Signals: Balefire

Prologue: Sleep Deprivation

Sleep, blessed sleep. Exhaustion had been an agony of pressure on his eyes and mind for- how long? He'd lost track at four days. The hotel bed was still made, clothes pressed unnoticed into his skin, the lights shone down on his unconscious form before the bed had stopped moving from his sudden weight. Deep, colorless dreams in which he drifted, mindless. One hour, four. A quiet footstep.

His first awareness was of a hand pressing against his throat, cutting his breath short. His eyes opened to see light glinting off a black, solid-looking gun aiming at his face. Sleep cleared instantly from his well-trained mind. Eyes wide, he stared into the face of the woman holding the gun.

Alex Krycek had never needed more than one chance to cheat Death. One opportunity was always enough. He didn't believe that this woman would give it to him. He stared Death in her cold blue eyes and was surprised to learn that he was ready. His hard mouth broke open into a wry grin. But to his wonder and (disappointment?), the first sound he heard was not gunshot, but her voice, harsh and low.

"Tell me where he is."

No mercy from this one. No games. Pale face, burning hair awry around those eyes like caves of ice. She was a frozen goddess and he felt a worshipful burning in his chest.

"I'll tell you everything I know." He was unable to dissemble now..

"Tell me where he is."

"I think the colonists have him."

"You mean the Consortium."

"No, Scully. The aliens."

Her features stiffened. She would have killed him then. His throat burned with a passionate fervor. She held herself above him, poised perfectly, balanced and taut. She was true and honed as one of the unforgiving scalpels she wielded on the helpless.

Her gaze sliced into his brain, neatly. Precisely. Seeking her answers.

"Tell me where he is."

"They probably have him orbiting the Earth, a lab, maybe a holding cell." His voice was guttural with his reaction to her. The nearness of the death he had always avoided so skillfully entranced him. He was devoted, adoring.

"A Space Station."

"Space /ship/, Scully."

The blow to his kidney was placed with exacting pressure. Not enough to rupture, but enough to silence his thoughts with dumb agony.

"Games are suicide."

He had always hated pain, before. Delivered by his own personal Fury, pain fell like a benediction. It was a martyrdom he could endure gladly for the easing of /her/ suffering.

"They probably won't kill him." Rasping with the pain of breathing.

"Who sent you to trap him?"

"I thought I was helping him."

As if he hadn't spoken. "Was it Spender?"

"I was trying to betray him to Mulder."

"Where is Spender now?"

"In a morgue. I killed him when I found out about Mulder being taken. I wanted..."

"What about Marita? Where is she?"

"Canada."

"Get. Up. "

It was hard standing with his kidney burning in his gut. His passionate madness began to ebb and his mind began to search for the weakness that would keep him alive. She showed none. He swallowed a fierce admiration of her efficiency as she kept him under constant cool control. Her gun slid under his arm and around to the back of his skull just under the occipital ridge. The touch pulsed through him like the caress of a lover. Freedom so close, just the pull of a smooth white finger away.

They kept an exquisitely taut silence as she prodded him forward a few inches. She took her other hand from his throat, and he heard her rustling in a pocket of her jacket.

"Hands behind your back."

The high pitched clack of handcuffs being fastened and he almost let out a giddy laugh at the realization she had finally made the mistake he'd been waiting for. Now it was just a matter of time. The prosthesis would come in useful, for once.

The tension in him released fractionally.

/I must stay alive. I cannot fail. This craziness will pass, it's just Scully. Mulder's woman, only a woman. Not a goddess, not my freedom./

He never asked where she was taking him. She still balanced on a razor's edge and she'd kill him if she thought he was trying to distract her or play with her mind. He knew this with the cool spiral of knowledge that some call intuition. Just another name for a state of animal alertness. The same hyper-awareness that tortured him as he smelled her body when she reached around him, grabbing the vial still held in his breast pocket.

"What is this?"

/Oh, shit. I fucked up oh shit don't drop it Scully!/

"It is a cure for the black cancer. It may mean the difference between the survival of the human race and complete extinction."

