Title: Conundrum
Author: Chad Moore
E-mail: Chad_Skywalker@webtv.net
Feedback: Always welcome!
Date: July 2nd, 2001
Archive: Yes.
Series/Sequel: This story is a sequel to "Dangerous
Undercurrents."
Status: WIP
Category: M/O
Rating: PG13
Fandom: XF
Spoilers: This adventure takes place after the TV
story, "Existence."
Disclaimer: All familiar characters belong to CC and
1013; any others were conceived in my warped
imagination. Azathoth, the Great Old Ones, and the
Necronomicon are creations of HP Lovecraft, and are
now the property of Arkham House.
Author's Note: Special thanks to my amazing beta,
Bertina.

Chapter Four: Memory Lane

"Another death?" I asked, trying to conceal the glee
in my voice.

"Yes, sir," Gordon Stratton confirms. "The Shoggoth
left behind in the catacombs has been awakened. We
paid Dr. Langford well to keep us informed of anyone
prying into the Oxford incident."

I steeple my fingers and stare across at him. "Hmm.
Very wise. Although it concerns me that our agent did
not inform us of this."

Gordon nods. "Perhaps he had no knowledge of the
inquries, or--"

"Yes," I prompt him.

"Forgive my impertinence, lord, but I do not trust
him. It was not wise to bring a stranger into our
midst."

I've known of Gordon's jealousy for some time. True,
he had his own doubts but the proof first brought to
them was more than enough.

"Do not question my decisions," I tell him. "If we do
not hear from him soon, we will take matters into our
own hands. Now, tell me just who was digging into the
past?"

"Inspector Phoebe Green of Scotland Yard, Carolyn
Fredericks née Prentice, and Fox Mulder."

I sit up sharply in my high backed leather chair. "Fox
Mulder? Interesting. Our agent assured us that he
would not be causing any problems."

I notice the look in Gordon's eye. Further proof of
disloyalty? "What did they find?" I ask, sharply.

"As far as we know, absolutely nothing. Mulder
returned to the States and Inspector Green met an
untimely fate."

Pushing back from my desk, I stand before Brother
Stratton who duly kneels. I could care less about the
inspector. My interests lie with the elusive Fox
Mulder.

"So, Mulder is beginning to ask questions." I turn to
Gordon. "To be on the safe side, send someone to keep
an eye on him."

"Yes, my lord." After Gordon bows once more and leaves
my office, I return to the image radiating from the
monitor screen of my computer. Yes, if the promises of
my agent fail, then there is another hope. Fox Mulder
may lead me to the Deliverer after all...

~oo0oo~

Dana Scully was worried, seriously worried. It was
over a week now since 
she received the call that Mulder had been
hospitalized. After arriving back from his trip to
Oxford he'd been found in the airport terminal
completely unresponsive. Her number was the first
found and, leaving William with her mother, she'd
raced to the hospital.

He lay in a starched white bed, looking as if he'd
been crying non stop. His eyes were haunted by hope
drained away. She'd had to use her clout to keep
Doctor Wright from admitting Mulder to the psychiatric
ward.

"Mulder," she said, softly. "It's me, Dana." He didn't
even blink. Scully felt her heart drop.

In his own time, he managed to relate bits of what
happened. She caught herself gasping aloud. She should
have taken his dreams more seriously. Mulder shut his
eyes and began to cry softly, frightened by his own
doubt.

Talking with Dr. Wright, she managed to have Mulder
released into her care. Half heartedly she convinced
him that Mulder was only suffering from depression;
half heartedly because she failed to convince herself.

He was back home now, and Dana kept a constant watch
over him: stopping 
in for impromptu visits, and calling regularly. Yes,
her maternal instincts were in full force with William
in her life, and yes, she might be overprotective of
Mulder. Another blow occurred when she intercepted a
frantic telephone call from the UK. Inspector Phoebe
Green's body had been discovered, killed under
circumstances that would end up in an X-File. Using
her better judgement, Dana decided to keep this from
him for the time being.

And so the week had passed. Mulder's usual dry humor
had returned, but there will also hints of darkness
and despair. He insisted that he was fine, over and
over again. From everything she'd been told,
everything she'd observed, Dana didn't think so. She
was so concerned about him that she called Walter
Skinner to ask for help.

"If you could try to talk to him," she told him over
the phone, "I'd appreciate it."

