significant manner. You are nothing more than an errand boy. Regardless of whatever delusions of grandeur our colleague may have inspired in you."

"The First Elder," Alex Krycek realized.

"You may be able gain some advantage over some of our less experienced operatives ... for a while. The others know your tendencies ... and your weaknesses all too well. Unfortunately ... for you, our people are too well placed and too well trained."

Alex Krycek concentrated on the image he wanted to project. Stand up straight. Posture relaxed. Squint the in the direction the First Elder's voice was coming from. Politely attentive. No fear. No uncertainty. No fatigue. No pain. He had no idea how he was doing, but instinctively knew his strategy was the correct one.

"There's something you should remember, Alex. One man cannot fight the future. Especially a man like you, who has sold his soul to the highest bidder. I'd like you to consider carefully what it has bought you this time."

Krycek sensed movement, but couldn't see it. The light was too bright. No amount of squinting helped. Suddenly, the light diminished. When his eyes adjusted to the dimness, he could see the tableau before him. As soon as he registered the scene, he fervently wished for the light to return. Krycek wasn't sure exactly what was going to happen, but he was certain that he didn't want to see it. However, he sensed that looking away would only make matters worse.

Gibson Praise was standing next to the First Elder. Gibson glanced first at the older man on his left and then at the younger one at his right, the one with the gun, before focusing on Alex. In a clear strong voice, Gibson said "They wouldn't do this if they believed what they said."

Angrily the First Elder gestured at the younger man. He holstered his gun and broke both bones in the boy's left forearm with a quick brutal movement. Gibson Praise screamed and fell. Without thinking, Krycek moved toward the fallen boy. He'd almost reached Gibson before a young man in a black suit struck Krycek's injured arm with a blunt object. Krycek welcomed the pain, even though it caused him to pause briefly. It helped to focus his anger.

Seeing that his smaller colleague had not succeed in deterring Krycek, a larger black suited man moved to assist. Between the two, Krycek was effectively restrained, as another suited man picked up the now whimpering Gibson. Two well placed body blows then immobilized Krycek momentarily, allowing the men to fade into the darkness.

Assistant Director Walter Skinner slowly closed the file on his desk. Alex Krycek had gone missing. Again. And Skinner had lost eight agents in the process. Such losses could not be tolerated. The Bureau had descended upon the former safe house en masse.

Skinner had another problem. Three of his agents had been at the scene about the time that all hell had broken loose. The Bureau was asking some difficult questions. Fox Mulder and Dana Scully had a number of documented reasons to seek revenge on Krycek. Could the lust for revenge have raged out of control? Skinner thought the notion absurd, but couldn't stand in the way of the investigation. Spender was alternatively deemed their unwitting accomplice or the puppet master, manipulating Mulder and Scully for his own purposes. The young man's meteoric rise in the FBI had garnered him some enemies.

To make matters worse, the three had begun investigating the situation before local police or other agents arrived. By the time the "proper authorities" were on the scene, Mulder had developed a theory. His thesis, although dutifully noted by a member of the investigative team, was being ignored. "A smoke screen," some people thought. "A product of a sleep-deprived (or borderline psychotic or badly deluded) mind," thought others. "A fantasy." "Vintage Spooky." Skinner had heard them all, after arriving at the J. Edgar Hoover Building.

During the course of the investigation, the meeting that had taken place between Krycek and five FBI agents, including Skinner himself, had been revealed. Skinner wasn't sure how the Bureau would view that convocation of personages. Krycek had received a full pardon. He also had personal knowledge and experience with individuals and situations bearing on open FBI case files. A Bureau effort to obtain the cooperation of such an individual was certainly understandable, if not laudable. That was how Skinner had rationalized the meeting in the first place. He knew that Mulder and Scully had needed to see Alex Krycek for very different reasons. It had seemed like a good idea at a time. Now it had all gone to hell. That was par for the course for Skinner these days.

Unpleasant musings were interrupted by the ringing of his telephone. It was an outside line. Normally, Skinner would wait for his secretary to answer it. Today, he was eager for a distraction. "Yes," he said as he raised the receiver to his ear.

