Season Six:
Episode 22

Offices of the Lone Gunmen
Washington D.C.
10:54 am

Frohicke was preparing dinner for he and his fellow conspiracy theorists. The nachos were in the oven, and he knew that careful monitoring was the secret to a successful batch. Byers and Langley were editing the latest issue of the Lone Gunman. At least that's what they'd said. But if that's what they were actually doing, then why weren't they answering the telephone? It'd already rung five or six times. Annoyed with his compatriots, Frohicke wiped his hands on a dishtowel and reached for the receiver. His irritation was clearly audible in his "Frohicke."

"Frohicke. It's me." This woman's voice always made him smile. This was no exception.

"Agent Scully. How can I be of service?"

"Has Mulder been there? Asking for a ... a schedule of some kind?"

"We sent him back to the Bureau with it this afternoon. Hasn't he shown it to you?"

"No. I ... haven't been in the office."

Frohicke shifted the telephone from his right to left hand, as he bent down and gazed into the oven window to check on dinner. "That's strange, Byers talked to him about an hour ago and he said that ..." The man broke off abruptly, and Scully fervently hoped that her rising suspicions were not well founded.

"What, Frohicke? What did Mulder say?"

"That ... she'd concurred with his analysis. We assumed he meant you. I guess ... not."

"He showed it to Fowley, you think?"

"She's the only other female in Mulder's orbit with any connection to the XFiles. That we know of anyway."

"He showed it to Diana. Hmmph."

Frohicke didn't like the tone of Dana Scully's voice. So he tried to change the subject and inject a little humor into the proceedings. "Could I dare to hope that we might enjoy the pleasure of your company this evening?"

"I don't know, Frohicke. My plans for the rest of the day are a bit up in the air right now."

"Ok. Check with Mulder, and let us know. Don't keep us in suspense." The hopeful tone in his voice made Dana sad, yet she didn't want to examine why very closely. She had enough on her mind right now.

"I'm working with Krycek for a few days. Although we haven't discussed today's agenda, I get the impression that we'll be busy."

"Be careful, Agent Scully. And if that guy is anything less than a perfect gentleman, let us know. We'll rectify the situation. Forthwith."

Even though Scully knew that the abilities of the Lone Gunmen to deal with a "situation" of the type Frohicke described were limited to the point of futility, she appreciated the thought. Perhaps more than she'd ever admit. "I'll keep that in mind, Frohicke. But right now, I need the "schedule"."

"Hold on. I'll get it. Get pencil and paper ready."

Special Agent Diana Fowley was sitting in a chair across the desk from Assistant Director Walter Skinner, while he perused her report. She'd prepared it on her own initiative. And Skinner didn't like what he was seeing. That was obvious, given his body language and ever increasing tension level. Her anticipation of his reaction was one of the reasons that she'd forwarded the document to several of his peers and the Director himself.

Walter Skinner had read Agent Fowley's conclusions in a state of increasing agitation. His status was now approaching panic, but he knew that he hid at least that part well. He'd had plenty of practice in masking his emotions over the years. However, it was imperative that he be realistic about the situation. Broad generalizations, such as Agent Fowley asserted, would be believed given Agent Scully's history at the FBI and involvement with the XFiles. Skinner's somewhat tarnished track record with regard to his "on-again-off-again" support of the unorthodox investigations and investigative techniques of Agents Mulder and Scully wouldn't help matters.

Nothing good would come from processing this report through channels. That was painfully obvious. At best, Agent Scully would undergo a full psychiatric evaluation. At worst, she'd be dismissed and placed under constant surveillance to ensure that she did nothing traitorous in response to the Bureau's action. Either way, her movements would be severely restricted, rendering her unavailable for a time to both Krycek and Mulder. All of Skinner's instincts told him that this report had to be buried and quickly.

Forcing his thoughts away from the potential personal cost associated with stepping in, Skinner focused on the summary of the facts, conclusions and recommendations that Agent Fowley presented.

1) Agent Scully was, during the time of her incarceration with Alex Krycek, and continues to be in a vulnerable emotional state. Her isolation from her Bureau peers and others occasioned by her association with Special Agent Fox Mulder and the XFiles, her multiple abductions by person or persons unknown, the loss of her father and sister, her inability to bear children and her additional health problems (the rare cancer, now in remission, and the physical, mental and emotional stresses encountered in investigating the XFiles) all have contributed to the fragility of her emotional state.

2) Upon returning to the Bureau following her incarceration, Agent Scully did not undergo a full psychological evaluation. Apparently, Agent Scully did not wish to be subjected to a full psyche battery, and one was not required by Assistant Director Skinner. Her file indicates that Alex Krycek's pardon and newly acquired diplomatic status allowed her actions during her incarceration with him to be re-characterized in hindsight as offering assistance and aid to a former Bureau employee.

3) During her incarceration and thereafter, Agent Scully began and has continued a personal relationship with Alex Krycek. A recitation of Mr. Krycek's alleged crimes is attached hereto as Appendix C. Agent Scully, after a more recent attempted abduction, placed herself under the protection of Mr. Krycek. The personal security arrangements described by Mr. Krycek were well beyond the pale of those employed by private citizens, even those of substantial wealth. Assistant Director Skinner and Special Agent Fox Mulder supported this highly unorthodox course of action.

4) Since placing herself under Alex Krycek's protection, Agent Scully has accompanied Mr. Krycek across state lines and has examined patients in a private mental institution. The connection between such examinations to any matter of Bureau concern is uncertain. Assistant Director Skinner and Special Agent Fox Mulder acted neither to forestall nor to exert proper control on these activities.

5) Based on the foregoing facts and circumstances, I believe that Alex Krycek has taken advantage of Agent Scully's emotional state and has exerted, and continues to exert, undue influence on her behavior. Moreover, Bureau personnel in a position to influence the matter appear to have actively enabled Mr. Krycek's increasing influence and control over Agent Scully.

6) Thus, I recommend that Agent Scully submit immediately to a full psychological evaluation and be placed on administrative leave pending completion of the psychologist's report.

7) I further recommend that Mr. Krycek be detained for questioning with regard to Dr. Scully's actions during and following the incident in her apartment resulting in six fatalities.

Walter Skinner looked up from the summary page and met the eyes of the woman sitting across his desk, his curiosity evident. "Why the sudden interest in Agent Scully?"

