The Triple Agent Who Came in from the Cold
Book 1; Part 3
By: J Morningstar
Feedback: Please julie_morningstar@yahoo.com

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"Melancholy men, of all others, are the most witty."

~ Aristotle

Krycek awoke first. He dressed hastily, and then stoked the fire. In the kitchen, he built another small fire in the wood stove, and filled a kettle of water to heat. He saw Scully stir, and turned his back, busying himself at the stove to give her ample time to dress. He heard the click of the bathroom door, and moved back to check Skinner. He laid his hand against the AD's forehead, frowning when he found the skin hot and dry to his touch.

He looked up as Scully returned with a freshly scrubbed face and neatly brushed hair. "He's burning up." Wordlessly, she helped Krycek gather tepid water and washrags, and bathed the AD in an attempt to lower his temperature. She watched as Krycek dissolved aspirin in water and helped him as he struggled to get it down the older man's throat. Then they bathed him again.

Finally, he seemed cooler. Alex told Scully he needed to see to the animals. She looked at him blankly, and then nodded her head.

The storm had blown itself out overnight, but he still had to wade through waist-high snowdrifts. He returned an hour later with a pail of warm milk. Dana still sat on the floor next to Skinner and Alex wondered if she had moved at all in the time he'd been gone. He checked Skinner and found him cool, his sleep restful. He bullied her into the kitchen and fed her oatmeal and tea, both liberally laced with fresh strained milk.

When she finally looked up at him, he carefully set his spoon down, giving her his full attention. "What are you doing here Krycek? This is Mulder's place."

He snorted, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Is that what Mulder told you?"

"He left me directions on how to get here should something ever happen."

"Yeah? And he told you this was his place?"

"He didn't have to tell me. Of course this is Mulder's place."

"Correction, Scully. This is our place. Mulder's and mine. You don't really think Mulder would come up with something like this, do you? Hell, he wanted to go greet the aliens, chase the truth, meet it head on. Not hide from them."

She looked at him speculatively, weighing his words,. What he said made sense. But she could not, would not concede every point without demure.

She leaned forward into his space, and pronounced her words carefully. "Mulder hated you Krycek. Everyone knows that. And yet, here you are, trying to tell me the two of you, what? Own property together?"

He crossed his arms across his chest and spoke levelly. "Whether you believe it or not Scully, it's true."

"Mulder never told me that he owned land in these mountains."

He favored her with an incredulous look. "First of all, do you really believe that Mulder shared all his secrets with you?" He ignored her indignant huff. "And secondly, the land belonged to me, not Mulder."

She arched a delicate eyebrow. "You're not exactly the type to own a mountain retreat, Krycek."

He grinned cheekily "I took it as payment for a debt."

"Really?" Learning about what types of things Krycek was willing to do for money was a topic she did not want to explore further. So she challenged instead about his involvement with her partner. "Exactly when did you and Mulder plan this hide away?"

His smile was wicked as he answered her. "Now Scully. That would be kissing and telling. And frankly, I don't think you really want to know."

She flushed slightly at the innuendo, and pinned him with an incredulous gaze.

He stared back.

She tipped her head and raised a brow in one the patented Scully looks.

He suppressed the urge to cross himself.

Then he realized why he felt indignant and started to chuckle. He was mad Scully didn't believe him. What the hell had he expected? This was Scully. In order to maintain his cover within the Consortium, he had taught her to believe him capable of all manner of vice and deceit. Why would she believe him now?

He shook his head, smiled ruefully to himself, then settled back and began his story. "One night when we were together, we got talking about the invasion. Mulder." He shook his head. "Jesus. He treated it like it was some kind of lark. Something to look forward to, not something to fear." His expression grew grim. "I knew better. I knew their plans. I knew what they were capable of." He looked up at Scully then. "Then, of course, the incident on the bridge happened. You were there." He nodded at her. "You knew what it meant. That's when Mulder started to worry, seriously. Not for himself. But for those he cared about. So we started making serious plans."

