Season Six:
Episode 20

A private sanitarium
Upstate New York
6:27 pm

Cigarette Smoking Man was troubled, both uneasy and nervous. His instincts were telling him that something was significantly amiss. The report in front of him indicated that there were no problems or situations demanding Cigarette Smoking Man's attention. That report flew in the face of the near hysterical tone of a telephone call that Cigarette Smoking Man had received the previous day from a doctor who was conveniently "out sick" today. That incongruous combination raised Cigarette Smoking Man's hackles.

There'd been problems in the past -- problems that should've been anticipated ... and avoided but weren't. Some of the major ones were allowing Fox Mulder to access the previous facility and providing an opportunity for him to interact with the clones and to develop some interesting theories based upon those interactions. Theories that, of course, were never proven. But Mulder had seen the males that were trying to help and protect the women whose DNA they shared thereby demonstrating their affection for their "mothers". After the security breach, the facility had been shut down. The physical plant destroyed by an explosion and the ensuing fire. All record of it had been removed.

They'd moved the boys, as the scientists insisted upon calling them, here, hiding them among the severely mentally disturbed patients until an analysis of their behavior could be conducted and a recommendation made. They would either be used according to the original strategy or destroyed. A contingency plan was in place. Not much would be lost, if release was impossible or ill advised, yet Cigarette Smoking Man wanted to be certain that the correct decision was made.

From what he'd observed thus far, Cigarette Smoking Man was more likely to suggest "deactivation" of the scientific staff seeing to the clones, rather than the clones themselves. These university-proclaimed doctors of something or other were dangerously over confident at best and downright irresponsible at worst. They were clearly blinded by something. Whether it was ambition, misplaced affection for their charges or something else, Cigarette Smoking Man didn't know or care.

What he did know and care about was that they couldn't see what was right in front of them. The Kurts defied direct orders, and their "masters" made excuses for them. If Cigarette Smoking Man heard the phrase "Boys will be boys," one more time, he'd shoot the speaker without hesitation along with anyone who nodded in agreement. Cigarette Smoking Man knew that these clones were imbued with something very much like "free will." But ... they were supposed to have some fail safe baseline behavioral programming akin to the deep conditioning undergone by double agents on long term assignment. They either didn't, or they had found a way to override it. Either was unacceptable, but Cigarette Smoking Man could fix that problem. He'd have to "fix" the scientists as well. There was no way around it.

Sighing, Cigarette Smoking Man began the mental exercise of reconfiguring this facility and the personnel manning it. However, he also had another reason for his visit -- a more distasteful one from his perspective. It was a task that he tried not to think about as he moved down a long corridor with patient rooms on either side. The Consortium had requested that he check in on Marten. The catatonic figure, motionless in the padded cell into which Cigarette Smoking Man reluctantly stared, bore little resemblance to the man they'd nicknamed Ambition Boy.

Special Agent Diana Fowley was sitting on what was once an operating loading dock in an abandoned warehouse in Fairfax Virginia. She'd arrived well before the appointed time that early evening to reconnoiter, to think and to consider her situation. This contemplation was conducted only to the extent she could without additional information. She expended no further effort; it would serve no purpose.

Faced with a wait of indeterminate length - her contact was already late - Diana began a differently focused analysis. She turned her attention to the people that would either aid or stymie her efforts. The personalities involved in an operation were key, a detail that many in her profession ignored until events had proceeded to a point where it was simply too late to effectively manage any unexpected personality-driven situations. Her ability to anticipate at a personal level was central to her success and was one of the reasons, although far from what her employers considered the most relevant, that Fowley had been approached.

Since acting was central to her modus operandi, Diana thought of operations in terms of acts and scenes. The cast had been too large, so it'd been whittled down. Spender was gone. Poor Jeffrey, he was too young, overly ambitious and ultimately vulnerable. There had been so many buttons to push. The options for his elimination had been many and varied. Some things were just too easy. Her unique talents would have been wasted without more of a challenge. Fox Mulder could prove to be what she needed in that regard, she thought, as could Dana Scully. In many respects, the female half of that partnership was the stronger. Diana had already begun exploring how to play one against the other, relatively straightforward to do but satisfying nonetheless.

Marita Covarrubias had finally outlived her usefulness, a state of affairs that had taken way too long in coming in Fowley's view. Her perspective was one that certainly wasn't shared by Walter Skinner or Fox Mulder but, unless Diana was badly mistaken, Alex Krycek would shed few tears over the blonde. Fowley wondered why. Given their histories, Alex and Marita were natural co-conspirators, fully capable of providing the plot twist within the matrix of machinations that the Consortium and Cigarette Smoking Man had constructed. Why hadn't they? Or if they had, what went awry? Marita had hinted at a sexual relationship and an unforgivable mistake. Water under the bridge?

That left the four main characters and herself, of course, a self-proclaimed narrator. For this particular story, Fowley felt that a narrator was necessary to provide context for the action and to cue the actors. They couldn't be left to their own devices or trusted to be in the right place at the right time. The timetable had been set or so she'd heard. If so, then the die was cast and all that remained was to see what remained standing when it was all over. She supposed it was only fair to ask whether the intrepid foursome could influence the roll in any significant manner. Having an idea of what they were up against, Diana Fowley didn't like their chances.

Fox Mulder -- the diversion. Everyone assumed that Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI golden-turned-into-leaden boy, would be the central figure in the drama. The choice "Resist or Serve" was presumed to be his up until only about a year ago. It was then that the questions had begun. Was he strong enough? Committed enough? Clever enough ... in the manner that counted? Uncertainty led to nervousness which, in turn, led to a series of tests. They'd spent much of the last year profiling the profiler.

Show him his sister -- grant him the culmination of his life long quest. His reaction had been unexpected. There had been no increased influence over him by Cigarette Smoking Man, who had given him what he'd always wanted on a silver platter. Nor had his commitment to the XFiles altered in any significant way. Status quo was not what had been anticipated. So they had thrown a few more interesting phenomena his way. He'd reacted indifferently, with an almost clinical detachment. His burgeoning depression, loss of resolve and absence of focus demanded that they call in the big guns.

Alex Krycek had succeeded in engaging Mulder's attention, albeit briefly. Mulder had gone to Wiekamp Airforce Base and participated in a historic event, although he could remember none of it. The Well Manicured Man had continued the effort, hampered somewhat by the repetition in tactics insisted upon by his colleagues. Must save Scully. Again. They didn't realize that all that was required for Mulder to regain his edge was for Scully to believe unconditionally just once. That would have given Mulder something to build on and more firmly entrenched Scully in his world. Diana wasn't sure that Scully's unconditional acceptance of any paranormal phenomena was within anyone's power, unless they'd upgraded her implant substantially. Still, if Mulder needed belief, he'd get it. Diana could supply whatever dose was required. He'd appreciate it, even though she wasn't Scully. And that wasn't all Diana intended to provide to Fox Mulder. He didn't look like he'd gotten any since Diana'd left, poor baby. He was slated to be the red herring -- a role he'd played admirably before.

