The Beginning of Sorrows Part II  
Disclaimers, ratings, and spoilers in part I

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Psalm 91:4  He shall cover thee with His feathers, 
and under his wings you shall take refuge. 
"But unto you that fear My name shall the Sun of 
righteousness arise, with healing in His wings---" 
(Mal. 4:2). 
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My patient turned out to be Monica, not John.  
Skinner and I had hurried across the compound, 
almost unable to believe Doggett was here and 
alive. 

When I’d questioned her on his whereabouts, the 
only thing Monica had ever said was that she’d seen 
him die when she was captured by the aliens. She 
steadfastly refused to give any details, literally 
shutting down at the mention of his name.  I’d 
assumed he’d been killed in front of her and the 
shock of seeing it had left a permanent mental scar.
But a man looking exactly like John Doggett, 
dressed in fatigues, and very much alive, smiled 
when Skinner and I came in. 

“John,”  Skinner said with obvious pleasure.

“Sir.”  Doggett’s creased face smoothed into a grin.

They shook hands like long lost friends. He 
suddenly turned and hugged me tight, lifting me off 
my feet.  None of us had ever behaved like this to 
one another in the ‘before’ time. I thought how 
strange it was that separation and adversity could 
make emotions so much stronger, sharper, that they 
were magnified ten fold.  I was glad, so very glad to 
see him again.

“Agent Scully, as I live and breathe.”

I smiled up at him when he set me down at last. 
“We thought you were dead. Monica—,“ and then it 
occurred to me I hadn’t seen her. Glancing over to 
the ward I saw her lying on one of the beds.

“What happened?”  I rushed over and picked up her 
hand, feeling a rapid, thready pulse.

“Fainted dead away when she saw me. Well, she 
screamed my name a couple dozens times before 
doin’ it.”

“She thought you were dead.  Why?”  I heard 
suspicion in Skinner’s voice. Surely he didn’t think 
John wasn’t human? We had dogs at every post that 
could sniff out a clone or super soldier at twenty 
yards distance. He would have had to pass this 
particular inspection before coming into camp.

“I don’t know.”  Doggett’s face looked genuinely 
bewildered.  I touched his arm.

“What happened to separate the two of you?”

John’s forehead bunched into characteristic lines.  
“It’s a long story.  Why don’t I tell you over dinner? 
I haven’t had anything decent to eat in weeks.”

**************************************


Skinner brought us food to eat at the infirmary.  I 
didn’t want to leave Monica, fearing she might 
wake while we were gone.  She’d need help and 
reassurance when she came back from the dark 
place she’d retreated to.

John told a harrowing story of fleeing from 
Washington after invasion with Monica in tow.  
Like many other refugees, they were ill prepared for 
flight and had no idea in which direction to run. 

“We decided to go south, which turned out to be 
exactly the wrong thing to do,” he said ruefully. 
“We were captured within a couple of weeks by 
super soldiers.  They already had camps set up all 
over the place. We saw humans herded into 
buildings and then burned to death.” He paused at 
the memory.  I could only imagine what horror such 
a sight could induce.

“They tried to separate us in the woods.  When I 
wouldn’t ‘cooperate’ I got the business end of a 
club to the head.” He absently stroked an ugly scar 
on the side of his face. “They must have thought I 
was dead.  Next thing I knew I was at the bottom of 
a pile of bodies.  I managed to dig my way out and 
slipped into the woods before they burned them up 
with some live ones. I worked my way back so I 
could get Monica, but they were gone.  The whole 
place was just deserted.”  His voiced cracked with 
emotion.

Suddenly he looked at us with haunted eyes.  “You 
have to believe me. I tried to find her.  I looked 
everywhere for weeks, but I was always too late. I 
finally met up with a group of resistance soldiers 
and have been with them ever since.”

Skinner and I acknowledged him silently.  Our story 
hadn’t been much different, but we’d managed to 
elude the patrols before coming this far north.

I touched his hand.  “John,” I began gently, “I think 
Monica might have seen you taken with the others.  
I also think she witnessed the building being burned 
and thought you were in it.  She’s spoken to me of 
smelling smoke and hearing people scream in her 
sleep.”

“Oh, shit,” John said with anguish.  “How’d she 
make it here?”

Skinner told a brief story of finding her during a 
raid.  He left out the part of his bringing her against 
all odds of survival, and also carrying her along the 
way. I’d make sure John learned the whole truth at a 
later time.

Skinner’s eyes narrowed.  “Why would the aliens 
burn some humans and keep others alive?” he 
asked.

Doggett shook his head. “My group’s been trying to 
figure that out for a long time.  We’ve heard stories 
of experiments, but nobody can get close enough to 
figure out what they’re doin.’”