Walter listened with growing concern while she gave
him sketchy details behind Mulder's breakdown.
Apparently, he had been experiencing nightmarish
visions that nearly pushed him over the brink. He
thanked Dana for letting him know about Mulder's
'collapse', although -- truth be told -- he was put
out that she hadn't informed him the moment it
happened.

He'd been thinking more and more of the former agent
lately. He felt overly protective, something which
went beyond the call of duty. Ironically, Walter had
tried to contact Mulder several times to let him know
of something he'd discovered. Now, it gave him the
opportunity to check on him. Here he was standing in
the hallway outside of apartment 42. Hefting a large
package, Walter took a deep breath and rapped on the
door.

"Hello, sir," Mulder said, surprised. He'd been
expecting Scully for one of her "unexpected" drop ins.
He was standing in the open doorway, wearing a white
undershirt and blue sweatpants. His hair stood up, and
it appeared as if he hadn't shaved in days.

"May I come in?" Walter asked, after the shock of
Mulder's appearance wore off.

"Um, sure," he replied, holding the door open.

Walter walked in, and Mulder failed to notice the
large brown parcel resting under a brawny arm.

"And what's with this 'sir' business?" asked Walter.
"It's Walter."

Mulder plopped down on the sofa as if he didn't have
an ounce of energy. He propped up a leg and Walter
could tell the former agent was not wearing underwear
beneath the sweats from the suspicious outline jutting
to the side. Walter made a soft grunting sound, and
swallowed, in an 
attempt to avert his eyes.

"I really don't feel like being cheered up," he said.

"Dana told me what happened," Skinner replied,
grateful for the change in subject. "I'm sorry."

"Seems like everything's biting me in the ass these
days."

Walter had been through and seen a lot knowing Fox
Mulder. But he'd never seen him quite so withdrawn, as
if he'd completely given up.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he offered.

Mulder snorted. "Talk about what? How I've completely
lost my mind? How the hospital was on the verge of
having me committed? How I've started seeing ghosts?"

Pressing his lips tight, Walter leaned forward.
"Scully told me a little."

"Oh, yeah," Mulder harrumphed. "The late lamented rat
bastard has been haunting me." Mulder's voice broke
off. No matter how depressed he felt, he recognized
the hurt in Skinner's eyes. The death of Alex Krycek
still a very sore subject.

"Come on, Mulder. I'm not going to judge you or make
assumptions. I just want to help."

At this Mulder smiled, then choked on a deep throated
sob. In that instant, the words, the pent up emotions
came pouring out. He couldn't stop himself, the dam
bursting into a thousand pieces. "My first year at
university I fell in love," Mulder began. "His name
was Jamie."

Walter fixed his gaze on Mulder, his suspicions
confirmed. Mulder continued, not waiting for Skinner's
reaction. "It was the first time I was genuinely
happy. Our time together was cut short. He died. And
I've never been able to remember what happened."

He couldn't believe he was confessing this to a man
like Walter Skinner. Hot tears flowed freely, and
Walter found his strong arms wrapped around the man
he'd admired from afar for so long.

"Mulder, I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry that
this happened to you." This was quite different from
Scully's sanitized version.

Breaking contact, Mulder sat back and rubbed at his
eyes. "Open your heart to someone and they leave you,"
he said in a hushed voice. "It's been easier not to
let anyone in."

Walter felt helpless, wishing he could something to
make him feel better.

Mulder stood and gazed out the window. "When I saw
that featureless corridor stretching ahead of me it
all hit me."

"What did?"

He turned and looked at him. "My search, my quest.
Like looking for the end of the rainbow. I realized
I'll never find it."

"Jamie must've been someone very special." Indeed,
magical even to cast such a spell over Fox Mulder.

"He was," Mulder replied, his eyes glistening. "I've
never known anyone 
quite like him." He smiled a little. "Ever heard of
being swept off your feet?"

Walter nodded.

"Well, that's what it was like with Jamie," he said,
crossing his arms over his chest. "The first time he
was in my arms, the world fell away. I remember that
better than anything."

A moment of understanding passed between them.

Walter coughed lightly and broke the awkward silence.
"Well, the second reason for my visit is this..." he
said, indicating the package resting on 
Mulder's coffee table.

"What is it?" Mulder wondered. He hadn't ordered
anything.