Dana Scully -- the skeptic. Could human science adequately explain the events to come? Could Dr. Scully accept the cold hard facts, even if what they "proved" was outside of her belief system? Could she be convinced to do so? By Mulder? Emotional appeal seemed a likely route for him, everything between Fox and Dana was highly emotionally charged. By Skinner performing the ultimate in leadership by example? Skinner was something of a hard ass, but his mind was relatively open for an FBI Assistant Director. By Krycek? He'd appeal to her intellect for as long as he could, but the prize would be won or lost on a more physical playing field, whether Alex liked it or not.

Fowley's analysis was based upon her own psychological profile of Dana Scully. When Fowley had agreed to return to Washington D.C., she'd read everything she could get her hands on regarding Fox's cute little female partner -- from her official FBI file to the many unofficial records kept by various interested parties. It had been fascinating reading in a strange sort of way, Scully had led a sheltered life, protected by her father, her mentor, Skinner and Mulder. Even Krycek was showing some of those tendencies, although the greater similarity in age and their increasing closeness tempered the impact of his actions. Scully had been protected, with a few notable lapses, for quite some time, at least with respect to the kinds of things that she'll be exposed to in the very near future.

Diana had also watched many hours of surveillance video, focusing on Scully's interactions with Mulder in the basement office and her mostly solitary time at home. Her choices had stumped the archivists. They'd anticipated that she, like all the others, would be primarily interested in "the action bits" -- the hearings surrounding FBI and Senate inquiries, the myriad of XFile investigations, her "abduction" and the subsequent experimentation, her few sexual encounters, since teaming up with Mulder and her little more frequent solitary forays into physical satisfaction. Fowley could imagine the interest that those particular tapes engendered in the typical hired gun. They'd certainly looked pawed over when Diana had taken possession of them. Some people other than Agent Scully didn't get out enough.

Dana Scully was lonely and striving for independence as well as information relating to certain XFiles. For all Fowley knew, the younger woman mentioned these items whenever she bowed to her Catholic traditions and prayed. Alex Krycek could well be the answer to those prayers, although Fowley believed that such a response was clearly the work of a vengeful Old Testament God. Diana firmly believed that Krycek was currently capable of devastating, or at least seriously damaging, Scully psychologically. And the fool woman seemed both willing and determined to put her head on that particular block. "No accounting for taste," Diana murmured aloud, swinging her legs in annoyance. Where was the contact?

Walter Skinner -- the offering. Skinner interested her, as a tragic figure. He was the man in the middle, trying desperately not to take sides and do his job the best he can without making too many waves until retirement with a full pension. Diana found that brand of devotion to his job fascinating. It had destroyed his marriage, severely damaged his self esteem, robbed him of his self respect and challenged his belief system, particularly with regard to the investigations into the XFiles. The worst aspect of his situation appeared to be the politics he was required to play and the men and women with whom he was forced to associate. Skinner knew that Cigarette Smoking Man was a player, acting in opposition to the efforts of Mulder and Scully. He also knew that there was little he could do about it.

Scully had made a place for herself in his affections. That he was attracted to her Fowley had no doubt. She'd studied Skinner's files and surveillance tapes as well. Diana was also certain that he'd never act on that impulse. His respect for Scully was too great, as were his insecurities. Walter Skinner was shy, clearly not appreciating what his strong personality and deep voice could garner for him in the female arena. His ex-wife had made sure of that, rather definitively. Fowley was convinced that Marita Covarrubias was onto something. It was unfortunate for Skinner's psyche that they'd taken her from him so soon. Marita's style had been to build up the men she was with initially. It would have done Skinner some good. There was no way that they'd have let Marita live long enough for a situation requiring her to tear him down to arise. Covarrubias had never been able to resist such an opportunity.

Skinner's affection for Scully made his fence sitting more difficult, but he'd come to terms with it somehow. But the determinedly neutral card wasn't in the deck that they were now playing. He'd have to make some choices. With enough subtlety, he could make it appear that he was maintaining his neutrality for a while. After that ... all bets were off. The real Walter Skinner would have to stand up for all the world to see. Fowley very much wanted to be there to witness that. It would be ... enlightening ... in more ways than one but futile. Diana believed that Skinner's role was to be limited to making a gesture in support or denial of what Mulder and Scully were working toward.

Alex Krycek -- the wild card. Mulder, in finding and beginning to investigate the XFiles, had furthered an agenda -- one of some forty odd years standing that set in motion a chain of events that would culminate as a matter of grave historical ... and anthropological significance. Scully and Skinner had been in this mess since that fateful day when she'd been assigned to be Mulder's partner and he acquiesced to it. The blue-eyed, innocent scientifically-minded ingenue was viewed as someone who wouldn't threaten Fox Mulder but would challenge him intellectually. Skinner had inherited Mulder from his predecessor. The directive about Scully's assignment had come shortly thereafter. Skinner had requested to be allowed to interview other candidates. That request was denied without explanation. Skinner dropped it, the first of many such acceptances. Where did Krycek fit in?

Diana Fowley didn't believe the story that Mulder had relayed -- that of the "other" partner who had betrayed his trust on an amazingly continuous basis, even after their partnership disintegrated. It didn't wash or make any sense, really. His skill set didn't match that of a young FBI agent in over his head. There was nothing wrong with his acting ability, however. As far as Diana could tell, Skinner, Mulder and Scully still bought the cover story despite all that had happened. Fowley also suspected that Krycek wasn't supposed to be in the game at all at this stage or at this level. Someone had altered the plans. But who? And why? Maybe it all went back to his English mentor and his mysterious excursion into the desert. Something, perhaps women's intuition, suggested to Diana that there was much more to it than that. Was that what Dana Scully sensed? Or did she know what Krycek's connection was?

Krycek was who had brought her to this warehouse today, literally, although the man was occupied with activities known only to himself. It was her lack of knowledge about him, the young man entering the game late and the only one of the vaunted four that appeared to know and accept that he was playing for keeps. High stakes games with ever evolving rules were not unfamiliar territory to Fowley. She enjoyed playing, perhaps more so than was typically associated with a completely clean bill of mental health. She smiled thinly when she heard the slight sound of a door shutting far off to her right. Diana merely directed her attention in that direction. Her relaxed pose didn't alter and she didn't draw her weapon. She waited until she heard the same noise again, a bit louder this time.

