The Beginning of Sorrows Part III
Headers, disclaimers, etc. in Part I
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Small rant: Killing off the Gunmen is like killing 
the dog or cat because you’re moving and can’t take 
them with you.  Just cruel Mr. CC.

Ps 127:2 - It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up 
late, to eat the bread of sorrows.

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The camp became a bedlam with admission of the 
Gunmen.  Doggett, Monica, Skinner, and the 
Gunmen were all trying to speak at once. I ushered 
them into the infirmary for a thorough going-over.  
Byers in particular didn’t look well. His beard 
which had been so neat and trimmed before, was 
shaggy and unkempt. His soft brown eyes were 
glassy, but he smiled sweetly at the concern on my 
face. 

"You’re so thin," I said, painfully, looking at his 
threadbare clothing.

"Not much to eat in the woods."

The only clothing I had on was the red dress, and 
one of Skinner’s thick shirts thrown on hastily for a 
coat. Without thinking, I took it off and pulled it 
around Byers’s trembling frame.

Frohike didn’t miss the implications of my wearing 
a low-cut rumpled dress and something of Skinner’s 
over it so early in the morning. Skinner’s uniform 
was a mishmash of wrinkled fatigues. I saw now 
that his shirt was inside out.

Frohike sidled up to me with a lascivious grin. 
"She’s still hot, huh, Skinner?"

Skinner pulled himself up to his full height and 
glared down at the little man.  "Yes."

We all laughed together.  It was like old times 
again. Then Langly inadvertently ruined it.

"Hey, where’s Mulder?"

The room became deathly quiet.  I couldn’t meet 
Skinner’s eyes.  I knew he’d be hurt. The magic of 
last night had been free of guilt, anger or fear.  And 
free of thoughts about Mulder.  Until now.

"He’s up in Minnesota."

Seven shocked faces turned to see Krycek sitting up 
in bed.  In the confusion, I’d forgotten all about 
him.  I’d deliberately withheld the information from 
Skinner that he was awake and talking. I’d been so 
afraid of ruining our night.  Skinner’s scowl at the 
revelation told me I’d been right.

"Who invited HIM to the party?"  Frohike’s 
sarcastic voice cut through the silence.

"Scully did." Krycek sounded pleased.

The Gunmen turned in unison and gave me a look 
of hurt and condemnation.  Mulder had been their 
friend long before I had been.  I was sheltering his 
sworn enemy and sleeping 
with Skinner.  Feeling exposed and vulnerable, I 
retreated to my room at the back.

"I—I need to get dressed."

Once I got the door closed and locked, I found 
myself shaking uncontrollably and crying.  Too 
much had happened in the last twenty four hours 
and the thought that Mulder was alive and nearby 
almost did me in.  It was as if the Gunmen were the 
physical manifestation of all the guilt I’d been 
carrying around.

After dressing, I sat on my bed for a long time, not 
moving.  They’d expect me to come out sooner or 
later and I wondered who they’d send in to get me.  
A soft knock at the door was about to answer that 
question.

"Scully?  It’s John Byers. May I come in?"  

No fair, I thought.  John was my favorite Gunman 
and I had a soft spot for him.  Mulder used to tease 
that I had a crush on him, but that wasn’t it at all. 
Byers seemed to know when I was hurt and I found 
his presence comforting. But he never seemed to 
expect anything from me.  Mulder and Skinner 
wanted my soul.

I walked over to the door and let him in.  The 
infirmary was quiet.  Even Krycek was gone.  I sat 
on the bed unable to meet Byers’s sad eyes. He said 
nothing at all, waiting for me to fracture the brittle 
silence.  I began to cry again in earnest.

I felt the bed sink down next to me with his slight 
weight.  I put my head on his shoulder, and he 
began to pat my hair with slow and careful strokes.

"I miss him so much," I blubbered.  "I made him go 
away.  It’s my fault.  All my fault. If he comes back 
now, he’ll always hate me."