"Mr. Skinner, I trust you remember me," was the reply. Skinner recognized the voice. It was the man he knew only as David. Skinner had seen he and his sidekick (or perhaps it was the other way around) Russell twice. Once at the J. Edgar Hoover Building. Once at a well known Washington DC restaurant. The former involved a surreal conversation, while the latter constituted only the delivery of a round of drinks and a hand written note. Skinner had shared the content of that message with no one, but realized that it had influenced his evaluation of Agent Scully's request for the meeting she had arranged with Krycek.

When Skinner didn't deny his statement, David continued. "My colleague and I are greatly disappointed. In these uncertain times, a gathering of the sort you participated in last evening must be planned and executed with the utmost care. Utmost. Care. Failure to do so has resulted in eight casualties and our present precarious circumstances."

Skinner wasn't sure what to say when David paused. He certainly had not appreciated the rules of the game. His revised view couldn't help the six men and two women in the morgue. The Assistant Director was further discomfited by David's assertion that they were somehow in this together. A better understanding of his predicament was something that Skinner firmly believed would be a double edged sword.

"Are you still there, Mr. Skinner?"

Startled out of his reverie, Skinner replied sharply, "Hanging up mid-lecture wouldn't be polite."

"Or particularly prudent. Please understand that we cannot afford a loss of focus at this crucial juncture. The Xfiles must be investigated. Thoroughly. Agents Scully and Mulder cannot be diverted by these unfortunate events, either to investigate the matter themselves or by a Bureau inquiry. Neither can you. Russell and I have seen to it that there will be no negative repercussions arising from your contact with Krycek."

"How?" Their note had hinted at an ability to influence decision makers at the Bureau. On this topic Skinner wanted more information, regardless of the assurances that David so glibly made.

"We have, over the years, rendered certain ... services. Through those efforts, we have established relationships with individuals who are in a position to assist us in this situation. That assistance has been requested and promised. We have no reason to believe that those promises will not be kept. Is that sufficient?"

Skinner didn't miss the impatience in David's voice. "Would it matter if I said no?"

"No." David paused briefly, almost daring Skinner to interrupt again. "We must also discuss the ramifications to the unaffiliated party. Alex Krycek will return Mr. Skinner, because his enemies have underestimated him. They will not continue to do so. If your people err again, it will mean his life. At this point, we can't afford to lose him. Is that clear?"

To his surprise, Skinner noted David's anxiety and anger. Under the circumstances, a simple reply seemed best. "Perfectly."

"Good. Krycek will extricate himself. What must be attended to are the difficulties involving your agents. The problem, as Russell and I see it, is the lack of evidence of forced entry, signs of a struggle or eyewitnesses. We understand that your Agent Mulder has come up with a theory that would accommodate all of those elements. Unfortunately, it is predicated on nothing more than intuition and deductive reasoning. No physical evidence. The story of Mr. Mulder's life, I understand. And given his somewhat tarnished reputation, his analysis has been ignored. As we discussed it, a strong possibility suggested itself to Russell and I. Consider, Mr. Skinner, where and why a man might take off his gloves and what he might touch."

As he listened to the click severing the connection and the subsequent dial tone, Skinner had to admit that David had a flair for the dramatic. Considering the man's advice, Skinner opened the file folder and turned to the page where the investigator had recorded Mulder's thoughts on what had occurred. Changing his mind, the Assistant Director closed the file and picked up the audio tape of Mulder's interview. Finding it, Skinner retrieved a cassette player. He wanted to hear it from Mulder. The Special Agent's voice filled Skinner's office.

"It was a quiet night. And it was very late. Consequently, the three agents stationed outside the house must have been silently eliminated by a team of at least three, probably four to six assailants. Otherwise, one of the agents would've been able to initiate radio contact. Or the entire neighborhood would've been awake when Scully, Spender and I arrived. I expect that no dispatch unit will have a record of any radio transmissions from the safe house. And when we got there, all was quiet. We didn't know anything was wrong until we went in and saw Agent Wasden sprawled in the foyer."