No reaction. He thought she must have dropped the vial into her pocket, but knew better than to turn his head to check.

His pulse began to race as he felt her small hands run methodically over him searching for hidden weapons. She removed his boot knife and the gun, safety on still strapped to his back. He almost wanted those hands to keep searching him, even as he felt a wave of relief when she missed the dart tube sewn into the hem of his aged green T-shirt.

She nudged him forward again, one hand on the waistband of his worn blue jeans, the other keeping cool metal snug against his skull.

"Let's go. You're going to take me to him."

He never asked whether she meant CGM Spender or Fox Mulder. It didn't matter. She was going to give him a chance, and he was going to take it.

Part One

This time, he first became aware of the intense driving strains of "Night on Bald Mountain." Then there was a dull throbbing in his kidney and a thick dryness in his mouth. His eyes were heavy and he had trouble dragging them open. He was lying uncomfortably curled up in a fetal ball with something hard poking him in the back and the smell of motor oil dominating his nostrils. Opening his eyes did little to clarify his location, as darkness pressed thickly upon him equally with them open or shut. His small effort exhausted him and the music brought pictures to his mind. Nightmare images of demons dancing, twirling.

Silent blackness returned, then he heard music again. Manic, warlike. Women in studded armor with blond braids. Bugs Bunny in drag, coming on to Elmer Fudd. Wagner..."Ride of the Valkyries", that was it. Slowly memory came back to him. Scully saying "this will hurt you more than it will hurt me" and the quick jab (a needle?) in his left buttock. Sleepy, going under, pushed into a- the trunk of a car!

/That's it, I'm in the trunk. I should be pissed, but I just want to go back to sleep./

A voice, cutting through the suddenly softened music.

"Awake yet, Krycek?"

/I can't even see her. Is she my Valkyrie? Am I going to Valhalla now to fight with the big boys and roll around under the table with serving wenches? I could sure go for a big mug of mead right now./

He tried to focus his thoughts.

/This is no time for fantasy. Time to get loose./

Involuntarily, he moaned as the car engine fired up and the vibration awoke the heavy pounding in his head.

/What the Hell did she give me?/

Struggling with the prosthetic arm, he tried to pull it off so he could get his hands free. But the cramped space of the trunk only allowed him fractional movement. He cursed his six-foot plus frame and wondered why the oh-so-patriotic Agent Scully didn't buy American.

"Krycek?"

Uh-oh. Voice getting closer. He remembered her face above the gun she had pointed at him and felt the fear he should have felt at the time. What had he been thinking? This was crazy, he hadn't got anything to bargain with and if she found that out things could get really bad.

The sound of her key turning the trunk lock tensed him up and now the throbbing was intense, a blood-red pulsing in his eyes. Her face was a pale round moon surrounded by a glowing fiery halo as she loomed over him illuminated by fluorescent street lamps.

He couldn't read her expression or see her gun. Now was his moment, but the waves of nausea flooding his lower body stilled his almost- attack.

"You'll be stiff at first, but it's time to get out The Demerol I've given you should be wearing off about now but don't try to move too quickly. If you're cooperative I won't keep you drugged, but it's leg shackles and handcuffs for now." Her voice was calm and tired. " Look, I've been driving for almost twenty-four hours straight. I'm ready for some sleep, but I'm not stupid. If you show even the slightest hint of giving me trouble, I will blow off your left foot the first time, your right hand the second. I do want you alive, but you have to understand I am not playing a game here. You are still of use to me disabled. So now you know. "

"I understand." He could not repress a shudder at the idea of losing the use of still more limbs. An unfortunate feeling of respect filled him. She was so logical, so practical. What a partner to have on your side. What a terrible enemy.

She helped him to the passenger seat. He realized that for now he was as weak as a baby and his move for freedom would have to wait. Besides, he could see she had no intention of killing him, and perhaps they could actually work together on this one. If his best guess was correct...

"So we're on the way to Oregon".

The quick glance she flashed him warned him to keep silent.

"Talking later".