"I told Mulder about this piece of land I owned. So far back in the hills of the Great Smokies - even the park rangers forgot that it was private property. We talked of the idea of building a safe house. A place to lay low while the dust settled - with everything needed to rebuild once the gray bastards were all dead or gone back to where they came from."

Scully had been listening carefully, ready to give him the benefit of the doubt, interrogated him as though he were a credible source of information. "How could you be sure that they'd all be dead or gone?"

"We knew the pathogen they planned to release when the rest of them landed actually contained a component deadly to gray reticulums." He grinned gleefully and reminded Scully of a boy pulling the wings of insects.

Scully shook her head. "This doesn't make sense. Mulder hated you. He never saw you that he didn't attack you."

Krycek snorted. "Please Scully, don't you think I'm well aware of the inconsistencies of Mulder's behavior? It was as if this part of our -- relationship, if that's what you'd call it -- was closed off from everything else that ever happened between us. When we met to talk about this place, he didn't hit first and ask questions later." He shook his head. "Mulder's ability to compartmentalize amazed even me. And I'm a pro at it."

He signed heavily. "The thing is, it's all screwed up. He didn't get it right."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked.

"He never finished the plans, even though he had plenty of time. There isn't anywhere near the food stuffs here that we decided on. And, there was supposed to be a hydro generator that we could hook up at the river. And a sawmill. Tons of stuff that was supposed to make this place completely self-sufficient. Yet, here I am in the dark every damn night." Krycek's mouth twisted with disgust. "But, of course, he remembers the freaking hoop."

At her puzzled expression, he nodded his head to the other side of the cabin. She turned, and then she saw it. And for the first time in weeks, a smile spread across her face. Because against the wall, away from the windows and above an empty aquarium, Mulder had installed a basketball hoop.

******

Over the next few days Skinner consumed their attention and energy. A cold had settled in his chest, and that, accompanied by exhaustion and poor nutrition left him gravely ill. They pulled the daybed in front of the fireplace and installed the AD there. It was no easy task for a pregnant woman and a one-armed man to lift a 230-pound man onto a bed without his help, but they managed.

Once they had settled Skinner, Krycek went out hiking with a knife and a basket. He returned with some small twigs and a collection of tiny stones. The twigs he placed in a kettle of water on the stove, and as the water warmed, the smell of camphor filled the cabin. Once the mixture was hot, the two of them made a blanket tent over Skinner's head and placed steaming pot beneath it. They were both relieved when the menthol-like steam helped break up the congestion in the big man's chest.

Scully determined a course of care, and Krycek helped her whenever possible. He helped bath Skinner when his fever soared and held him propped against his chest while Scully poured fluids down his throat. Krycek helped Scully turn the big man on his side, and pounded his back to help loosen the poisonous sputum that settled in his lungs. He did it without complaint; without being asked, expertly anticipating her wants and needs and wishes. And if he turned his head and looked ill while Skinner hacked up thick, green mucous, Scully said nothing.

In return for that kindness, Krycek made sure that Scully took nourishment, cajoled her into using the solar-heated shower, and bullied her into taking frequent naps. He fixed a bed for her on the sofa where she curled up while took his turn caring for Skinner.

For Krycek, this task was no chore; rather, it was a revelation. Because Skinner, in his feverish delirium, often spoke. For years, the man had been a mystery wrapped in a riddle. His honor and integrity were not unlike Mulder's, but Skinner had neither Mulder's hysterical edge nor his showboating tendencies. His stoicism made Krycek ache to peel away the layers and lay him bare. Despite Mulder's training and talent as a profiler, the truth was that Krycek had his own amazing gift for reading people. Yet Walter Skinner continued to elude him. And because he was such a challenge for Krycek to pigeonhole, he found himself intrigued by the man; fascinated in spite of himself. It had been that way since the first time he saw the man striding down a hall in the Hoover building all those years ago.

