Season Six:
Episode 26

The J. Edgar Hoover Building
Washington DC
3:31 pm

Dana Scully and Fox Mulder were seated in Assistant Director Skinner's office, answering his questions concerning their respective reports on their recent activities. Mulder's was focused on his debriefing of Frohicke. Scully's was directed to her and Alex Krycek's efforts to destroy the so-called lighthouses. Her speculations about Kazakstan inspired the majority of Skinner's queries. Dana answered as completely as she could, suspecting that his true interest was her state of mind, rather than Krycek's health and well being.

"No, sir, I never saw Boris after the encounter I described prior to the destruction of the Russian lighthouse."

"And at that time he offered no explanation as to Krycek's whereabouts?"

"No, sir. Nor did he personally see to my return to the United States. Two young men in uniform insisted that I accompany them to the airport and stayed with me until I boarded a flight to Orley. A Frenchman, who claimed not to speak English, handed me a ticket to Kennedy and walked me to my gate. He left me, but I'm certain that several of the people in the boarding area were there to observe me and confirm my use of the ticket he provided. A college boy met me in New York with the necessary paperwork for the final leg of my trip. I'm pretty sure that I saw Katya in the terminal as well, and a man who works for Alex, Graham, met me at the gate at Dulles and drove me home."

"So Boris is off the hook, as far as getting you here in one piece. I'm sure he's relieved."

Both Skinner and Scully were actually glad to see the return of the cocky annoying Mulder persona. He'd had trouble entrusting Scully to Krycek and his mother to Cancerman, yet his relief that neither of those situations persisted had been slow in coming. However, Scully wasn't in anything approaching a lighthearted mood. In fact, she was quite far from sanguine about Alex's situation. "Boris was relieved the moment Alex agreed to go on without me. That's what concerns me, Mulder."

The Special Agent's muttered, "Boris and me both," garnered a glare from Scully and a thoughtful frown from Skinner.

Continuing his inquiry, the Assistant Director asked, "Agent Scully, am I to understand that you believe that this man Boris was setting Krycek up in some way?"

"Yes, but I can offer no evidence in support of my theory."

Ignoring Mulder's snort and suspecting that other emotions were underlying Scully's veneer of professional frustration, Skinner offered, "Perhaps I can."

He suddenly had both Mulder's and Scully's full attention, as he opened a file and extracted an artist's rendering and offered it to Scully. "Is this him?"

Scully's gasp told the men what they needed to know. "Who is he?"

Mulder replied before Skinner could. "The man whose interest in you led him to the Lone Gunmen. Frohicke gave him an earful, as we've discussed."

Scully was getting more and more confused, and she didn't like it, sensing that confusion on her part was likely to directly correlate with danger on Alex's. "But why? What was it they didn't know? Alex arranged for alternative transportation out of Oman, and concurred that the destruction of the Kazakstan lighthouse was officially sanctioned. So neither the timetable nor the coordinates was at issue."

"The majority of his questions were about you, Agent Scully."

Mulder built on Skinner's observation. "Maybe he told Frohicke the truth. We're so used to lies and shaded meanings from these people, that we might be missing the obvious. He said that they wanted the two of you separated. But why?"

That question hung in the air between the three, when Skinner's secretary opened the door. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but this package just arrived for Agent Scully from the Tunisian embassy. It's marked personal, confidential and urgent." Hurrying on, as Skinner opened his mouth to speak, she verified, "It passed metal detector and bomb squad muster, sir."

Nodding acknowledgment of her adherence to proper procedure, Skinner murmured, "Fine."

The woman entered the office, giving Mulder something of a wide berth, and presented the package to Scully, who turned it over in her hands, glancing at the front face to confirm what the woman had already told her of its origins. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Agent Scully."

Skinner noted that his secretary hovered by the door, as the Special Agent opened the envelope. "That will be all," he indicated firmly.

Disappointed, she retreated. All she would be able to report to the rumor mill was that Agent Scully had gotten a small box, about the size that a watch would come in.

Dana's face paled and her mouth fell open in dismay, when she opened the package. Inside it was her gold cross on a chain. Nothing more.

Six months later
J. Edgar Hoover Building
5: 05 pm

Fox Mulder glanced across his desk at his partner. She was sitting and staring off into space. He couldn't say that he blamed her. They'd just returned from the Louisiana bayou, where they'd investigated some alleged voodoo-related activities. They'd found lots of blood, human and chicken mostly, and other, what Mulder had referred to in his report as voodoo paraphernalia. They also had managed to develop a theory consistent with the facts -- Scully's, and one involving a slight leap of faith departure from the facts -- Mulder's. Neither could be proven. All they had to show for their efforts was some more nightmare fodder for their respective subconscious minds. It was getting old.

"Penny for your thoughts, Scully?"

Turning her head toward him slowly, she shook it slowly, almost wearily. "Save your money for a better investment, Mulder."

Smiling slightly, he insisted, "I'll take a flyer on you. What's going on behind those eyes?"

"Not much. I'm just wondering if we'll ever get answers to our questions. About your sister ... what happened to me ... what it all means."

Observing his partner closely, Mulder added a question that he believed she'd omitted. "Not to mention what Krycek's up to?"

Her wince told him he was correct, but the quiet tone of her reply worried her partner. "If he's even alive."

"He's too stubborn not to be, Scully. You know that as well as, if not better than I do."

Meeting Mulder's eyes, she asked, "Would you think less of me, if I said I hoped you're right?"

"No." Smiling and moving closer, Mulder tried to communicate supportiveness with his eyes. He stopped in front of her chair and put his hands on her shoulders. "We've been through too much together for me to hold your interests, however misguided and inexplicable, against you."

Appreciating what he was trying to do, Scully smiled somewhat ruefully. "Don't mind me, Mulder, I'm just in a bad mood."

"That time of the month?" Mulder was ready for and easily evaded the punch she'd aimed for his solar plexus. He knew that much about women. "C'mon, Scully, lighten up a little. We've just been through another in a long line of unsatisfying investigations. You should be used to it by now."

"That's just it. I'm so accustomed to it, that failure doesn't faze me anymore." Her intensity diminished somewhat, her voice growing quieter. "That worries me. A lot."

Scully's concern was obvious in her demeanor, her eyes speaking volumes of frustration, uncertainty, and ... what looked to be pain. Mulder desperately wanted to say something to make things better for her, but she was right about their track record of late. It was abysmal. Skinner had commented on it a week or so ago. Their once enviable success rate was being eroded and, when it wasn't, the explanations for the "paranormal phenomena" were generally mundane.

Mulder was convinced that they needed the scent of a government conspiracy to liven things up. However, Krycek's abrupt exit from their lives had been mimicked by the smoking man. Neither Mulder nor Scully had seen the smoker, since Mulder had run into him at his mother's place. As much as Mulder hated to admit it, the prolonged absence of those two men was felt. The most interesting XFiles always seemed to involve them, directly or indirectly. "We're in a rut. That's all. Things'll sort themselves out. They always do."

"What happens when the rut gets so deep, I can't even see out of it, Mulder?"

"You appreciate the fact that your partner's taller."

That got a laugh, as Mulder had hoped, before she said, "I see. How can we avoid making the rut so deep that even you can't see out?"

"Keep the faith, Scully. In ourselves, and in each other."

Considering his words carefully, she asked, "Do you believe in us, Mulder?"

"More than I've ever believed in anything."

"Even now? After everything we've seen and done? Despite all that we know ... and don't know?"

He met her skeptical eyes, as he'd done so many times in the past, and nodded. "Yes. And I think Skinner does, too. He's completely supporting us, even more so since you went off on your adventure with Krycek. Sometimes at significant personal and professional cost. That means something to me."

"I appreciate it too, Mulder, but I can't help but feel that it's too little too late."

This was definitely a serious case of the XFiles blues. A state of mind that Mulder had passed through a number of times and come out the other side, an ability he attributed to his loyalty to Scully and to Sam, as much as to his dislike for cover ups and misuse of power. His belief, or desire to do so, was his anchor. Scully's motivations were more personal; her experiences, rather than her beliefs, were at issue. "Maybe it is, but that isn't what's at the root of your dissatisfaction. What is?"

An irritated sigh was followed by an expressive frown. "I had a source of answers to my ... our questions, but I never asked them. Every time I thought about asking, it seemed selfish, given all the other things that were happening. So, I allowed the needs of the moment to dictate my actions, always assuming that there'd be a time when we'd ..."

No surprise there. "Krycek going off on his own is a pretty standard behavior, Scully. I wouldn't take it personally."

"That's exactly the point, Mulder, I should've known this would happen. I had plenty of time to get answers, and I wasted it." Standing abruptly using her fists on his desk as levers, she turned away, her body tense.

Not wanting to hear the answer, but knowing that it would be telling, Mulder asked, "Did you? Really?"

Her face, when she faced him, was completely open. The emotions that he saw there, predominantly anguish, fear and a gentler one to which he didn't care to try and affix a label, made his heart ache. "No. Not wasted, but imprudently used, especially if ..."

Scully let her statement trail off once again and he countered, "I'll give you an if statement you can count on, Scully. You'll get your answers, even if I have to drag them out of the rat bastard's throat myself."

Dana Scully unlocked the door to her apartment with a sigh. A smile threatened to invade her foul mood, as she watched her hand disappear into the too long sleeve of the black leather jacket she wore, but that particular threat passed quickly. She'd had both her necklace and Alex's jacket for months now. It wasn't right. Shaking her head in an effort to dispel the dark thoughts that usually led her to something approaching despair, Scully dropped her keys on the table next to the door and moved into her apartment.

"Hello, Agent Scully."