"Someone has to express some. With all due respect, sir, you and Mulder seem content to hand her over to Krycek. It isn't irrational to wonder why."

Fowley had offered her reply in an even reasonable tone, her expression perfectly matching her body language and the earnestness in her voice. Why then, Skinner wondered, did he experience a sudden adrenaline rush. With Alex Krycek's voice speaking of experience with double agents resounding loudly in his head, Skinner made a decision. He fervently hoped it wasn't the wrong one. "No. I suppose it isn't."

Skinner sighed, took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief he'd removed from his pocket, and slowly stood, before continuing, "Agent Scully is undercover, Agent Fowley. On assignment if you will, and has been for several months. She and Agent Mulder determined that the only way to get to the men who are responsible for activities underpinning certain XFiles was to ally themselves with an insider. I concurred. So they waited for an opportunity. When one arose, Agent Scully took it, has been performing admirably and at great personal risk. Forgive me, Agent Fowley, if I considered it a waste of time to subject her to a full psychiatric evaluation under the circumstances. A pretext to avoid that misuse of resources was available. So I availed myself of it." Skinner paused, inwardly pleased at the shock registering on Agent Fowley's face.

"Sir, I ..."

"Also provided a copy of this report to ... whom, Agent Fowley? How many people am I going to have to bring into the loop? How much more likely is it that this operation will be compromised? How much more danger is Agent Scully going to face, because of this ... stunt of yours?" Skinner's voice rose only slightly as he spoke, but his anger manifested in his unconsciously menacing approach. Fowley stood in an effort to maintain a vestige of her personal space.

"If you supply the paperwork authorizing the operation, I'll personally -."

"That documentation is classified well beyond your security clearance, Agent Fowley. And I have every intention of dealing with this matter myself to avoid any further complications."

Diana Fowley hadn't expected this or anything remotely like it. Her ego struggled with the concept that Mulder could've kept this from her. But, first things first. An angry and personal space-invading Skinner was unpleasant and required immediate management. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know. And there was no one I could realistically approach. You and Mulder appeared to be part of the problem."

Skinner merely nodded once and repeated his demand. "The distribution list, Agent Fowley." Skinner maintained his stern expression and aggressive posture as the younger woman reached into her pocket to extract a piece of paper. He took it, glanced downward and grunted in disapproval. "You will take the rest of today and tomorrow as unpaid leave. I suggest you consider the potential negative consequences that your actions may visit upon your fellow agents. You're to have no contact with Agents Mulder or Scully, or anyone on this list in that time frame. Is. That. Clear?"

Diana Fowley's vigorous nod of assent came with no appreciable hesitation but Skinner was less than completely satisfied. "Don't be tempted to defy me or to try and undo the damage you've done on your own. I'll know, and I'll act accordingly." At Diana's sharp look in response to his enigmatic statement, Skinner simply smiled coldly and continued, "In the meantime, I'll control the damage to the extent possible, and inform the agents involved of their changed circumstances. That will be all, Agent Fowley." Skinner turned away from his subordinate and moved to the other side of his desk. Accepting the dismissal, Agent Fowley retreated quickly and without a backward glance.

Alex Krycek was standing at Dana Scully's side, being signed in as an official visitor to an FBI agent. It felt strange. Waiting patiently for a generic identification badge, rather than gaining access to a less secure portion of the building and going where he wished from there. This would take some getting used to, but he'd be willing to give it a try. Provided that Dana always stood in front of him wearing a well cut, very flattering, non-off the rack pants suit. Giving him something to do, while the bureaucrat looked at his identification, fed the information in his computer, gaped at him when the dossier concerning him was accessed, and grudgingly approved his egress. Dana bent forward slightly to hear something the bureaucrat had said, capturing Alex's full attention. The pragmatic side of him warned that becoming accustomed to appreciating Dana Scully's ass was not a good idea. Testosterone, however, dictated otherwise.

"Here's your badge Sir," the bureaucrat stated in a tone that implied that Alex had just been admitted to a very exclusive club. Knowing that Scully wouldn't approve of a flippant remark just now and lacking the energy for another battle, Krycek merely accepted the badge and affixed it to the lapel of his Hugo Boss suit jacket. The deep green/dark gray, depending on the type and level of light, suit had been his favorite of the ten that Scully'd purchased for him. The look on her face when she'd first seen him in it gave him the impression that it was high on her list as well. A coincidence that Alex didn't mind in the least.

"Thank you," Krycek replied, before following Scully toward the elevator. At first, they were alone. Scully watched him examine the badge with a bemused expression on his face.

"Difficult to adjust to legitimate, Alex?" His laugh made her smile.

"Always, Dana. Legit is so ... boring."

"You're a lot of things, Alex. But boring? That's not one of them." Alex grinned and was about to reply, when the elevator stopped at a floor that wasn't theirs. He moved closer to her, as the elevator door opened and four agents entered. Scully and Krycek listened to the continuing conversation of the new occupants, with Scully dodging the hand gestures of a particularly demonstrative member of the group. The other agents were still engaged in their scintillating, to them, discussion of the ineptitude of the management of the secretarial pool, when the elevator stopped once more. Scully shouldered her way through the crowd. Krycek followed, smiling.

"Other than Mulder, you work with boring. You ought to know." Scully didn't have to look at her companion to know that he had that playful smile on his face. The one that made her wonder what how much of a troublemaker he'd been as a boy.

"If you harken back, you'll recall those of that ilk roaming these hallowed halls."

"Alex?" Dana heard the tentative calling of Krycek's given name. He gave no sign, simply kept moving. That was strange. His hearing was excellent. Upon a moment's further reflection, Dana decided it wasn't so unusual after all. There were bound to be people in the Bureau who recalled the former agent. And Alex wasn't likely to be keen to interact with them. Making a mental note to inquire about the identity of the speaker, Scully slowed down as she approached the bull pen area. The "traffic" in the hallway always increased near there. This particular moment offered no exception. A mail cart forced Dana closer to Alex. He adjusted naturally to allow her to move almost directly in front of him, placing a hand on her shoulder to gauge her speed and allow them to maintain their pace through the constricted area without colliding. Once the space opened up, Scully paused, her eyes searching for her partner. She didn't want to miss him and have to backtrack. He wasn't there. Sighing, she looked back over her shoulder at Krycek, ready to resume their search. But something in his expression stopped her. It was neutral, almost expressionless except for his eyes. They were ... amused.