"After dealing with the agents outside, I believe the strike team would've split up into two groups. They'd enter through the back and front simultaneously, overpowering the single agent stationed at each entry point. Again, silently. Two groups, say two or three men each, could search the first floor of the house quickly. The agent reading an old copy of The Shining would've been an easy target. Finishing their survey of the first floor, they would move to the second, with one team covering the other until both attained the higher ground. Then one group would move left and the other right."

"The team locating the two agents, stationed on the second floor to watch the street in front of the house, should've had trouble. They didn't. That suggests that at least one of the agents was asleep. With only one of the agents capable of reacting, two men could proceed silently with relative ease. The group locating Krycek wouldn't have relied on their advantage of surprise, his fatigue or anything else when they moved to take him. Alex is dangerous. They would've brought a tranquilizer gun or some other device allowing them to administer the appropriate drugs without getting too close. When they were sure he was out, they'd approach and remove him."

Skinner considered. The only reason he could see to remove gloves would be perhaps to check Krycek's pulse after drug administration. What else would they have touched though? Something in the bedroom? What was there besides the furniture? Skinner was sure that had been dusted for fingerprints. Krycek's suit jacket? His tie? Yes, they might've picked up the tie, contemplating whether to secure his hands with it.

Before he could dismiss his notion as Fox Mulder-ish, Skinner called the fingerprint man assigned to the investigation.

Alex Krycek was waiting, trying to pretend that his arm didn't hurt. He was at Heathrow airport, outside of London England, waiting for the daily Concorde flight to JFK. He was also waiting for an associate. The Russian was late, as usual. Krycek had allowed for that in his planning. Although he hadn't anticipated a delay of this length. The first boarding announcement for his flight had already been made. Alex forced himself to remain in the boarding area, trying to relax and appear to be merely waiting patiently for his row to be called.

"Alexi, how are you?" a voice whispered in his ear. A genuine laugh followed, as the man observed Krycek's startled movement, which included jolting his casted left arm against the arm rest of his chair. "I am getting stealthy in my old age, am I not?"

His pride told him not to ask, but pragmatism demanded it. "How long have you been there Boris?"

"About three minutes. And don't refer to me by that cliched Russian name my mother insisted on. You know I prefer Vladimir. It's so much more intriguing, don't you think?" The old Russian was smirking at Krycek, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. Only a very careful observer would've noticed that a small package that had been on the older man's side of the two rows of seats that faced away from each other was now on Krycek's.

"Ok. Vlady it is." Krycek casually picked up the package and placed it in the pocket of his new black leather jacket. When Dana Scully had presented it to him as one of her shopping spree purchases, he had maintained that it could never replace his battered and worn one. His lucky jacket. Now he wasn't so sure. Returning his thoughts to the present, and maintaining "Vladimir's" light tone, Krycek inquired, "How's your grandson's hockey team doing?"

"Quite well. They would fare a bit better if the league's pucks were of higher quality. Then their superior passing skill could be used to better advantage."

"Need some of the "made in Canada" variety?" The younger man smiled as he stood and picked up his small carry on bag.

"You know it. Bring some with you next time." The old Russian stood as he spoke and moved to Krycek's side of the row of seats, his look of concern not consistent with his otherwise carefree manner.

"Sure," Krycek muttered as the general boarding call was announced for the Concorde flight. "Thanks. I owe you."

"Indeed. I may even live long enough to collect. See that you remain sufficiently healthy to pay. Good luck, Alex." The last exchange was serious, although the actual words were not. The older Russian gave Alex a kiss on both cheeks, before pushing him gently toward the gate. Krycek took a step in the direction indicated and saluted smartly. The older man nodded. "Don't forget the pucks."

Krycek turned, approached the gate and, without looking back, offered the airline employee stationed there his ticket and passport. She smiled, told him his first class seat number, and watched him as he moved past her toward the plane. When he found his seat and stowed his luggage, he found a stewardess. "Excuse me," he began. The young English woman smiled at him encouragingly. "My medication requires refrigeration. Could I impose upon you to ..." As his voice trailed off, he favored her with a shy smile and gestured toward the galley.

"Certainly Sir," she replied, her smile broadening. "We want your flight on the Concorde to be completely enjoyable. We can't have you worrying over your medicine."