Byers held me sweetly and let me tell him the whole 
story. Of Skinner saving me, Mulder leaving, of my 
falling deeply in love with Skinner. I told him how 
Krycek had come to my door, and that he was 
already my patient before I realized who he was. I 
told of my deep fear Krycek would turn on us now.

"It’s all my fault."  The weight of guilt I’d been 
carrying felt like a noose around my neck.

"I think you need to forgive yourself."

I leaned back and looked at Byers.  His face was 
sincere.

"For what?"

"For being human.  For doing what you had to do 
during an impossible time in your life.  
I don’t think Mulder could ever hate you.  He’d be 
angry, yes, but hate, no."

I wanted to believe him.  I desperately needed his 
permission to feel normal about this abnormal 
situation, and he was giving it.

"You’re a superior human being, Byers."  I kissed 
his cheek and he blushed furiously.

"They’re waiting for us in Skinner’s office."  He 
stood for me to follow him.

I wiped my face and put on a coat.  I hoped he was 
right.  If we had the chance to find Mulder, we had 
to.  I had to.

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Coming through the door and seeing everyone 
assembled in Skinner’s office was disorienting.  It 
was too much like times in the past when we’d meet 
furtively to discuss something involving the 
Consortium or the Smoking Man.  Similar, but with 
noted exceptions.  Shabby clothing and unkempt 
hair replaced FBI suits and Mario Tricoci cuts.  

To say we were rag tag was an understatement.

I avoided Skinner’s eyes again. I couldn’t bear to 
see the pain there and the acknowledgement of my 
tear-stained face. My emotions were too jumbled, 
too fresh to understand clearly. But also wanted 
everyone to leave so I could go sit in his lap, and 
bury my face in his warm neck and let him make 
the world disappear so it was only him and me 
again. Fixing my eyes on the ‘v’ of his shirt, I felt a 
flush rise up my face at the forbidden thought.  I 
risked a look at him and he’d plainly seen it. A 
secret twitch of his lips before becoming stone 
again told me I was in deep trouble.

The dark expectation of everyone present loomed 
large over the room.  I’d missed something 
important. Byers and I sat down in the strained 
environment, ready to hear bad news.

"As I was saying, how do we know you're telling 
the truth?"  Skinner's bass voice reverberated in the 
small room.

"You don't."  Krycek sat forward and looked at each 
of us, daring us to contradict him.
I was about to ask what he'd said when Krycek 
supplied the information for me.  He turned, his 
eyes fixing on mine. His stare was steady, 
unblinking, and unsettling. I thought he probably 
did that often; something done for emphasis, to 
make a point so that the person on the receiving end 
was paying attention.  I was.

"I told them the reason I knew Mulder was in 
Minnesota was because I've seen him for myself."

"What's he doing in Minnesota?"

"He's in an alien encampment."

I looked down at my feet.  Mulder alive in 
Minnesota?  My heart started beating faster.  We 
knew almost nothing about the northern 
encampments.  They were heavily guarded, and 
Skinner's forays to get closer were usually fruitless.

 Without looking up I asked, "Is he still alive?"

"Yes."

"How do you know this?" Doggett, ever the skeptic, 
broke in.

"Because I used to be one of them."

"One of them?"

"One of the humans cooperating with them."

"You son of a---" Doggett stood, and drew his gun.

Skinner was out of his chair and moving as Krycek 
backed up against a wall.

"Put the gun down, John."  Skinner's voice was low, 
but menacing. 

"I've seen first hand what those bastards are doin' to 
people. Burnin' 'em up alive. If he cooperated with 
that, then he deserves to die."

Monica touched his arm gently. "Let's hear the rest 
of what he has to say."

Doggett hesitated, and looked down into her eyes. I 
could see him struggle with the 
request, not wanting to relinquish the idea of 
shooting Krycek just yet.

"You of all people know what they've done.  They 
hurt you, almost killed you—" He broke off with 
desperation in his voice.  But he holstered the gun 
and sat again when he saw the pleading look on her 
face.

Krycek was still wary, and remained standing with 
his back against the wall.

"There's no killing going on up there. Not the kind 
you're talking about anyway.  The camps up there 
are strictly for production."