Reaching for her weapon after immediately placing the voice, Dana wasn't really surprised when her arms were pinned behind her by a dark suited young man. "What are you doing here?"

Taking a drag off of his cigarette, the smoking man observed her thoughtfully. "I've come to offer some relief from the tedium that is the XFiles."

The smoker had arrived with a proposition? "You must've made a wrong turn somewhere; Mulder lives across town."

He raised an eyebrow and smiled slowly. "Agent Mulder is of no use to me."

"In this regard or in general?"

"In his current capacity."

Riddles were interesting for a while, but annoying as a steady diet. "Do you ever say what you mean?"

"Always," he hissed through cigarette smoke. "I select my words quite carefully. Unfortunately, not everyone can put them in the appropriate context. And understanding suffers."

"Is there any hope of you coming to the point in a manner that my limited data as to context will allow me to comprehend?"

Her annoyance had translated into sarcasm. Some of Mulder, or perhaps it was Krycek, had rubbed off on her. "A situation is developing that is of concern to me and my colleagues. I believe that you will be able to help us assess it and take appropriate action. I'll say no more than that, until you agree to hear me out completely. But I ask you to consider, Agent Scully, if anything I bring to you could be of less import or interest than your recent investigations?"

The man had a point, as much as it pained her to admit. "And if I agree?"

"You and I will be driven by my associate here," he began, gesturing at the man behind Scully, "to an airfield. In the car, I will show you some videotape, and describe the situation as I see it. If you choose to accompany me, we will board a helicopter and be transported to a location, where you can personally investigate the matter and advise us as to the nature of the risk and on how to proceed to alleviate it. If that, in fact, is your recommendation."

"So, I'll have a choice."

"Ostensibly."

"Meaning?" An enigmatic smile and a drag on his cigarette was his only reply. Taking a deep breath, Scully looked over her shoulder meaningfully at the man restraining her.

"Let her go, but relieve her of her weapon. We don't want her to do anything rash. After all, we're merely the messengers."

What was that supposed to mean? She supposed there was only one way to assuage her curiosity on that point. After the junior thug took her gun, Scully returned to the table by the door and picked up her keys. "All right. I'll watch your videos. I had nothing planned for this evening anyway."

The limousine was comfortable; Scully couldn't deny that. The smoker had settled in, made each of them a drink and lit up again, seemingly in no hurry to begin the program. A state of mind that Scully didn't share, so she broke the silence to ask, "Why am I here?"

"For the moment, to observe and analyze what you see. Are you ready?"

At her nod, the smoking man leaned forward and touched the control panel in front of him. The video began with a wide-angle shot of what looked to be a military airfield at night. Scully could see a number of men scurrying to and fro, but couldn't determine exactly what they were doing. Suddenly, all was apparently ready. Armed men were arrayed in a loose formation, and a line of people - perhaps, prisoners -- had been formed to one side. Finally, a lone man, seemingly unarmed, walked toward an open place at the front and center of the formation. Scully leaned closer to the television, certain that she'd recognize that stride anywhere. When he was in place, the camera zoomed in on him. Alex Krycek's eyes appeared to be scanning the sky.

A bright light bathed the entire scene. All of the participants shielded their eyes and the camera automatically attempted, yet failed to filter it out. The light kept getting brighter and more intense, until it hurt Scully's eyes to look at the screen.

"Was there heat associated with it?" she inquired, looking at the smoker rather than at the malevolent brightness.

"No. It got colder, if anything. We've inserted a time-lapse at this point. The light persisted for twenty three minutes." Scully re-directed her attention to the screen in time to see the bright light extinguish, and the ambient light, once her eyes had adjusted to it, revealed a large object resting about a thousand yards from Alex. Before he turned toward it, she saw that he looked over at the line of ... prisoners. Why? To make sure that they had been affected by the light in the same manner as the guards were? That would make sense, ascertaining that he didn't now have a two-pronged problem to deal with. They had, and he didn't. The relaxation in his shoulders was obvious to her.

But his relief didn't last long. Someone was approaching; it looked to Scully like two men, but she couldn't be sure at that distance. Alex saw them and took a deep breath, turning to say something to the man on his right. Whatever he said, the other man didn't appear to agree, but Alex looked adamant. Taking a few steps toward the approaching men, Alex reached up to his collar, and suddenly the car was filled with the sound of his voice. "Here we go. Let's see what we've got."

There were two men, one a Jeremiah Smith and one a bounty hunter, and they met Alex a little more than half way between Alex's men and the large object. The Jeremiah Smith spoke. "Is everything in readiness? You know how we value punctuality."

"On my end." Squinting into the darkness behind the two aliens, Alex added, "I hope, for all our sake's, that you practice what you preach."

"Indeed." Staring at the human coldly, the alien in the guise of an older human asked, "How do you prefer we do this?"

"One for one. Slow and easy."

Nodding, the Jeremiah Smith motioned to the bounty hunter, who turned and moved back into the darkness. "I imagine you'd prefer us to go first."

"I would."

"So be it." The camera showed Alex Krycek bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet, but otherwise waiting impassively. After a few moments, the bounty hunter approached with a woman at his side. Scully's intaken breath appeared to mimic Krycek's. It was Samantha Mulder; it had to be. The bounty hunter stopped a pace from Krycek, who held out his right hand to the woman. Hesitantly, she took it and allowed herself to be drawn toward him.

"Welcome back. You'll need to walk toward that blue light off to the right. Someone will meet you."

A hoarse, "Thank you," paled in comparison to the raw emotions in the woman's eyes. They stood for almost a full minute, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes, and would've for longer, if the Jeremiah Smith hadn't prompted, "The exchange?"

Alex nodded, smiled at the woman, squeezing her hand before he let it go, and turned toward his men guarding the prisoners. After he raised his right arm, a Jeremiah Smith was brought forward, and given over into the custody of the bounty hunter.

Three more exchanges, two bounty hunters and a Jeremiah Smith for two men and a woman, were played out before the smoker stopped the tape. "I'm sure you get the idea. This event took time and a concerted effort to orchestrate, arranging both for the exchange and for the re-assimilation of those that were returned to us. Teams of psychologists, physical therapists and social workers were hand picked for the latter task. It's almost finished and in what little spare time he has, Alex has participated, as you'll see."

With that, the smoker inserted another videotape into the player and pressed the play button. The woman that Scully thought was Samantha Mulder was staring out a window, a slight uncertain smile on her face.

Alex's voice sounded, "Are you all right, Samantha?"

As she turned toward him, a different camera picked up the action with him holding a glass of white wine out to her. Wearily, Samantha allowed, "Just tired, Alex. Thank you." Accepting the glass, she smiled a little more confidently and continued, "I find myself saying that to you a lot. I hope you don't find the repetition boring."

Dana scrutinized Krycek closely. He was smiling, looking casual in a grey sweater and black jeans, but she could see that he was tired. His fatigue showed in the way that he held himself, although he appeared to be trying to hide it from Samantha. "Your re-assimilation team tells me that you're not cooperating. Why is that?"

Meeting her host's eyes defiantly, she said, "I've been gone for a long time, Alex. I'd rather they talked to me like you do, than ask me what ink blots remind me of or force me to play word association games with them."

Alex frowned, as he brought his wine glass to his lips. "They've asked you to do both of those things only once; it's part of the initial testing that everyone received. Don't lie to me, Samantha; I don't have time for it."

"What do you have time for? You're never here and, when you are, you can barely keep your eyes open. Is it worth it? The personal price you pay for the power."

Scully recognized the incredulous look on Krycek's face. She should; she'd seen it often enough.

Then he was speaking again. "I have time for everything I need to do, and I haven't thought about things in terms of what I want for a very long time. There's no point in it."

"Maybe you should reconsider your priorities." Moving closer to him, Samantha smiled slowly. "I'd be willing to help."

Laughing, he negotiated, "Cooperate with your doctors, and I'll consider your offer."

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Krycek."

Alex seemed to Scully to be unsure of what exactly to do with the woman he found in his arms. Surprising herself a little with the ease of interpretation, Dana realized that his lowered eyes, slightly increased tension and deep breath were indicative of mild annoyance. A hint of it came through in his, "Something I picked up from your brother."

Stepping back from him quickly, Samantha questioned, "You know Fox?"

"We've crossed paths a few times; don't see eye to eye on all that much, except maybe for Dana."

She aimed a significant look at him. "So ... who's Dana?"

A long sigh escaped his lips, but his reply was nonchalant, matter-of-fact. "Special Agent Dana Scully, his partner in the FBI."

"The shared opinion being ...?"

"None of your business." The finality in his tone was borne out by his creation of distance between them.

Following him, the camera angle altered as the video accepted a feed from yet another source.

Samantha persisted, "Have we hit on a personal interest, Alex?"

Pouring himself another glass of Sauvignon Blanc, he murmured, "Let it go, Samantha."

"Funny, I thought you'd be pleased that I'm showing interest in something."

He answered her innocent look with a glare. "My personal life is not what I had in mind."

Grinning at his unintentional admission, Samantha accepted his demand for a subject change and followed him back into the living area into the range of what Scully had unconsciously begun to think of as camera one. "Tell me about my brother."

"He's just like you. Annoying as hell. Thinks he knows everything about everything. You'll like him." Krycek's last statement ended in a yawn.

"When will we find out if you're right?"

"When you're ready," he managed before yawning again.

Scully tensed, as Samantha Mulder moved closer and put her hand on Alex's shoulder. Both Krycek and the female Mulder looked toward the door when a young man entered quickly after rapidly knocking. "Sir, we've got a problem."

The smoking man smiled slightly at Scully's nod of approval, inspired by Alex's unhesitating movement toward the door. The screen then faded to blue. Scully glanced toward the man, her question obvious. He answered it. "If you would be so kind, Agent Scully, as to indulge me for a few more moments."