"Thank you." Krycek, smiling more confidently, handed her a vial containing a black, oily substance. Seeing her startled expression, he added. "It doesn't taste as bad as it looks."

Fox Mulder was frustrated and bored. He, Scully and Spender had been placed on unpaid leave, pending the results of the investigation of the carnage at the safe house. Mulder had laughed at the young agent who informed him of the decision. That agent had not appreciated Mulder's cheerful response. "I've had more opportunities to kill Alex Krycek than you've had girlfriends. The first time was probably right about when you started shaving."

Before the young agent could retaliate, Scully had come to the rescue. Handing Mulder his laptop computer and several files, she had smiled at the young agent. "Stress," she pronounced, as she prodded Mulder to increase the distance between himself and the agent he had tried so hard to pick a fight with. "I'll see that he gets home safely ... and stays there."

"Thanks for the offer, Agent Scully, but I'm supposed to ..."

Scully was still smiling. "If you feel you have to, you can watch both of us from the comfort of an unheated car in this downpour. That's fine. I'm taking him home."

"Any luck Mulder?"

Fox Mulder started at the sound of Scully's voice. She had come out of his kitchen with a beer for him and some tea for her. Realizing that he'd been daydreaming instead of continuing their research, Mulder sheepishly grinned at his partner. "Just reviewing your virtuoso performance in freeing me from Agent Werenka. I don't think I've properly thanked you for that, Scully."

"You're welcome, Mulder," she commented, as she sat next to him and returned her attention to the computer screen. They had been reviewing open Xfiles to determine where to focus their efforts. Katarina had convinced Scully of the importance of their investigative efforts. Scully's eloquent arguments had persuaded Mulder.

"We've got the open question of the bee," Mulder began. "By the way Scully, where did you put your bee sample?"

"You mean you never noticed the small vial in the back corner of your freezer?"

"I haven't used my freezer since 1991."

"Then there's plenty of room for evidence." Scully met Mulder's sidelong glance head on. Mulder looked uncertain. Off balance. Reluctantly, he stood and moved toward his kitchen. When he looked back at Scully, she grinned at him. "Have a look."

As he left the room, Scully focused on the computer screen. There was another Xfile concerning bees and small pox. Mulder had flagged that one. He had also flagged any and all Krycek-related Xfiles. Alleged alien activities or artifacts also figured prominently in Mulder's selections. Scully wasn't sure she agreed.

Using a different symbol, Scully also selected the Xfiles relating to the bees, Jeremiah Smith and the black oil. She then searched the files for any Xfiles relating to or taking place in Russia. Using a third symbol, she flagged those. Given Alex's Russian connections, who knew how many of those might be significant.

Mulder returned to the living room, shaking his head in disbelief. Looking over Scully's shoulder, he noted her additions to their analysis. "You anxious to see the Flukeman again Scully? You're full of surprises this evening." Mulder wasn't sure what to think. Scully was here. They were working together. Reasonably well. But something was different. Something he couldn't identify. Something in addition to the evidence that she'd secreted in his freezer of all places.

"Cutting a fluke in half isn't the end of its life story, Mulder."

"Do you think we'll get to see the end of this story, Scully?"

Scully met Mulder's eyes without hesitation. Her affirmative nod was both encouraging and frightening.

"Fools!" Cigarette Smoking Man shouted as he slammed down the telephone receiver. The First Elder had just blithely informed him that he had found a use for "that snot nosed boy" and demanded that Cigarette Smoking Man attend a meeting of the full Consortium. Gibson Praise had presented a unique opportunity. Properly motivated, which clearly would've been possible given Krycek's relationship with the boy, he could have made a significant contribution to the Project. The First Elder had not specified that he had used the aforementioned "snot nosed boy" in some sort of power play involving Krycek. Cigarette Smoking Man could make the connection between what Agent Spender described as Krycek's mysterious disappearance and this newest bit of information.