"Agent Scully?" Dana looked up, and found herself eye to eye with Terrence Boyd. A man that she'd come to despise at the academy. And one that hadn't said three words to her since their graduation. Scully wondered why the code of silence was being broken now. Terry was a womanizer of the worst kind, preying on women using both guile and charm. All of his female companions seemed to enjoy their time at his feet, willingly and gratefully doing whatever demeaning things Terry commanded. Scully had never experienced that level of blind devotion from another human being and she was sure she didn't want to. That behavior was more appropriate to a pet. One thing about Terry, he liked a challenge. So he'd relentlessly pursued Dana until she'd said no in as ugly and final a manner as she could. He'd accepted nothing less. But, mercifully, that had been that. Until now. Glancing around briefly, Scully figured that the basis for Terry's curiosity was the same as everyone else's. She was well aware that she and Mulder were the subject of as much speculation as derision. Judging from the array of her co-workers that were concentrating on giving the impression that they weren't avidly observing the interaction, further fodder for the rumor mill was being generated.

"Terry. What brings you here? I thought you were happily ensconced in the Des Moines field office." The blonde man laughed heartily. His eyes moving to the man at Scully's side, left eyebrow speculatively raised.

When Scully offered no explanation or introduction of her companion, the male agent addressed her question. "As if that were remotely possible. Are you staying out of trouble?"

"Trouble? I don't know the meaning of the word," Dana replied, as flippantly as she could, ignoring the stifled laughter emanating from some observers off to her right. The number of dressing downs and formal inquiries was far too high for her words to have any real credibility. Still, the game had to be played. She'd be damned, if she'd give an inch. Without a fight.

"If only you'd permit me to instruct you, that regrettable gap in your development could be closed," Krycek murmured in Scully's ear, as he moved his hand slowly and meaningfully from resting on her shoulder to around her waist and kept it there. Boyd's mouth dropped open in surprise at the possessive gesture. Scully's reaction offered him no respite. Glancing sideways and up at Krycek, Dana arched one eyebrow and smiled, allowing him to steer her away from the inordinately interested crowd.

Terry Boyd wasn't the only one reevaluating his assessment of Agent Scully. She could almost hear the mutters of, "Maybe the Ice Queen is human after all." They were continuing to attract an unusual level of attention as they walked down the hallway.

Alex Krycek couldn't remember ever seeing this many people doing double takes. "You need to at least spread rumors that you've got a sex life, Dana. This level of scrutiny would scare away the average male of the species. Could prevent you from providing your mom with the much coveted son-in-law. Hardly appropriate for the dutiful daughter."

Scully glared at her companion, suspecting that he was taking a measure of revenge for her behavior vis a vis him during the "examination" of the Kurt Crawford clones. All she got in return was a smirk.

Without warning, Scully turned abruptly to her right, entering an unoccupied conference room and instructing, "Wait here." Seeing the mischievous expression he didn't bother to try to hide, she added, "And I know how to wander off from where I'm told to stay. So you can save that lesson in trouble for someone else." Krycek sighed melodramatically and plopped down in a chair, noticeably pouting.

He hadn't been there more than two minutes, when the door opened. "Dana Scully "seen" with a man other than Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek in the building. Coincidence?"

Krycek merely shrugged at Diana Fowley, more unnerved than he cared to admit by the way she was looking at him -- like she knew something he didn't. That set of circumstances was not to his liking, especially now.

The Special Agent smiled and moved with an easy grace to sit in the chair next to his. "I don't trust coincidences. Do you?"

"No. And I don't trust you either."

Fowley laughed. "I don't blame you. In your position, you can't afford to trust anyone. Can you?"

"Objection. Leading."

"How do you find the time to watch too much television, Alex?" Despite himself, Krycek smiled as he shrugged again. Fowley noticed the slight relaxation in the set of his shoulders and didn't turn away from the questioning look in his eyes. "But you do. Don't you?"

"If you think the Discovery Channel and an occasional hockey game is too much, I guess so."

Diana paused briefly, surprised that he'd chosen to respond to her rhetorical question. It must've showed, because Krycek grinned. Fowley inclined her head slightly, acknowledging the point he'd won. Leaning forward, she put her right hand on top of his left. Moving only his eyes, he looked at their hands, giving the impression that contact of that sort was foreign to him and making Fowley wonder what he was thinking.

"Ask yourself these questions, Alex. Who do you trust? And on what coincidences is that trust based?" Diana met the younger man's narrowed eyes. Without breaking eye contact, she reached out and straightened his tie.

It was an oddly intimate gesture. One that would've garnered an immediate and decisive reaction, if Dana Scully had been the perpetrator. In that event, they'd have been talking about the activities taking place on this conference table around the coffee maker for months. Krycek would've made sure of that. As it was, he remained motionless and Diana Fowley stood and walked out the door.

Alex considered what he'd just been told. The message wasn't all that subtle. He glanced up as the door opened once more, and Mulder and Scully crowded into the doorway. "Speak of the devil," he muttered.

Cigarette Smoking Man waited impatiently. Things were not proceeding according to plan. Unfortunate, perhaps, but hardly fatal. Improvisation was one of his strengths, and he had the feeling that he was going to have to rely on his prowess heavily in the coming days and weeks. His thought process was interrupted by the sounds of an opening door and approaching footsteps.

Fox Mulder's mother entered the room and turned on the lights. Cigarette Smoking Man sat in a wingback chair, unmoving. He did his best to appear non-threatening to avoid startling her if he could. "Good evening," he said softly.

"What are you doing here?" Cigarette Smoking Man winced at the fear and accusation in her tone, but admired the speed with which she regained control. "It's difficult to think of one's home as a refuge these days."

Her second reproach seemed to calm her further. He found that interesting, but deemed it most prudent to address the matter at hand as quickly as possible. "We appear to be moving toward a resolution. All of our plans could come to fruition ... or naught. Fox is participating in the process. In fact, his intellect is quite actively engaged. Things would advance more appropriately, if he was distracted. Even better were he distraught."

The woman put down her purse and walked with purpose to Cigarette Smoking Man's chair, frowning all the way. "And you can't take Dana Scully away from him again, because of the role you want her to play. You said that you might face this problem. But, as you know, the proposed solution wasn't shared with me, even though you intimated that I was to be your accomplice."