Dana nodded, grudgingly acknowledging her own tension. Alex was alive, but she was becoming uneasy about his situation. Stress, fatigue, multiple Jeremiah Smiths and Samantha Mulder didn't add up to a walk in the park in Dana's view. Questions about why and how her necklace was returned to her now seemed peripheral. Scully found that fact to be interesting, and vowed to consider it as soon as she had a moment to spare.

Her attention was drawn back to the small television by the sound of Alex's agitated voice. "Because I said so, Boris!"

Krycek was angry. Dana didn't need the punctuation of his fist hitting a glass desk to ascertain that. Her uneasiness ratcheted up several notches, seeing the older Russian in what appeared to be Alex's office, austere and modern in metal, leather and glass.

"Falling into bad habits already, Alexei? What happened to your ability to explain and persuade? Did you lose it, or simply lose interest in using it? It's too bad, either way. A reasoned strategy that you've communicated well to those you expect to implement it is much more effective than a series of random inexplicable orders."

"Save the lecture, and do as you're told."

"Making decisions when you're exhausted is suspect. Perhaps you should ...?"

"Shove the advice where ever you put the lecture." Pressing a button on his telephone, he leaned toward the microphone embedded in it. "Jack, please escort Boris to his car, and send Evans with him on his errand."

"Think about what you've just done, Alex. About what you're becoming."

Irritably, he activated the intercom again. "Today, Jack."

A young blonde haired man opened the door to the office and motioned to Boris. The Russian met Alex's eyes briefly before moving to join the blonde.

"Did you replace the others only to repeat their mistakes? Is that the extent of your aspirations, Alexei?" The penultimate question was spoken to a closing door, and the last one would've met a completely closed one, if it hadn't been for Samantha Mulder holding it open and stepping through.

"What's his problem?" she inquired.

Scully noted that Krycek reacted too slowly and then too much to the woman's words and that his effort at recovery was halfhearted. "Nothing. Look, Samantha, I'm in the middle of something here."

"Should you be?"

Her tone was light, but Alex was uninterested in any further discussion of his fitness for duty, muttering "Not you, too." When Samantha simply waited, he continued in a more conversational tone. "I'm fine. There's a lot happening right now, and I have to --."

"Deal with everything yourself. I know. I've watched you for several months now. This pace will kill you or get you killed."

Meeting her eyes with a frown, he snapped, "Do you think you're the first to praise the virtues of delegation?"

Smiling, she took his hands in hers. "Obviously not. But, sooner or later, someone you'll listen to will manage to convince you of the correctness of our position. Until then, we'll do what we can. Come with me, Alex."

Looking at the papers strewn across his desk, he sighed. "Where?"

"I want to show you something I found on my walk today; it might give you some perspective."

"It's dark, Samantha, and I --."

"Must have some flashlights around here somewhere. C'mon, Alex. You need a break."

Recognizing either the truth in her words or the futility of argument, Alex nodded his assent and the screen went to blue again. Scully turned toward the smoking man, who, curiously, was not smoking.

He met her eyes and took a deep breath. "In the past, I've used you without your knowledge and may have failed to achieve my objective because of it. Today, I'm asking for your cooperation."

"Alex is bending under the strain." A nod was his reply. "Any signs of serious cracks?"

"Not yet, but he appears headed that way, and our somewhat troubled history limits my ability to help him."

"And you don't trust those you believe can influence him." Her statement, brimming with irony, garnered another affirmative nod. "So, where's this helicopter?"

Alex Krycek entered his suite of rooms, experiencing the disconnect with this reality that always followed a meeting with representatives from all the alien factions. Those meetings were always on their turf and seemed to go on for weeks, although when he returned, he discovered that only hours or at most days had gone by here. It'd take him some time to adjust, something that bothered the smoker. He believed that Alex was far too vulnerable to what he termed "destabilizing influences" until he got some rest. In Krycek's view, there was no such influence greater than the smoking man himself.

With shaking hands, he poured himself a drink. Double Scotch. Neat. No need to cut it with ice or water. That'd involve another step -- a further delay of the oblivion he sought. A large swallow of alcohol followed by a smaller one focused his awareness on the warmth spreading through his system. Now, all he had to do was take the bottle with him to the couch and keep drinking.

"Hello, Alex."

The sound of shattering glass was the only one in the room. Dana Scully had winced, as she'd watched the glass slip through Alex's fingers at the sound of her voice. When he focused on her, he blinked his eyes rapidly, and shook his head as if to clear it. "Dana?"

"It's me. You aren't seeing things." Stepping further into what little light there was, Scully noted that his eyes were immediately drawn to her cross and that he seemed relieved that it was in it's customary place around her neck. A slight smile evidenced his notice of her outerwear as well. She watched him carefully as she slipped out of his leather jacket and held it out to him. When he just stood stock still, Scully looked at the floor in front of him and shook her head sadly. "A waste of good liquor, Alex. Why don't you hang this up and sit down? I'll take care of the drinks."

What the hell was wrong with him? He looked like he'd been drugged, responding to her directives with slow and sluggish movements. Scully considered those symptoms, as she cleaned up the broken glass and spilled alcohol, poured two more and joined him on the couch.

"How?"

Giving his question a moment's thought, nothing other than honesty in her response seemed appropriate. "Your friend with the nicotine habit invited me." Alex blinked several times and nodded slowly, frowning in concentration. "What's wrong, Alex?"

Wrong? Just trying to add two and two, Agent Scully. "Nothing. It ... it's always like this. Takes a day or so to recover."

"So who runs the show, while you sort things out?"

A brief flash of anger behind his eyes gave force to his muttered, "I do."

Kissing him on the cheek, obviously surprising him, she murmured, "No fatal errors, thus far, thank God." She steered away from the sore subject after she saw the acknowledgment of her point in his demeanor and lowered eyes. "I've missed you."

She wasn't kidding. No one could look that sincere, if they weren't. Could they? Shrugging, Alex admitted, "I didn't know exactly what I was getting into. It seemed like phase II would take a few weeks, a month or two at most. Things just got complicated."

Grinning, she said, "And here I thought you'd just gotten cold feet."

Alex found himself laughing hard for the first time in what seemed like years and felt some of the cobwebs in his head dissolving, rendering him capable of clearer thought. When he trusted himself to speak again, he countered, "Come over here, and I'll show you how cold my feet are."

Scully smiled and moved onto his lap. "The smoker thinks that there are certain interests that are trying to control you."

Putting his arms around her to hold her close, he inquired, "Is that why you're here? So he can control me, instead?"

Kissing his neck, Dana waited for him to respond to her ministrations before she did to his question. "That's what he'd like. Unfortunately, I'm not interested in playing that game."

He stared into her eyes, a hint of a smirk on his face. "Couldn't we ... pretend?"

Now it was Dana's turn to laugh. It seemed like the last six months had faded away in a matter of moments. This was the man she'd stubbornly refused to say goodbye to in Russia. "I'd like that."

She'd expected a return of her smile, but she got a relieved expression instead. "I'm glad she got this back to you," Alex whispered, gently touching her necklace.

"She?"

"I like how you do indignant, Dana, I really do. A friend. I had a little accident in Tunisia, broke the chain. She said she'd get it fixed and return it. I didn't have a whole lot of options, so I took her up on her offer."

"Tell me about this accident."

"You remember Boris referring to someone named Conrad?" At her nod, he continued, "His base of operations is ... ah ... was in Tunisia. I had to pay him a visit and convince him to cooperate with us. It wasn't easy or particularly pleasant."

"Were you successful?"

"After a fashion."

"What does that mean, Alex?"

Smiling ruefully and looking away, he admitted, "That I had to do a few things you wouldn't approve of for a cause that you might be able to come to believe in."

The wrong things for the right reasons. Can I get used to that? Dana didn't know, but acknowledged that it could well be better than the right things for the wrong reasons, depending on the ultimate outcome. "I see," she stated.

Not liking the hint of judgment in her tone, Alex opted for Dana's topic. "So how are these so-called interests controlling me, Agent Scully? I've got no implants. No alien entities in my system. Other than some disorientation caused by temporal anomalies, they've got nothing on me."

"What about Samantha?"

That got his attention. "What? Samantha's as close to human as she can be and well on her way to being ready to meet her brother. All the doctors say so."

"Shouldn't she have been ready weeks ago?"

"Well, yeah, if you look at mean recovery time, but everybody's different, Dana. You should know that."

"True." Kissing him lightly on the mouth and looking into his eyes, she made sure she had his attention before continuing. "When was the last time you suffered from this disorientation?"

"About a month ago, why?"

"What was she to you then?" Seeing his skeptical frown, she prompted, "Humor me, Alex."

Thinking back, he said, "A friend ... almost."

"Now?"

"We're friends. Closer now, yes. I mean, c'mon, Dana, how surprising is that? Time's passed." Dana could see that the man was beginning to understand where she was headed with this line of inquiry.

Quietly and reasonably, she asserted, "If Cancerman's right, you two are scheduled to get to know each other quite a bit better over the next couple of days."

Reading between the lines and coming up incredulous, he muttered, "You can't be serious."

She shrugged. "What's the down side to his efforts to address his concern?"

Smiling at the woman in his arms, Alex allowed, "I'm having trouble thinking of one."

"So what's the problem?"

"No problem." No problem at all. None whatsoever.

Samantha Mulder walked down the hall toward Alex's suite, a bottle of red wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. The two suited guards at Alex's door noted her black sweater, blue jeans and heels with appreciation. Speculation had been running high that this one wouldn't make it back to her brother. But that had been before the smoker had brought the red head into the picture. The two men had had a heated debate over which woman would prevail, both gallantly offering to console the loser.