"It was sent to the Hoover building about a year ago,"
Walter told him. "You were... missing... and it sat
buried in the mail room for months. One of the clerks
brought it to me a couple of weeks ago."

Half interested, Mulder read the hastily scribbled
writing across the brown paper. He arched an eyebrow.
"No return address?"

Walter pushed the parcel forward. "The postmark says
'Oxford'."

Mulder's eyes went wild. He started tearing at the
packaging in a frenzy. Walter stood up, startled by
the sudden animation. Throwing the discarded wrapping
aside, Mulder found a cardboard box beneath and dug
his fingers into the sides.

"Here, let me help," offered Walter. Sitting beside
him, Walter took out a pocketknife and sliced the lid
open. Mulder pulled back the sides and peered inside.
He gasped in astonishment. With shaking hands, he
extracted an intricately carved mahogany box.

"What the hell is that?" asked Walter. It looked like
a witch's jewlery box. What was Mulder getting himself
into now? "Look, there's something else in here."
Reaching inside, he lifted out an ancient book
inscribed with the same snake symbol that decorated
the box.

"I-I... know this," Mulder whispered hoarsely.
Suddenly, he cried out and the box fell onto the
carpet. He clutched at his head, a blinding ache
building up behind his eyes.

"Mulder? Mulder!" Walter yelled, desperately.

Mulder drew in his breath sharply, pulled deep down
into an invisible vortex of undercurrents. His eyes
stared wild as a series of visions flashed before him
erratically...

He sat beneath a sea of stars with a handsome young
man with blonde hair and green eyes at his side.

'You have to trust someone,' the boy said.

'Jamie!' He saw himself running across a lush, green
campus.

'He is the Chosen One!' Professor Wickham pointed a
finger, accusingly.

A tall, hooded figure plunging a curved knife into
Jamie's stomach. Jamie's hands covered in blood.

He and Jamie, smiling coyishly at one another. 'Well,
Just Mulder, I'm James Grayson. Jamie to my friends.'

'It's Jamie, then,' he replied.

Jamie's face slowly turned to him, warmth radiating
from his sparkling emerald eyes. 'I'll always love
you,' he whispered.

Mulder reached out to touch him, and the images
dissolved into a flash of brilliant white light. He
sat up, gulping in air. Walter was kneeling by his
side.

"I remember... I remember everything!" Mulder
proclaimed. A rush of emotions filled every fiber of
his being. The memories were inside of him once more,
restored. Memories he had repressed of his last days
with Jamie were free at last. For the first time in
years, he felt complete.

Walter helped Mulder up from the floor. He'd been on
the brink of dialing 911. "Mulder, are you all right?"

But Mulder ignored his question. "Why on earth did
they drag me out of that catacomb?! I was trying to
save Jamie!"

"What?" Walter searched his face. "Mulder, I don't
understand."

Mulder gripped his arms. "There was a cult. They'd
chosen Jamie as their sacrifice. Jamie was stabbed..."

Walter visibly winced from the hurt in Mulder's voice.
"A sacrifice?"

"A cave in! The caves were collapsing." His voice
became more frantic as the memories returned. "Jamie
wasn't dead... I was trying to get to him, but the
professor and Inspector Winston pulled me away."

Mulder stood up and began pacing the length of his
apartment, sweat glistening on his brow. Walter
watched him, trying to work out what was going on.

"Mulder, I really think you should sit down and take
it easy," Walter suggested, gently leading him by the
shoulders back toward the couch.

Mulder started to sit, but jumped back to his feet.
"Sit down? Sit down! Don't you understand what's going
on?"

"No," he said. "I'm with you but you're going too fast
for me, and I don't think you should be getting this
worked up or you'll be back in the hospital."

Tapping his bottom lip, Mulder stared out of his
window and started talking to himself in a hushed
voice. "Wickham and Winston were both murdered by
something that caused rapid decomposition. That night
in Oxford, I went into shock after hearing... a
whispering sound..." He snapped his fingers and
shouted, "Of course!"

"I'm not following you," Walter confessed.

"Don't you see? Something remained alive even after
the avalanche. Something that killed."

"What are you suggesting, Mulder? That Jamie's ghost
has been trying to warn you?"

"No, no don't say that."