In some ways, Cigarette Smoking Man was looking forward to seeing what the man from Tunisia had to say about the Consortium's current strategy and their implementation methods. However, he did not want to embroil himself in their battles. Cigarette Smoking Man had successfully positioned himself on the Consortium's periphery. Staying close enough to gather necessary information and exert influence on events and distant enough to avoid the backlash. For the most part, his strategy had been successful. Unfortunately, he had not been close enough to prevent the alienation of the uniquely talented boy. Sighing, Cigarette Smoking Man exited the Pentagon and moved toward his car. He was somehow not surprised to see Alex Krycek leaning against his left front fender. He hadn't expected a cast on the young man's arm. At one time, the Consortium, and their operatives, had been above such petty assaults.

"Hello Alex. Cigarette?"

To Cigarette Smoking Man's surprise, Krycek accepted his offer. He didn't think the boy smoked. Cigarette Smoking Man merely filed this tidbit of information away and went about the business of lighting both cigarettes. Alex inhaled deeply. He was staring at the Washington DC skyline, rather than looking at Cigarette Smoking Man, when he spoke. "I'm going to hurt them. They may think it's you. I don't care if you deny it, but stay out of my way."

Cigarette Smoking Man noted Krycek's intensity with approval. The ploy with Gibson seemed to have galvanized the man into action. "If it suits me, I will comply with your request."

"It wasn't a request." Under other circumstances, Cigarette Smoking Man would've chalked up Krycek's statement to bravado. Alex psyching himself up. Giving himself something on which to base some selective memory. This was different. Cigarette Smoking Man's attention was dragged back to the situation at hand by Krycek turning to face him with a look on his face that Cigarette Smoking Man couldn't classify. "On a related matter, I've got to meet with Jeff Spender. He's got some information for me. Seems like a nice kid."

When Krycek spoke Jeff's name, Cigarette Smoking Man had ceased to breath, but he made every effort to simply observe Alex with a bland expression and continue smoking. Just when Cigarette Smoking Man thought he had himself under control and was reasonably certain that he had given nothing away, Krycek looked him squarely in the eye. "They know," the younger man informed him. There was no doubt in Cigarette Smoking Man's mind who "They" were and what it was that They knew. All of his precautions had apparently gone for naught. He grudgingly nodded in acknowledgment. "They're just waiting for the best moment to use that relationship against you."

"Why are you telling me this?" Cigarette Smoking Man was aware of a certain irony to his question. Fox's mother had asked it of him just a few days ago. "All things considered, you've no reason to warn me."

Krycek smiled tiredly. "Someone once told me that I might find a use for you in the future. I think that day is coming."

Cigarette Smoking Man could imagine the Brit telling Krycek that. Cigarette Smoking Man had suspected that the Englishman had seen potential in the young man currently facing Cigarette Smoking Man, and had sought to influence him. "If the Consortium had struck at me through Jeffrey, your task of interesting me in your activities would've been easier."

Krycek had thought of that, but had almost immediately dismissed it. "I'm not so sure. They're more likely to do it and try and implicate me. Then sit back and let us destroy each other."

The two men stared at each other for several moments. Each smoking. Cigarette Smoking Man broke the silence. "Perhaps détente can be achieved."

"I think that's one thing they're afraid of actually." Krycek was smiling, but his eyes were cold.

The expression on Cigarette Smoking Man's face was remarkably similar. "If they aren't, they should be."

Skinner counted himself unaffected by Krycek's disappearance. However, that event had thrown his agents for a loop. Without Krycek, Spender was at loose ends with regard to his investigation of the files currently resident on his laptop computer. No amount of string-pulling or coercion would persuade the military to release the relevant missile launch codes. Spender had also had no luck with regard to determining the password that protected the files.

Oddly enough, Mulder and Scully seemed almost equally concerned about Krycek's disappearance. Mulder wanted his information. The much sought after "truth". Scully wanted .... Skinner wasn't sure what Scully wanted, and was even less sure that he actually wanted to know. These musings would have to wait. Mulder and Scully were late for their briefing, but Skinner could hear them in the outer office conversing with his secretary. Denise always led Mulder to believe that she accepted his lame excuses. Skinner didn't understand it, but she informed him that it seemed to improve Mulder's spirits.