Cigarette Smoking Man met her eyes, taking in her crossed arms and tapping foot. She seemed to be staring at him but wasn't exactly. He found himself wondering what the problem was, so he raised an eyebrow questioningly. She gestured toward the chair possessively. Immediately rising to his feet, he offered the chair to her with an inclined head and an extended right hand "ushering" her into it.

"A health problem should suffice," he noted. She couldn't mask her fear. Her heart condition had driven home the concept of her own mortality, forcefully and fundamentally. Cigarette Smoking Man allowed her to contemplate "the worst" for a few moments, before clarifying, "You'll fall and break your hip. The pain will be excruciating. Or so Fox will believe."

Her sharp laugh matched her words. "You can't be serious? Do you plan to knock me down the steps yourself or send one of your young thugs to do it?"

He smiled and shook his head. "There's no need for you to actually fall. Such accidents occur with alarming frequency in the winter in the northeastern United States. It's shocking really in this day and age. But that unhappy circumstance does render X-rays evidencing suitable fractures readily available. You'll be in a hospital with a fine reputation for patient care and properly immobilized. I hardly think Fox will ask for a second opinion."

"And if he does?"

"An appropriate one will be provided. And that, surely, will end the matter."

The woman searched her companion's eyes and demeanor for any sign of duplicity. She saw none, but that didn't really mean anything. This man was the most accomplished liar that she'd ever encountered. Still, she couldn't help but look and her examination was not without worth. She did notice something troubling. He wasn't smoking and hadn't been while he waited. There was no lingering aroma of cigarette smoke; spent butts were not in view. Suddenly, she was very afraid. She'd not kept the weapon that Bill had insisted upon giving her. If he wasn't who he appeared to be, she was defenseless. Sighing to steady herself and communicate what she hoped was convincing hesitance, she reluctantly acceded, "All right. When will my accident take place?"

"Within the next two days. I'll handle the situation personally. No young thugs will be in evidence." Standing and picking up his coat, he moved toward her.

Forcing herself to rise and meet his gaze was difficult, but she did it. She even smiled slightly and reached her hand up to caress his cheek when he drew near enough.

"There's absolutely nothing to be concerned about," he assured. "Trust me."

"Always."

Cigarette Smoking Man seemed satisfied as he moved past her, not back as he went out the door. Mrs. Mulder began to tremble immediately after it shut behind him. Clasping her hands to still them, she walked across the living room and into the study. Taking a small key from under the in-box, she opened the top left drawer. Underneath the various pens, pencils, staples and post-its was a folded piece of paper. She opened it and dialed the telephone number written on it, her fear and tension apparent as the phone at the other end of the line began to ring.

Fox Mulder looked decidedly uncomfortable. That made sense because he was. It was cold by Washington D.C. standards as well as damp. The sleet had stopped, but he didn't think it'd be for long. If things got much worse, the roads would turn to ice and all vehicular movement in the Baltimore-Washington metro area would grind to a halt. Why was he out in this weather looking for a particular warehouse in a location south of Baltimore filled with warehouses? The answer was too rich - because Alex Krycek suggested it.

Dana Scully looked at her partner with some concern. His trenchcoat was buttoned all the way to the throat, and his collar was turned up to combat the elements. With his bent head and slumped shoulders, he could be mistaken for a homeless person from a distance. The impression wouldn't survive closer inspection, though. His coat was too high quality. Still, he appeared to be suffering. "You all right Mulder?"

"Cold and damp accompanied by dark and deserted. What could be wrong, Scully?" Scully's grin coaxed one from Mulder. Knowing that sarcasm warmed the spirit, he gave into it. "Hey, Krycek, do you actually know where we're going?" His former partner merely pointed to the right at the "T" intersection that he'd reached. "I don't see why we had to leave the car so far away," Mulder muttered, his disgruntlement evident. "These 'streets' aren't that narrow. We might've hit a few dumpsters, but Skinner would've understood. With inclement weather and all."

"Give it a rest," Krycek advised, as Scully and Mulder rounded the bend, startling both Special Agents who'd assumed that the other man had continued moving about fifty yards ahead of them. "And don't be such a baby. There's where we're headed." Krycek gestured with his chin at a building three doors away. A very dim light illuminated the interior.

"You're not out here in wing tips, Alex. I'm having a somewhat less idyllic experience than you, foot temperature-wise."

"It's not my fault you're a slave to fashion. You had perfectly serviceable hightops in your gym bag."

"Scully wouldn't be seen with a man in a suit and hightops. We would've had to leave her behind."

The woman in question interjected, "I could've been persuaded to make an exception. Just this once."

Mulder focused quickly and intensely on Scully, wondering at the reaction that his half-joking retort would engender. "So you've abandoned your fashion sense along with your standards for male companionship then?"

Krycek beat her to a reply. "She's been your partner too long to have any such standards Mulder."

"That's quite enough, you two." Despite Scully's call for an immediate truce, the two men stared at each other for another moment, challenging, prompting he to add, "None of your ridiculous posturing is addressing the very pressing problem of Mulder's foot temperature."

Accepting Scully's observation in relatively good humor, Mulder stamped his feet and wiggled his toes. "You're right, Scully. I guess I'm just going to have to get the blood circulating the old fashioned way. Cover me."

Without waiting for a response, Mulder trotted toward the indicated warehouse. Krycek and Scully exchanged a glance before moving into flanking positions, Krycek to the left (the far side) and Scully to the right (the near side). Mulder reached the door without incident, halting just to the right of the lever-type knob. Reaching with his left hand and keeping his body behind the wall, rather than the door, Mulder exerted downward force on the lever. It moved, but squealed loudly. Cursing nefarious warehouse users that failed to oil lock mechanisms, Mulder threw the door open and dove through. Rolling to the right, he glimpsed Krycek executing a similar maneuver while rolling left. Mulder halted behind a row of flimsy looking boxes. Krycek was got a concrete lane divider. No wonder he'd survived so long; the man was lucky. When no shots were fired, Scully reasoned that maintaining back up position was unnecessary and entered low and fast.