Convinced that the contact she'd been waiting for had been made, Diana hoisted herself off of the loading dock and proceeded slowly toward the source of the sounds. Her nonchalant stroll seemed out of place in the near darkness and incongruous with the shadows and settling sounds of an abandoned building. Fowley didn't alter her pace, until she saw the file folder resting on an empty crate. Then she lengthened her stride, getting close enough to read the tab. Krycek, Alexander Nicholas.

Dana Scully had just entered her apartment, juggling her dry cleaning, briefcase and groceries. Her keys in her mouth, she moved toward the kitchen, thinking she could make it before she dropped anything. Before she got two steps toward her goal, she saw movement off to her right. Throwing the items she was carrying in that direction and spitting out her keys, Scully reached for her gun. "Hold it," she commanded, fully realizing that if the intruder was armed she was the one at a severe disadvantage.

"You should take better care of your clothes, Dana," Alex Krycek commented, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. He'd caught her briefcase and the groceries, but her dry cleaning lay on the floor slightly to his left.

Scully moved to collect the fallen item. "You shouldn't startle people like that ... Alex". Her tone when she spoke his name made it almost derogatory.

Krycek laughed and lifted both the groceries and briefcase slightly. "Where do you want this stuff?" Scully imperiously pointed to the kitchen. "Yes ma'am," he replied, saluting with the briefcase as he moved past her toward the destination she'd indicated. "Oh, and what's for dinner?" Alex braced for an onslaught that didn't come. No verbal recrimination, witty comeback or smack upside the head. Scully was behind him and ... quiet. Too quiet. His last few steps to the kitchen table were rapid. He wanted his hands free when he turned around. When they were, he did. Dana was not in his field of vision. Realizing that his heart was beating a little fast and he was poised on the balls of his feet, he took a deep breath. "Maintain, Alex," he instructed himself aloud. "She'll have you jumping at shadows next."

"Did you say something?" was shouted from the general direction of the bathroom or bedroom. Not even a slight echo, so she must be the bedroom putting her clothes away. Yeah. Ok. Nothing nefarious, dangerous, suspicious or nerve-wracking. Good.

As he waited for Scully to emerge from her bedroom, Alex examined the contents of the grocery bag and discovered that dinner was likely to be take out of some ilk. Very little appetizing or nutritious could be concocted from laundry detergent, saran wrap, a magazine, some nylons, a pint of ice cream and candles. Candles? Well, that was interesting. "You expecting someone?" he asked, his voice raised sufficiently to carry to the bedroom.

"Mulder," came the reply from much closer. Alex merely nodded, still wondering about the candles. Scully, Mulder and candlelight might've computed for him once but not anymore. However, the team he'd assigned to keep an eye on Mulder and Scully had reported that they'd agreed to meet this evening to compare notes away from the watchful eyes of their FBI colleagues. A perfect opportunity to get Mulder without Fowley couldn't be passed up. Things were moving fast and Alex feared that little margin for error remained. They had to decide what needed to be done ... and do it.

Scully stopped at the threshold of the kitchen and watched Krycek absently empty the grocery bag, as she contemplated his question. "Why? Oh, the candles. I just felt like ... I don't know ... Must be the weather. Rain tends to make me want to curl up next to a fire. No fireplace, so ... Alex? Something wrong?"

As she'd explained, Alex had turned toward her. Then he'd swallowed his amused retort. He'd come here on business, judging it time to reconnect with his FBI contacts. But instead of sitting back and observing the actions of others before committing to any of his own, he found himself contemplating something very different. How could a T-shirt and jeans be that ... sexy? Curl up in front of a fire? Was she kidding? The room was too damn hot as it was. And why was she looking at him that way? Like she expected a reply. Had she asked him something? Great. Smooth, Alex. Real smooth. Recognizing that remaining silent wasn't really a viable option, Krycek decided to make an effort to reorient himself. "I'm sorry, what?"

Dana's smile, both amused and pleased, convinced Alex that she knew the precise path onto which his thoughts had strayed. She caught his eye and winked, as she approached. "I asked if you saw anything you liked, but I answered my own question." Scully wrapped her arms around the man who now had a "deer in headlights" look and frozen posture, and pressed herself close to him. She whispered "In the affirmative" into his chest, and smiled as he relaxed and his arms came around her. They embraced for a few moments, each caught up in their own thoughts and in enjoying the proximity of the other. A pleasant tension was building. Almost as though choreographed, they moved in unison, adjusting to accommodate the height disparity and to allow a very thorough kiss.

"Dana, I ..." Krycek began as soon as he caught his breath, his voice uneven.

Judging that if he had enough air to speak he was fair game, Scully reclaimed his lips with her own, infusing her action with the same intense passion that she brought to bear on all of the things that mattered to her. And he gave as good as he got. Walls came down. Reticence was overcome. Fear was forgotten. Control was a thing of the past for both of them.

Finally, Alex pulled back slightly to look in her eyes when he whispered, "I want you." His deep raspy voice weakened Dana's knees. Their gaze held, both breathing hard. Alex smiled uncertainly, taking a hesitant step backward. Dana grinned and reached for him. He let himself be caught. Laughing, giggling and teasing, they took their time. Scully had just pulled Alex's button down shirt out of his jeans and was contemplating her next move -- unbuttoning versus pulling it over his head -- when the banging started.

"Hurry up, Scully," Fox Mulder shouted, kicking the door again. "I'm losing dinner." Mulder had bought enough Chinese food for an army. He'd had no trouble until he was faced with the task of knocking, which he'd attempted to do with his hand before being forced into adopting his current kicking strategy. Two paper bags of Chinese food in addition to ten reasonably thick case files and two bottles of wine had suddenly become too much to handle, particularly when they started to shift. "Scully!" Mulder could feel the wine slipping from between his right arm and his side. Adjusting to catch them would mean losing the case files and maybe one sack of Chinese food.

Fortunately, the door opened. Scully rapidly assessed Mulder's predicament and, reaching for the wine bottles, she alleviated most of the difficulty. Relieving him of one of the bags of food completed the task. "Never occur to you to make two trips, Mulder?" she inquired lightly, grateful that her partner hadn't seemed to notice the flush in her cheeks or her somewhat rapid breathing. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten that he was coming over. However pleasant, Alex was certainly a distraction. Dana didn't want to contemplate how long it'd been since she'd allowed herself to be distracted to that extent. That would only depress her.

"Efficiency, Scully. Efficiency. You hungry?" Mulder was smiling genuinely, neither a grin nor a smirk. Scully's wardrobe choice was a nice change.

"Starving," came from the kitchen doorway. Both Mulder and Scully turned toward the voice. Mulder didn't notice Scully's sigh of relief that Alex had retucked his shirt, although she wished he would've chosen to exude less of a challenge. His posture and demeanor couldn't be interpreted in any other way.