Agent Mulder preceded Agent Scully into his office. Neither agent met his gaze. Sighing, Skinner made a mental note to look a bit closer at their interaction. He had a few ideas as to how he might accomplish that task. "I've already informed Agent Spender, and the two of you should know that you have been exonerated of any culpability in the deaths of our agents or in the disappearance of Alex Krycek.

"How?" Skinner had expected some modicum of relief from Agent Mulder. What he got was mild to moderate irritation.

"An application of your analysis Agent Mulder. It seems that Richard Montiplan, who had broken parole six months ago and disappeared, considered tying Alex Krycek up with his own neck tie. Unfortunately for Richard, he decided against it."

Mulder and Scully began speaking at the same time.

"Is he in custody? When can we speak with him?

"Where did he take Alex? Has he confessed?"

Skinner held up his hand for silence. "Armed with Mr. Montiplan's picture, agents canvassed a four county area. Eventually, they traced Mr. Montiplan and his colleagues to a hotel in Manassas. A team was sent in. The incident report submitted by Agent Naughton indicates that Richard and his companions were not willing to come quietly. They died in the ensuing altercation."

At Skinner's mention of the agent in charge, Scully and Mulder exchanged knowing glances. The Bureau was taking care of their own. Revenge would never be admitted. Neither would they admit that removal of all of the witnesses was highly detrimental, if not absolutely fatal, to determining who hired them and why.

Skinner knew what conclusions had been drawn by his agents, and sought to change the subject. He needed to get them focused on the future (for his own purposes that happened, conveniently as far as Skinner was concerned, to coincide with Russell and David's). "Agent Mulder, with regard to the Xfile you investigated in Columbus Ohio, I thought you might be interested to know that Robert Collingsworth was killed in an automobile accident driving home from his office at the University of Virginia. He had only been at his new post for two weeks."

"They're covering their tracks," Mulder opined confidently. Any other accidents of note with regard to other folks we interacted with? Dr. Broadford, perhaps?"

"No accidents with regard to Elaine Broadford, Agent Mulder. She did, however, attack her lover with a meat cleaver, claiming that he was spying on her. A stay in a psychiatric institution appears to be in her future."

Mulder was looking vindicated. "I told Fowley and Spender that there was more to it than met the eye," he assured Scully. Dana Scully smiled somewhat wanly in acknowledgment, but otherwise made no comment.

"Is there anything else Sir?"

Skinner looked at Dana Scully with concern. Maybe arguing against a full psychiatric evaluation was a mistake. She had been unusually introspective of late. Something was wrong. "Yes Agent Scully. Some unusual phenomena have been observed in the vicinity of Skyland Mountain. Lights in the sky. Strange sounds. That sort of thing. These events probably wouldn't have garnered much attention at all, if it weren't for last year's tragic events. I'd like the two of you to investigate. The details are ..."

"That's strange," Skinner thought, as his secretary began to buzz him incessantly. She never interrupted a meeting, unless there was an emergency. In that situation, she would interrupt personally. "Excuse me," he muttered as he approached the door, pausing to draw his weapon before opening it slightly. Mulder and Scully exchanged concerned glances and drew their weapons in support.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, sir," his secretary began, gesturing helplessly at the man sitting on the corner of her desk. Alex Krycek was in full regalia. Black leather jacket, gray t-shirt, black jeans and black boots.

"That's quite all right, Denise," Skinner assured in his most comforting tone. "I'll take over from here." Turning to Krycek, he added, "Where've you been, Alex?"

"Here and there," was the terse response. "You have a moment?"

"Sure Krycek," Mulder spoke from inside Skinner's office. "Scully and I've already gotten our marching orders."

Skinner chose to ignore the look that crossed Alex Krycek's face before he suppressed it. Ruthlessly. It looked like ... grief. Krycek followed Skinner into his office, keeping his attention focused on Skinner. "What happened to your arm?" Mulder asked, with more than a hint of spite in his tone.

"No permanent damage. Sorry to disappoint you Mulder." After responding, Krycek vowed to re-focus on Skinner and what he needed to do. Despite his best intentions to the contrary, he glanced at Dana. As he did, Alex's thoughts turned to Gibson Praise. Knowing that his expression must have shown something, but not sure how much, he wondered how to proceed. He had planned to finish his business with Skinner first. Nothing was going like he anticipated.

