The Alex Chronicles 2: Changes

by Lady Midath

Disclaimer:I don't own any of the character not do I own the X Files. They are all owned by a certain man that does not seem to want them anymore.

Fandom: X Files

Pairing: Krycek/Skinner, but not in this chapter

Rating: NC17 for, language, angst, and some violence and a reference to drugs

Archive: Sure thing, just let me know where it's going

Summary: Alex is sent on his first mission.

Status:Part Two

Spoilers: None yet

Thank you to my co-writer Shawn for all you invaluable help on this epic journey

This is told from Alex's POV


The Alex Chronicles 2: Changes
by Lady Midath


The Facility, West Virginia
Three years later

The kid looked nervous as he handed me the thin sheaf of papers held together in the manila folder. He looked as though he were about twelve years old. I sighed inwardly. The recruits seemed to get younger each year.

I thanked him as I accepted the folder and watched as he walked away.

With a rueful shake of my head, I opened it up and quickly read the contents within. Not much, another set of scenarios for me to work through. A kidnapping this time, really quite easy.

I had reached a level of my training now where my instructors were actually preparing me to be involved in real assignments. I nodded, pursing my lips as I read through the various solutions that had been posed along with the problems. I quickly decided that none of them were any good.

Still turning the scenario over in my mind, I wandered down the corridor towards my room.

Three years had past since I had been brought here to be trained as a Consortium operative. I was eighteen now, tall and well built, thanks to the continuous training both physical and mental, that I was still receiving.

I opened the door to my quarters and stepped inside. I looked around at the spacious and well furnished room, a far cry from my old cell like quarters which had been positively Spartan compared to this.

I closed the door behind me and wandered over to the television and stereo that sat on a large black cabinet over near the window. I switched the stereo on and soon the room was filled with classical jazz.

Tossing the folder onto my untidy desk, I wandered over to the tiny, but well equipped kitchenette and began to rummage around in the small refrigerator. Finally I came up with some cold chicken and a bottle of beer. Domestic but not bad.

Yawning, I carried my booty back into the living room and settled down into the battered but comfortable old easy chair with a sigh of relief.

It had been a pretty full day all in all. Harold Kelly, my weapons instructor had been showing me the various uses in plastic explosives and lock picks. I always enjoyed my training with the Sarge, he not only taught me the most fascinating uses for various weapons and tools, but he also kept me constantly entertained with old war stories from his days with the Marines.

I opened the bottle of beer and took a mouthful, swallowing the cold brew gratefully. The gentle strains of a jazz guitar filled the room, warming it with it's rich melody.

I leaned my head back against the back of the chair, closing my eyes and letting the music wash over me. Over the time I had been here, I had grown a real appreciation for jazz and blues.

Suddenly there was a sharp rap at the door. I sighed and heaved myself out of the chair, annoyed at being disturbed. After all it was not liked I got a lot of time to myself, especially these days. I had noticed that my training had intensified over the last few weeks.

After turning the music down, I opened the door, and stepped back into the room allowing Piotr to enter. He smiled and gave me an affectionate pat on the cheek as he walked past me. I closed the door, then folding my arms over my chest waited for my tutor to speak.

"Mind if I sit down?" He asked me with that familiar grin of his.

"Sure, go ahead." I replied with a careless shrug.

He settled his large frame into my easy chair, letting out a sigh of relief.

"You want a beer?" I asked him. Piotr shook his head. "No thanks Alex." He patted his stomach with one hand, almost like someone would pat their pet dog.

"Ulcers still playing up?" I asked him.

Now it was his turn to shrug. "No more than usual."

I settled myself down into another chair, putting my feet up onto the coffee table. Piotr watched me, a fond smile playing about his lips.

"So what are you here for Piotr?" I asked without preamble. He chuckled and leaned forward slightly, the chair creaking under his weight.

"I have an assignment for you."

I stared at him for a moment, the pointed towards my desk piled high with old papers and books and junk where I had tossed the folder. "I have been given the simulations already..." I began.

Piotr shook his head. "No Alex, this is not a scenario for you to solve. I am talking about a real assignment. Are you interested?"

A real assignment. I pondered it over in my mind for a moment, aware of Piotr's eyes on me.