"Behave, Alex," Scully interjected before Mulder could rise to the bait. Something in her tone must've made an impression, because Krycek relaxed, pushed off of the door jamb with his shoulder and moved a few steps into the living room. Encouraged, she continued, "We need to talk. Not fight. Talk. All three of us." Looking from one man to the other, Scully wasn't yet satisfied. Watching both of them as best as she could, she set the take out on her coffee table and gestured for Mulder to do the same. "Alex, the corkscrew is on the kitchen counter." Krycek inclined his head slightly, smiled and moved to do as she impliedly asked. "I'll get some plates. Sit down, Mulder." With only a slight hesitation, her partner did as she asked. How could he refuse, if Krycek obeyed. The beginning could've been much worse, Dana thought.

Krycek had the corkscrew in his hand when Scully entered the kitchen. He also had her lipstick on his neck. Shit. "Alex, come here."

"As you command, my queen," he replied in the tone of voice that Scully could listen to forever, reading engine repair manuals, reciting the alphabet, anything really. When he got close enough, he pressed his advantage, kissing the base of her throat, her neck and her chin as he determinedly worked his way back to her lips.

"Alex," Dana whispered, before she grasped his neck lightly and removed the lipstick with her thumb. "Stop that. I mean it." She didn't sound like she meant it, and Dana knew it. But she truly did, despite how her body was reacting to what his hands were doing. Krycek sighed dramatically, hugged her briefly, let her go, and preceded her into the living room. Looking back over his shoulder, he winked at her. Shaking her head, Dana turned to get three plates. He was incorrigible.

Mulder had made himself comfortable. He'd arranged the case files for ease of reference, taken off his jacket, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. Considering vanity briefly over his eyesight -- Krycek was here after all -- Mulder opted to don his not often enough (according to his optometrist) used glasses. "Where're you in your analysis, Mulder?"

Special Agent Fox Mulder looked at his former partner appraisingly. Krycek looked relaxed on the surface. His underlying tension was obvious ... and severe. "You running out of time, Alex?"

"We all are, Mulder."

Dana Scully paused in the kitchen doorway, observing the two most important men in her life and gauging their interaction.

"I've got nothing but time, Krycek. Time enough to figure out what you're up to. And put a stop to it."

Alex smiled slightly. "Since you're the one with all the time, Mulder, maybe you could direct your enviable intellect to the question of the reopened XFiles."

Mulder grinned engagingly. "Right after you tell us what operation End Game is. And we get our plates. I'm hungry too."

Scully judged Mulder's statement to be her cue to move past Alex to put the requested plates as well as wine glasses and utensils on the coffee table. Both Krycek and Mulder allowed themselves to be diverted by dinner, with Krycek serving as wine steward and Mulder dishing out portions of a plethora of his favorite Chinese dishes. Scully tried to relax and enjoy the attention. The calm before the storm, she thought.

"Ah, there you are. Russell and I had begun to worry."

"Not to be alarmed. Weather at JFK required a second de-icing. Better safe than sorry, don't you agree?" Cigarette Smoking Man walked further into the penthouse suite that David and Russell had chosen for this meeting, noting that their tastes appeared to be moderating somewhat. This hotel, albeit five star, was a far cry from the World Trade Center. And they were not eating fine food, drinking high quality liquor or smoking their trademark Cuban cigars. Something was clearly troubling them, perhaps even causing gastronomical upset. Whatever could cause that in these two individuals was worthy of note. When David looked at Russell uncertainly and didn't speak, Cigarette Smoking Man offered, "I'm touched by your concern. I truly am. Now perhaps you'd be so kind as to tell me why I'm here."

Uncharacteristically, David sat, not meeting Cigarette Smoking Man's eyes, while Russell spoke. "We've made an error of a serious nature. Rectifying it will not be pleasant, if even possible at this late date. If not, I'm prepared to take full responsibility for whatever good it'll do." Russell noted that he now had Cigarette Smoking Man's full attention as he'd halted his arm motion, bringing an unlit cigarette only about a third of the way to his lips. How often had that happened? Russell couldn't recall any previous incidents. "Please make yourself comfortable. It's going to be a long evening, I'm afraid." Cigarette Smoking Man sat, still holding the unlit cigarette in his right hand, tapping it on the arm of his chair absently. Russell turned toward David and nodded.

David directed his attention to a control panel in front of him. As he manipulated it, the lights dimmed. A slide projector was then engaged and the blank white panel projected thereby was now the only significant light in the room. "The catch phrase of the Project has always been "Trust No One." What was always an implicit addition was "except others involved in the Project." Somewhere along the line, the unspoken text lost validity. Too many people were running independent agendas. So we've actually been living in a world of "Trust No One, except those involved in the Project that have not yet given you a reason to distrust them." A bit long winded for a catch phrase, but I trust you take my meaning."

Cigarette Smoking Man nodded slowly, aware of his own rising tension. If David was going where Cigarette Smoking Man thought he was with this ... "Yes. Unfortunately, I do. At last count, that group had shrunk to four and three of us are in this room." Cigarette Smoking Man watched Russell carefully as he replied to David. The slight tightening of Russell's jaw, barely perceptible in the dim light, signaled to Cigarette Smoking Man the correctness of his assumption. Accepting it was another thing entirely. Robert was involved in everything at the highest level and had been virtually since the beginning. Well Manicured Man had confided in him. As had Cigarette Smoking Man ... and Strughold. They all had and they'd practically spoon fed Krycek to him. Yet Eldest had relayed to Cigarette Smoking Man what Alex had told him. Why? Merely to keep up appearances? Something more? Cigarette Smoking Man had no idea. Ignoring that currently unproductive line of inquiry, Cigarette Smoking Man tried another. "Are you certain?"

"As we can be of something like this," David replied. "Absolute proof is impossible to obtain, a sad fact that young Mulder keeps butting his head against." Cigarette Smoking Man frowned in frustration. This issue was something of such import that the facts must be established beyond a reasonable doubt, something that was not likely in the offing.

"Why not see what we've ascertained, and draw your own conclusion?" David encouraged, as he advanced the slide projector. It took all of Cigarette Smoking Man's self-control to remain seated, but he couldn't mask his reaction entirely. What were David and Russell asserting exactly? The first slide showed a handwritten note in blue ink that read "INCORRECT CHOICES ARE DAMNING".

"I presume that there is some relevance to this ... display." The anger in Cigarette Smoking Man's voice was apparent and undoubtedly expected. His son had died as a result of this note.

"Of course, David and I aren't amused by petty psychological manipulations," Russell interjected quietly. Cigarette Smoking Man stopped himself just short of commenting that they saved themselves for more intricate and grandiose amusements. He was emotional, and he knew it. Silence was definitely golden under those circumstances.