Walter sighed heavily. "Well, what you're telling me
is pretty far fetched. You describe visions that began
about a year ago--"

"Coinciding with the deaths," Mulder broke in.

"And then you start seeing Krycek as well?"

Mulder shook his head. "I know it's crazy, Walter, but
I haven't felt this sure about anything in a very long
time. I'm sorry there's just some answers that I need.
And I need to find them for myself."

"Soul searching?"

"Definitely searching." His voice was distant.

Mulder retrieved the fallen box, then stared down at
the accursed book sitting on the coffee table. The
last time he'd seen it, the tome had been resting in
Professor Wickham's flat. He touched it with slightly
nervous fingers. An instinct told him exactly how
important it was.

Feeling Walter's concerned eyes upon him, Mulder
looked up. "Listen, I need to ask a big favor."

How could he refuse? "Name it."

"Can you find out all you can about a research
facility called Avatar?"

"What's the connection?" he asked.
 
"I'm not sure," he confessed, "but I'd like to know
what interested them so to fund an expensive
excavation of the catacombs. It's funny..."

"What is?"

"In some ancient beliefs, an avatar is a godlike
entity."

Walter sighed, and had to stop himself from chuckling.
Mulder was definitely feeling better. "I'll see what I
can find out... if you promise to take it easy."

The younger man nodded vaguely. He collected the book
into his arms, and 
strode away. Walter stared after him. "Mulder, where
are you going?"

He gave him a cocky grin. "To take a shower. It's time
I rejoined the land of the living."

~oo0oo~

Mulder stood beneath the warm, pulsating water
spraying down from the shower head. His face broke out
into a huge grin. The memories of his time with Jamie
were back. They were clear as pictures. He closed his
eyes, basking in the glow of his first love.

'I'll always love you,' he heard Jamie's voice say.

Jamie's body had not been idenitifed. This thought
resounded and spun round and round like a carousel in
his mind. The persisting feelings returned. It was
possible. Jamie could have escaped the avalanche. He
wasn't afraid of the truth anymore. Mulder threw back
his head and allowed the waters to wash over him. He
felt good to be alive.

~oo0oo~

The flickering images of a boat sailing into a
brilliant sunset filled the darkened room.

"No way, dude!" Langly protested. "Those two are
definitely lovers."

"Come off it," Frohike argued. "Did you see that kiss?
Sure it was hot, but what a cop out!"

"Yeah, well, I still say Xena and Gabrielle are more
than just friends!"

With a little grunt, Melvin flicked off the television
set.

John Byers waved his hand to catch their attention.
"Shh, guys! Look, we've got a visitor."

"I don't believe it," Frohike said, peering at the
black and white monitor. "It's Mulder!"

Standing outside the door, Mulder was literally
hopping from foot to foot anxiously. He carried a
large book under one arm. Admitting their friend,
Mulder burst into their HQ. "Hi, hello, aloha," he
said, quickly.

Byers, Langly and Frohike looked at one another,
nervously. Their friend 
appeared to be the picture of health. "Yes, I escaped
from the macadamia ranch," he smirked.

"Sure you shouldn't get your own parking place at the
hospital?" joked Melvin.

"Might be easier than being dragged there all the
time," he replied.

After his shower and a good shave, he'd found the
discarded notes from the trip to Oxford. The three
stooges were his best bet to uncovering this mystery.
He'd hidden the naga box carefully. The life essence
of Azathoth still resided within. He'd actually jumped
when a slight whispering emanated from within. Enough
trouble had been caused when the box had been
accidentally opened. Thankfully, Professor Wickham
managed to capture most of the essence -- although a
small portion managed to escape.

Mulder held up the tome, the light reflecting off the
faded, cracked 
cover. Six eyes widened, recognizing the circular
snake symbol adorning the front. Mulder plopped the
book down heavily onto a nearby, cluttered desk. The
trio inadvertently knocked Mulder out of the way in
their haste to have a look at the book he'd brought
in. They looked like starving kids let loose in a
candy store.

"Do you have any idea what this is?" Frohike asked.
"Hot fucking damn!"

Mulder looked at him in mock surprise. "Melvin, do you
kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"It's, it's, it's..." Langly couldn't form the words.

"The Necronomicon," Byers finished for him, an ominous
awe tinging his voice.

Mulder nodded. It was just as he feared. "After you
guys wipe the drool from your chins, I need you to
give me a translation. My latin's a little rusty.
Anything to do with Azathoth, Chosen Ones, the works,
got it?"