"Hi, Samantha."

"Jack. How is he?"

"Looked like shit. I mean, worse than usual."

Looking from one man to the other, enjoying the attention they tried to pretend they weren't paying, she sternly asked, "You guys didn't let him out of there, did you? I sincerely hope you remember how long it took us to track him down the last time someone thought that was a good idea. I know I do."

"No, ma'am. He's in there, unless he's sprouted wings recently."

"Good. I want to surprise him." The two men shared a glance, each looking to the other to broach the subject of the woman that had been ensconced earlier. Neither did. They simply watched Samantha enter, prepared for the worst and hoped for an opportunity.

Pausing just inside the doorway, she let her eyes adjust to the dimness. Alex generally kept the light level low when he returned. Didn't bother her, in fact, it provided atmosphere. Knowing him, he'd be into his second drink by now, lounging on the couch with his eyes closed. Smiling, she moved toward her goal, noting the glasses and bottle on the coffee table. Surely, the two fisted drinker wasn't asleep already. "Alex?" she called softly, making an effort not to startle him.

Samantha heard nothing. Wait a minute, not nothing. A chuckle. Whispered words. Had They sent someone back with him? No, They wouldn't have. As she walked around the couch, Samantha believed she was ready for anything. She wasn't. Who in the hell was the woman with him? Alex couldn't have developed a level of intimacy with anyone in the compound without her knowing it, especially of the sort allowing for intertwined limbs and slow and intense lip work. Both of them had their eyes closed for Christ's sake. Someone from his past? A whore brought in by that old friend of her father's to take the edge off? Those were the only two possibilities that occurred to her, before she cleared her throat noisily. She'd have to play this one by ear. Samantha Mulder had had to be self-reliant in enemy territory for years, and she didn't intend to give up the protection that Alex Krycek could provide easily. The woman looked up toward the sound Samantha had made. Alex opened his eyes, but they tracked the woman only.

Scully smiled slowly and significantly at Samantha, before relaxing back against Krycek, whispering, "We've got company."

Hearing the "I told you so" in Scully's voice, Alex scanned his field of vision quickly, making a non-committal noise when his eyes found Samantha and took in wardrobe and props. It was the look on her face that convinced him that maybe Dana had been right. Samantha looked disappointed and hurt, almost betrayed. Acknowledging to himself that he'd never understand women, Alex tried to ignore Dana Scully's distracting playful behavior involving the buttons of his shirt and deal with the situation. "Samantha, this is Dana. Your ... ah ... brother's partner."

Suddenly more nervous, Samantha demaned, "Is Fox here?"

Krycek opened his mouth to answer, but realized that he didn't have a definitive one. "Dana, is ...?"

"No. He wasn't, for once, deemed necessary." Scully was doing her best to maintain a straight face, wondering how long it'd been since Krycek had had a problem like this one. Two women were looking at him as though they were entitled to possession. She couldn't recall seeing him at a loss for words, and fully anticipated that, if pressed, he would assert that he had merely been carefully choosing from among the many options that occurred to him.

Alex shifted slightly, getting an elbow underneath him and then his hand, levering himself up into something more akin a seated, rather than a reclined position. Scully moved with him without comment or resistance, surprising him. She'd seemed to be enjoying Samantha's reaction to their previous pose. Cautiously, he ventured, "A progression from Scotch to red wine is a severe headache in the making. I appreciate the thought, though, this was a rough one."

Samantha sat in a chair across from the couch, and smiled. "Agent Scully?"

Dana smiled back. "No, thank you. I have all I need." As an afterthought, the Special Agent nodded toward her Scotch glass on the end table.

Staring at the two, Samantha acknowledged her fear, allowed it to show and didn't edit it out of her voice. "Does this mean I'm on my own again?"

Dana frowned at Alex's immediate, "Of course not. You're welcome to stay here for as long as you like, or go to your brother. Whatever you want."

A sharp laugh greeted his alternatives. "I want what you can give me, Alex. I want to be safe from Them."

Scully was trying to decide how much truth was embedded in what appeared to be emotional manipulation, but it was obvious that Krycek wasn't thinking on multiple levels.

Shaking his head, he began, "No one can guarantee that ...".

"You could," she declared with a significant look at Scully. "If you wanted to, that is. Although, I suppose what you want at the moment is far more basic. Good night, Alex. Congratulations, Dana. I'll leave this for the two of you to toast your arrangement."

"Damn it, Samantha, you have no idea what we've--."

Looking back at the man, who was now standing next to the couch, Samantha snarled, "You want to compare experiences, Alex? With me? You are tired."

"I know what you went through."

"Knowing is one thing; experiencing quite another."

"Yes, but --."

"Don't worry about me, Alex. Enjoy yourself. You've earned it."

Dana Scully slid her arms around Alex Krycek's waist and held on when Samantha stormed out of the suite. She watched him get himself back under control, admiring how quickly and efficiently Samantha had maneuvered him before her dramatic exit. Mulder could've done no better. Or Alex himself for that matter.

Finally, Alex muttered, "She doesn't understand."

Moving into his arms, Dana looked up at him. "She knew exactly what she was doing, Alex. Don't doubt that for a moment."

"She's also correct." Scully merely waited for him to continue, an attentive expression on her face. With a sigh, he complied. "What I want is very basic."

Answering his tentative smile with something of an evil grin, Dana confided, "I like basic."

Nearly matching her expression, Alex countered, "Do you?"

"Follow me and find out."

Dana Scully didn't quite know what to think. In an unprecedented move, she'd trusted Cancerman, and, to her surprise, the decision appeared to be the right one. It had taken almost two days for Alex Krycek's mental acuity to return to baseline. Much of that time, they'd spent together, quite a bit of it in bed.

Alex had left her only to attend to matters that couldn't wait. Occasionally, he'd broached "hypotheticals" to her concerning strategy or tactics. They'd discussed them at length. Then he'd disappear for a while, ostensibly to "check on things," but Scully believed that a more descriptive word for his activities was "implementation" of whatever they'd agreed.

The arrangement had several advantages, other than the obvious one of very satisfying physical gratification. Alex garnered Scully's perspective, without giving her too much information. He'd been careful to preserve her ability to return to the XFiles. She didn't know where she was or what he was doing in more than a general sense, other than what she'd gleaned from the videos that the smoker had shown her. The protectiveness was so matter-of-fact that she couldn't really resent it.

Other than his hypotheticals, they'd discussed almost nothing concerning Alex. If the conversation wasn't about sex, Scully did most of the talking. She'd told him about the XFiles, medical school, her childhood, old boyfriends and a myriad of other things. Alex had listened, nodding, commenting and prompting when appropriate. He actually seemed to be interested, but Dana suspected that he was recharging his batteries and was grateful that he didn't have to do much that detracted from that effort when he was with her. As a result of this downtime, they had gotten comfortable with each other again, more comfortable than they'd ever been. But there were things that Scully needed to know.

"What happened in Kazakstan, Alex?"

He looked up from the New York Times, meeting her eyes with a slight smile. "I was wondering when it was going to be my turn."

"You have an aversion to the spoken word?"

"Not as long as you don't try too hard to fill in the gaps."

"Don't start talking about "my own good," Krycek. It won't go well ... for you."

He sighed, putting the newspaper aside. Dana deserved some answers; it was just that he had to use his head in selecting the appropriate ones. The first part was easy. "I walked up to the coordinates, surrounded by eager young troops, set him down and off he went. The storm was on us in minutes. Thunder, lightening and high winds, unpleasant weather when you've got little cover." Pausing to take a sip of his coffee, he watched her closely.

Shaking her head disgustedly, she prompted, "C'mon, Alex. You know you aren't going to get away with a condensed and highly redacted account that fails to address obvious outstanding issues."

Grinning, he went to refill his coffee cup. "Can't blame a guy for trying, Dana." Leaning back in his chair, Alex cradled his coffee cup cradled in both hands.

Tired of waiting, she asked, "Why didn't you come back with Boris?"

He demanded her attention with the intensity in his eyes. "I had to deal with some loose ends. As you know, we planned to neutralize all of the Jeremiah Smiths and as many of the bounty hunters as we could. That effort was proceeding in parallel to ours -- yours and mine, I mean -- so we'd have something to trade."

A question that had been in Scully's mind since her conversation with the smoker on this topic, urged her to interrupt. "Why bother? They've been gone a long time, and there was certainly no guarantee that they were alive or, if they were, that they remained even remotely themselves."

His eyes widened. He hadn't anticipated that question from her. "It was expected. A necessary step in taking over. Otherwise, there'd have been too much resistance from the old guard."

On how many fronts was Alex waging his war? "How much resistance is there?"

"Other than Conrad, it's been quiet. They're tired, Dana, and they could admit that they want someone else to carry the ball, if certain of their prerequisites were met. Getting back the hostages was one of them."

"So the men whose shadows Mulder and I chased for so long have deferred to you."

He found it interesting that that was a statement, not a question. "There's no one else, really." A slight smile encroached upon his intense demeanor. "Another choice would've fractured the effort into factions. All of my historical allies are dead. No one trusts me, so the playing field is even. And the smoker has the ear of some behind the scenes players of significance, who seem to approve of what's going on. So, here I am."

"I find it hard to believe that that's all there is to it." Dana smiled, as he looked at his watch, out the window, and at the newspaper. Putting a hand over one of his, she delivered a quiet request. "Tell me, Alex."

Slowly, he said, "No one else wants to deal directly with our adversaries."

Surely, he'd misspoken. "Plural?"