Krycek moved farther to the left, deeper into the warehouse. Keeping to the cover provided be the eclectic collection of warehouse contents, Scully followed. Mulder brought up the rear. When they were well inside the building, Krycek stopped, listening. There was nary a sound except for their breathing. Frowning, Alex stood and fired his gun in the air. The rapport echoed in the building for what seemed to be a long time.

"Nobody's home, Alex," Scully observed softly.

"Looks that way. What we're looking for should be over there." Krycek climbed over some wooden crates and stepped completely out in the open, every muscle tense. When nothing happened, he reached back to help Scully over the obstacles. Not waiting for Mulder and striding purposefully, Alex approached the northwest corner of the building. There was a room there of cinder block construction with a heavy metal door and no windows. He was considering it thoughtfully when Mulder and Scully approached.

"There could be a platoon with a heavy arsenal in there," Mulder observed dryly.

"C'mon, Mulder, where's your sense of adventure? Did you leave it with your hightops?" Alex knelt next to the door, examining the lock. Grunting, he removed some plastic explosives and a detonator from a small backpack he'd been carrying. In less than a minute, he'd deployed the device, activated it and moved away. Mulder and Scully took cover behind some sturdy looking sheets of metal and Krycek joined them mere moments before the minor explosion. Mulder was the first to reach the door that was now swinging freely on its hinges. A quick glance inside revealed a dusty room that might recently have housed a high tech communication facility. The layout of the furniture and wiring remnants looked correct, but all the important equipment and anticipated ancillary paper files were missing.

"Bugged out, leaving very little behind. The Grinch would be proud."

Krycek moved around Mulder and looked for himself, coughing as he entered the room. Making a 360 degree turn, he frowned at what he saw. "It was here, Dana."

Mulder spoke into the silence that followed. "Was being the operative word. Before we go any further Alex, let me state for the record how much I've enjoyed our little excursion this evening. An explosion or two every now and then is just the thing for my rheumatism."

Mulder was smirking. Scully was grinning. Krycek was silent, his face expressionless as he raised his gun to point it at Mulder's chest.

"Alex?" Scully asked, taking a tentative step toward him.

"Stay put, Agent Scully." The command in that tone effectively forestalled her forward motion. Dana looked at the tableau before her with horrified fascination.

"I did enjoy it, Alex. Really." Mulder's tone was light, but everything else about him was not. He moved slightly to his right, away from Scully. Krycek's gun hand tracked him with unerring precision, leading Mulder to ask, "So how long has this room been empty, Krycek?"

"A week. Ten days. Does it matter?"

"Not really, except that I'd prefer to die somewhere a little cleaner. If it's not terribly inconvenient, that is. If it is, then --."

"That's far enough, Mulder." The Special Agent flinched; he'd hoped to draw Krycek's attention away far enough to give Scully an opportunity to go for her weapon. Alex had good peripheral vision; however, and Scully was still within his view. Knowing a few more feet would do it, Mulder shifted a half shuffling step further. Alex Krycek fired three times in rapid succession, taking Mulder high in the chest and in the abdomen. Fox Mulder froze. a look of disbelief on his face. Several heartbeats later, he fell.

Krycek turned toward Scully immediately. She was bringing her gun to bear with tears in her eyes.

Alex was far faster. "Drop it," he ordered.

Staring at Krycek without really seeing him, Scully obeyed and moved toward Mulder and bent to roll him over onto his back to examine his wounds. Krycek walked toward the two agents, pausing only to kick Dana's service weapon into the shadows. Before Scully could do more than lift Mulder's shoulders, Krycek roughly pulled her toward an eight-foot high, four-inch thick metal pole set in the concrete floor. Agent Scully struggled to halt their forward progress. Achieving no appreciable success, she battled in earnest to free herself. Krycek propelled her into the pole and the ensuing sharp pain in her shoulder, the point of Scully-to-pole impact, stunned her momentarily. Dana leaned against the metal pole for support, allowing Krycek to cuff her left hand to it with her own handcuffs. Tears of frustration, pain and anger were flowing, as she watched him put the keys in a pocket of the leather jacket she'd purchased for him.

"Alex? Why?" When he glanced around the warehouse, anger overcame her. "Answer me! God damn you! Why?" With one last cold look at the fallen man and the secured woman, Krycek turned and walked away. Her cry of "Alex?!?" received no response other than the echo of his retreating footsteps.

Scully reached into her pocket with her free hand and retrieved her cellular telephone. The response on the FBI emergency number was immediate.

Walter Skinner entered the Baltimore General Hospital waiting room to which he'd been directed. Dana Scully was there. Her suit, face and hands were dirty and the heel of one shoe was broken. She was staring down at her hands, her expression the epitome of misery and fear. Assistant Director Skinner approached slowly and sat down next to his favorite subordinate. "Agent Scully," he called softly. She turned toward him and what her eyes broke his heart. He saw in them defeat, complete and utter desolation and no small measure of guilt. "Is there any word?"

Her voice was dull, lifeless. "He's still on the table. That's all they'll tell me."

"Where's he hit?"

"The chest. Maybe the abdomen."

"How many?"

"Three."

Skinner frowned. Things didn't sound good, but they certainly could've been worse. "What happened? From the beginning."

Dana didn't even want to think about what had transpired, much less talk about it. Under those circumstances, her mind leapt to related, but more peripheral topics. "Did you call his mother, sir? I was going to, but I ..."

"She's on her way. I called your mother as well, and she --." Skinner stopped abruptly when Scully leapt to her feet, turning her ankle slightly on the broken heel. Her eyes darting to the room's two doors, she looked trapped. "I wasn't clear as to whether you were injured. It's standard procedure."

"I know. I'd just rather not face mom right now." Skinner stood and approached Scully, putting an arm around her to encourage her back to her chair. She didn't put up any resistance. The docility worried Skinner.

"If things get to be too much, let me know and I'll run interference with your mother," he offered. "Don't tell anyone, but I have some experience and a bit of success in handling parents."

Scully reached out and took Skinner's hand. "Thank you, sir." She clearly saw the concern and fear in Skinner's eyes and found it difficult to face him.

"Dana, what happened?"

She took a deep breath and began to speak slowly. "We received a tip that there was some unusually advanced communications equipment housed in a warehouse. When we got there, it'd been removed. No straggling personnel either."