"What does it involve?" I finally asked.

"A simple courier job, that's all." Piotr replied easily. "Nothing too difficult."

"And what is it that I would be delivering exactly?" I asked. Piotr shook his head.

"Nothing that needs to concern you young man." He replied with firm good humour. "You and another operative will be taking a package to New Orleans, there you will meet one of operatives and you will give them the package. Then you return back here again. Simple."

I sat for moment, thinking hard. "I guess I don't have much choice do I?" I replied after a couple of minutes.

"Not really Alex." Piotr replied. "You have just about come to the end of your training here at the Facility and everyone thinks that it's about you got your feet wet. So to speak."

"Well I guess you have yourself a delivery boy." I said with a smile. Obviously pleased, Piotr nodded, then pushing himself up out of the chair, he walked over to where I was still seated.

"I know that you will do a good job Alex." He said warmly. "I have every faith in you."

I nodded, then looked away saying nothing. Piotr looked down at me for a moment. I sensed that he had something else to say, but seeing the closed expression on my face he merely turned and left my room.

I sat, listening to the sound of the door closing behind him then getting to my feet, I walked over to the stereo. I turned the music back up, letting the wail of the jazz trumpet wash over me.

My first proper assignment, I felt the slow grin spread over my face. Okay, it was only a delivery job sure. I was to be a glorified messenger boy, but it would be my first proper assignment. Finally, a chance to leave the Facility, even if it was only for a short while.

Oh sure, I had been outside the Facility plenty of time. I had been taken to various places as part of my training, but always under the watchful eye of Piotr or Sergi.

I had never been allowed to have any real freedom away from my instructors, and now here was my big chance.

After all, wasn't it time to prove to Piotr and the Consortium that I was ready to become a fully fledged operative? The question dangled itself in front of me. Suddenly I felt a nervous flutter deep in the pit of my stomach at the thought of being given this job. Would I be able to handle this without screwing up?

I glanced over at my desk once more, catching sight of the yellow coloured folder with the simulations in it. How many of those had I been given to solve? A dozen? Two dozen?

Kidnappings, assassinations, infiltrating the strongholds of friends and enemies alike. All that and more had been set down in those scenarios again and again for me to find solutions to.

And now I would be doing all this for real. Childhood such as it had been was over for me now. It was time to grow up.

I stood, head down, listening to the music as it filled the room pondering all this over in my mind. Is this what I wanted to do with my life? The thought seemed to come from nowhere and took me completely by surprise.

Of course it was, I told myself. After all, this is what I had been trained to do. I had spent three long years preparing myself to serve the Consortium. To serve the Elite. The men that would one day rule over the entire world. And like any young man my age, I was determined to prove myself. Not only to Piotr, but to the entire organization itself.



TWO

The Haddon Building, Washington DC

So this is it, I thought to myself as I entered the large and imposing conference room with Piotr and another man that he had introduced to me simply as 'Carl'.

So this was the Consortium stronghold then. I looked around the lavishly furnished room, noting the massive conference table made out of a rich mahogany and polished to a mirror finish.

The tastefully coloured walls were covered with paintings. Among them, I recognized a Matisse and a couple of Picasso's.

"Take a seat Alex." Piotr said. I nodded and sat down in the nearest chair. I watched as both Piotr and Carl settled themselves down to wait as well.

Except for the three of us, the room was totally empty. Idly I wondered when the meeting as supposed to start. Piotr had told me that this would be my first proper meeting with the Consortium Elite.

"You are playing in the major league now Alex." He had told me, his face utterly serious now. "And you are to conduct yourself in the proper and correct manner of which I have taught you."

I had nodded, assuring Piotr that I would not let him down. Only then did he had give me smile, visibly relaxing.

"That's good Alex." He had replied, placing his hand on my shoulder with a fatherly gesture. "Just remember that you are not only representing the Facility, but myself as well. After all I have been your main tutor and carer since you came here. I need to know that you will do your best."
Without realizing it, I tensed under his friendly grasp. Quickly, he removed his hand.
"I will Piotr." I had told him, my voice firm and unwavering. "I will do you proud."

So now the three of us were sitting here, waiting for the Elite to arrive.