"OK".

The still-running engine purred quietly as she maneuvered it back out on the highway. Her gun rode her hip, clad in a pair of form-fitting black dress pants. Still dressed like an FBI agent, G-woman Scully just kidnapping triple agents, all in a day's work. His head was feeling better, but was showing signs of floating off his neck.

/Great stuff, this Demerol. Wonder what she's thinking about, so serious. Shit, she's so fucking beautiful. I always thought she looked good, but now...

Bad thought, no Alex. She hates you, you have been having death fantasies about her. Unhealthy focus, good way to end it all. Where's the vaccine? If I ask her, will she blow my head off? She probably thinks I'm the devil. Why is she so cool and calm?

Why am I such a mess? Oh yeah, Demerol. Then why was I such a mess before?

Lack of sleep. Must have been five or six days no shut-eye. How do they expect me to function like this? Enhancement or not, I'm not Superman. Why did they leave me in that Tunisian hell-hole?

Calm down, man. They couldn't give your cover away, they trusted you.

What about killing Spender? Will they still trust me? After all this, will I even trust myself?

OK, mellow. Time to chill out completely. Maybe thinking about her as a woman is fine if it can help me get off this hysterical trip. Or some woman. Not Marita. That's enough to freak anyone out. Oh, man, I'm losing it. Please talk, Scully, I'm having a drugged out panic attack./

The pale small hands were fluid and competent on the wheel of the car. She reached over and his fluttering pulse skyrocketed before he realized she was just turning the volume back up on the radio. The haunting strains of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata flooded the car in beautiful accompaniment to the brilliant light of the full moon shining in through the windows.

Unexpectedly, tears began streaming down her face. It remained beautifully composed, no trembling or other sign of mental anguish. The silver tracks were wonderfully bright against the chiseled perfection of her cheekbones. His breath caught in his throat, his heart ached, he blinked back tears of his own.

Quickly, he turned his head to look out at the sculptured desert landscape. Arizona? Nevada? Far cry from Las Vegas, bright casinos. This cool silver-blue and black landscape rushed past him and he knew he was crying. The powerfully throbbing music hid the sobs which shook his shoulders.

So surreal. And then he was asleep again, leaning against the cool window.

She had to remove the leg-shackles to get him into the cheap hotel room she had rented. They were in a small town on the outskirts of Lake Tahoe. She let him use the bathroom alone, and to his wonder and confusion he had no desire to escape. It would have been so easy to pull the tube from his shirt, press it to the crack at the bottom of the door, and /whish/, a dart coated with a drug guaranteed to knock her flat on her ass would be entering her bloodstream via her perfect white ankle.

But he did not. He meekly let her shackle him to the leg of the hotel bed . He looked at her bare neck as she knelt at his feet and fastened the clasp. Even in his weakened state he knew the enhancements gave him the strength to snap her neck right now if he chose. Exhaustion , compassion, despair, or some deadly combination of these was making her careless of her own life. He might have been free in moments, Scully dead or unconscious and the bed lifted his leg shackle pulled free.

Instead he said softly, "I want to help you. I would even if you let me go."

She looked up at him with quiet despair in her eyes and his heart pounded in his chest.

"I want to know why, Krycek."

"Why I want to help you?"

"Why you didn't try to escape when I have given you at least four excellent opportunities that I know of. I expected to have had to shoot you by now. I suppose maybe I wanted to have a chance to prove myself. Because you probably don't even know where he is."

His stomach roiled at her words and the ease with which she had spoken them. She /did/ think he was the Devil.

"You're right. I didn't want to escape, I want to find Mulder as- well, not as badly as you do, but I want to find him. I think together we have a better chance. He is...important. "

She was quiet for a long time, light reflecting off white plane and blue shadows on her pinched face.

"All right then. We'll work together. But one false move and Krycek I swear you are history."

He wished he believed her threat. But she only sounded weary. He was shocked she was agreeing to work with him so quickly. She must be really desperate.