"Plural. I had to learn to communicate to a certain extent to survive Dimitri's desert mission. To get him, the tank him, and to destroy all of the lighthouses, I had to interact more closely. Setting up the hostage exchange required numerous extended contacts. And since, there've been more meetings, closer dealings. I'm committed, Dana. I don't have a choice anymore, if I ever did.

His voice had gotten quieter and more intense during his explanation. As he finished, he met her eyes calmly, as if awaiting judgment. No fear. No uncertainty. Alex was completely sure of himself, but unsure of what she thought of him. Even if it wouldn't change anything, Alex hoped for understanding. Approval would be too much to ask.

Scully squeezed his hand. "There's always a choice, Alex."

Shaking his head sadly, he allowe, "I suppose I could walk away. That's certainly a theoretical possibility, but I ..." Rather than reveal what he believed to be too much about himself, Krycek instead shrugged and opted to try and lighten the moment. "Besides, there's this woman I'm trying to impress."

Laughing, as he intended, she entwined her fingers with his. "Oh really?" When he didn't speak, choosing simply to smirk, Scully asked, "So what happens now?"

Alex turned away. "Phase III."

"Which, I assume, you can't tell me anything about, because it would jeopardize my ability to return to my quote-unquote normal life. Right?"

Smiling ruefully, he nodded. "More or less, Dana. I can tell you that we've reached what you'd call the long haul -- negotiation, culminating in compromise, war or both."

"Since Mulder isn't here, I'll ask. How is it that you can communicate with our adversaries? Is the curriculum at Stanford that progressive?"

Surprising her a little, Krycek laughed. "How to explain? Um ... Dana, it's not really language that's the issue. Ours are relatively easy for them. It's the mindset. They look at things very differently than we do, yet certain themes are universal."

Considering overriding imperatives, Scully offered the only one she believed had any true meaning. "Survival."

Nodding in the affirmative, he took the analysis further. "Which leads us to food, territory, physiological advantages, technological advances and the will to take what you don't have enough of from someone weaker."

"So what's different?"

"They take the time to try and understand any race they choose to dominate or replace, considering it their responsibility to take on some of the defining traits of the vanquished to ensure that they aren't lost."

"By taking slaves?"

"No. By studying carefully, co-opting assistants and taking samples. The concept of slavery entered into this particular equation as an incentive for the humans that they'd engaged to help streamline the invasion." Alex's mind raced ahead to conclusions that he'd drawn fairly early on in the process but hadn't shared.

Sensing the slight hesitance, Dana prompted gently, "And?" She'd surprised him again. That much was obvious.

She knows me better than I thought anyone did, if she picked up on my impulse to share that theory. "Breeding."

Nodding in understanding, she added, "By creating hybrids."

"The hybrid program was our effort to survive, based upon the belief that they wouldn't destroy those engineered using their DNA. That was our mistake. My --."

What had he been about to say? The closed expression on his face indicated that his aborted words were unlikely to be recoverable. Frustrated, Scully turned her thoughts to the concept he'd suggested. "Breeding is different, particularly if it's voluntary. Is that where you're going with this?"

"I think so. It's consistent with my situation, anyway."

He'd ground to a halt with wary eyes once again, making Dana aware that the conversation was again straying near the line between what could be disclosed and what couldn't. In the most casual, uncaring voice she could muster, Scully queried, "What situation is that?"

Krycek was thinking hard, assessing the risk. Finally, he sighed; his decision was made. "You'll undoubtedly find this very difficult to believe, but I've got sons on the other side. Hybrids conceived when I was on the desert mission. Given the temporal disparity, they're young men now, finishing their schooling. From everything I've seen, they're accepted in what passes for polite society there."

Sons? The implications were staggering. "Their mother?"

A tightness in his jaw and a coldness in expression that she knew was interpretable as anger made his feelings abundantly clear. "She's very proud of them and annoyed that she has to occasionally interact with me."

"How?"

Endeavoring to dismiss the topic, he said, "Many things happened after they picked me up in the desert. They abandoned me on one of their outpost worlds, forcing me to make my way. That's where I met her."

Scully had no doubt that her was the mother of his hybrid sons.

"They also tempted me with power, passion, wealth and anything else you can imagine in various ways, but the rules of that game were fairly obvious from the start. Accepting what they offered meant death. Tried to explain a bit of their history, which is replete with tales of expansion and domination of other races. I have to hand it to them, Dana, they've certainly been creative and often quite subtle in their imperialism. And they gave me this," he muttered, holding out his left arm to her. "Something I'd expect a doctor to be interested in."

"Tell me about your arm."

"I was restrained and conscious throughout the process. It struck me later that it was similar in those regards to my experience when I lost it. They attached various apparatuses to my stump and to my head. There were three connections each, with the ones on my stump arrayed in roughly a straight line right to left at the widest point. One at each temple and the third was placed at the base of my neck, in the vicinity of a major artery, I think. When they started the procedure, it felt like a hole was being bored at each of the six points, but there was no evidence of that when they were done." Noting that Scully had winced when he mentioned his neck, despite the difference in location, Alex assured her, "I've been gone over with a fine tooth comb for implants, Dana. There are none. Ok?"

Forcing a smile, Scully nodded and gestured for him to continue.

"There's not much more to tell, really, except that I could feel something happening. I don't know how it would be possible to feel bones extending and muscles, tendons, blood vessels and skin being formed. Anyway, it itched like hell, so it was hard to keep still, but they got their point across."

The shudder he couldn't suppress discouraged inquiry as to the referenced methodology. "What sort of devices were they?"

"I have no idea, Dana, and you don't need me to tell you that they're way beyond what we've got."

Leaning forward, Scully tried to keep the fear and unease out of her voice. "When they went implant hunting, did they check your DNA?"

"Yes." A flat tone to accompany the deadpan expression didn't deter Scully.

No longer trying to disguise her emotions, she asked, "And they found ...?"

Taking a deep breath, he admitted, "Some anomalies in expression. A higher mutation rate. Other than that, same old, same old."

She whispered, "Like Gibson."

"As I understand it, similar. Yeah." Smiling slightly, he stated, "You know, Dana, I think it's your turn again."

Her smile was a bit more sinister. "Not quite yet. I've got some loose ends about our adventure I'd like to tie up. We'll leave your earlier exploits for a later date."

"Who I was isn't relevant anymore

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it, Alex."

Returning serve, he asked, "Don't you mean burn?"

Incorrigible. There was no other word to describe the man. None. "Who were Drs. Callahan, Montgomery, Sidel and Fitts?"

"I have no idea."

"They were immunologists on the faculty at Ohio State University."

"Oh. Ok. Katarina had a vaccine research outfit in the US that the Consortium caused to be closed rather abruptly. Katya's still pissed about it. She probably had a thing for the Irish guy. You know, dark hair and light eyes."

Now he was in full fledged bad boy mode, connoting that he felt far more comfortable with this topic. "Caused to be closed?"

"Use your imagination, Dana." Meeting her frown with a shrug, he considered a moment and continued, "I don't remember all the details, but I think they'd been infiltrated. The last thing Kat would've accepted was her program feeding the Consortium's research efforts."

"What was the relationship between Cancerman and Katarina?"

"Yow! Good thing she isn't around to hear that theory. Wouldn't be ...".

Sternly, she clarified, "Professionally speaking, Alex."

"Nothing out of the ordinary. They worked together when it suited them and opposed each other when it didn't." Holding up his right hand, index finger extended, he indicated, "You get one more question, Agent Scully, then the interrogation will be halted for breakfast."

Smiling affectionately, she queried, "Where did you go when you told me it was perfectly safe and returned gimpy in both legs?"

"An installation where I could access the latest on the location and operational status of all of the beehives. After you and Mulder stomped through one, we didn't know whether an emergency plan had been implemented. It hadn't, no doubt due to the inaction of the smoker, most likely in contravention of a direct order."

Scully had actually forgotten about the bees. No mean feat that given her rather direct interaction with one of them and her close encounter with millions. "I trust they were destroyed as part of Phase I."

"Give a gold star to the lovely red haired girl." Laughing at her expression of distaste, he added, "For abandoning the "Trust No One" mantra at exactly the right time. Now, as advertised, we eat."

"Hi, Agent Scully." A small boy poked his head into the suite of rooms she'd been sharing with Alex Krycek for ten days.

"Gibson?" Her rhetorical question was immediately forgotten as Dana Scully wrapped her arms around the boy. The moment she released him, Scully felt awkward. Asking him how he was was the most natural thing to do, but, under the circumstances, she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.

"I'm fine, Agent Scully. I like my tutors way more than that private school."

"I'm glad to hear that." Meeting those steady brown eyes wasn't easy, especially after he'd blithely answered her tentative, mentally posed question. Deciding it was best to say what was on her mind in his presence, she did. "How's Alex? Really. I don't want the party line."

Biting his lip, the boy looked more like a child than he ever had to Scully. "Alex is ... fine. Yeah. Fine."

That was also the least assured she'd ever heard him. "But he could be better."

"Couldn't everybody?"

"Don't evade, Gibson. Tell me."

The boy's hesitation was palpable. "He doesn't trust anyone, Agent Scully, so he keeps everything bottled up inside and tries to deal with it all. It's too much for one person. Everybody says so."

"Who's everybody?"

"Katya. Samantha. Sp ... ah ... the guy with the cigarettes. Jack. Vaughn. And you think it, but I've never heard you say it." Noting the woman's involuntary half step backward, Gibson sighed and continued, "At least he's less lonely, now that you're here."

Smiling, despite her efforts not to, Dana realized that it wouldn't do to have the boy operating under faulty assumptions. "I won't be here forever, Gibson."

"Oh. Why not?"

She'd never seen anyone go from upbeat to crestfallen to inquisitive so quickly. The boy had an extremely expressive face, when he allowed himself to use it. But his question troubled her even as she made an effort to respond. "Well, because ... because Agent Mulder needs me to help him investigate the XFiles."