I could not help but feel nervous. I was aware of how out of place I must have looked, sitting here in the deep leather chair wearing my new jeans and plain white shirt. I was wearing my new beige jacket as well. Piotr had taken my to the best shops in Washington DC and had brought me virtually a new wardrobe. Shoes, underwear, socks. Everything that I would need while I was here. I had no idea why I could not take any of my clothes with me, but Piotr had insisted that I did not.

I stared down at the new black boots that stuck out in front of me. They were my pride and joy. A complete change from the sneakers that I was used to. All in all, I was feeling quite pleased with my appearance. But then I noticed how both Piotr and Carl were both wearing dark coloured suits with crisp white shirts and muted ties.

Here I was wearing jeans and they were wearing suits.

Trying not to feel too out of place, I sighed and settled back to wait for the meeting to begin, when the doors opened and several men entered the room.

Piotr signaled for me to get to my feet. I stood, watching as the men gathered around the long conference table, taking their places.

I was aware of the looks that several of them were giving me as I took my place beside Piotr and Carl.

"So this is the newest operative to join our cause, is it?"

I turned to look at the man who had spoken. He was tall and very corpulent. His small eyes, hard as pebbles were set deeply into his rather sallow, doughy features. He eyed me up and down for a moment, then taking his seat, dismissed me

I felt the colour rise in my face, but remembering my promise to Piotr, I said nothing.

"Gentlemen, shall we begin?"

I recognized the speaker immediately. It was the Smoker, the man that I had met back in Kiev.

He had gotten to his feet now, facing the others, ubiquitous cigarette dangling between his fingers.

"So what is on the agenda Mr Spender?" The Corpulent Man asked, in that odd, breathy voice of his.

So that was his name, I thought to myself as I settled back down to watch the action. Mr Spender inclined his head slightly towards the Corpulent Man.

"Our contact in New Orleans has given us the go-ahead. The package will be delivered to him ASAP, after which the plan will be put into motion."

The others seemed satisfied with this. A general murmur of approval rippled around the room.

"And the operatives trusted with this task are Carl Hassenrick and Alex Krycek."

I frowned, even though I knew that my name had been shortened in order for me to be able to blend in, it still disturbed me to hear this bastardized version of my name. It sounded so strange, almost alien.

"Ah yes, young Alex." The older, aristocratic looking man that I had also seen in Kiev spoke up. I was aware of all their eyes on my now. Sizing me up, wondering if I were up to the task that they were setting for me.

"Do you think you are ready for this responsibility Alex" The question came from Spender.

Lifting my head to met his cold reptilian gaze, I nodded.

"I believe so Sir."

"Good." Spender replied. "That's good." He leaned over the table to stub the cigarette out in a heavy crystal ashtray. I watched him closely, wondering exactly how high up he was within the Consortium's power structure.

As if sensing my thoughts, he pinned me with a sharp glance.

"You will be paired with Carl Hassenrick. He is one of our best operatives Alex. I expect you to listen to him...and learn. Do a good job and you will be given more assignments. Fail and...well let me just say that you do not want to discover what the consequences for failure are. Do you understand?"

Mouth dry, I nodded. I stared at this man, at his cold pale eyes so totally without expression. This man looked as though he could break a baby's arm...and smile while doing it. I fully took him at his word. After all, this was not a man I would ever care to cross.

"Fine." Spender stared at me for a moment, clearly sizing me up to see what effect his words had. I met his glance with what I hoped was a cool one of my one. But inwardly I was quaking.

Swallowing my fear, I listened carefully as Spender explained our mission. It seemed simple enough. Contact an operative by the name of Stuart Garson and hand over the package. After that, return to DC.

Easy, I thought sneaking a glance over at the other operative. Carl sat, his face expressionless as he listened to what was being said.

Personally I could not understand why they would want to send two agents. It was a simple task, something I could easily do on my own.

Finally a time was set for when the parcel would be ready. Carl and I were to pick it up from a designated drop point.

Spender then went on to tell us that our contact was a Dr Thiess and that he would have the parcel ready and waiting for us.

Finally the meeting ended. The members of the Elite dismissing us with an almost curt abruptness. None of us had even been offered any refreshments. It was like they wanted as little contact with us as possible.