"Whatever you want, Scully. Listen, I know some people who may be able to help. We need to stop in California. But now, let's just get some sleep. There are a lot of things you need to know. But I can't talk any longer, I need to rest." And so do /you/.

To his surprise, she did not argue.

Part Two

The ice cream soothed her sore throat, burning from too many tears and unanswered questions. She could not repress the small smile of appreciation she gave to the man who had handed it to her. Nor could she miss the glowing look in his jade green eyes as he registered it. He had been looking at her too much all morning. It was making her nervous.

"OK, why are we here?" Here was Sacramento, California. Where the temperatures were currently registering above 100° in the shade.

"We are going to Santa Cruz, to meet an old ...friend of mine who has a certain expertise in monitoring ... orbiting vessels. Her name is Shyla Kinsugi. If anyone can suggest an orbiting trajectory for the vessel that is holding Mulder, she can." His lean face showed no distress at the blazing inferno that was their vehicle in this weather. His skin was a surprisingly dark tan, and she wondered just where he had been when CGM Spender had brought him back into Mulder's and her lives. To ruin them. The dark turn of her thoughts must have shown on her face. He looked at her seriously and frowned.

"Look, I am in earnest about helping to find him, but I don't blame you for not trusting me. Just say the word and we can go wherever you think is best." His gravely voice was steady and his expression sincere.

Not that she didn't know he could lie with suave conviction, but maybe it was better to have something to believe in than to question her only outstanding lead. She accepted what he said without comment.

They had pulled back out onto the highway before either of them spoke again.

"Last night you said you wanted to help find Mulder because he was important." She chewed her lip thoughtfully and considered her next words carefully. "Important- to the Consortium?"

"To many people. Mulder has some unusual gifts, as I am sure you are aware. I doubt, however, that you realize the full extent of his gifts given your own particular prejudices."

She was amazed at the articulate way he communicated, given her previous experiences with him. He was quite an actor, apparently, if this underlay the goofy agent she had met six years ago. It was imperative she remembered that as she followed him down the rabbit hole. She found herself studying him openly as she waited for him to continue. He seemed surprised, and she wondered if he had expected her to argue with his perception of her. Truly she was indifferent to his opinion on her "prejudices".

"As his partner of so many years, you must have seen him leap to accurate conclusions in ways seemingly independent of the data available to him through conventional means. After the....problems he had with what he certainly believed was telepathy last year surely you concede it is possible if not probable that he may have senses beyond the norm for human beings."

"Even if I accepted that, how would that be of use to ...your "friends"?"

"Do you realize the number of potentially terrible threats to various people and sometimes even the planet he has averted in spite of his bumbling approach to problem solving? Without anyone in a real position of influence having to lend any form of credibility to his claims and potentially cause security breaches of serious proportions?"

"So, what , Mulder's a ...some sort of ... of maverick lightning rod?"

"Something like that." Despite the competent way he handled the car, she wished he would focus on the road instead of turning every few seconds to read her expression.

"Is that all?"

"Well, no. Actually he is quite entangled in a rather complex maze of events. And the abilities he demonstrates ... have other applications that aren't perhaps apparent right now. At this stage of ... proceedings. "

"Proceedings."

"You know about the colonization plans, Scully. Don't you believe even after all you've experienced?'

"OK, so you're saying... I don't know what you're saying. " She sighed and rubbed the tight muscles in her neck.

"I'm saying that Mulder is going to be useful to ANY of the groups who are currently struggling for control of Earth and maybe more than Earth. Look, I'm sorry to change the subject, but you do still have that vaccine, don't you? Because it is what I said it was and I'm going crazy worrying it's broken or lost."

"I've got it. As soon as I have a chance to analyze it, you can have it back. Not that I really believe it is what you say it is...."

"You analyze that in a lab belonging to the US government and I guarantee you'll be dead or abducted within 12 hours. "

"Look, can we get back to Mulder? What the Hell is YOUR interest in him, anyway?" She was starting to get angry again. It felt invigorating as the adrenaline drove out the miserable helpless feeling. But she strove to keep control of her temper. Antagonizing Krycek might jeopardize her chances of finding Mulder. She HAD to find him.