Scully saw the look in Krycek's eyes. She had seen it before. He looked angry and determined and ... vulnerable, despite having donned his tough guy wardrobe. Concerned, Scully approached and briefly examined Krycek's casted arm. Satisfied that it had been taken care of and uncertain of what else was wrong, she took Alex's right hand in both of hers. He tried to smile and failed. Miserably. Neither Scully nor Krycek saw the look that passed between Skinner and Mulder, as both men moved to flank Alex, ready to leap to Agent Scully's defense. "They hurt him," Alex whispered. "He's just a kid, but he stood up to them. For that and to prove a point to me, they broke his arm too. Seems someone has a penchant for symmetry."

Scully drew back slightly, as Krycek stopped speaking and began studying the floor. "Gibson?" He nodded, not trusting himself to speak in the face of the horrified expression on Scully's face.

Skinner was unwilling to accept Krycek's explanation at face value. "Who are "They" Alex?"

Krycek's response was ... relieved. Skinner had led the conversation back to where Alex had intended it to start. "The group these two refer to as the Consortium. The people responsible for much of what's happened to them. The people I've been tasked to replace." Krycek took a deep breath, before continuing. "I could use a little ... cooperation." When Skinner neither commented nor interrupted, Krycek pressed on. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going. I wasn't followed to the rendezvous point. I'm sure of it. That means that someone at your end disclosed my location."

"No one knew except those that attended the meeting," Skinner replied to the implied question. "Agents assigned to the safe house had none of the details."

"That means nothing really," Mulder added, applying himself to the problem, forgetting for a moment that the problem was Alex Krycek's. "If someone was expecting a meeting of the sort we had, the participants from our end would have been enough to set off alarms."

"They couldn't have expected him to stay at the safe house," Dana stated intensely, as she glanced first at Mulder and then at Krycek.

"I'm not sure it matters," Krycek offered. "I'm looking for a way to deliver a message and generate some uncertainty. Some information. Some disinformation. You know the drill. With all due respect, I think the FBI's a good conduit. What do you say?"

"I'll consider it," was Skinner's response. "So long as we're kept informed to a reasonable degree. Your contact with the FBI will be Agent Scully. It would be the expected communication channel given what the two of you have been through. If you don't already know her telephone and cellular numbers, get them. She and Agent Mulder will be investigating some atmospheric disturbances in the vicinity of Skyland Mountain over the next few days."

None of those in the room missed Krycek's involuntary start at Skinner's last statement. "Got a problem with that, Krycek?" Mulder inquired.

"No, but I doubt you'll find anything."

"Why's that?"

"Because I don't think whatever's causing your atmospheric disturbances wants to be found at the moment."

"Why not save us the trouble and enlighten us? That way we can catch up on our paperwork, and I won't miss the Knicks-Bulls game tomorrow night."

"Since a likely explanation for an atmospheric disturbance is an unusual weather pattern, you'll want to check out the abandoned weather station. Nothing there will have anything to do with atmospheric disturbances. You may be surprised at the implications of what you do find though."

"You ever get a straight answer out of this guy, Scully?"

"Sometimes. Alex, why do you need an information conduit?"

Krycek frowned. Leave it to Dana to return to the topic he did not wish to explore further. "I'm about to do some things that will upset some people. They'll draw conclusions about what I'm up to. If they receive certain information in a particular way, they'll reach the ones I want them to."

"You hurt them. And they hurt Gibson. Isn't that the idea?" Scully faced Krycek, her anger apparent. "He's just a boy, Alex. You can't do this."

"He so much as told me I had to, Dana. And he's right."

"Unless I'm not following, Krycek, it seems that the Consortium is expecting you to "hurt" them professionally. Preventing them from getting access to certain information. Foiling their efforts to eliminate the remaining members of Katarina's organization. That sort of thing. You, on the other hand, seem like you're considering something a bit more personal. Closer to home. The message being that Gibson is off limits."

"Not bad, Mulder. I'm going to do both actually."

"An assault on two fronts. Keep them guessing. Makes sense."