Skinner's eyes narrowed. No equipment and no people? Then what the hell had happened to Mulder? In his experience, it was often best to encourage an agent or a reluctant source to begin their narrative at a safe time and distance from the point of trauma. "Where were you?"

"South of Baltimore. Warehouse district. 1724 Thurlow road."

"Approach?"

"On foot from the west. We'd left our car in the 2000 block."

"Observations?"

"Nothing. No one. Very quiet."

"Dana! Thank God." Margaret Scully moved toward her daughter, pulling her into her arms. Noting that Dana maintained her grip on Skinner's hand, the elder Scully caught the Assistant Director's eye and mouthed, "How's Fox?"

He mouthed, "Bad," in reply.

Maggie continued to hold her daughter with one hand and made the sign of the cross with the other.

That gesture infused Skinner with a sense of urgency, so he returned his attention to Dana. "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but I have to know. How was Agent Mulder injured if you were in an abandoned warehouse?"

Dana Scully found herself wishing that Mulder's mom would arrive so that she could have another reprieve, a delay in admitting what she had to admit. But she had no such luck. Meeting Skinner's eyes with difficulty, she opened her mouth. Nothing came out other than a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob.

Skinner persisted, "I know this is hard, Agent Scully, but ..."

"Then leave her alone," Margaret Scully interjected softly. "At least for a few minutes. Can't you see that she's hurting?"

"I can see that quite clearly, Mrs. Scully; however, I have an agent with three bullets in him. If there's any chance at all of apprehending the shooter, I'd like to take it." Maggie looked like she was going to protest further, but something she saw in Skinner's eyes deterred her, so he prompted, "Agent Scully?"

"We went to the warehouse with Krycek. It was his information and he knew it was outdated. But the location evidently suited his purposes otherwise."

Skinner stopped breathing. Alex Krycek had done this. Why now? He'd had so many other opportunities. Suddenly, a possible reason suggested itself. The traitorous bastard had never had the chance to destroy Scully as well. Making a silent vow to kill Krycek, slowly and painfully if at all possible, Skinner's eyes darted around the waiting room. Margaret Scully looked horrified. That surprised him. Skinner couldn't recall that she had ever met Krycek. Gently freeing his hand from Scully's, Skinner reached for his cellular telephone to get this information to the Baltimore field office. He thought it possible that this might be a diversion from whatever else Krycek had going. Appropriate information provided to the local field office might turn that tactic into a mistake, the last one that the young man would ever make if Skinner had anything to say about it.

The doctor had finally entered the waiting room. It'd been hours, but to Skinner it felt like days had passed. The tired surgeon had everyone's immediate and undivided attention. "We've done all we can. He's stable, but still in critical condition. If he makes it through the night, his prognosis is reasonably good."

"Can I see him?" Dana Scully's question was posed in her best pathologist voice. She was in no mood for any further delay in seeing her partner. Dana was still angry with the paramedics' refusal to allow her to ride in the ambulance with Mulder. They hadn't even allowed her to approach him after they'd removed her handcuffs.

The doctor's attention focused on Scully immediately. Skinner could see what assumption the man had made. No one, not even Mulder's mother, disabused him of that notion.

"Just you for now. And don't be alarmed by what you see, Mrs. Mulder. He's hooked up to ..."

"I'm a doctor," Agent Scully announced, as she rose in rumpled dignity. The surgeon nodded and gestured for her to precede him, holding the door open for her. She concentrated on walking on her ruined pair of shoes down a short corridor, up one floor in the elevator and doubling back in the direction of the waiting room on the floor above. The doctor touched her arm lightly, indicating the next room on the right with his eyes and inclined head. He held that door for her as well. After Scully entered, she thanked the doctor quietly. He stood in the doorway for a moment, watching to be sure that she'd be all right. Quickly satisfied that she could handle what she was seeing, he left, granting her the privacy she'd wanted ever since Skinner had arrived.

Scully stopped a few paces from Mulder. He appeared to be peacefully sleeping. She then moved to the side of the bed, reviewing his chart out of force of habit. All appeared to be in order and completely consistent with the surgeon's assessment. After dragging one of the two chairs in the room to his side, she sank down into it and sighed. Taking Mulder's hand, Dana checked his pulse. It was strong and steady. Her eyes went to each of the monitors in turn. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, she settled in to wait.

Bone weary, Scully tried to concentrate on anything other than the throbbing aches of her head and shoulder. The room was quiet, except for the periodic, repetitive and oddly soothingsounds made by the monitoring devices. In an effort to stop the pain in her head, Dana shut her eyes. Re-opening them was difficult. She managed it, but they drifted closed again a few moments later. This time, her head fell slowly to her chest. When her chin hit, she jerked her head up and opened her eyes, focusing briefly on the monitors before they closed again. Her eyes didn't open when the door of the room did. Nor when the older man entered and approached the bed. When his shadow fell over her, Scully sat bolt upright.

Strong hands on her shoulders kept her in the chair. When the light fell on his face, Dana realized that she knew the man or someone like him. Jeremiah Smith was a social security office employee, one of several identical ones and a ... healer or a magician.

"It's all right, Agent Scully," he murmured. "I'm here to help Agent Mulder."

"We don't need any help. Not from you."

Smiling at the suspicion in her tone, Smith met her eyes calmly. "You find my arrival to be a bit too convenient, don't you?" The woman nodded, shifting her shoulders irritably. Smith took her unspoken hint and released her. Dana stood immediately, placing herself between Smith and Mulder.

"Well, it is in a way," Smith allowed. "Myself and certain colleagues have taken an interest in Agent Mulder -- an interest that requires him to be hale and hearty for some time to come. Apparently, not everyone shares our view."

"What's Mulder to you?"

"A symbol. A tool. An interesting specimen. Many things, really. But most importantly, at the moment, a patient."

There was something in the older man's posture or expression that engaged Scully's protective instincts. "Mulder has a treating physician. And me. He doesn't need anyone else."

"But of course he does, Agent Scully. As do you." Smith gently placed his hand on Scully's forehead and the pain was gone. Smith smiled at Dana's surprise, tentatively reaching for her head. Smith then placed his hand on her injured shoulder, banishing the pain from that portion of her anatomy as well. Confused, Scully took a step back. She was moderately alarmed that her thighs were now in contact with Mulder's bed. No further retreat was possible. "Now," Smith began, "will you permit me to approach your friend?"