"I have hopes that he will come to understand the current situation and lend his abilities to a satisfactory resolution. He has already done much, once even at my request. You may remember Wiekamp..." His eyes tracked her, looking for recognition.

She gave a surprised, hostile laugh.

"So /you/ were the one who sent him there. Where he found /nothing/ and got arrested. And now you want to recruit him?"

"Not nothing. He released an important prisoner. He just doesn't remember it. "

"And?" Icy, controlled tone.

"He makes a dedicated, loyal ally, as you yourself should know."

She could not refute that, though she knew Krycek had a snowball's chance in Hell of gaining Mulder's trust again... or maybe not. If it wasn't for Mulder trusting Krycek this time, Mulder would be sitting here next to her. And next to their baby.

The hot anger flooded through her again, choking her. Her hands tightened into fists and she felt veins standing out on her already sweaty face. Struggling for composure, she took deep breaths and leaned her head out the window into the furnace-like wind. She tried to blank her mind.

"Look, Dana, I-"

"Shut. The Hell. Up. " Her voice was a staccato snarl. "Just shut up and drive. Don't look at me, don't call me DANA and don't say another word."

He complied, looking cool and calm, his hands firm on the wheel. A muscle pulsed in his jaw, though, and she knew he was angry too. The knowledge made her fiercely glad, reckless.

"You traitorous piece of garbage! Why would a man like Fox Mulder ever help a monster like you!" Oh no, she was shouting at him! She was shocked immediately at her own foolish ranting. She wasn't accustomed to losing control of her feelings. This was NOT going to help her find Mulder, she had to calm down, regain control.

He never looked at her, but she thought she saw him flinch and his jaw clenched. The wave of fury passed, leaving her trembling with reaction and sudden fear. He was a dangerous man. No telling what he was capable of when provoked. She needed his cooperation, not his enmity. She tried to steel herself to apologize, but choked on the words. She made an effort and finally forced them through her tight throat.

"I-I'm sorry. We need to- to work together and I don't have to like you but I'll try to be more mature than to scream at you." It was hard, and it came out as almost a hiss, but it would be worth it to accomplish her goal.

/Apologizing to Alex Krycek. Kissing ass on a criminal. Uggh./

But it had to be done.

His shrug was noncommittal. A tense silence arose that stretched out over hours. Mile after mile of highway rolled grey under the wheels. The sky was a uniform searing pale blue. Finally she dropped into a stupefied, heat-stroked slumber.

When she first slumped half off the seat onto the floor, he thought she must have fallen asleep. A quick look at her stark white face with sweat-soaked red tendrils sticking to a clammy forehead and her involuntary shivering and he knew she'd passed out. A quiet steady stream of curses poured through his mind as he, outwardly calm, guided the vehicle to an offramp and then a light, a sidestreet, the parking lot of a fast food restaurant, finally stopped.

"Dana? Dana talk to me". His voice was easy, gentle as he pulled her up onto the seat, tucked in close under his arm. His heart was pounding like a jackhammer, boring holes in his insides.

She gave an inarticulate murmur, her eyes flickered open.

"Where are we, Mulder?"

"Are you OK, Scully? I think you've got sunstroke. Just lean back, don't try to move. I'm going to get us to a motel, get you some air- conditioned rest."

"Mulder? You sound funny. Not Mulder. Who are you?" Her voice became wary with the last words. If he hadn't been so worried about her, he would have been amused. Yelling at him like that and then forgetting his name.

"Alex, Scully. It's only me." She jerked away from him then and seemed to recover a bit. She looked her beautiful blue gaze at him and the greyness left her face a little. Now she was getting too flushed and seemed to be a little short of breath.

"Oh, yeah. You. " Why did he feel like she had kicked him when she said that?

"Yeah, me. Want some water? "

"Please." He had to lean close to her to grab the water out of the glove box. She shrank back against the seat, eyes too large in her face. She looked like she needed a good 24 hour rest.

"What happened? Did I pass out? Was I out long?"