"Any comments on the note?" David asked casually, observing Cigarette Smoking Man's reassertion of control over himself.

Cigarette Smoking Man focused. "Printed. All capital letters. An effort to disguise handwriting, perhaps. Then again, it could just be stylistic."

David merely advanced the slide projector again. A second note, in black ink this time, appeared. It read: "Alex, Remember. You promised. Jennifer: (301) 555-1218. NEED A BARTENDER OR A MASSEUSE (particularly the latter) - CALL ME!" Before Cigarette Smoking Man could ask, the projector was advanced again, and the two notes were arranged side by side. The printing was similar. Cigarette Smoking Man could see that just from a gross comparison. Then David ran through a series of slides, where the common letters or letter groupings were superimposed. They matched. Well enough. There were enough samples of "E", "R", "N" and "C" to support a conclusion that they were written by the same hand. The two occurrences of "AR" were virtually identical.

"Is that all you have? Seems a bit thin." Cigarette Smoking Man spoke into the now brighter light. David had turned off the slide projector and brought up the room lights.

David and Russell shared a glance. Cigarette Smoking Man was forcing himself to reserve judgment, although his instincts already had him leaning a certain way. "There's more. Robert's international business dealings should interest you. While his endeavors in this area have rarely occurred on the not guilty side of federal statute, some particular transactions are noteworthy. In both late November and early December, guns and ammunition were transferred to Iraq. There is no record of payment, either in terms of money or services. Both of those deals were run through his niece."

"Is it possible that the young lady is acting alone?" Russell and David merely watched Cigarette Smoking Man internally evaluate his question. In short order, he appeared to arrive at the conclusion that they had during their analysis of the matter. "I withdraw the question. Robert would permit her to do so, only if he were kept fully informed, either by her or by various other means at his disposal." David nodded. Russell smiled thinly. Cigarette Smoking Man ventured, "Was Robert acting alone?"

"That's the more intriguing question. It puzzled Russell and I for quite some time. Discreet inquiries within and without the Consortium have led us to conclude that he was indeed acting on his own behalf." David smiled slightly at Cigarette Smoking Man's theatrically raised eyebrow and acceded to his unvoiced request for additional information. "We provided, for their careful consideration, some "evidence" of an overseer -- the bogeyman that they can be encouraged to fear from time to time. The First Elder's faction was so focused on the possibility suggested by our "information" that Jeffrey was very near death by the time they even discussed what could've happened to him. Strughold was out of the country, and his people in Washington were seeing to their ... political responsibilities. His faction also only reacted to Jeffrey's predicament. The few un-allied members, to the best of our knowledge, didn't know who Jeffrey was. But perhaps more importantly, we intercepted this en route to an encryption expert that Robert uses."

Cigarette Smoking Man picked up the file folder that David had pushed toward him across the meeting table. He opened it and quickly scanned the contents. "The uplink information?"

"Yes. Both portions of it. While Robert might've gotten it from Diana Fowley, Russell and I think not. We believe Agent Fowley answers to other interests."

Cigarette Smoking Man nodded in agreement. "As do I."

David watched Cigarette Smoking Man with interest. He appeared lost in thought. Thus, David prompted, "Where does that leave us?"

"On the outside looking in, I'm afraid," Cigarette Smoking Man replied with a sigh. "Unless we can get to Alex ... and convince him to alter his plans. Robert's only contacted Krycek once. That suggests to me that he knows enough about what Alex is planning to determine how to intervene."

"Can you strike a deal with Krycek?"

Cigarette Smoking Man believed that they'd finally come to the real point of the conversation. The only question to which Russell and David wanted an answer. "I don't have a choice in the matter, do I?" As Cigarette Smoking Man stood, he became aware of the cigarette he was holding. Funny, he didn't remember taking it out of the pack.

"So what's Operation End Game, Krycek?" Fox Mulder smirked at the obviously startled younger man. Krycek's mind had been elsewhere. Maybe Chinese food rendered him contemplative. Mulder didn't know, but his expression had been funny and Mulder had laughed. That was something that Fox Mulder was trying to do better, appreciating the humor in things to maintain perspective.

Alex Krycek glanced from Mulder to Scully, considering his options. Respond, and maybe get some cooperation. Evade and what? Get nowhere. As much as he resisted the notion of trusting Mulder, Krycek was pragmatic. He needed answers quickly. Taking a deep breath, he began. "It's a Resistance effort to render the staging areas unusable. The incinerations were a step in the process -- a highly controversial one. The term lighthouses is used for a reason. If they aren't operational, an ... invasion will be more difficult." Krycek had spoken quietly, focusing on Mulder. He didn't know the state of Dana Scully's belief in EBEs, but he anticipated it was low.

"How?"

"It's a bit complicated, Mulder, but I'll come back to that. Another objective of the operation was to eliminate the threat of re-population. That's a bit easier to explain. The idea is to simultaneously destroy of all of the bee centers and the attendant corn fields as well as the repositories of all of the black oils. The only exceptions were to be the vaccine research facilities in Russia and the United States, but there were some who believed that those "supplies" should be eliminated as well. It was agreed that they would be, if sufficient vaccine had been produced, particularly if we could devise a way to make it without the antigen. The Russians did."

"That's a lot of ground to cover, Krycek. It'll be a logistical nightmare ... for someone." Mulder couldn't believe that Krycek was providing this much information. He was used to hints, dribs and drabs of selected facts, slanted to suit Alex' position, whatever that happened to be at the time. Those were more Krycek's style. If he was deviating from the norm, there must be one hellacious catch coming.

"Not at all. Any reasonably anal, detail-oriented person with a computer and the necessary information could coordinate the operation," Alex replied with a smile. "Assuming that they'd pinpointed the locations with sufficient precision, enough explosives experts were available and they had the budget to get them where they need to go. There're some out of the way places to contend with. Assume, for the sake of this conversation, that those assets are available and in place."

"What else?" Mulder asked, unconsciously pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge of his nose.

Krycek glanced at Scully to see how she was taking all this. She'd been quiet. His efforts garnered him nothing; her expression was unreadable. "Elimination of the second coming candidates and the bounty hunters. With regard to the Smiths, the operation has to be systematic and total. There's no other option. This became a whole lot trickier when the two of you necessitated their resignations from the Social Security Office. A lot of time and effort has gone into tracking them down and there's still one unaccounted for. Either of you have any ideas where he might be?"

"We'll come back to that, Krycek," Mulder mimicked his former partner with a grin, as he graciously picked up Krycek's wine steward duties. It seemed only fair, since Alex was doing the bulk of the talking. The Special Agent wanted to do nothing to interfere with the, from Mulder's perspective, fortunate set of circumstances. He'd waited a long time for Krycek to spill his guts. Both Scully and Krycek accepted additional red wine, freeing Mulder for further inquiry. "What about the bounty hunters?"