"But you don't want to do that anymore."

Laughing nervously, she said, "It's my job, Gibson."

"People change jobs."

"Sometimes. Other times they stay, because it's the right thing to do or it's the only thing they know or ..."

Gibson filled in the blank left by her hesitance. "They're afraid to try something else?"

He hadn't gotten that out of her head, had he? "That could be."

Frowning, Gibson said, "I can understand the first two, I guess. But why are people afraid of things they haven't tried before? They don't know whether they're good or bad."

Finally, he'd analyzed something the way a child would. That fact made Scully more comfortable somehow. "It's because they don't know, Gibson."

"But they know they don't like what they're doing."

"Some people think it's better to know."

"I don't. Believe me, Agent Scully, knowing isn't all that it's cracked up to be."

Dana Scully watched the boy's back as he walked away, suddenly uneasy and uncertain about the past, present and future.

"Hi, Alex." Gibson Praise entered Krycek's office and perched himself on one of the leather guest chairs, feet swinging engagingly.

"Hey, Gibson. Who have you terrorized today?"

Making a disgruntled face, the boy noted, "I've had my history, math, French and biology lessons, went horseback riding with Graham and talked to Agent Scully."

Nodding approval, Alex distractedly commented, "A full schedule. Learn anything?"

"Agent Scully likes you."

Putting down the report he'd been reading with half an eye, Krycek focused, knowing Gibson well enough to know that was prudent. "You learned that today?"

"No. I just wanted to get your attention. And I'm not up to anything." Grinning as he watched the man frown and look inward to check on the shields that he could put, for lack of a better term "around" his thoughts. "I didn't get that out of your head, Alex. It was pretty obvious from the look on your face."

Meeting the boy's eyes with a somewhat bemused expression, Krycek said, "You have my attention."

"She's bored." Gibson found the look of alarm that his statement elicited from his listener kind of interesting, and, as a result, allowed the man to follow the path his thoughts were taking for a few moments before adding, "She's just not interested in the XFiles anymore. I guess a person can get tired of bog monsters and psychopaths and aliens and stuff."

With hardened eyes, Alex accused, "You did that on purpose."

Innocent countenance in place, Gibson turned wide eyes at him. "What?"

"All right, master of the dramatic pause, what exactly do you want?"

"Geez, Alex, you really are paranoid. You're the one who asked me what I learned today. Do you want to know what else?"

Under his breath, he muttered, "I shudder to think." Louder, he added, "Ok, I'll bite. What?"

"She's afraid to try anything else. Other than the XFiles. Isn't that weird? I mean, after facing bog monsters and ..."

In unison, they finished the thought. "Psychopaths and aliens and stuff."

Gibson grinned, as Krycek added. "Lions and tigers and bears?"

"Oh my!"

Sharing a laugh at the bizarre turn in conversation, Alex realized that his ability to forget his responsibilities extended only to interactions with Gibson and Dana. He couldn't truly escape them with anyone else and certainly not when he was alone. Shaking his head and returning to the question that had sparked the conversational tangent, he replied, "I don't know, Gibson. I can see how a person could get burnt out on mostly inexplicable life threatening situations. Taken too personally, that kind of thing can make a person old before her time."

"Can't a person get burnt out on responsibility, too?"

Ahh. Perhaps, we're getting to the crux of the matter. "Sure. Happens all the time."

"What'll happen if you get burnt out, Alex?"v

"I'll take a month off and spend it somewhere tropical. Get some sun. Get drunk and get la ... ahh ... never mind. I'll go somewhere sunny and bake it out."

"But what will happen here?"

Enlightened self-interest? Is that what this was about? Maybe. With a shrug, Alex theorized, "It'll all grind to a halt. The aliens will realize it, striking at the most inopportune time, and life as we know it will cease to exist."

Try as he might, Krycek couldn't maintain a straight face before Gibson's opened mouthed, wide eyed, frantic expression. When it turned to an "I've been had" one, the man laughed.

"Alex!"

As soon as he composed himself, Krycek tried to respond seriously. "Nothing will happen, Gibson. We're in the process of setting things up, so that the effort won't depend on any one person or on any small group."

"Oh." Calmer, the boy breathed a sigh of relief. "Ok. But that'll takes time, right?"

"A year or two probably. Some redundancies are more difficult to provide for than others."

Agitated again, Gibson asked, "Well, what if you burn out before then?"

"Everyone else will make do. What's brought this on?"

"I've just been thinking and listening."

Alex decided that it was time to get to the bottom of this. "To whom?"

"Everyone says that you're under too much stress. They say you're spread too thin, and that you don't have any balance in your life."

Incredulously, Krycek shook his head. "I haven't had any balance in my life, since I started this joy ride round about when you were born."

"Hey, I don't know. I'm just telling you what I've heard."

"For what purpose? You ready to share the load or something?" The moment he asked his questions, Krycek realized the answers, to Gibson's mind, were so glaringly obvious that it was embarrassing to have asked.

"You look extremely self-satisfied, young man."

Gibson Praise met the older man's eyes through the rising column of cigarette smoke. "So do you."

The boy was certainly cheeky, and years of using the advantages of his genetic make up gave him a knowing air that most adults found disconcerting. "I've arranged the removal of a significant obstacle to our cause. You?"

"I haven't killed anyone, if that's the question?"

With mock dismay, the man countered, "Neither have I, my boy."

"Ordering it's the same thing."

"Not in the eyes of the law."

"I'm talking about the scales of justice."

The smoking man paused, considered and nodded. "That is, as you so correctly point out, a different matter. But, what of your accomplishments?"

"Everyone's worried about Alex holding up, and all they do is sit around and discuss the "issue." I did something about it."

With that the boy turned on his heel and moved toward the cafeteria. Inhaling on his cigarette, the smoker looked after him thoughtfully.

Alex Krycek sighed wearily. It had been a long day. Actually, to him, it'd seemed the lengthiest in a series of long days. The Rebels were up to something. Alex's instincts screamed that, whatever it was, it didn't bode well. The smoker seemed to concur, but the two of them appeared to be alone in that view. This was the first time that had happened, since the formation of what Boris was fond of calling the New World Order. Alex relied on about nine or ten people to provide information and input, while reserving the final decisions for himself. Up until now, he'd been in the majority or a member of a significant minority.

The current situation was different, and he knew what his other "advisors" were saying -- the smoker had an antiquated paranoid view and was, as a result, unable to accept that things were, in fact, as they seemed. Alex knew that their attitude would filter downward in the organization, creating doubts at a time when they could ill afford them. Actually, the first inkling of trouble had been when Gibson had come to him about a week ago, parroting what he'd heard in the cafeteria.

"Alex?" Dana Scully rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, as she stood at the threshold between the living area and the hallway leading toward the bedroom of what Krycek was having escalating difficulty thinking of as "his" suite. Even after a relatively short time, she seemed to belong there.

"Sorry, Dana. I didn't mean to wake you." Gesturing to the wet bar in front of him, he asked, "Would you like something?"

Declining with a shake of the head, she moved toward him, yawning, yet observing him closely. "Something wrong?"

It interested Krycek that his knee jerk reaction was to say no and encourage Dana to go back to sleep, realizing, in part, that he was responding to the almost innocent visual she presented. Bare feet. Hair mussed. Body hidden by a t-shirt of his that was even too big for him. But her eyes belied the rest of the image. Her walk across the room to his side seemed to have increased her alertness level to full awake status.

"I think I'm embroiled in my first leadership crisis," he muttered. "What I think needs to be addressed doesn't seem to be an issue for anyone else ... with one exception."

"The exception being?"

"The man in constant need of a nicotine fix."

Putting her arms around his waist, as he raised his glass to his lips, she murmured, "If the two of you agree, I'd go with it."

Closing his eyes a moment to enjoy the proximity of the woman and the feel of the extremely cold beverage along his throat. Vodka. Not Russian. Belgian. His favorite, although he'd never admit that in Boris' presence. His liking of it was now confined to its taste, because it's moniker of "Black Death" was quite a bit less ironic these days.

"My thought exactly, but it's not quite so simple. I've included a representative of every human faction that we've tried to unite here in a management team, I guess you'd call it. If anyone of sufficient rank remained after the old boys cleaned house in preparation for their retirements, I tried to include them. This is as polarized as the group has been."

Smiling slightly at his hesitation before using the word "human," Dana commented, "Just so you know, over the last few weeks, I've operated in a state of suspended disbelief." She paused to meet his eyes. "So there's no need to choose your words so carefully."

"Your beliefs are one thing. What you know is something else. There're already people who insist that you can't return to ... Washington without a mind wipe. I don't agree, and I'd rather avoid that argument. You've had enough disorienting experiences."

"Don't patronize me, Alex. Not you."

Wincing at the genuine anger in her voice, he watched her step away with her posture completely closed. "All right. Consider this, Agent Scully. You'd forget everything. Everything you saw, heard ... felt. I don't want that, but maybe you do."

Her mouth was open. She knew that, but Scully felt powerless to close it until she dealt with the shock that she'd just received. While her mind was making a valiant effort to process this new input, she found herself observing Alex with interest. He was staring into her eyes with a defiant expression on his face. His posture, while ostensibly relaxed, was infused with an underlying tension.

Quietly, he added, "If that's the route you want to take, Dana, then I can challenge your beliefs to the core. What do you say, Scully, to an offer of physical evidence ... irrefutable physical evidence with a rational scientific explanation of the existence of extraterrestrial biological entities? Not only of their existence, but of their intelligence. History. Art. Science. What about evidence of an international conspiracy, tacitly accepted by every government that's had a stable economy sometime within the last fifty years? Interested?"