As Piotr, Carl and I rose and left the conference room, I could almost feel the collective sigh of relief behind us.

I sat in silence on the way back to the Facility, brooding over everything that I had seen and heard in that room.

Piotr, sensing my mood reached over to give me a reassuring pat on the leg.

I glanced at him questioningly.

"So what did you think of your first proper meeting with the Elite?" He asked, gazing at me intently.

"Okay I guess." I replied absently. "They are a little..." I stopped, face flushing with embarrassment.

"Creepy?" Piotr supplied with a chuckle. "I suppose they are at first, but you get used to dealing with them after a while."

"I guess you have to deal with them a lot, don't you?" I replied. Piotr nodded, the smile gone. All trace of good humour had suddenly fled his face.

"Alex." He began. "This won't be the last time you will have to deal with them yourself. If you do a good job this time, you will be given a lot more responsibility."

I nodded silently. I could hear how utterly serious he was being now.

"Dealing with the Consortium is not an easy task Alex." Piotr continued, speaking softly, almost as if he were talking to himself. His eyes had left my face, his gaze distant as though he were staring off into someplace far away.

"They can be ruthless Alex, ruthless in ways that you can't even imagine. And there are two things that they never forgive." He turned his eyes to me once more, pinning me with a razor sharp look.

"They do not forgive mistakes and they do not forgive disloyalty. Do you understand what I am saying to you?"

Swallowing hard, I nodded again. All ability to put words together in a coherent sentence had seemed to have momentarily fled.

"What I am trying to tell you Alex is simply this." Piotr told me firmly. "Don't ever underestimate their ability to make you suffer for your mistakes."

I stared at Piotr for a moment, carefully gauging what he had told me. Then I replied as calmly as I was able to. "It's okay Piotr. You don't have to worry. I won't screw this up. After all, it's just a simple straight forward delivery job. What could possibly go wrong?"

If only I had known at the time.



THREE

Fernly Medical Center, Washington DC

Dr Thiess was a small dried up looking man. He watched us both nervously as we sat down.

"You have the package for us Doctor?" Carl asked. Dr Thiess nodded, his head moving with quick birdlike motions.

"I have it all ready for you." He answered. With that, he produced a small box wrapped in plain brown paper. It looked harmless enough, but Dr Thiess handled it like it contained dynamite.

"Here it is." He handed it over to Carl almost gratefully, as though he were glad to be rid of it. Carl quickly stowed it away in one of the pockets in the long coat he wore.

"Thank you." Carl said. Neither he nor the doctor offered to shake hands so I did not either.

The older operative looked at me then nodded towards the door. It was time for us to leave.

Getting to our feet, we both headed for the door. I was aware of the doctor's stony gaze on us as we left the medical center.

"Well that was easy." I ventured as we climbed into the sleek black car. Carl glanced at me as he settled his lean frame behind the steering wheel.

"Now for the difficult part." He said as he turned the key into the ignition. The engine started flawlessly. I watched as he guided the car out onto the busy street, noting his every move.

Piotr had already started teaching me to drive but I had not had much experience behind the wheel of a car. To be honest I was itching to get my license.

"Do you think it's going to be difficult?" I asked him curiously. Carl nodded, gripping the steering wheel easily with strong capable looking hands.

"Every mission; no matter how simple it seems; no matter how straight forward it looks; has the potential to go wrong." He explained. "What you have to learn Alex is this. No mission is simple. No task is easy. There are a hundred things that can go wrong, things that you can't even begin to factor in."

I nodded, listening.

"You were taught how to think on a mission, to classify everyone around you with a threat level. Now is the time to start doing it."

Just then, my mind wandered back to all those simulations and scenarios that I had studied back at the Facility. Then one came to mind. It had been a simulation of the interception of a courier. Then it hit me, if I could plan it, others could as well.

I started thinking, if I was planning to intercept us, how would I do it?

Suddenly I started feeling nervous, open and exposed. I looked out of the car window at the traffic going past. All of a sudden I found myself looking for potential ambushes. I smiled grimly to myself. I had to admit, my training was really beginning to pay off now.