Dana Scully didn't trust this being or her analysis of him. She'd never learned to completely trust what she couldn't explain scientifically, although she had gotten better at accepting what her senses told her. "What do you plan to do?" she asked.

"Attend to his injuries. Nothing more."

Smith looked at the young woman with interest. She was standing between he and Mulder like a sentinel, sharp as a blade. Her uncertainty didn't dull her edge or diminish her in any way. In fact, her calm assessment connoted strength. "If you hurt him, I'll kill you." The statement was matter of fact, but the look in her eyes convinced him of her seriousness.

Smiling, he moved to her right, waiting for her to give ground and allow him access to Mulder. "You believe you can. Interesting."

"You presume I can't. Dangerous."

The healer's interest in Dana Scully ratcheted up several notches. Her reply was not what he expected. Before he could properly assimilate the new information, the door to Mulder's room opened forcefully and both turned toward it.

Scully gasped and drew her weapon, determined to defend Mulder and Smith, if necessary. Then she remembered what would happen if she fired her weapon in this enclosed space -- the chemicals in the creature's blood would overcome her. She didn't know if Smith would suffer similarly, but it was he who was the focus of the alien assassin.

The older man didn't hesitate. He grasped Scully around the neck with an inhumanly strong right arm. "Toward the door, Agent Scully," Smith ordered. "Slowly."

The alien assassin didn't move, merely tracked Scully and Smith with his eyes. There was no need; they were coming toward him. Dana struggled, using every maneuver she'd learned in the academy and from her brothers, to escape Smith's headlock. She couldn't, so she tried to come up with an alternative plan as they walked slowly and inexorably toward the door and the alien assassin waiting beside it.

When they were about three feet from the door, Dana realized that the assassin had his back toward much of the room, although he could probably see Mulder's head. She felt Smith shift his grip on her a moment before he propelled her forward. Dana collided with the assassin, who grunted and grabbed a handful of her hair to throw her aside. Scully fought for balance and leverage, either to resist or to go with his movement, whichever she could best accomplish. She was peripherally aware of movement off to the left, just before the assassin stiffened and the grip on her hair loosened, so she could roll clear of the falling alien.

Breathing hard, Scully found herself watching Alex Krycek clean off his specialized weapon on the assassin's suit coat from the hospital room floor.

Frowning, Krycek walked across the room and entered the small bathroom. Dana heard water running. Moments later, he re-emerged, placing the weapon in an interior pocket of his jacket. Only then did he glance at Scully, who remained on the floor and was looking at him as though she'd never seen him before, confusion evident.

"You have to clean them really well, Dana," Alex noted. "Or else the chemicals eat through your clothes. I learned that the hard way." As he spoke, he moved toward Mulde and reached for hiim.

"That's far enough, Krycek!" Poised in FBI Academy textbook two handed firing position, Scully aiming at his chest. He froze, wondering if this was a second weapon or if she'd tracked down the one he'd kicked in the warehouse. Meeting her eyes, he took a breath to calm himself. She was shaking, but her aim looked steady enough. "Dana -," he began.

"Shut up! Just shut up." Scully was jacked up on adrenaline, and she knew it. Taking deep breath after deep breath, she let her anger focus her and give her the strength to do what had to be done. "This is what's going to happen, Krycek. You're going to move away from Mulder. Three steps directly backwards. Now." The man simply stared at her with an unreadable expression. "Do it!"

Shrugging, Krycek complied, stepping back three times.

Not yet comfortable, she ordered, "On your knees."

"Under other circumstances, you wouldn't have to ask twice, Dana. But I have no intention of kneeling before you, until ..."

Scully had started to interrupt, but his suggestion of a condition precedent forestalled her. When Alex didn't continue, she motioned for him to do so with her gun.

"Until you examine Mulder for yourself." Scully looked at Krycek incredulously, prompting a nearly exasperated, "C'mon, Dana, you've seen your partner with a hole or two in him before. And have handled corpses with all sorts of ordinary and extraordinary wounds. So I figure you can handle this - right? Besides, he's all sewn up, isn't he?"

Krycek's not-so-veiled sarcasm grated on Scully's nerves, but it also galvanized her into action. "Back up," she demanded. "Two more steps. And keep your hands where I can see them." Compliance was instantaneous. Never taking her eyes from Krycek, Scully approached Mulder, maintaining a two handed grip on her sidearm and the gun trained on Krycek's chest. When she got close enough, she shifted the weapon to her right hand and drew the blanket and sheet away from Mulder's body with her left. Stepping backward to the head of the bed, she untied the neck bow of Mulder's hospital gown.

"Why don't you let me do that?"

Scully glanced up quickly, only then realizing that she'd looked down to deal with the gown. Krycek was almost at her side, doing his best to look non-threatening. As much as she didn't want Alex to get close to Mulder, Scully realized the difficulty she'd encounter trying to expose the patient's chest if she had to watch Krycek as well. When she nodded, Krycek quickly and efficiently stripped Mulder to the waist and stepped back.

It took only one glance to focus Scully's attention fully on Mulder. He had three bruises on his chest. Bruises? What the hell was going on? Numb, Scully sank back down into the chair that she'd been sitting in earlier and her confused eyes slowly made their way to Krycek's face. "How?"

Alex crouched in front of Scully, putting his hand on her knee. "He was wearing a vest."

"Why?"

"So he wouldn't get hurt." Krycek's tone was light and he was smiling slightly, trying unsuccessfully to coax one out of Scully. Her arched eyebrow and annoyed expression suggested that he'd better continue talking, so he did. "We ... I needed to know where the missing Smith was. Mulder thought he might be the one that you two interacted with a couple of years ago."

"The two of you concocted this scheme? You and Mulder?"

"We do occasionally see eye to eye, Dana. You've commented on that yourself."

Scully sighed and shut her eyes. If this was on the up and up, they certainly agreed on keeping her in the dark. Failing to suppress that thought, she shunted it aside. Dana wanted, yet refused to accept his story. "I don't believe you."

"Explain the bruises then."

"Mulder was being cautious. He doesn't trust you."

Alex Krycek laughed heartily, stood and stared at Scully in disbelief. When she met his eyes defiantly. Alex rolled his at her, chuckling. "We're talking about Mulder, Dana. Mr. 'I don't need back up.' Fox 'I'm not afraid of anything, particularly a piece of shit like you Krycek' Mulder. That guy? Wear a vest? Because he's afraid of me? You can do better. You've got more imagination than that."