"An accurate count isn't available. Never has been, as far as I can tell. But we know some things about how they operate. Who they monitor and how. Where they're likely to be. The lack of precision in this phase of the operation makes it more of a statistical nightmare than the ones we discussed before. But we can accept some slop, so long as we eliminate seventy-five percent or better. If we don't, or anyone who's played anything approaching a significant role in this little drama should expect a visit of the decidedly unpleasant variety. Any suggestions regarding execution of a more comprehensive strike will be graciously accepted."

"Why not drop your requirement for simultaneous action?" Scully asked suddenly. "Wouldn't the ... bounty hunters be expected to react to the other phases of the operation, and seek to rectify the problems being created for them? Or you could try and draw them out beforehand. That might make the rest go more smoothly."

"The latter might tip the powers that be off that there is trouble afoot," Mulder commented. "But they are reactive by nature. You should be able to use that."

Mulder had addressed Krycek in intoning his last statement, but it was Scully who added, "Unless there're certain things that they've been trained ... programmed ... whatever ... to respond to differently."

"Self-destruct would be convenient."

Scully glanced at Mulder, uncertain as to whether he was kidding. He was. Good. "Hide or retreat is probably more likely, Mulder."

"That'd be fine, too. Information is available on where they're likely to go to ground," Krycek had observed the interaction between the partners with interest, and he was more relieved than he cared to admit that Dana had chosen to participate in what to her must seem like a huge frolic and detour. "So maybe we can create that logistical challenge, yet. Timing would be a huge issue for a step-wise operation, but something like that could work. Hell. It's better than some of the schemes I've heard."

"What about the clones? How do the hybrids fit in?" Mulder had asked the question softly, despite his intense personal interest. Alex noticed that Dana's level of attentiveness increased as well.

"They don't, Mulder. At least they shouldn't. Unless we co-opt them somehow which, at least a few months ago, wasn't in the plan. Or our friendly invaders are up to something that neither we nor their former compatriots have anticipated. That's always a concern but impossible to plan for. We may take some lumps there."

Mulder stood and began to pace, thinking. Dana shifted closer to Krycek, who was watching Mulder intently, also apparently lost in thought. Touching his arm to get his attention, she asked, "Alex, who's in charge of this operation?"

"Good question and one I'm not sure I can answer. Should be Cancerman. They'd be nuts to rely on anyone else at this critical juncture. And I'll have my part of it." Krycek was somewhat proud of his vague addendum to his answer. It wasn't bad for spur of the moment. Not quite full disclosure, but ... close enough.

Scully considered for a moment. What would Alex sign on for? Or be chosen to do? Start with the most dangerous and work back. But somehow Dana didn't believe she'd have to guess too often. "The lighthouses?"

"How did you ...?" Krycek didn't really believe in women's intuition, but Scully had an ability to process information that was, at times, superior to Mulder's. She was scary when she did that. Maybe not as frightening as when she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, almost directly in front of Fox Mulder. But it was pretty close, really, on the fear index.

What she whispered engendered quite a different reaction, albeit also an emotional one.

"That doesn't matter, Alex, but I promise you this. We'll finish what we started earlier today, before you go off on that ..." Scully let her thought trail off. She couldn't find the words to express her feelings on the matter.

"Damn fool idealistic crusade?"

Another Star Wars referent. She choked a little on the idealistic part, but the rest worked quite well. "You liked that movie, didn't you?"

"All but the protagonist, Dana. And, don't worry, I intend to be around for Episode 1."

"This is supposed to happen soon, then." Scully had raised her voice in an effort to be sure that Mulder heard that bit of information. Alex nodded affirmatively.

"Like when, Krycek? How much time have we got?" Mulder's question was posed in his most intense tone. His seriousness was punctuated by his donning of the glasses he'd recently been using as a prop in gesturing for emphasis.

"A month. Maybe two. All the kinks haven't been worked out yet."

"Damn. Now I wish Diana were here. It seemed like such a good idea to compare notes just with you Scully..."

"It was, Mulder." Fox Mulder looked at Krycek and Scully, who were looking at each other. They'd spoken in perfect unison. Scully placed her hand on Krycek's shoulder briefly, ostensibly to help her stand. Mulder noted the brief squeeze that Alex seemed to interpret as something like "Shut up" or "Let me do this."

"As I've said before," Scully began. "I don't trust Diana. I never have. And I believe that even you have your doubts, Mulder, particularly after what happened in Skinner's apartment. And even if she's exactly what you believe her to be, the risk that she's not is one we can't afford to take right now." Scully had spoken softly and reasonably. Mulder had listened, although his continuing uncertainty showed clearly on his face.

"I know this woman, Scully. Well. Extremely well. She's not with ... Them. She couldn't be a part of that."

"I'm just suggesting a precaution, Mulder. Nothing more. Nothing less." Mulder turned away from Scully and Krycek. Taking a deep breath, then another, he turned as if to say something and stopped short. Shaking his head ruefully, Mulder's thoughts focused inward.

"Look, Mulder," Krycek began, and suffered a Dana Scully glare for his trouble. "As far as I'm concerned, you can tell her generally what we've discussed so far, if you feel the need to. Including some specifics with respect to the Smiths and the bounty hunters for credibility's sake. That's fine. But nothing about the lighthouses or how to sabotage them. A casual reference to a six month time horizon wouldn't hurt either."

"So you want me to spread disinformation for you. Charming."

"This isn't about charm, Mulder. It's about survival, a topic I know a little about."

"Look, Alex ... if you think I'm going to turn my back on someone I've known for years in order to perpetuate some little fantasy of yours, you ..." Mulder broke off at the sound of a cellular phone ringing. All three reached for their respective units. Mulder and Scully were disappointed. Krycek was annoyed with Mulder, with himself and with the interruption, although it had cut off what might have blossomed into a full Mulder tirade.

"Yes," Krycek muttered as he completed the connection.

"Alex, listen to me very carefully."

There was something in Cigarette Smoking Man's measured tone that strongly suggested obedience. "I'm listening." Dana Scully observed increased levels of all of the emotions she associated with Alex's interactions with Cancerman. This time, she kept the observation to herself.

"Are you using the scrambling device that Robert gave you?"

"No need for it. We're not on the move."

"Good. Excellent. A word of advice. Don't use it until we've had a chance to talk."

"What's this all about? You know I may need it. For directed pulses, if nothing else."

"Surely you can manage to find alternative means to save the red haired damsel from any distress she might encounter over the next few hours. I'll replace all three units when I see you."

"What's wrong?"