Fully understanding what he was offering and the price that she would have to pay, Scully's deliberations did not take long. Meeting his eyes, she whispered, "Not if I have to forget how I feel."

He couldn't hold back the 1000 watt smile, and she couldn't keep from returning it. Sobering slightly, the man observed, "And that's one of the things that clearly distinguishes you from Mulder."

"That's not fair. Neither of us is as invested in certain information as Mulder."

"Maybe." Moving to put his hands on her shoulders, he flatly stated, "Look. I don't want to argue with you tonight; I don't have the energy or the inclination, particularly since I'm likely to lose one concerning your partner."

"Done. But if we're not going to argue, what are we going to do?"

Her smirk and attempt at a leer made him laugh. "That's a loaded question, if I've ever heard one. Is there only one right answer?"

"No. Actually, I was thinking about your leadership dilemma, and I've got an idea."

"Yeah? Enlighten me."

He was much better at leering than she was, Scully decided. More practice, she postulated. "One question first. Have you made your position known?"

"Only to the smoker."

"Would he have passed it on in an effort to persuade the others?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't think so. He tends to hold his cards pretty close to the vest."

"Well, even if he did, you could assert that he was putting words in your mouth when you give him his instructions." Scully had to admit she was enjoying the moment. Alex was simply waiting for elucidation from her. It was a nice feeling to be holding some cards and having some answers. "I imagine you fixing him with your very best sardonic expression, and ..." Laughing at his immediate compliance, she noted, "Yeah, that one. And informing him that, if he's so all fired worried about the situation, then he can damn well figure out what to do about it and go off and waste his own time doing it. Then you distainfully assign him resources that are sufficient, but facially insufficient -- this is important to the overall effect of your performance -- to get it done."

Alex grinned and nodded his head. "That'll work. Whether he's said anything or not."

Closing the distance between them, she advised, "My sage counsel doesn't come cheap, you realize."

Her second attempt at a leer was much improved. "Name your price, oh wise one."

Dana Scully had been with Alex Krycek for almost a month. Outside of certain inconveniences, she had to admit that it had been more interesting than the previous six months to a year on the XFiles. However, she was getting a bit tired of confinement and looking like an orphan. Krycek had, over the last week or so, arranged for her to hike, horseback ride, fence and swim, accompanying her when he could, but she was still, in many senses of the word, a prisoner, so that she didn't see or hear something she shouldn't. And there was simply no way around the fact that Alex's clothes didn't exactly do her justice.

With a sigh, she tightened the bath towel around herself and approached the closet. She couldn't remember which, if any, of the outfits she'd devised over time were clean, but the clothes she'd just worked out in were definitely not an option. Resignedly, she opened the door, realizing immediately that something was very different. The damn thing was full. It hadn't been this morning. What's more, all of the clothing items on the left hand side appeared to be her size. What the hell was going on? Looking at her watch, she realized that Alex would likely be back shortly. He usually had dinner with her and, if he had to which was all too often in her opinion, he returned to his office for a while. She'd get to the bottom of this soon.

A quick examination of the new clothes revealed that most of them were practical or functional, but all were selected with an eye toward style and her coloring. Dana supposed she had Katya to thank for this sudden plenty in the wardrobe department. Having gone from feast to famine, she applied herself to making an appropriate selection.

Alex Krycek approached his suite of rooms, trying without success to dismiss or suppress the feelings of anxiety that always preceded a meeting with the aliens. In two days time, he'd have to go through the ordeal that he was rapidly becoming convinced wasn't actually necessary involved in "traveling" to the site of the conclave. The sight of Dana Scully ensconced comfortably on the couch in a dress with geometric shapes of electric blue on a black background was almost enough to distract him. There were certainly worse ways to forget one's troubles. "Wow. Where'd you get that?"

Sure that he was being disingenuous, she sarcastically inquired, "You don't know anything about losing about two thirds of your closet to things that don't have a prayer of fitting you?"

"Two thirds of my ...?" Both eyebrows raised in disbelief, he muttered, "No. I mean, I did ask someone to see to outfitting you, but I guess I didn't really think about how that instruction might be over interpreted."

When did you make that request?"

"Don't remember exactly. A few days ago. Maybe as much as a week. Why?"

"Why did you, Alex?"

Grinning impudently, he thought back to the long suffering sighs she'd emitted when staring plaintively into the closet. "You seemed to be getting tired of oversized stuff."

"Well, yes, but there's more clothing in there than a lot of women own."

"So? According to your own lamentations, you've spent more than enough time with limited wardrobe choices."

He was missing the point, either intentionally or unintentionally. Dana was not to be denied. "Exactly how long do you anticipate that I'll be here?"

Why now? Why is it that women wait until you have a million other things on your mind to ask questions like that? Do they have some sixth sense to ascertain when you're not at your most glib? Shrugging, Krycek glanced at the floor and then at the wall. "I guess I just assumed you'd be here as long as you wanted to be. You haven't said a word about leaving or wanting to leave or anything like that." Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Do you? Want to leave, I mean."

Did she? An easy question, one would anticipate, but Dana Scully knew differently. "I'll be honest with you. I don't know, Alex. All I do know is that I'm coming to the end of my tolerance for restricted movements and cryptic discussions. If I can't move about freely and talk to you about what's going on in anything other than in the code that we've been forced to use, then the answer to your question is an emphatic yes."

"Is the alternative of real interest to you?"

Alternative? Oh, yes -- freedom of movement and frank discussion. Tentatively, she ventured, "Yes."

His laugh sounded sad. "That's something less than a ringing endorsement for the things you claim to value. Understandable though, because the decision is a permanent one, provided your feelings on mind wipes haven't altered."

"My views on that subject have not and will not change." Scully surprised even herself with the vehemence with which she'd stated her position, so she made an effort to ensure that her tone was calmer, before continuing, "And I appreciate what you're saying. The price of true admission into your world is my inability to return to the XFiles or the FBI in any capacity. Or, I suppose, to go anywhere else really."

"If I could see any other way, I'd offer it to you," he softly stated. "Despite what you might think, I don't care for ultimatums, whether I'm on the issuing or receiving end."

Stay or go. All or nothing. That was a decision with far reaching ramifications and repercussions. What to do? Stalling seemed like a good idea, and, if more information could be collected along the way, so much the better. Strategy in place, Dana asked, "What do you want, Alex?"

Ambiguous was interesting. Krycek had observed that, when Scully was nervous, she either spoke so generally that her words were open to various interpretations or so precisely as to brook no departure from her conclusions. The latter option was employed far far more prevalently. Wondering what her evasiveness meant in this context, he countered, "In general, or with regard to you staying or going?"

Laughing nervously, Dana shifted restlessly as he sat down next to her on the sofa, re-crossing her legs before tentatively meeting his eyes. "Either way. Whichever you'd like to answer."

Smiling wickedly, he queried, "Are you trying to influence my response, Dana?"

His question annoyed her until she realized that she wasn't the only one who was stalling. "What do you mean?"

Alex allowed his eyes to roam her body before returning to her face. "Showing an awful lot of thigh for a good Catholic girl."

They laughed together, and the tension level in the room dropped somewhat. "If you'd like to see more, Krycek, all you have to do is ask ... and answer my question."

"Which one? You've asked so many."

"The one you're avoiding."

"Oh. That one." Sighing, he mumbled, "I don't know, either. It's a toss up with regard to risk to life and limb." Voice growing stronger, he continued, "Hell, it might even be slightly safer here. Um ... we're a lot closer to the ground on the EBE issue, but you don't believe, so that should be a neutral factor. There's no one here that I'm aware of that's nearly as weird as Mulder, but it's difficult to say whether that'd be a plus or a minus from your perspective. Surprisingly enough, it's a near thing for me, but I have to put it in the plus column. And with regard to ..."

"I didn't ask for an analysis, Alex, I asked what you wanted. You. Alex Krycek. The man. Not the mythical figure with at least nine lives, who's been selected though a labyrinthine convoluted process to lead this ... effort in its use of means both nefarious and upstanding to attain its goals."

"Mythical figure?"

"I have no idea what I meant exactly, but it sounded good, didn't it?"

"I suppose, but ..."

"I trust that you're cleverly segueing to your answer."

"You've really embraced this trust thing, haven't you?" Noting her menacing two-handed grip on a throw pillow, he added, "And threats of violence won't get you very far. Really, Dana, I'm surprised at you." He was grinning, as he watched her carefully put the pillow where she'd found it and turn her attention back to him, both hands clasped near her left breast in a old style movie "My hero" pose.

Smiling at his effort not to laugh, Scully altered tactics, shifting so that she was straddling his thighs, facing him with her hands on his shoulders. Quiet and serious, she said, "The witness will answer the question."

No escape route. Evasive tactics exhausted. Now it came down to it. What did he want? "I'd like someone who's not been involved in this mess from the beginning to act as a sounding board. It's helped being able to try things out on you, even speaking in generalities like we had to, before presenting it to the people who have to implement it. An ability to just tell you what's happening would make that a whole lot easier." Pausing, he assessed his audience. She was still waiting for his definitive answer, but he'd be damned if he was going to state it when she wouldn't. "Beyond that, I have to say, it's been great just having someone to talk to about something other than what I do all day and to wake up next to."

When he fell silent the second time, Dana found herself waiting for him to state his conclusion based upon the facts he'd shared with her. A few moments of consideration told her that she was likely waiting in vain. He'd answered her in his own way. "I ... see. May I interpret that as a check mark in the stay column?"

He nodded once. "Look, Dana, you don't have to decide right this second. You've got time and plenty of clothes."

"I don't believe in drawing things out."