Scully found herself somewhat swayed by Krycek's words, despite her resolve not to be. Still, there were holes and unanswered questions. "Why's he unconscious?"

"Playing the role, Dana. Just like the paramedics and the surgeon. The appropriate drugs were administered."

"So a stimulant of sufficient strength would wake him?"

"Yes, but he'd have to be put under again. All that would be tough on his system."

Scully frowned, not liking that answer.

Grudgingly, Alex admitted, "I've got an appropriate dose, if you need to see his eyes open." Krycek sighed and began to reach into his jacket upon seeing Scully's look of intense interest.

"Why don't you let me do that, Krycek?" Scully inquired, consciously mimicking Alex's tone and demeanor from when he'd earlier asked a similar question. Then her voice got harder. "And keep your hands where I can see them. I'm upset, Alex. And we don't want any unfortunate accidents. Do we?"

"Interior right pocket," he muttered.

Scully reached inside his black leather jacket. Slowly and carefully, she removed a hard brown leather case. Backing away from Krycek, she opened it to see a syringe and dose of something. There were no labels or identifying marks of any kind.

"You're going to have to trust me, Dana. You want to talk to Mulder, stick him. It'd go easier, if you only gave him about two thirds of it. That way, he'll probably back under without additional pharmaceuticals."

Her indecision was evident, internal struggle playing itself out on her face and in her body language. Krycek watched with great interest. It was her move. Decisively, Scully returned her gun to the waistband of her pants and prepared to inject the drugs, stealing a glance at Krycek to see if he gave anything away. Refusing to deviate from her initial decision, Scully administered the partial dose and waited anxiously. After just a few moments, Mulder's eyelids flickered. Open. Shut. Open yet unfocused. "Mulder? It's me."

"Scully?" the drugged man managed. "Did it work? Smith?"

Dana Scully's eyes widened. She looked at Alex, who had assumed a wounded 'How could you have doubted me?' posture. "Yes, Mulder," she replied. "The little scheme that you boys hatched all on your own without informing or consulting me worked. And you'd better hope the worst of my anger's faded before you wake up for good."

Mulder smiled sleepily. "Take it out on ... Alex. He'll enjoy it."

"Thanks a lot, Mulder," Alex grunted. "Your magnanimity manifests itself at the most inopportune moments."

"Don't lose him, Krycek."

"I won't. The surveillance team's first rate. Kat believed very strongly in the fundamentals and they're all well aware of what's at stake."

"Tired," Mulder murmured as he took Scully's hand.

She smiled and squeezed his. "Go back to sleep, Mulder," she ordered softly.

He nodded and squinted at Krycek. "Your turn, Alex."

"Yeah. I'll ... um ... take your advice."

"We'll reform you yet."

Krycek smiled. "If I'm not careful, maybe. You'll get out of here tomorrow night, Mulder. Skinner will come and get you."

"Skinner knows?" Scully nearly shouted. She'd been making a good faith effort to accept that these two had set aside their differences without telling her. But including Skinner was simply too much.

Krycek put his hands on both of Dana's shoulders, meeting her eyes without hesitation. "No, but he will by then. You'll give him his marching orders tomorrow afternoon."

"Alex, tomorrow is Saturday. AD Skinner and I don't normally take in a matinee."

Grinning at the visual image of Scully and Skinner sharing a tub of popcorn in the dark, Krycek squeezed her shoulders and straightened. "I know, but I bet he doesn't let you out of his sight until you tell him what's going on. He must be worried sick. You were almost in shock earlier."

"How the hell do you know?"

"I looked in on you."

"Why didn't ...?"

"You weren't in any mood to see me, were you?"

"Then why did ...?"

"Mulder asked me to. And I wanted to make sure you were all right. Physically anyway."

Scully smiled tiredly and approached Alex. As she began to speak, she put her hand over Krycek's mouth. "Why do you keep answering my questions before I finish asking them?"

He laughed into her hand, waiting to respond until she removed it. "To save time and get you on your way before Skinner can't stand the suspense anymore and comes looking for you."

Dana stared into Alex's eyes. "Where will you be tonight?"

"Here. Just in case." He took in Dana's stricken expression and pulled her close. "I won't let anyone hurt him. I promise."

Scully nodded and kissed him fiercely. They lost themselves in that kiss and those that followed for several minutes, both recognizing that there was no finesse involved, just fear and anger and lust and maybe some other things they didn't want to admit. Reluctantly, Dana pulled away. "Don't let anyone hurt you either."

"I've got a feeling that the next person I let hurt me is going to be you, Dana."

She looked up quickly, uncertain as to what he meant. He was smiling, though. That was good, interesting, actually and an intriguing concept deserving of serious consideration. She smiled as predatorily as she knew how. From the look on his face, she'd done reasonably well. "You plan to while away the hours thinking about that?"

"I'll stay awake, if I do."

"I see. That's important. You staying awake. Perhaps a little more food for thought would help the cause."

Cigarette Smoking Man considered his most recent discussion with Alex Krycek as well as the events that had transpired since. The boy had seemed poised to play his part in the proceedings, so Cigarette Smoking Man'd put the plan in motion and set the timetable for Operation End Game. All that remained was for Alex to kick it off.

Then it had all gone to hell. Alex had inexplicably turned on Fox Mulder, mere hours after Cigarette Smoking Man's discussion with him. The juxtaposition of those two events were likely to lead David and Russell to at least consider the possibility that Cigarette Smoking Man had double crossed them. If they decided he had, Cigarette Smoking Man would have to take extreme measures to exonerate himself. While they were deciding, Cigarette Smoking Man would lay low and get ready for the battle that would mark the first overt action taken by humans to retain their world. This one had to be won, regardless of cost and despite whatever Alex had done or was intending to do.

Cigarette Smoking Man could abort Operation End Game up until T minus one hour without breaking a sweat. Thirty minutes was likely to be enough time, if he got a few breaks, but he had no intention of cutting it that close. His real concern was that he could abort only once and he didn't particularly want to try his luck.

Sighing, Cigarette Smoking Man extracted the last cigarette from an open pack of Morleys. Frowning in concentration, he lit it and brought it to his lips.