Langly looked up. "I can scan the pages and run them
through one of the new translator programs."

"Good," Mulder nodded. "How long will it take?"

Byers guessed. "Two or three days, maybe."

"What's the rush, Mulder?" asked Frohike. "Looking to
dig up a Great Old One?"

"What do you make of these?" Mulder produced a black
notebook, flipping 
the pages to his hastily drawn symbols. He noticed the
looks passing between his friends. "Look guys, this is
very, very 
important to me. I lost someone to a cult many years
ago," he explained. "Anything you can find out,
please?"

"Sure thing," Frohike answered for them all. Byers and
Langly nodded their assent.

"Thanks," smiled Mulder. At last he was getting
somewhere.

~oo0oo~

By the time he reached Avatar reception, Walter
Skinner was considerably irritated. Yesterday, he'd
spent the best part of an hour on hold before
connecting with an Avatar representative. When he
finally got through, it was a press officer who gave
him so many run around answers that Walter felt
nauseous afterwards. He was one to never suffer fools
gladly, and these guys were slick.

Using his official status, he'd managed to get a man
on the line -- Vice President Gordon Stratton -- who
offered to answer all of his questions. It made him
wonder if they were avoiding any trouble with the
bureau.

Taking it upon himself, Walter hastily decided to
visit the facility based in San Francisco. He wanted,
correction, he needed to do this for Mulder. Is this
the same magnetic draw that caused Scully to drop
everything for him? Yes, he cared about Mulder deeply.
The hurt in Mulder's eyes as he related the story of
his first year at Oxford had tugged at Walter's heart.
Losing someone the way he had, no wonder he'd
retreated into work. To be truthful, he'd done the
same exact thing. If his findings helped Mulder to
move on, so be it.

Now he knew the facts very well. Mulder's restored
memory had produced a wealth of information. And it
was enough to make anyone highly suspicious. Using
bureau resources, Walter had learned that Avatar was
originally ITAR -- the institute for technological
advancement and research -- which went belly up soon
after the millennium. Some bigwigs had appropriated
the building, proclaiming it Avatar -- the world's
leading genetic research facility. Mulder was right,
what possible interest could a place like that have in
funding an archaeological expedition?

His thoughts returned to the present, and the gleaming
walls of Avatar reception. An oily voice, dripping
with sincerity called out to him. "Mr. Skinner?"

Taken off guard, Walter saw a man appear from around a
corner. "Welcome to Avatar." As he stood, the stranger
took his hand firmly. "I'm Gordon Stratton, Vice
President."

"Good morning." The man's hand was clammy to the
touch.

"I hope that we haven't kept you waiting. The
president of our company looks forward to meeting
you."

Gordon ushered Walter into an elevator and pressed the
button for the penthouse. Standing side by side,
Walter studied the man in the reflective surface of
the lift doors. He broke into a monologue describing
the company's purpose. Walter noted that his words
were like 
a rehearsed speech.

"We're willing to aid the FBI in any way that we can,"
Gordon concluded.

Walter took a deep breath. "This isn't an official
visit."

"Oh no?"

"My interests are... personal."

The doors slid open. Without a word, Gordon led him
along a hallway decorated with exspensive art pieces.
Walter peered at the bizarre images as they passed by.
Must be by some new age artist, he reckoned. At the
end of the hall, his guide ushered him into a
luxurious office.

A man, clearly in his mid-thirties, was sitting behind
an enormous desk. Walter had expected the president of
this company to be much older.

"Welcome to Avatar. I'm Matthew Blair. How may we help
you, Mr. Skinner?"

"Thank you," he replied, taking a seat before the
desk. "I'm here on behalf of a close friend."

"Oh?"

"Concerning the excavation of catacombs in Oxford."

The two men visibly blanched. Bullseye! Raw nerve,
direct hit.

With confidence, he continued. "I just find it a
little odd that a genetic research facility would be
interested in a so-called haunted forest."

Matthew faintly smiled. "The excavation was personal
to me. My father was one of 
those killed in the avalanche."

Swallowing to conceal his surprise, Walter felt
embarrassment rising. "I had no idea," he admitted.

"My father was vice chancellor of the university,"
Matthew explained. "He discovered a group of students
involved in," he paused for dramatic effect,
"dangerous practices the night he died."