"Not long. Maybe 5, 10 minutes. Ready to go find a motel?"

"I want to keep going. I'm fine. "

"No way, D- Scully. You're a doctor, you know how dangerous heat exhaustion can be. You need a break, rest. Please."

He was stunned when she merely nodded her head yes. She looked down at her stomach as if it held some secret source of inspiration.

"Good. We're close to San Jose now, it's about 4PM. If we leave tomorrow morning we'll be in Santa Cruz early. "

"OK."

When he arrived at the Motel Six he'd seen from the highway he signed them into a double room against her protest. He argued that they needed to preserve their cash flow, but he knew he really wanted to keep an eye on her to make sure she was really as well as she claimed. She didn't really have the energy to argue with him, and she nearly passed out again as they walked to their temporary haven. She didn't struggle when he caught her and held her firmly against his right side to assist her through the door. After he'd seen her settled on the bed nearest the bathroom he turned on the AC unit and headed out to the car for her small valise and the wallet and clothes she told him she'd brought from his apartment.

What a planner that woman was. He'd always thought her cold before, but now he was seeing her vulnerable. He remembered the silver track of her tears in the Nevada moonlight and his chest tightened. He'd never have her trust, but he'd do his best to deserve it.

When he returned he had managed to get back into a more professional mode and made sure to check for possible tails and surveillance. Her car was clean, but he'd found a tiny microphone sewn into the hem of one of her skirts. No way it had picked anything up in her suitcase, but he still enjoyed flushing it down the toilet. The motel room was a safe place; for now.

Scully awoke with a fierce headache and a sore throat. She was shivering with cold and found that somehow she'd removed her outer clothes. Her bra strap was cutting into her right shoulder, but the bed she lay on was very comfortable. She wondered where she was, and then jerked upright as memory played back Alex Krycek, bending over her with his stark face surprisingly gentle, easing her hot, constrictive clothing off her and stroking her burning forehead with a cool washcloth. How very bizarre.

She looked around the room. It was a particularly unremarkable motel room, decorated in industrial peach and grey with double beds and a large mirror on the wall facing them. In the mirror she could see him, blankets drawn up to his throat, lying on his back in the next bed. There was a book open on his chest, and he looked remarkably innocent lying there like a little child waiting for his mother to come in and turn off the light. She turned and found herself examining him. She supposed he looked so childlike because of the small nose and large, well-spaced eyes, the thick dark hair that seemed unruly despite his close haircut. His mouth, too, seemed sweet in sleep, pink and open as he breathed rhythmically. When he was awake he seemed so masculine, large and intimidating with his bulk and hard planed jaw. Awake, his mouth was firm and controlled. Awake, he was a killer.

A chill ran up her spine as she remembered that she was only half- dressed. Grabbing the clothes that had been neatly folded and placed on the chair next to the bed, she dressed quickly and quietly. A lump in her jeans pocket and she pulled out the vial. Amazing that he'd not taken it from her while she'd been so helpless. How confusing. He'd been so gentle, so kind. He'd not even taken her gun; it lay underneath her stained blouse.

/Dana, he's a traitor, a spy, and probably a murderer too. If he was kind, he's got an even uglier agenda. Don't let your guard down any further than you already have. Just get his help and get on your way. The vial is probably nothing anyway. Well, maybe it is important, he seemed pretty freaked about it. Maybe he switched it while I was sleeping./

The thought of his having ulterior motives for his kindness seemed comforting. She felt very disturbed. Her instincts to distrust him had been somewhat overridden by his care during her physical weakness. She knew people could be many things, good and evil, cruel and kind, vulnerable and violent. It was human nature, duality. But it was hard to reconcile the man Mulder believed had killed his father with the man who had held the cool washcloth so carefully to her aching head. Crawling into the bed, under the covers now, she fell into sleep. She left the light on. She was not aware that it was the first night since Mulder's disappearance that she had not cried herself to sleep.