"Too many things to discuss over the telephone. I'll find you at 8:30 am tomorrow morning. Keep your eyes open until then, especially the ones in the back of your head."

"How 'bout a hint."

"Sometimes you can teach a very old dog some very new tricks. Nasty ones."

"What? Are you ...?"

"Until tomorrow, Alex," Cigarette Smoking Man interrupted forcefully. More gently, he added "Watch your back."

"You too," Krycek muttered just before Cigarette Smoking Man broke the connection. Alex Krycek hadn't been able to keep the alarm out of his voice. If Eldest was involved in any sort of double cross, they were in trouble of such a variety that neither the Brit nor Cigarette Smoking Man had seen coming. Those two had much more experience than he operating at this level. What else had he missed? Krycek recognized the intensity of his fear. Few circumstances in his very complicated life had generated anything approaching this. He wasn't sure any matched it.

"Trouble, Krycek?" Mulder's question was devoid of the sarcasm he usually reserved for his former partner, because increase in Alex's tension level had been obvious and severe. He met Mulder's eyes and nodded once before moving to carefully peer out of Scully's westward facing living room windows. At first glance, things appeared normal so Krycek looked again. Mulder joined the younger man, his eyes in constant motion. "The man waiting for the bus? And maybe the jogger?"

"Hope it's just them, Mulder." Both men moved to the window facing north. "The guy leaning on the car?" Krycek ventured.

Mulder nodded in agreement. "There's a couple that seem out of place in a surveillance position with respect to the bedroom window," Scully informed them, checking her service weapon.

"That's too many." Both Krycek and Mulder drew their weapons as Alex spoke.

Contemplating the maxim that there were probably at least twice the number of people that you couldn't spot in a strike team in addition to those that you could, Mulder activated his cellular phone and dialed pre-programmed number 5. When answered, he announced, "Houston, we have a problem."

"What sort of problem, Agent Mulder?" Assistant Director Walter Skinner asked, suppressing his exasperation as best he could. Mulder calling him at home was unwelcome.

"We're in Agent Scully's apartment, sir and seem to have attracted the attention of an unreasonable number of unsavory characters. Must be Krycek's after shave. Might some back up be made available?"

Fox Mulder calling for back up was a uncommon enough to cause Skinner's heart rate to increase. "Consider it done, Mulder. No more than twenty minutes. Could be as few as ten." As soon as he finished speaking, Skinner severed the connection.

"Help's on the way. Now let's concentrate on not giving these folks a reason to move against us. I'd suggest sitting back down and discussing the movies we've seen lately like civilized people." Keeping weapons within easy reach, the three did more or less as Mulder suggested.

Special Agent Diana Fowley was frowning. There were so many holes. She was certain that the file she'd obtained on Alex Krycek was vastly more comprehensive than that compiled by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, but it wasn't nearly complete. How was that possible? Why would these men employ a man they knew so little about? On someone's recommendation was the only satisfactory answer. That someone had to have their respect and, to a certain extent, their trust. But who?

Considering the timing of Krycek's arrival on the scene, five or six years ago, it could've been Cancerman. He was then approaching the height of his power and influence. It made sense and fit with the mentor/pupil role play they engage in from time to time. But where did he find him? The only thing Diana was sure of was that it wasn't Quantico. Russia? Northern Ireland? Where?

Her musings were interrupted by her fax machine. What now? The message was short. Only one page before the telltale beep of a disconnection. As Fowley moved toward the apparatus, she found herself once again contemplating the young man that seemed to have struck Dana Scully's fancy. There were many ways to exploit that little liaison. She had only to decide on one of them. Those pleasant thoughts were punctuated with a harsh laugh, as she reached for the fax. It read as follows:

Mulder, Scully and Krycek are having a pleasant dinner together at Agent Scully's apartment. An interruption is imminent. Two questions. Answers are imperative.

1) What was discussed?
2) Why weren't you invited?

Diana Fowley paled visibly. Her hands shook. She folded the fax and put it in the pocket of her jacket, along with her car keys. Grabbing her trench coat, she ran toward the door.

Dana Scully's living room and kitchen looked like a war zone. The FBI team that Skinner had sent arrived after much of the action had taken place. They'd stayed to clean up the mess and take control of the evidence gathering. Scully had looked over Mulder and Krycek. For once, miraculously in Scully's view given the propensities of both men, neither was injured significantly. Mulder had a large bruise on his side from diving over some furniture. Her ottoman, she thought. Krycek had a shallow wound, where a bullet had grazed his shoulder.

Scully herself had assented to an examination by the paramedics that arrived at the scene shortly after Skinner's people. A mild concussion they thought. One of the assault team had hit her on the side of her head. Dana found that odd. There'd been nothing but bullets flying in the direction of the two men. Mulder had stayed at her side until the paramedics arrived, through the examination and for several minutes thereafter. Only when an FBI agent had asked him a question about one of the bodies did he move away. Alex had sat on the floor next to her couch, very still and saying nothing. He was being watched by a nervous young female agent, who was doing her best to give the impression that she wasn't vigilant for any move, false or otherwise, on his part. Their eyes had met once, his concern obvious. Scully had smiled reassuringly and he'd looked away, seeming to accept Mulder's "right" to be with her.

Walter Skinner himself stepped over the threshold, taking in the scene before him. The bodies, six of them, were being removed. Mulder was talking animatedly to the agent in charge. Scully was seated in a straight backed chair, sporting a bandage on her forehead. Her injuries spoke volumes as she slowly stood when she spotted him. Krycek gained his feet only slightly faster, carefully holding his hands out in front of him in what appeared to be a "Calm down" gesture. Skinner raised an eyebrow at that, until he noticed Agent Carminte's tension level.

"It's all right, agent," Skinner commented lightly, stepping between the young woman and her "assignment." "I'll take over from here." It took all of the years spent perfecting his Assistant Director persona not to laugh at her shaky nod and Krycek's sigh of relief.

"Jumpy, that one."

"Indeed. What sort of trouble are you in, Alex?"

Krycek inclined his head to the right, and moved in that direction. Skinner followed, increasing the distance between them and the rest of the occupants of Scully's living room. "This wasn't about me. Not exactly." Skinner merely waited, as the younger man glanced back toward the others. "They shot at Mulder and I. They wanted Dana, alive and able to be moved." Skinner's look was both skeptical and alarmed. "Ask them, if you don't believe me."

"All right. What kind of trouble have you gotten her into?"

"I'm not sure."

Both men turned toward the front door of Dana's apartment, as yet another person entered and exclaimed, "Fox! Are you all right?"

"What the hell's she doing here?" Krycek muttered. "I'm not finished with Mulder yet." At Skinner's raised eyebrow, he continued, "You want Dana safe?" Don't tell that woman where she is."