FOUR

New Orleans

It was past noon by the time Carl and I arrived at the bus station. Hands tucked deep into the pockets of my beige jacket, I followed him into the busy terminal.

People hurried past me, carrying suitcases and colourful carrier bags. I watched them fascinated, I had never been in a bus terminal before and I found it all absolutely fascinating.

I looked down to see a little girl dressed in a red jumpsuit and pigtails smile up at me, she was clutching a doll to her chest.

I smiled back at her, then after giving her a little wave, watched as she dashed back to her mother.

"Alex!"

I turned around. Carl was waiting for me, a look of undisguised impatience on his face.

"Come on," he hissed. Face reddening at my momentary lapse of attention, I walked over to where he was standing.

Leaning forward slightly, he said. "Alex, focus. Do I make myself clear?"

"Sure." I replied chastened. "Uh, sorry Carl."

Giving me a curt nod, he walked towards a set of lockers that were located over on the far side of the terminal.

Pulling out a key, he opened one of the lockers and pulled out a large canvas bag. Carl closed the locker again, then motioned for me to follow him out of the bus terminal.

"Right, now let's see what we have here."

Carl emptied the contents of the bag onto the neatly made motel bed. "Ah, here we are."

Carefully he picked up a gun. It was a Walther PPK, standard issue. There were two of them. One for him and the other for me. There were also two large rolls of bank notes and a couple of plane tickets back to Washing DC.

Carl mulled over the contents of the bag then nodded his head, clearly satisfied.

"Great, everything's here." He glanced up at me with a grin. "Well, we don't have to meet Stuart until tomorrow, so what do you say we grab a bite to eat. Huh kiddo?"

I nodded, returning his grin. "Yeah." I told him. "That would be great."

"Okay then." Carl replied, giving me a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Allow me to show you New Orleans



FIVE

Cheverau Restaurant

"So, how's your Shrimp Creole?" Carl asked me.

"It's great." I replied. I forked some more of the incredible tasting food into my mouth. God, I had never had anything as good as this back at the Facility. It was Ambrosia compared to the endless meals of meatloaf and macaroni cheese that I was used to.

"So tell me, what is this Stuart Garson like?" I found myself asking as I reached over for another piece of herb bread.

Carl shrugged. "He's okay. I've worked with him before."

"Oh." I replied. "So you know him quite well then?"

"Not really. Carl answered. He picked up his glass of wine and took a sip. "He's a damned fine operative though, one of the few that I actually trust."

We finished the meal, then deciding then we both needed a good night's sleep we headed back to the motel room.

As I settled myself down in the rather narrow but comfortable bed, I could not help but feel a strange tingle of excitement. After all, here I was in New Orleans on my first real assignment. This was my big chance.

Smiling to myself, I rolled over and after a while, finally managed to drop off to sleep.



SIX

New Orleans

The motel where we were meeting Stuart Garson was small and dingy looking. Carl and I drove the hired car down the quiet street, pulling up just outside.

"Come on." Carl spoke curtly. I looked at him, noticing the tight set of his mouth.

Without a word, I followed him up the cracked steps that led to the front door of the motel. The small balding man sitting behind the desk barely spared us glance as we headed towards the old fashioned elevator.

Stuart Garson's room was on the third floor. After checking the tarnished gold numbers on the doors, we finally found the right room. It was down at the far end of the hallway.

Carl rapped on the door, the sound loud in the silent hall. The door opened revealing a tall dark haired man. Without a word, he stepped back, allowing us to enter. Then closing the door, he walked over to stand near a small round table.

"Stuart, it's good to see you." Carl said. "This is Alex, he's a trainee you were told about. This is his first assignment."

The dark haired man gave a quick nod in acknowledgment, then asked. "You have it?"

"Yeah, yeah. It's right here." Carl replied. He reached into his coat and pulled the package out.

"Here it is. A little gift from the guys." He handed it over to Stuart, who took it and placed it carefully onto the table.

"Now, I believe you have something for me." Carl said. I looked at him, puzzled. I knew that we were supposed to drop something off, but were we supposed to pick something up as well? I did not remember Piotr mentioning that.

"Sure thing Carl." Stuart replied. "I have it right here."