Skinner should have been nothing more than a notch on his gun barrel. But Krycek found himself studying the man. Surveilling him on his own time. And each piece that was revealed was a bit to be treasured.

Now, being this close to the man, and hearing his secrets spill forth without filter, Krycek was like a kid with the keys to a candy store.

He grinned when Skinner mentioned Agents Mulder or Scully, his voice by turns exasperated, pleading, and sometimes seductive.

He stared straight ahead, his jaw tight as Skinner relived his time in-country. His grief at losing friends, his horror at awakening in a body bag, lying amongst the dead. Krycek knew what it was like to be buried alive. And when Skinner spoke of the heat, the rain, and his fear, Krycek could taste and smell and feel it all.

But it wasn't until he heard his own name muttered from those lips that he actually became ill.

Skinner had been quiet for hours. "Krycek." The voice was a command he didn't refuse, and Krycek was next to him in an instant. At first Alex thought Skinner had regained consciousness, but as he hovered over him, he saw that the AD's eyes were glazed and unfocused. Alex reached out to soothe the man, running his hand from his shoulder down his arm.

"No damn it. I won't let you have him too. You stay away from him you black-lunged bastard."

Alex swallowed. Suddenly Skinner reached up and grabbed a shoulder with each hand. He was looking right into Krycek eyes when he muttered, "Don't worry, Agent Krycek. I won't let him get his claws into you." Then his eyes fluttered shut and his hands released their hold on Krycek.

For long moments he stared at the man he had once taken to the brink of death and pulled back. His breath came in short gasps and a strange and scary kind of pain had taken up residence in his gut.

He knew about Skinner. Knew how he had looked out for his fellow Marines in Viet Nam, even those who were senior to him in rank or age. And at the Bureau, he looked out for his agents, kept them safe, ran interference, and generally played the role of protective big brother.

He had never imagined that Skinner had placed him in that same category as Mulder or Scully. Skinner had cared about him, watched out for him, tried to protect him. As though he, Krycek, actually belonged.

In that moment, Alex Krycek knew that there was something he regretted even more than his lost arm.

In the next instant he was on his feet, pulling on his outerwear and shaking Scully awake. "Keep an eye on him, will you? I need some fresh air." And before she could rub the sleep from her eyes or formulate a response, he was gone.

He stumbled from the cabin, heedless in his flight and his desire to put as much space as possible between himself and his torment. He found himself on the rocky shore of the icy mountain stream that ran not far from the cabin. He followed its path along the mountainside, until he finally fell to his knees, panting, along the shore of a pool of water. He knew it was no use. He could travel to the far side of the world and not escape this one. This was one memory that he could not outrun, shoot dead, or fuck from his consciousness.

He curled into himself, resting his head on his knees, and slowly rocked - tears of grief and regret wetting his face.

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

Hours later, when the cold and hunger forced him back to the cabin, he found a happy Scully. Propped against a heap of pillows and sipping soup from a mug was a conscious Skinner.

She looked up at Alex, tears of joy brimming in her eyes, her face beaming. They had done it. Once again AD Skinner had cheated death.

His lips curved into an answering smile as he looked at Scully. He let his gaze travel to Skinner, and watched as the man turned to see who Scully was smiling at, and flinched as he saw that face freeze in an expression perfect and resolute denial.

"Son of a bitch!" Skinner tried to get up, and spilled the soup over Scully and himself. "I'll kill that bastard."

Scully was on her feet, pressing him back against the cushions. "Skinner! Stop it! Stop!"

Skinner tore his gaze from Krycek and stared up at Scully, his face hard, his eyes flashing. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"This is his cabin, his and Mulder's. He saved you, he saved us both. He could have left us to die, but he didn't." He growled angrily and Scully spoke to him earnestly. "Walter! Whatever happened in the past, you have to put it aside." She stroked a soft hand down the side of his face, cupping his cheek. She stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. "None of the old rules apply Walter. We have to forgive what we can't forget. And forget what we can't forgive."