<Cavern deep below the earth. Row upon row of silver filing cabinets, each one bearing the names of people who belonged to the Consortium. Fumbling frantically for the handles, she yanked out drawer after drawer. P, Q, A, W, Q again, where was M?

Krycek's voice, grinding stone against stone, "He's in the orbiting files. He' spinning around the room..." She looked up and the room expanded til she was-

Outside, stars shining brightly, one of the constellations shaped like a file cabinet. Mul-Nev, if she could jump high enough she could just grab the handle. Krycek again, a dark form reaching down to give her a leg up, and she was flying. She climbed onto the Star File, now it was a boat full of files that were all Mulder's but were locked in silver padlocks. She looked around for Krycek to help her. He was pointing a gun at her head but then he was beside her, smiling and opening his hand to give her back the key...>

Part Three

The last few miles of highway into Santa Cruz County were all thick green forest and winding mountain road. The tiny, two lane highway required concentration to navigate safely. Tanker trucks passing each other on the left at high speeds made it a dangerous route for ordinary vehicles. It was, however, the only regular highway in from the northeast unless one crossed the mountains farther up. At least it wasn't raining today. Alex supposed it was just as well that Dana was sleeping again.

The late spring sun skimmed the tall trees with a golden shimmering haze. Acacias interspersed with redwoods lined the road, covered in pungent yellow flowers. The sky seemed out of reach and the whole world green and gold. If the road wasn't so winding and narrow, Alex would have reveled in the natural scenery. As it was, he wished they had a few hours to stop and do some hiking in the area. As much time as he had spent in cities over the previous ten years, he had always preferred to be outdoors.

/As if Dana Scully would choose me for a hiking partner anyway. Hey, at least she's not poking guns into my face. Man, she can sure make a lot of noise when she's sleeping. Who would have ever thought the cool and perfect G-woman of the New Millennium could snore like that? Maybe I should record it and use it as leverage... on second thought, blackmailers often end up dead in those mysteries she reads/

The last hill rolled by beneath him and they were coming out onto the highway above the small, but never sleepy coastal town of Santa Cruz. Alex grinned, imagining what Dana was going to say about the eclectic, unusual populace. New-Agers, business people, punks, hippies, religious fanatics, Silicon Valley computer sharks, any and all varieties of human life could be found wandering the streets past peculiar little business establishments in the tiny four block "downtown" area into which they were driving. He stopped at a crosswalk to let a boy with three rings in his nose cross the road. The boy looked old enough to be one of the college students from the university which rested on a hill overlooking the beautiful blue northern edge of the Monterey Bay.

As the car moved forward, Dana muttered a little. He wondered idly if he appeared in her dreams, and if he was a monster in them. Almost there now, he passed a new, ostentatious building built to look like it was produced in the Art Deco period and turned into a small parking lot in front of a fifties style diner. Small snores told him she hadn't woken yet and he leaned over her for a moment. In spite of the cooler temperatures in this town by the sea, her hair clung in dark red clumps to her face. He reached gently to her shoulder, shook her lightly. She turned and buried her face in his chest, mumbling something about Skinner and finishing a report. His throat constricted.

"Dana, we're here."

No reaction. He cleared his throat, tried again.

"It's time to meet Shyla."

At this, she sat abruptly back in her seat, running a hand through her damp hair and making it stand on end. Her face abruptly and rather shockingly transformed into a professional mask. In a moment, she had smoothed her hair and clothes and was looking at him distantly.

"Sorry. I am used to being in the car with someone else. "

"I realize that. No problem."

"Is this the place?" She was gesturing at the diner, garishly fifties in red and white with a Neon blue sign proclaiming it the "Pontiac Grill".

"No, she owns a bookshop half a block down. I thought you might want some lunch first." At this a look of almost feral hunger crossed her face, and her stomach growled loudly. Her lips quirked a tiny fraction, and she nodded. Ten minutes later they were seated at a table which featured a miniature jukebox loaded with fifties hits and oversized, grease- stained menus. They ordered quickly, neither feeling inclined to linger. Dana was irritable and impatient and even Buddy Holly crooning to her could not keep her from shooting frosty looks at Krycek. When the burgers and fries finally arrived, Alex was stunned by the amount of food the petite Agent Scully could pack away in under fifteen minutes. She ordered a milkshake to go as they left and he could only gape in amazement. Especially as she seemed to feel he should pay.