Before I realized what was happening, he had pulled a gun out. Firing point blank, he hit Carl directly in the chest.

"Shit." I heard myself gasp, then without even thinking, I dived behind the wide double bed.

I heard rather than saw Carl's body hit the floor with a dull thud. Pulling out my own gun, I rolled around the other side of the bed and fired.

The bullet ripped through Stuart's shirt and I saw red blossom across his shirt.

He stared at me for a moment with pure disbelief in his eyes, then dropped like a stone onto the carpet.

"Fuck." I muttered, then my head jerked up. The bathroom door smashed open and two men, both holding weapons burst out.

Pure reflex was taking over now. Squeezing off two more shots, I actually managed a direct hit to the nearest one. Like Stuart, he collapsed in a boneless heap.

"Fucker!" The second gunman snarled. He fired just as I stumbled backwards, virtually tripping up over my own feet. It was that moment of clumsiness that saved me. The bullet whizzed over my head, close enough for me to feel the heat from the shot. I lifted my own gun and fired back. The first bullet hit him in the shoulder. I made sure the second caught him directly between his eyes.

Slowly I got to my feet and walked over to where the package was still sitting. Picking it up, I tucked it into my pocket, then after checking that Carl was really dead. I got the hell out of there.



SEVEN

New Orleans

I was not sure exactly how long I spent wandering around. I was trying desperately to get my scrambled thoughts into some semblance of order now.

I knew I could not go back to the motel room, after all there could be other renegade agents waiting for me there. Shit, all our stuff was back there. Our clothes, money, the damned airline tickets. Everything. The drop off was only supposed to take less then an hour.

The plan was that we dropped the package off and return to the motel. Then we were to catch the flight back to DC. And what the hell was it exactly that Carl had wanted to pick up from Stuart Garson?

Fuck, fuck fuck. I ran my hand through my hair. What was I going to do? I thought briefly about contacting Piotr to tell him what happened when suddenly his words came back to me. 'There are two things the Consortium does not forgive Alex. One of them is, they do not forgive mistakes'.

But this had not been a mistake, this had been a fucking set up. Still, what if they did not believe me. I was aware of my natural distrust rising up within me now.

No, this was a problem that I was going to have to solve on my own.

Stopping, I took a deep breath, sternly I ordered myself to quit panicking and use my brain. And my training.

Okay, I could not return to the motel room, that was out. It was just too risky. The first thing I had to do was get back to DC. Once there I would be able to explain everything to everyone's satisfaction. Or so I fervently hoped.

But first things first. I had to dump the weapon and get hold of some money. The stuff at the motel was just going to have to wait until it was safe to pick it up. Thank god everything there was under false names. Nothing that could be traced back to either myself or Carl. Or more importantly, the Consortium.

Still, I had to admit, this had turned into one major fuck up.

"Hey buddy."

I turned around. A scrawny looking kid with pock marked skin was leaning against the wall of a dingy looking old building. He was wearing a black leather jacket and jeans that were torn at the knees.

I stared at him puzzled, not quite sure what he wanted.

"Yeah, you man. You cool or what?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, totally lost now. The kid laughed, showing a mouthful of rotten teeth.

"You are tourist or something man?"

"Well I..." Desperately I tried to get my thoughts together. Who was this guy and what the hell did he want?

"You want to score or what?" I could see that he was growing impatient now.

"Score?" I asked confused?

"Yeah man. Fuck I got everything you need. MaryJane, speed, coke. Fuck man I got the fucking lot. Whatever you need man. Whatever you need." He was staring at me expectantly. Then it hit me. This guys was a dealer. Oh shit, I thought. This day was just getting better and better.

He was grinning at me now. "Man, I can see that you are deep in need. Follow and I shall supply anything your heart desires."

I eyed him up and down for a moment, possibilities suddenly running through my head.

"Yeah." I said after a moment, a slow grin spreading over my face. "You know something buddy, you might be able to at that."

With that, I followed him down the alley. A few moments later I stepped out, pulling my newly acquired leather jacket on. I quickly checked the pockets. There were several bags all filled with various powders and tablets. There was also a bag of green stuff that I took to be marijuana. There was also over three hundred dollars as well.