Skinner frowned. "That's a rather serious accusation, Krycek. I don't suppose you have anything to back it up."

"Nothing other than a lot of experience with double agents. Yet." Skinner considered for a moment, observing the younger man. He certainly looked serious. Skinner grasped Krycek's upper arm for Agent Carminte's benefit and moved back toward Agent Scully, gesturing for Mulder to join them. Fowley, as expected, followed.

"Is it true that the aim of the perpetrators may've been to abduct, Agent Scully?"

"Yes, sir," Mulder replied. "She was the focal point of the attack, although it was clear that she wasn't supposed to be significantly harmed."

"I see," Skinner commented, glancing at Krycek, who was looking from Skinner to his upper arm and back again. Taking the not so subtle hint, the Assistant Director released Krycek's arm. "By the time they're through here, it'll be well into the wee hours. While this location will be secure enough, given the sheer number of people about, the activity level is hardly conducive to resting. What alternative arrangements do you suggest we make to ensure her safety?"

"Ensconcing her someplace public," Fowley offered. "A hotel?"

"Tough," Mulder mused. "With three major conventions in town."

Krycek moved next to Scully, squatting down next to her chair to bring him to about eye level. "I'm glad no one's suggested a "safe house," allowing me to save certain derisive comments for another day." Resting a hand upon one of hers, Krycek focused completely on Scully before continuing softly. "Dana ... come with me. I've got state of the art security arrangements, including highly trained and motivated professionals."

"Motivated?" Fowley inquired skeptically.

Alex responded to Diana, without looking away from Dana, clearly still seeking her agreement. "They're extremely well paid, Agent Fowley. And understand the serious and very personal ramifications of a breach in security." He smiled slightly as he finished speaking, sensing Dana's acceptance of his offer when she shifted her hand from under to holding his.

"Fine. Then Fox and I will accompany you to ..."

"My location. My people. No exceptions." This time, Krycek looked over his shoulder at Fowley. His expression was neutral, his voice cold.

Diana Fowley fought the smile that threatened to ruin her affectation of stunned disbelief, which became real when both Fox Mulder and Walter Skinner nodded acceptance of Krycek's terms. She looked from one man to the other, trying to assimilate this new information. Mulder at least had the decency to look a little nervous about entrusting his precious Scully to Krycek, but Skinner .... Skinner looked completely at ease. What was going on here? Whatever it was, Diana didn't like it.

"We'll expect her in the office tomorrow morning, Krycek," Skinner specified in a tone that brooked no argument. "In one piece."

Krycek stood slowly, letting go of Dana's hand. Skinner believed he sensed some reluctance on Krycek's part to break the contact, but shunted that thought aside when the younger man faced him.

"If she's up to it, sure. And after I've had a conversation with someone in a position to know who was behind this." Skinner merely nodded in agreement. Mulder looked at him with something that seemed to be interest. Fowley looked annoyed. Krycek was satisfied by the responses, so he focused on practical matters and turned to Scully. "You want to pack a few things?"

When Dana nodded and moved toward her bedroom, Skinner ordered, "Agent Carminte, assist Agent Scully, please." The young agent moved with alacrity to obey the Assistant Director. Skinner then turned toward the other female agent present. "Agent Fowley, might I have a word with you? Privately."

"Certainly, sir," Fowley replied as she moved to follow Skinner. She looked back toward Mulder, noting that he and Krycek were standing somewhat awkwardly together.

At the same time, Skinner caught Krycek's eye, arching an eyebrow meaningfully. Acknowledging the Assistant Director's diversionary tactics and successfully hiding his surprise at that particular turn of events, Alex nodded almost imperceptibly and turned to Mulder. It was now or who knew when.

"In your analysis of the re-opened XFiles was there any indication of how something that's lost might be found?"

Mulder's startled look gave Krycek hope that all of this effort wasn't wasted. Alex waited, but Mulder didn't answer.

He was considering Krycek's question, and the fact that he asked it now. This new data was being dissected, examined and correlated with existing data. After a few moments, Mulder grinned triumphantly. "You think that the XFiles can tell you how to sabotage the lighthouses. Don't you?"

Had things been different between them, Krycek would've asked how Mulder arrived at his conclusion. The workings of the Special Agent's mind had always interested his former partner. God, if there was one which Alex sincerely doubted, couldn't work in ways any more mysterious than Mulder's mind. "I know the method, Mulder. I need the means. That's what I think the XFiles can provide ... or at least point to."

Fox Mulder considered Krycek's response. It was plausible. Now it was time to up the ante. If Krycek wanted an analysis, he needed to provide the data. "Well, what do we have, Alex? Flukeman. Black oil. Green blood. Social security office. Implants. Test pilots. Gibson. Small pox virus. Are you looking for a location? A person who knows the answer to your question? A device? C'mon, Krycek. I can't answer in a vacuum."

Alex hesitated. How to approach this? He didn't have the time for lengthy explanations. "Let's say we can eliminate the social security office and green blood from the mix. We've already discussed what has to be done about them. Does that help?"

"Keep talking, Krycek. I think we're getting warmer." Mulder grinned a challenge at the younger man. He was enjoying this.

"Ok. Ignore the implants referent. That's Scully as far as we're concerned." Seeing Mulder's accusatory and alarmed expression, he continued rapidly. "C'mon, Mulder. If we can figure this out, she'll be safe. If we can't ..."

Mulder was suddenly all business. "Was the Flukeman an alien/human hybrid?"

"Yes."

"So's Gibson. In a way. And the brain function of the test pilots was altered. Could've been some hybrid technology at work. The black oil did a version of that ... and more. Mind control ... and body utilization. Human hosts, coming full circle back to the Flukeman lifecycle. And the black oil "virus" was to be transported by bees. Small pox was their proof of concept experiment. Discounting the small pox virus case file as expository of the black oil one, we have one overriding theme -- hybrids." Mulder had watched Krycek carefully during his exposition of his theory to see if he provided the missing piece to Krycek's puzzle. It didn't seem so. Alex looked frustrated and a little confused.

"Hybrids? What about hybrids, Mulder?" He sounded frustrated, too. For some reason, Mulder was comforted by that. He didn't want to give Krycek the salient information to enable him to walk away and go about his business, unless Mulder knew the "answer" as well. It was only fair.

"Maybe that's where your answers are."

"With an alien/human hybrid? You know of any hybrids with a flair for technology, Mulder?" It was stated with bitter sarcasm. He'd have made it a joke, if he could convince himself that the situation was remotely funny. It wasn't. There was no time for more analysis.

"I just might."

Mulder'd spoken so softly, Krycek wasn't sure he heard him correctly. "What?"

"I said ... I just might, Krycek." Mulder smiled winningly at the younger man. "What's it worth to you, Alex?"