"Production of what?" Langly's voice broke in.

"Disease."  Krycek let the word sink in, let it have 
the intended effect of horror. "They're making 
human bug bombs"

"Explain yourself." Skinner cut everyone else's 
questions off.

"They’re making some kind of virus and injecting it 
into people; they're shipping it to the out-lying 
camps to be injected too. It lies dormant for one 
year and then becomes active. The people infected 
spread it to all the other humans that come into 
contact with them.  It looks just like the common 
cold until the last stages."

"Why are they doing this?" My voice cracked from 
fear.

"They're going to pull out soon, and everyone will 
think it's because they've been defeated.  But they're 
just letting 'nature' take its course until every human 
is dead on this planet."

"Why are they pulling out?" Langly asked.  "Seems 
simpler to stay put and let everyone die." 

"They're vulnerable to it too.  It has a shelf life of 
two years before becoming inactive. Once 
everyone's dead they can come back and clean it 
up."

"Is there anyway to tell who's infected?" I'd begun 
to feel nauseated at the picture Krycek painted.

He nodded. "When they're injected in the upper left 
arm, it forms a small blister.  It becomes a red ring 
with white in the middle as it heals. When it's done 
it looks like a target."  He walked over to Skinner's 
desk and drew a symbol that looked like a bull's-eye 
on a target.  

"Have you seen anyone with this mark?"

I tried to think back over the multitude of refugees 
and their wounds I'd observed.  It seemed I had seen 
someone with it---.

Monica stood and gasped.  She started tearing at her 
long sleeved shirt, ripping the cotton fabric to 
shreds in her haste. Underneath the dangling threads 
I could see a small red-ringed target.

Doggett stood beside her and stared at the mark, 
knowing it had been there, but not understanding 
the significance of it.  He looked up at Krycek and 
before anyone could stop him, he barreled across 
the room and shoved him up against the wall.

"You're a liar. A fu---"

Skinner pulled Doggett backward in an effort to 
release his grip on Krycek's shirt. Doggett resisted, 
and I thought he and Skinner might come to blows.

"I'm not lying," Krycek protested. "That's the reason 
they killed some humans and left others alive.  They 
knew some would be rescued and brought back to 
the resistance camps.  Why do you think they've left 
you alone?"

Doggett let the words sink in and he abruptly let 
Krycek go. It made sense, and it could be true. No 
attempt on the camp had ever been made, and it 
puzzled us.

He turned back to Monica with anguish in his eyes. 
I'd gotten up and put my arms around her while she 
sobbed openly.

"If this is true, then why did they let you go?" 
Skinner asked quietly.

"I escaped.  They told us there was a vaccine and 
they'd give it to the people who cooperated. We all 
received it, but I found out it's a limited vaccine, 
watered down too much to be effective.  They were 
going to let us die too."

"Then there's no hope?"  Monica asked between 
sobs.

Krycek smiled, and it sent shivers down my back. 
He pointed to Skinner with his head. 

"The old man over there is immune." He looked 
back at me with a sensual grin. "The doctor is too."

Skinner snapped his head up and we looked at each 
other. "How?"

"The nanocytes were the first step in the 
development. You were the first guinea pig to test 
immunity. Clogging your arteries was just a fun 
little sideline. Scully's immune because they can be 
passed through 'close' contact with body fluids."

I suddenly had an irrational thought.  The first 
sexually transmitted virus that you'd actually want.

"What's he supposed to do?  Boink the whole 
human population?" Frohike's blunt question caused 
nervous laughter in the room.

Krycek shook his head. "There are two kinds of 
nanocytes, virus nanocytes and immunity 
nanocytes. For some reason the immunity nanocytes 
can be passed only once through sex, and then, via 
some autoimmune 'sharing,' they become inactive to 
anyone else but those two people." 

"Like first pass metabolism?" I offered.

 Krycek nodded. "From what I understand of it. 
They're indistinguishable under the microscope. 
Fun boy over there is probably already infected with 
the virus." Krycek had pointed to Doggett.