Walter stood up, furious with himself for getting
tangled up in one of Mulder's wild ideas. "Gentlemen,
thank you for taking the time to talk 
with me..." he began but Matthew quickly broke in.

"What happened in Oxford was a lost opportunity."

Gordon edged toward him, almost as if to console him.
Were the two men lovers? Walter wondered. "There will
be another chance."

They were like a double act! Walter read between the
lines and sensed that this trip had not been in vain
after all. Matthew's fingers danced across a computer
keyboard, gazing intently at the screen. Walter stared
across the desk and immediately noticed a reflection
in Matthew's glasses of the computer screen. He knew
it all too well: Mulder's FBI profile. How the hell
could they access classified information?

"We've been trying to reach those involved in the
Oxford incident," Matthew told him.

Sharply, Gordon added, "Some remain... out of reach."

"Not for much longer," said Matthew.

Military training helped Walter to remain calm. He
felt guilty for doubting Mulder. He definitely sensed
something dark about Avatar. He seemed to have been
forgotten by the two men. It might have been a chance
to leave, but then the image bouncing off the
president's spectacles changed. He could just make out
the photo reflected in the lenses. It was a young man
with blonde hair, smiling beatifically.

There was a sudden look of obsession glaring from the
president's eyes. He pulled up and said, "There are
other ways of finding him."

A harsh electronic trilling filled the penthouse
office. Gordon answered his cell phone, a look of
concern passing over his face. "Our agent has been
spotted back in the country," he muttered.

Matthew Blair stared off into the distance. "Without
contacting us?"

"That devious little..." Gordon whispered.

"Enough!" Matthew snapped. The air in the room was
suddenly cold.

Walter, determined not to let this moment pass,
quickly jumped in. "Is there a problem?" he asked
urgently.

The president turned slowly and regarded him
curiously, as if remembering that the AD was still in
the room. "Not at all, Mr. Skinner."

Moving forward, Walter stood directly before him.
"It's nothing we can't handle," Gordon assured him.

Walter's eyes were drawn to the computer screen. Two
images completely filled the pixels: Mulder's and the
mysterious blonde man. Between the photographs, words
spilled down in an endless stream:

*Find the Deliverer*

The screen flared into darkness, and Walter actually
took a step back.

Matthew's voice became very hard and rasping. "Thank
you for visiting Avatar, Mr. Skinner. If you'll excuse
us, we have business to attend to."

The heads of the facility slowly turned to stare at
each other. Startled by the creepiness of the
situation, Walter edged away from the desk and left
the office.

Matthew sat back into the cushion of his leather
chair. "Keep a close eye on that man."

"What about your agent?" Gordon pressed, refusing to
use the term 'our.'

"If he has betrayed us, we will deal with him."

~oo0oo~

Walter Skinner shook his phone angrily. He'd been
trying to call Mulder ever since he left the Avatar
building. Everytime, the blasted answering machine
picked up. Where had he run off to? He rang Dana, but
she hadn't seen him either, and now she was concerned.
The meeting at Avatar had left him rattled. What was
their interest in Mulder? And who was the young man in
the photo?

The lights of D.C. filled him with relief. Thanks to a
brief doze on the plane ride home, his batteries were
recharged. A sense of anticipation filled him as the
taxi pulled up outside of Mulder's apartment building.
Walter peered at a darkened window. He'd have to leave
Mulder a note. Paying the cabbie, he stepped out and
hurried inside.

The elevator doors opened, and the corridor leading
down to number 42 
was distinctly quiet. 'Get a hold of yourself,
Skinner!' he barked to himself. Fingering his collar,
he felt a slight trickle of sweat.

He paused at apartment 42 and moved to knock. Then
stopped when he noticed the door was slightly ajar,
darkness beyond. With alarm, Walter gently pushed the
door open with the toe of his shoe. Thankfully, the
hinges didn't creak.

Casting his eyes into the gloom, he noticed a figure
hunched over Mulder's 
desk. Dim illumination from the aquarium revealed the
shape to be a man as he moved closer. Sensing another
presence, the figure straightened and turned around.

For one of the few times in his life, Walter Skinner
felt his legs turn 
to jelly.

"Well, look who's here," Alex Krycek smiled.

[Next Episode: How To Build A Better Rat Trap]