Santa Cruz always made Alex Krycek slightly nostalgic. There had been a time when he wouldn't have stood out in a crowd anywhere. A time when he wouldn't have minded if he /had/ been noticed. Now, he wore mostly black to blend in with the shadows, a leather glove to hide a fake hand. Always hiding. Here, he didn't need to make an effort. Walking up to the New Age bookstore "Gateways", he doubted he'd have been noticed if he were dressed as a Gregorian monk or done up in the royal garbs of Queen Elizabeth.

He brushed by a Rastafarian with dreadlocks to his waist as he reached to hold the door for Scully. The man gave her a long, slow double-take as he passed her, and his lips pulled back to reveal large, yellow-stained teeth. She returned his stare with cool aplomb, much to Krycek's surprise. A brief nod, and she swept through the door. The tall Black man met Alex's eye and grinned, then continued on his way.

The shop was cool in temperature, but warmly lit with understated full-spectrum lamps. Shelves discreetly lined the outer edges of the establishment, leaving the central area open for gatherings such as the one currently taking place.

A ring of scarf-clad, long-skirted men and women sat cross-legged surrounding a short, slim creature in a white sarong. Her hands were raised in the air and fluttered gracefully as she held the crowd mesmerized with a high soprano voice. A rainbow-coloured scarf held her long, straight black hair away from her face. Alex was too far away to make out what she was saying, but the crowd responded with gasps and exclamations to her tale.

Scully had wandered toward the group, and Alex followed close at her heels. Coming closer, he caught the words the speaker was saying.

"...right into your mind, the words will tell you about the glorious future awaiting mankind when the planets are aligned and our friends come out of the skies..." she broke off suddenly as she caught sight of Alex. His laughter had alerted her to his presence. A blinding smile of white teeth and coffee-colored lips broke out over her face.

"Excuse me everyone. I am being summoned and must leave you now. You all know the exercise that is to come. Michael will lead you. It is in the workbook, page fourteen. Peace to you all."

The crowd sighed, parted to let her make her graceful way through, some looking curiously at Alex and Dana as a tall, golden haired man in what looked like a toga stood and began a chant of some kind. The chant was soon picked up by the strange group and Shyla Kinsugi was leaping upon Alex and kissing his face happily. Before he had time to disengage, she was talking rapidly and leading him to a door in the back of the room, Scully trailing behind with a raised eyebrow.

The moment the three of them had passed into the back room of the shop, the chattering and playfulness fell away from Shyla like the facade it was. She looked at Scully with a frown of concentration and turned once more to question Alex with her slanted black eyes.

"Shyla," he began " this is Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI. I believe you may recognize the name in association to one Fox William Mulder, also of the FBI...X-files."

Her frown deepened, and she looked more sharply at Alex. Scully kept silent, waiting.

"Why are you here? We should not meet."

"I need to speak with Them, Shyla. "

"It is up to Them to contact /you/, Alex." She looked sharply at Dana once again. Her face softened slightly.

"They do want to speak to you. I have a message. And it is... good... to see you again. But you must stop acting independently. "

His voice revealed nothing, but his eyes glittered with emotion.

"Can she hear it?"

"They know about her. Yes, I have a message for her as well."

Dana could not prevent herself from jerking with shock. Whoever They were, she didn't like knowing someone was watching her. The beautiful, somewhat oriental face turned to look her full in the eyes. She sensed intelligence, but could not read the other woman's expression.

"What kind of message could you possibly have for me?"

"It is a direct transmission from your partner Fox Mulder."

Mercifully, full of heavy American food, Dana Scully did not faint.

So whaddya think? Feedback appreciated at ciphermuse@yahoo.com Flames will keep me warm during the grey coastal summer. There's a lot more where this came from, if anybody is interested.