"What are you talkin' about?"  Doggett's voice 
warned that he was on edge.

"She's your girlfriend isn't she?"

Monica started screaming. "No, no, no!" Doggett 
tried to hold her, but she broke away from him and 
ran out the door. He went after her immediately, 
leaving us in stunned silence.

"Is sex the only way it's passed?" Skinner's voice 
sounded rusted.

"No.  Like I said, once activated it acts like a cold 
and then it's spread through droplets."

Langly interjected again. "How do you know so 
much?

"I broke into their files and read everything.  What I 
didn't understand I looked up in books. I thought 
they were acting deceptive.  I was right."

"Is there any hope at all?" I asked weakly.

"In between Skinner's blood and mine there's a real 
vaccine."

"How is that possible?" I asked, trying to wrap my 
mind around the possibility.

"They were working on a permanent vaccine for 
themselves; very secretive, but I found out about it. 
There's a limited supply up in Minnesota."

"Why didn't you take some of it before leaving?" 
Skinner's voice was stronger now.

"It's too well guarded.  I'd have to have some help to 
go back in for it."

Langly piped up, "We could work on something 
here with Scully's help."  I turned to see all the 
Gunmen nodding in unison.

I shook my head.  I'd done a little research, but this 
was clearly out of my league. 

"We'd need a microbiologist, or infectious disease 
specialist.  I wouldn't even know where to begin. 
Remember the government threw millions of dollars 
into research for AIDS using the best equipment in 
the country and couldn't cure it.  I don't even have a 
proper microscope."

"Then we go up there and take it.  I'm your safe 
cracker," Frohike said with confidence.

"YOU crack safes?" Krycek sounded astonished.

"Yeah you want to make something of it?" Frohike 
pulled himself up to his full height to glare at 
Krycek.

Into the middle of this exchange Byers decide to 
speak for the first time. "What about Mulder?"


When John finally returned with Monica I took her 
back to the infirmary to keep an eye on her.  She 
was too upset over the idea of being a human 
incubator for an alien virus to be left alone with 
John.  I gave her a sedative and put her to bed.  He 
trailed behind me and sat at her bedside.  No 
amount of argument would persuade him to leave 
her, despite her pleas for him to go.

"Stay away from me John.  I'm infected.  I infected 
you. You're going die because of me."

"Monica," I said gently, "Krycek says nothing will 
happen for a year.  I think something would have 
happened to John by now if it was going to."

"You don't know that.  Maybe they can become 
active earlier than that.  He'd be the first to die."

I sighed and looked at him.  "May you should go--- 
for now," I said when I saw the look of protest on 
his face.  He stared at Monica who had turned over 
in bed with her back to him.  The look of pain on 
his face was heart-breaking, but he nodded and left 
silently.

Skinner came in with Krycek shortly afterward.  
Plotting a raid together while I was gone with 
Monica, no doubt. It was a new world indeed to see 
them collaborating. When Krycek sat and pulled his 
shirt off, I could see his bandage was bloodied from 
his struggles with Doggett.

I went over to him automatically to undo the soiled 
cotton and check for damage. Steering him to his 
old bed, I made him sit for the exam and changed 
the bandage.  I looked up at Skinner's grave face.  I 
knew it wasn't lost on him that he'd brought Monica 
here, sacrificing a great deal to bring into camp 
something that could snuff out all our lives.  He'd 
also almost killed Krycek, a man with the very 
information that could save us.  It was a bitter irony.

I left Krycek to his own devices and trudged 
wearily back to my room. Skinner followed close 
behind, and he put a gentle hand on my shoulder. I 
turned in his arms, and he held me while I cried for 
the second time that day.

"You don't believe him do you?" I sobbed against 
Skinner's shirt. "That Mulder's a collaborator, too?"

"I don't know what to believe anymore.  I'm too 
tired to think about it now."

We lay down together in my tiny bed, clinging to 
one another against the storm of emotions 
threatening to break us apart. I slipped into a 
restless sleep, knowing the morning would only 
bring more questions.

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End part 3