"Gives Kat's people something meaningful to do. And stirring up the pot will appeal to Katya. Then I'm going to scare them."

"What scares those people?"

"I don't know, Mulder. A black oil ... or two? A stock market crash? A swarm of bees? A scratch in the new Mercedes Benz? Exposure to green bodily fluids? An unauthorized military coup? Any number of things, really."

Mulder was actually smiling, as Krycek recited his list of scary things. "How many of those are within the realm of possibility Alex?"

"All I need is one, Mulder. Well, two if you count the Mercedes thing. After that, I'll have some space and time to work with. To get ready for Phase II."

"What will you do for an encore?"

"Don't know yet," Krycek replied with a grin. "You have any bright ideas, let me know."

Skinner and Scully had watched the two men converse, as though they were talking about something mundane. Car Repair. College football. During their discussion, the guarded tension that seemed a part of every Krycek/Mulder encounter had dissipated. For the first time, Scully saw that dynamic between them that had convinced Mulder that his young, naïve new partner by the name of Krycek was ok.

Skinner cleared his throat. At the sound, the two younger men turned toward the others. Skinner noticed a folder on his desk. "Oh, I almost forgot, I got a copy of the print out from Spender's computer files. Very interesting reading. Agent Spender insists its encryption, but I think he got this from area51.com. He'd like to work with you on it."

Krycek nodded, took the proffered envelope and moved toward the door. "I'll be in touch. Enjoy Skyland Mountain."

Scully watched the door, even after Krycek had exited through it. Mulder approached Skinner. "Are you crazy? You practically gave him carte blanche to use the FBI for his purposes. Nothing I've ever done matches that."

"Agent Mulder, I promised nothing. I gave nothing away. I've kept all of my options open. It's a strategy I recommend highly. The world is getting more complicated all the time."

Fox Mulder stared at Walter Skinner with his mouth open. "Close your mouth, Agent Mulder. And make yourself useful at Skyland Mountain."

Marten Hatchir, aka Ambition Boy, reviewed the report in front of him. Krycek had gone to England. He'd met with a number of people there. Some old contacts of the Brit's. His solicitor. His barber. His butler. When Marten's people reported that Krycek had booked a return flight on the Concorde, Marten had made his move. He delivered the order to execute the plan he'd code named "Big Bang".

An operative named Roger had approached Krycek in the bar of the hotel where he was staying and sat down at his table. Smiling at Krycek coldly, he had described the situation. "An amount of dynamite sufficient to destroy a small military installation has been placed in the basement of a large manor house. Detonation is controlled by a simple timer. The timer is set for ...," the operative had paused to glance at his watch and to observe Krycek's reaction to his narrative.

Alex Krycek had been listening. His body tense. His eyes haunted. His entire being had communicated the thought that "This was not supposed to happen."

The operative had been satisfied. "... three minutes from now. The occupants of the house will have no chance. So you see, Alex, the future generations that your English mentor wished you to provide for will not live to see tomorrow." With that, the operative had stood, watching as Krycek put his head in his hands. Krycek had not looked up. After a few moments, the operative had turned to go with a final comment. "Sleep well Alex."

Marten approved of Roger's parting comment. The thought of that twist of the figurative knife in Alex's back diminished the sting of losing Krycek upon his return to New York City. That and the certainty that his prey would surface before too long.

A young woman of about 23 or 24 was seated on a black leather couch in a starkly furnished living room. Her hair and eyes were dark, and she was dressed all in black. She appeared to be contemplating something as she sipped a glass of red wine. Smiling wickedly, she looked up and spoke to her companion. "I like it. It honors my mother's memory. Thank you for this opportunity."

"The timetable is precise. Will that be a problem?" Alex Krycek was something of a contrast to his companion in blue jeans and a white button down shirt.

"Contrary to popular belief, Alex, I can be prompt." The young woman rose from the couch and approached with an impish smile. "For this, I will be. I promise."

"There's no excuse good enough. If you're not where you should be, you'll answer to me. If you're still able to answer to anyone."

"And, if I execute your plan flawlessly, will you answer to me?"

"Depends on the question, Katya."

"Doesn't it always?"