I quickly ditched the gun that I had used. That disappeared down a sewer grating along with the plastic bags. My beige jacket went straight into the nearest dumpster. Personally I was not sad to see it gone. I looked so much cooler in this new black leather one.

Stepping over the body of the now unconscious dealer. I left the alley and headed down the street. From there I knew I would be able to hitch my way back to DC.



EIGHT

The Haddon Building, Washington DC
One week later

Spender leaned back against his chair, pinning me with a speculative gaze. He was holding the package that I brought back with me. The same one that Carl and I were supposed to have delivered.

I stood in front of him, aware of Piotr's eyes on me the whole time.

I had managed to hitch my way back to Washington DC. I had no problems getting rides from cars and trucks alike. At one stage I had even been given a lift by a van of old ladies that were on their way to some oldies convention or another.

They had all cooed and ahhed over me while I in turn used all the Krycek charm I was able to muster. The little old ladies dropped me just outside the city and I walked the last couple of miles until I found a diner that was still open.

Finally I had made it back. Tired and hungry I headed straight for the nearest phone booth, and after dialing the secure number that Piotr had given me. I checked in.

I spoke to Piotr, briefly telling him what had happened. He then ordered me to stay where I was. He assured me that he was on his way.

Three cups of coffee and a large slice of cherry pie later, Piotr bustled in through the door. He hurried over to where I was sitting, the lines on his face deeper then usual.

"Are you all right Alex?" He asked, his tone terse with worry.

"Yeah, I am." I told him simply. Then I sighed, wondering exactly how deep the shit was that I seemed to be currently standing in at the moment. By my estimation, it was probably up to my forehead.

The waitress came over and took Piotr's order. Then after pouring him a cup of strong black coffee, hurried away.

"Okay Alex, tell me exactly what happened."

Taking a deep breath I told Piotr everything from the moment that we had arrived in New Orleans. After I was done, Piotr finished his coffee, then throwing some bills on the table, he motioned me to follow him out of the diner.

And now here I was, back in the same conference room, facing Mr Spender and hoping to god I was not about to get my eighteen year old ass handed to me.

"So let me see if I have this right Mr Krycek." Spender spoke with slow deliberation, drawing the words out.

"You and Carl Hassenrick met the contact, Stuart Garson at the designated meeting point. The parcel was handed over, then you say that Carl mentioned something else that was supposed to be given to him. Is that correct?"

I nodded, fighting down my nervousness. "That's correct Sir."

"After which, Stuart Garson shot Carl Hassenrick, and you in turn shot Stuart Garson."

"And the other two men that were hiding in the bathroom." I added. "I killed the three of them, and then I took the package. I thought it might have been in the best interest to return it to you Sir." I quickly added.

Spender nodded, turning the package over in his hands. His lined face was thoughtful.

"Very well Mr Krycek. You are dismissed. Kindly wait outside."

Sparing a worried glance towards Piotr, I left the room to sit on the low leather couch outside.

I waited, chewing at my lower lip, something I always did when I was edgy and nervous. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and Piotr stepped out into the foyer.

I looked up at him, waiting for the ax to fall. Incredibly he gave me a smile.

"Come on Alex." He said gently. "It's time to go home.



EIGHT

The Facility, West Virginia

Piotr found me in the gym, working out with some weights. Without preamble, he walked over to where was I was lying on the padded bench.

He tossed me a towel and I caught in neatly with one hand.

""Hi Piotr." I said as I wiped the towel over my face. "What can I do for you?"

It had been over a week now since Piotr and I had returned to the Facility. I had picked up the threads of my training once more and things had settled back down into their usual comfortable pattern.

"I heard from the Consortium today." Piotr said, his voice casual.

"Oh yeah?" I asked as I carefully placed the weights back onto their rack.

"Yes, and they are most impressed with the way you handled events in New Orleans Alex."

I turned to look at Piotr, pleased and relieved. The whole New Orleans mess had been like a sword hanging over my head. I had spent many sleepless nights wondering if there had been anything that I could have done differently.

The image of Stuart Garson drawing his gun and shooting Carl had been firmly imprinted on my mind and had been the stuff of several nightmares. Only in my dreams, it had been me taking the bullet in the chest and not Carl.