"Ok, but I'd appreciate it if you'd consider sticking around until I get back to myself after the next offsite meeting. It starts on Thursday. That means a week at the outside, probably less."

"I will. I promise." Scully didn't like the awkward silence that descended, but she was uncertain as to the best way to break it. Finally, she opted for a simple, "Alex?"

"Hmmm?" Pulling her closer, he held on tight. When she didn't respond, Krycek considered his options. Taking a deep breath, he muttered, "I ... I'll miss you." The shift from resting comfortably against him to pushing against his chest was nearly immediate. You've really put your foot in it this time, Alex. Excellent.

Dana stared into his eyes, hers only a few inches away. "Maybe," she allowed. "If I give you the opportunity, which I'm not currently favorably inclined toward."

Did that mean ...? Or was it ...? Sighing, Krycek realized that he was well and truly tired of this game. He hadn't folded, but it was perhaps a bit past time to call. "I want you to stay, Dana. Will you?"

His admission against interest excited and frightened her. "In what capacity?"

"How does second in command sound?"

Shaking her head in the negative, she said, "Too pretentious. How about just adding one to your list of advisors ... in public at any rate."

Intrigued, but trying to sound like he wasn't, he inquired, "And in private?"

"I'm personally enamored of "She who is to be worshipped," but I can be flexible." It was then that Dana Scully was reminded of how much she liked the sound of Alex's laughter and the enormity of the sacrifice that would be necessitated by the choice of a path along which she'd never hear it again. She admitted to herself, although she wasn't ready to admit it to him, that this was the first time in forever that she'd made a decision with her heart and not her head. It felt good. Right.

If someone had asked him to call the odds of Dana staying, he'd have said somewhere around 40:1. But that would've been his ego talking, deep down he'd figured his chances were far slimmer. Well. Who'd have thunk it? "I ... ah ... think we need to shorten that up a bit, but I've never liked "Your Worship" or anything with the word worship in it. Your Highnessness could work though."

"Do we need to decide the answer to that very important question right now?" she asked, kissing his nose playfully. "I find that hasty choices aren't often the correct ones."

"Did you just break your own rule?"

What? Running through the last little bit of their conversation told her why he'd suddenly become serious again. "No, Alex, I've been thinking about this ever since you dropped your drink. You're likely to think this is stupid, or at least strange, but I wasn't sure until I talked to Gibson the other day." Laughter at this juncture she didn't understand. "Am I missing something, Krycek?"

"The little yenta."

"What?"

"Gibson the matchmaker. I can't believe it." Seeing Dana's "tell me more" expression, Alex chuckled. "I'd been avoiding thinking about the future with respect to you, until the little shit shoved it in my face. Damn, this is embarrassing."

Smiling in a way designed to direct Alex's thoughts down more pleasant avenues, Scully leaned closer. "Funny. I'm not embarrassed."

"Oh? Really?"

"Um Hm. Follow me, Mr. Krycek." Standing and taking his hand, Dana made every effort to keep a smirk off of her face. "I'll make it worth your while."

Not following her "no smirk" example, he asserted, "See that you do, Your Highnessness."

Grinning, she pulled him toward the bedroom. "Right after you pay for your smart mouth."

David and Russell were seated in the sun on a terrace overlooking a body of water. The remnants of a resplendent luncheon were arrayed before them. David reached into the interior pocket of his suit coat and withdrew a cigar case. Extracting two illicitly imported ones of Cuban origin, he offered one to Russell. Only when both men had lit up and puffed in companionable silence for a few moments did David speak.

"Phases I and II will someday be the subject of history books."

"If we win, of course."

Ever the pragmatist, Russell could always be counted upon to insert a sobering thought in any celebratory occasion. "Of course," David agreed smoothly. "It's perhaps fortunate that neither you nor I are likely to live to witness the outcome of Phase III."

Sensing and knowing the root of David's tension, Russell smiled. "Mr. Krycek is in for the long haul, whether he likes it or not. I must say I approve of his choice of allies. He's improving his, or should I say, our chances."

"I'm surprised, Russell. We've known each other for a long time, and I must say that your support of an emotion-based decision is highly unusual."

Russell considered David's words, after motioning to the waiter for more vintage tawny port. "It's the same decision he would've made based on intellect alone. He needs a sounding board that he trusts more than anything else in these critical days. Dana Scully fills that need, regardless of what other purposes she serves for him. At one level, believe it or not, Alex recognizes that. He is his mother's son."

David sipped his port, nodding its acceptability to the waiter. "And his acceptance of our cigarette smoking colleague, you anticipated that as well?"

"William laid the ground work for that, a bit too melodramatically for my taste, but the message was apparently received."

Searching for weaknesses in Russell's thesis, David noted, "Yet, Boris remains."

"Dana Scully will take care of that in due course; she doesn't trust him in the least."

"You expect her to deal with Samantha Mulder as well?"

"Not as ruthlessly as I'd like; her residual affection for her partner is too strong. Still, she won't suffer that woman's exertion of undue influence over Alex. It will be enough."

Meeting the eyes of his partner of nearly sixty years standing, David quietly asserted, "Your gamble has paid off. Far better than even you could ever have imagined."

"Indeed. Sometimes, David, it is far better to be lucky than good, right or proper."

Raising his glass, David toasted, "To Phase III."

Copying the gesture, Russell added, "To our continued existence."

After they both drank, David offered, "To life as we know it."

"That is what we fight for."

Assistant Director Walter Skinner motioned Fox Mulder into his office. The order that the two of them should be in Skinner's office at this time had come from the Oval Office. This was the first time that Skinner had ever received such an order. So here they were, waiting. So far, nothing momentous had happened. Noting Mulder's increasing agitation, Skinner opted for a preemptive strike. "Before you ask, Agent Mulder, I have no idea why we're here, or even a notion of who it is that's late."

Mulder nodded tensely, acknowledging that Skinner's ignorance matched his own. "I've gotten a bit jumpy working over a month without Scully." His words were quiet, but his demeanor betrayed his agitation. Mulder fully expected that the two of them had been called here to receive word of his partner, and he wanted it without delay. He's been almost sick with worry ever since she'd vanished without a trace.

Skinner opened his mouth to fill the silence, but his plan was stymied by the appearance of his secretary. Her nervousness was obvious in her tone. "You have visitors, sir."

His voice admirably even, Skinner intoned, "Show them in please."

The smoking man entered with a young woman that Mulder believed was named Katya. Her last name was unknown to him, but she was an associate of Krycek's. "Good afternoon, Mr. Skinner. Mulder." The smoker stared implacably at the two FBI employees, who glared at him.

"Where's Scully?" Mulder snarled.

"Where she belongs, Agent Mulder."

"She belongs here. Working on the XFiles."

"Does she?" Frowning and shaking his head sadly, the smoker said, "The time of the XFiles is past. Your partner recognizes that and has decided to move on."

"What has Krycek done to her?"

Katya stepped between Mulder and the smoking man. "He's offered her a choice, Agent Mulder. Nothing more." Mulder eyed the woman uncertainly. She, for her part, smiled invitingly at him before turning to Skinner. "She asked me to give this to you."

Accepting the envelope, Skinner habitually sought clarification. "Agent Scully?"

Nodding, Katya turned back toward Mulder, who was looking at the envelope in Skinner's hand with something that looked like abject fear in his eyes. "This one is for you, Agent Mulder."

The AD opened his envelope and quickly scanned the text of the single page. Sighing, he looked up and met Mulder's eyes. "This is a letter of resignation that I'd be hard pressed not to accept, since Agent Scully has been absent without leave for over a month."

Mulder stared at the envelope in his hand, feeling sick to his stomach. Not wanting to sink to true cowardice, Mulder took a deep breath and tore open the envelope.

Mulder,

We've been through so much together that I feel like this should be the easiest letter I've ever written. It's not. I'm uncertain how to explain myself to you, because I can barely articulate my reasoning to myself. Six years ago, I was needed on the Xfiles -- a scientific mind to balance out your more sensationalist leanings. I'm not anymore. The XFiles that are coming to our attention now, while important to those involved, are not central to our existence.

The XFiles that matter going forward are those that I'm devoting my efforts to here. Unfortunately, I can't tell you where here is. I know that, in accepting and upholding the code of silence, I risk losing your friendship and respect, but I cannot in good conscience act otherwise. Too much is at stake, both personally and beyond. In this, you'll have to trust me, as you have so often in the past, and I, you.

I know you don't trust the messenger that I'm sending, and I don't expect you to. Neither do I, frankly. However, I have come to trust Alex and to understand that he needs my help, regardless of whether he actually can bring himself to say so. As you suspected, Mulder, Alex is alive and embroiled in the conflict to come. And, by my own decision, so am I.

Never doubt that we will meet again, Mulder. I don't. It's just that, for right now, I'm needed elsewhere. I hope that, if not now, then someday in the future, you'll be able to understand.

Believe in yourself, Mulder. Everyone else does. I'll miss you.

Scully

Without a word to anyone, Fox Mulder reached for a pen and a sheet of paper from Skinner's desk.

Dana Scully opened the envelope with no small measure of apprehension. Alex had retreated to the other side of the room, ostensibly to pour himself a glass of wine, yet she knew he was giving her some space, privacy in which to read her partner's reaction to her decision concerning her future. It was short and to the point. It was utterly and completely Mulder.

Scully,

You've found your truth; I'm still looking for mine. Be well.

- Mulder

The flourish with which he'd underlined his name blurred, as a tear fell on the page. Alex Krycek was most of the way across the room and all the way angry at Mulder, when Dana looked up at him and smiled, stopping him in his tracks. She looked back down and murmured, "It's out there, Mulder," before standing, taking a deep breath and stepping toward her future, and the man she'd come to think actually embodied it.