“At first I thought it might be germ warfare, but 
why not just use something old fashioned like small 
pox or anthrax?”  I asked.

“From what I’ve seen,” John said, “I think they’re 
as vulnerable to disease as we are.  They unleash 
that stuff and they’re dead too.”  

Skinner nodded in agreement. “On raiding parties 
we’ve seen their bodies with the same strange 
wounds as some of the humans have had.” 

Skinner hadn’t brought back the alien bodies for 
fear of spreading disease in the encampment.  He’d 
also steadfastly refused to allow me along for the 
same reason.  His rationale had been that I was the 
only doctor, but I knew it went deeper than that.

Fatigue covered Doggett like a blanket, and I 
realized we’d talked into the night.

“You look tired,” I said with sympathy. “Why don’t 
you bunk down for the night? I have to stay here 
with Monica and our other---‘guest’.”  I didn’t see 
any reason to tell him about Krycek yet.

“No. I’m stayin’ here. I want to be with her when 
she wakes up.”

I knew by the stubborn tone of Doggett’s voice I’d 
get nowhere with him. I smiled at his dedication.

I looked up then and caught Skinner with nearly the 
same expression as mine.  Something passed 
between us in that glance, a spark of 
acknowledgement with a deeper current underneath.  
I felt the urge to kiss him, and more. The same was 
reflected in his deep brown eyes. I blinked, and the 
moment passed.

“Scully?”  Doggett hadn’t missed the exchange.

“Sorry.  I’ll make up a bed for you.”

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Monica woke up sometime in the middle of the 
night. I’d heard a high-pitched sound like a scream, 
waking me from sleep.  Heart pounding with alarm, 
I sat up to the sound of soft voices.  Quickly pulling 
on a robe I padded swiftly to the ward door.

Under the harsh fluorescent light of Monica’s bed I 
saw Doggett holding her in a tender embrace.  He 
stroked her hair, murmuring softly into her 
trembling ear.  She seemed to calm with the sound 
of his gravelly voice and gentle touch. She was all 
right, or Doggett would have come for me. It was 
sweet moment, and I was obviously intruding.

Before retreating, I glanced back over at Krycek as 
a reflex. To my surprise he was awake.  His green 
eyes were open, glittering in the dark, and looking 
into mine.  I saw awareness there instead of the 
lifeless staring he’d been displaying. He seemed to 
be evaluating me, testing the amount of malice in 
my face upon discovering his alert condition. I kept 
my face in a neutral mask, displaying neither 
warmth, nor anger.

We stared at each other for a long time, neither of 
us moving. John and Monica were blissfully 
unaware of us, lost in their own private drama. 
After a few moments, Krycek closed his eyes and 
the muscles of his face relaxed into sleep. 

Back in bed I trembled not only from cold, but with 
fear too.  I’d been dreading this moment all week.  
The question of what to do with Krycek once he 
was well had plagued me.  

Skinner had been right to think Krycek was a 
danger to us. Just because I’d saved his life didn’t 
mean he’d be grateful or even civil to us.  It was too 
much like the parable of the woman and the snake.

I couldn’t remember who first told it to me, 
probably a teacher from childhood.  I’d heard the 
same tale repeated over the years; usually involving 
similar circumstances but different animals.

The story told of a woman finding a snake gravely 
injured at the side of the road.  She took pity on it, 
and brought it home with her as a charitable act.  
She fed it, bandaged its wounds, and sang songs to 
comfort it.  The snake grew stronger everyday until 
it was well enough to slither around the room.  One 
day the woman bent down to pet it, and the snake 
struck her.  Sinking its poison-filled fangs deep into 
her hand, the woman cried out in pain.  As she lay 
dying on the floor of her house she asked it why it 
had done this to her.  “I fed you, took you into my 
house, and saved your life.”  The snake answered 
her.  “You knew I was a snake when you rescued 
me.  Why are you surprised when I act on my true 
nature?”

Was Krycek like that snake?  Skinner was 
convinced his true nature was deceptive and evil.  I 
wasn’t as sure.  His prior actions spoke of a man 
with conflicting loyalties.  At times working with 
CGB Spender against us, other times showing a 
jagged mercy.  I know he worked with Louis 
Cardinal and part of me suspected he was involved 
with my sister’s death.  But he’d spared Skinner’s 
life when he could have ended it.

The rest of the night I tossed and turned as sleep 
eluded me.  The moral issues surrounding Krycek 
were too big, too uncertain to see clearly.  I’d have 
to tell Skinner in the morning, and we’d decide 
together.  The fragile bond between us was too new 
to be tested in this way. I’d have to trust Skinner, 
and he’d have to trust me too.