"I thought I had fucked up royally." I said, my voice soft. Piotr shook his head.

"No Alex, you responded quite well under pressure." He replied. "Okay, there were a couple of things that you could have done differently. First of all, you should have contacted me immediately after it happened. That way we could have sent a sweeper team to clean up. You had the number for the secure line, you should have used it."

I said nothing, after all how could I explain Piotr that it was my distrust of him and the Consortium that stopped me in the first place. The lesson that he taught me that time when he had found me with Dominick had stayed with me. Only, I could not tell him that.

I felt the colour rise in my face. Despite that, I could not argue with Piotr, he was right. A more experienced operative would have known precisely what to do. It was time I faced it. I had screwed up. I had allowed my paranoia to cloud my judgment and that mistake alone was unforgivable.

Sensing how I was feeling, Piotr sighed and shook his head.

"Alex, don't be hard on yourself about this. There's no real harm done. The fact is that not only did you manage to get yourself out alive, you succeeded in taking down three experienced agents. You had the presence of mind to recover the package and you were able to return both it and yourself to Washington on your own. Not bad for a trainee on his first mission, hmmm?"

Feeling a little better now, I mustered up a smile. "Thanks Piotr." I replied.

"You did well Alex. So well in fact that you have caught Mr Spender's attention." Piotr continued.

"Oh." I struggled to keep my face carefully neutral.

"Yes, he feels that you are ready to finish your training here and to take up your duties full time."

I realized that Piotr was waiting for my reaction. Avoiding his eyes, I hung the towel around my shoulders. All the while my mind was racing. At last, what I had been working towards ever since my arrival here.

I was to finally become a full operative. I felt a familiar tingle of excitement deep within my belly. So this was finally it.

"And not only that Alex." Piotr said softly. "He wants to take you on as his personal assistant."

Now this piece of news did get a reaction. I jerked my head up, my eyes widening with something akin to horror.

"What? he wants me as an assistant?" I stammered.

Piotr fixed me with a glare that I had not seen for a long time. "Yes Alex, and you should be proud of the fact that you have caught the attention of someone who plays such an important part of The Cause."

"Yes, I suppose." I replied uncertainly. Inwardly I shuddered. Me, working for that cold eyed smoker? Then it hit me. All the times he had visited me here at the Facility, the fact that he was the one that had traveled to Russia when I had first been handed over to Piotr.

"You have been grooming me to work directly for Spender all along, haven't you?"

Piotr nodded. "That's right Alex." He said calmly. "Spender's position within the Consortium has changed. He has taken on a lot more responsibility of late and he needs a full time assistant. And that assistant is to be you."

Silently I took all this in. So I was to be Spender's assistant. As much as the thought repelled me, I realized that it was not as though I had any choice. I may as well give in gracefully. And after all, it might end up working out to my advantage anyway.

"Okay then Piotr." I replied with a shrug. "When do I start?"

"Straight away." Piotr replied. "Oh, and by the way Alex, we did a little digging around. It seems that Stuart Garson was actually a double agent. He was working for a resistance group that is opposed to the Consortium. He and the two other agents were planted within our ranks. That's why they killed Carl and then tried to kill you."

I nodded thoughtfully, mulling this piece of information over in my mind. Then I looked up at Piotr.

"Okay, that explains what happened back at the motel. But did you ever find out what it was that Carl had been after?" I asked.

Piotr shook his head no. "I'm afraid that still remains something of a mystery even to us." He answered.

"Oh." I could not think of anything else to say. My mind turned back to Carl again. Of him sitting in the restaurant in New Orleans, telling me how Stuart Garson was a fine operative and that he had worked with him before. Suddenly I realized just how dangerous this way of life truly was.

If nothing else had driven it home, the memory of walking into that trap back in that dingy New Orleans motel did. Of hearing the thud of Carl's body when it hit the floor. The blood from the hole in his chest.

"Everything has the potential to go wrong." I whispered, remembering what Carl had told me. "Absolutely everything."

"That's right Alex." Piotr replied softly. "And that's a good lesson to remember. Especially now."

With that, he turned and left the gym, leaving me to my own tumultuous thoughts.



END OF PART TWO