His hand clutched at hers, then flung it away. "Can you honestly say that's what you've done Scully? Forgiven him? Forgotten everything he's done?"

She looked over her shoulder at where Alex stood. Although the expression on his face was carefully blank, she could tell from the stiff way he held himself that he didn't take his place here for granted. With sudden insight, she realized that he expected them to ask him to leave. And she knew that he would, without demure. Her face softened, and while she replied to Skinner, it was Krycek she looked at when she spoke. "Yes, Walter. That's exactly what I've done. The three of us - if we have any hope of surviving - need to find a way to live together."

Walter stared at Krycek, his face hard and unforgiving. Then he turned his gaze to stare into the fire.

Scully looked at Krycek and told him without words to be patient.

Krycek relaxed slightly and nodded his head. He could be patient. It was something at which he excelled.

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

In the days that followed, Skinner grew stronger. The little household revolved around the daybed in front of the fireplace. Scully grew more animated and Alex was grateful for that. Caring for the conscious and grumbling Skinner was obviously good for her - it brought her back from that dark place where she had spent so much of her time in those first weeks here on the mountain.

After his initial anger, Skinner dealt with Krycek by ignoring him whenever possible. At times, Krycek felt as though he had become invisible. He was surprised at how much Skinner's attitude stung.

Scully did her best to soften the big man. She told him more than once of their rescue from certain death on the side of the mountain. She shared how Krycek had cared for both of them, watching over Skinner while Scully slept. Forcing liquids down his throat. Hiking halfway down the mountain to gather the twigs of a camphor tree. And how Krycek had kept her fed and rested so she could care for Skinner.

She did not tell him, however, about that first night in the cabin when she and Krycek treated Skinner's hypothermia. There were some things, she reckoned, that were better left unsaid.

As he grew stronger, Skinner took more interest in their sanctuary. At first, Scully answered his questions as best she could. But then, she began to see his refusal to speak with Krycek directly as counter-productive, and declined to answer any further questions, telling him he could ask Krycek himself - if he wanted to know.

Skinner groused, then pouted, but neither method budged Scully. She could, he realized, be as stubborn and implacable as he was.

That night after supper, Skinner cleared his throat, and uncomfortably asked Krycek for a moment of his time.

There was a flash of surprise in those green eyes before he carefully smoothed his expression and answered Skinner politely.

And so the three of them gathered in front of the fire and reviewed their situation. Krycek shared the history of the cabin with Skinner, who frowned but did not voice his disbelief at the idea of Mulder collaborating with Krycek in such a way. Krycek also shared his concern over their supply of food and other necessities.

Skinner sat up, his brow knit as he recalled something. "We passed a farm that might be a good place to scavenge." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "There were chickens there. We could see them when we skirted the place."

"Chickens?" Krycek exclaimed. He turned to Scully and grinned. "I've been dreaming of omelets. How far is it?"

"We passed it the day before you found us."

Krycek nodded. "I'll go then, and see what I can find. Take two of the horses and the travois. Scully, you stay here and keep an eye on Skinner."

To his surprise, the other two vehemently protested. Skinner first, because he resented the implication that he couldn't care for himself. And then Scully, who was determined to go with Krycek.

Then they both turned on Scully, filling the cabin with the sound of their arguments. It was too dangerous. She could get hurt. She could catch cold. She might fall. The list seemed endless. But Scully sat quiet and calm till they wore themselves out. And then explained her reasoning in such a way that both were silenced.

"I have to get ready for this baby. I'll have to jerry-rig and make do with what I can find. The best chance I have of getting what I might need is if I go myself and look things over." She paused for effect. "Unless, Krycek, among your hidden talents is an expertise in labor, delivery, and the care of infants?"

It was a rhetorical question, and she didn't expect a reply. Over her head the two men looked at each other. And for the first time since finding themselves sharing living quarters, their thoughts were in harmony. Without words they communicated their concern, their fear, and their surprise.

It was the first time Scully acknowledged that she was pregnant.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

End Part 3.

 
Continue on to Part 4