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I rose early in the morning, long before the rest of 
the camp began stirring to wakefulness. I made 
weak coffee from over-used beans on a Bunsen 
burner, and dug out the rest of my carefully hoarded 
sugar.  I’d decided long ago that coffee without 
sugar was barbaric, and if there ever came a time 
when I couldn’t have it, then civilization was truly 
at an end.

So far I always found enough, or Skinner would 
bring me what he could.  It was such a little thing, 
but it made me enormously happy. It was always 
the little things that saved you, or broke you in the 
end.

Out in the ward I found John asleep at Monica’s 
bedside; his head resting in the crook of her neck, 
and one arm across her waist. She was lying on her 
side and curled as close to him as possible. Her bed 
was too small for both of them, so they’d 
improvised.  Something told me Monica was going 
to be moving out of her shared quarters and into 
something a little more private.

Krycek was sound asleep, and I decided it was a 
good time to change his bandage.  I padded around 
gathering supplies as quietly as possible.  His 
wounds were healing better than I’d expected, and 
he was well on his way to a full recovery.

The stump was my biggest worry. Initially I’d been 
afraid he’d have to lose more of it, and therefore the 
ability to use his prosthesis.  But today it appeared 
to be healing nicely.  I was hoping to see if he could 
get out of bed and start moving around.  The longer 
he lay in bed, the greater his chances of having 
muscles atrophy and freeze. Monica was a wonder 
at massage therapy.  Maybe she could do something 
with him.

My wool gathering was interrupted by a hand 
grasping my arm.  Krycek was awake, and had 
reached across to touch me.

At first I was too surprised to move and waited for 
him to let go.  Instead, his hand trailed up my arm 
across my neck to brush my cheek.  His eyes held 
mine the entire time, probing, registering my 
reaction to his touch. There was uncertainty 
flickering beneath the black lashes as if he doubted 
I was real; a ghost he’d conjured up in a dream. His 
smooth palm came to rest on my face and his thumb 
pressed into the hollow under my eye. This was 
dangerous, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

His hand was suddenly jerked away.  I looked up to 
see Skinner’s rage-filled face; his bear-like hand 
encircling Krycek’s wrist in a crushing hold.  
Krycek moaned in pain, and Skinner dropped his 
arm like it was a hot poker.

“Touch her again and you die.”

Skinner looked at me as if I’d betrayed him 
somehow.  As if Krycek’s touch was something I 
had wanted or asked for. He spun on his heel and 
headed out the door, dismissing me and Krycek 
both.

I ran after him, angry he’d assumed I would betray 
him with Krycek.

“Skinner,” I called, but he kept walking. I had to 
think of something to stop him, to make him listen.  
“I need you.”

He stopped and turned around, but the anger still 
danced on his face.  He stopped within a millimeter 
of my face and held it in his hands.  He crushed me 
to him, his mouth harsh against my lips; a kiss 
designed to punish me, mark me.

He pulled back.  “It’s not enough anymore.”

I was let go as abruptly as I was seized, and he 
strode away again.  I was left standing in the bitter 
cold, a hand to my abused mouth. I was deeply 
afraid I’d already lost him.

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Skinner went on a three- day reconnaissance 
mission before I could see him again.  Klein was 
left behind at the office to oversee things, and 
expressed his regrets that I’d missed Skinner.

“I know it’s not my place, but are you and he 
having a disagreement?”  Klein, ever the gentleman 
couldn’t come right out and ask if we were fighting.

“Something like that.  I’m worried it’s a bit more 
than a disagreement. More like a contest of wills.”

He smiled. “All relationships revolve around power.  
The trick is to know when to hold your ground and 
when to give in.”

“Yes, but how do you know when to do one over 
the other?”

He sat back and put on what I called his diplomatic 
face.  He adopted it whenever he had to give bad 
news, but didn’t want to make you suffer too much. 
He was somehow able to convey the message that it 
hurt him as much to tell you a thing as you were to 
hear it.  A polite upbringing by his grandmother in 
Savannah Georgia was what he said made him so 
good at it.

“Dr. Scully, I don’t know much, but I know that 
man loves you to distraction.  If you gave him the 
least encouragement, he’d cross the earth for you.”

“I can’t get him to cross the compound much less 
the earth.”

“Something tells me you know how to make that 
happen better then he does. If you look in your 
heart, you’ll know what to do.”

“What about you Mr. Klein?  Have you ever loved 
anyone enough to cross the earth?”

His face fell for a moment, a dark shadow passing 
briefly over his handsome face. I was instantly sorry 
I’d mentioned it.

“I was married once,” he said softly, “but she died 
at a young age. I’ve never known anything as good 
again. And if you forgive me for saying so, if you 
let Skinner go, neither will you.”

I was taken aback.  Klein was not usually so 
forthcoming, and I knew he was right.

“Will you help me? Will you help me get Skinner to 
cross the earth?”

His face scrunched into a grin.  “Dr. Scully nothing 
would give me more pleasure.”

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I began to feel truly ridiculous as I sat in Skinner’s 
small room.  It was lit with candles, and a dinner 
made from all the supplies I could scavenge sat 
cooling on his roughen table.  An old parachute had 
been hung from the ceiling by Monica to give an air 
of ‘magic’ to the Spartan quarters. I was wearing a 
low-cut dress someone had dragged out of a storage 
bin.  It was much too big and ill-fitting, even with 
careful altering.  Monica said I looked beautiful, 
and I only acquiesced to wearing it when Doggett 
and Klein agreed with her.

“You don’t think it makes me look like a 
prostitute?” I asked checking the front.

Monica giggled.  “No, and neither will Skinner.”

I bit my lip.  “I don’t know it’s so---RED.”

“Dana I don’t think he’s going to care what color it 
is.  It’s not going to stay on for long anyway is it?”  
She laughed again at my appalled expression.

“Just because you’re in love doesn’t mean the 
whole world is too,’ I said.  She and John had 
moved in together as I’d predicted.  They’d been 
inseparable ever since.

“Dana, you need to relax and just let this happen.”

So I sat there in the semi-darkness, freezing in the 
skimpy dress.  Klein said Skinner had radioed he 
would be back at 21:00.  He’d light a lantern on the 
gate as a signal, then I’d light the candles in the 
room and sit in my designated spot under the 
parachute.  Skinner was nothing if not punctual, and 
I saw the lantern’s glow soon after he was due 
home.

My heart pounded in my ears when I heard his 
heavy boots on the stairs.  His footsteps were slow 
and labored as if he were bone tired, carrying the 
weight of the world on his shoulders.

I stood when he opened the door. Mud spattered 
fatigues and boots filled the doorway and my 
vision.  He frowned initially, not understanding why 
there were lights on in the room.  I saw his hand 
fumble with a kerosene lamp before he saw me.

I smiled weakly. “Welcome home, Skinner.”

He didn’t move, didn’t speak, made no sound at all.  
He stood frozen in the doorway taking in the dinner, 
parachute, and dress.  The longer he stood there, the 
more absurd I felt. Maybe Klein had been wrong.  
Skinner wasn’t going to cross the room to me.

“Scully?” Uncertainty and fatigue rasped in his 
voice.  I held out my arms.

And like some terrible midnight movie on a VHF 
channel with violins playing in the background, he 
crossed the room and crushed me to him; my silk 
dress covered with mud and Skinner.  It was 
heaven.

We forgot about dinner, Krycek, and the war. 
Skinner was as tender as I remembered when he 
made love to me again.  Monica was right.  The 
dress lasted sixty seconds.

****************************************

“I should have showered first.”  Skinner’s deep 
voice rumbled beneath my ear.

“No, I like you sweaty. Besides I didn’t want 
anything cooling off.”  We both laughed at the 
silliness we could finally indulge in. He was in my 
arms again and I never wanted to let go.

“Your dress is ruined.”

I sat up and eyed him.  “What color was it?”

“What?”

“You heard me.  What color was the dress?”  The 
blank look on his face told me enough. Instead of 
being angry, it made me laugh even harder and he 
laughed with me.  So much for trying to impress 
him.
 
I thought how handsome he was when he laughed, 
his face free of worry and those severe glasses.  A 
sharp hitch in my chest stopped my laughter, and 
tears welled up in my eyes.

Skinner was instantly up too and touched my face.  
“Scully? Is something wrong?”

 I looked deep in his eyes and the sharpness grew 
stronger. “I love you, Skinner.  Really love you.”  

He folded me close and repeated my words back to 
me.  “I love you, too.”

The next morning Skinner’s walkie-talkie intruded 
into our peaceful sleep.

“Sir.  You need to come down to the gate.”  
Childers again.  The last time he interrupted us 
Doggett was here.  Who would be at the door this 
time?

Skinner retrieved the hateful thing and came back to 
bed.  I tried distracting him with kisses, but Childers 
was persistent.

“Sir, are you there?”

“This better be good, Childers.” In the background I 
could hear barking dogs and a confusion of noisy 
people.  Suddenly a voice from the past could be 
clearly understood through the bedlam.

“Hey! You better get down here and get these Nazi 
dogs off us. How do I know *they* aren’t clones, 
huh?”

I looked at Skinner.  “Frohike?”

“Yeah, and tell them to keep their hands off the 
computers.”  Langly.
 
“Could you help us, sir?”  Byers.

The Lone Gunmen had decided to pay us a visit.

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