Season Six:
Episode 6

Cargo Plane Area Atlanta International Airport
7:05 am

An airplane lands and taxies to an area designated for servicing and unloading. Numerous cargo handlers approach the plane and the process of unloading begins. Boxes of various sizes and shapes are unloaded and placed on a cargo train. One box is unloaded and placed on the tarmac. More boxes are unloaded and placed on the cargo train. When the unloading process is done, the cargo handlers get into the cargo train and drive/ride it toward a staging area for delivery of the boxes to their final destinations.

The return address on the lone box is Columbus Ohio. The contents of the box are indicated to be maintained on dry ice. Across the tarmac, a black van is moving toward the box at high speed.

Dimitri had to decide what to do. He, and a few younger men loyal to him, had discretely carried out a search of the compound and the surrounding area for Cigarette Smoking Man. The search had lasted into the wee hours of the morning, yet they had found nothing. Cigarette Smoking Man's habitual behavior had lulled Dimitri into a false sense of security. As a result, he had not kept track of the number and type of vehicles or weapons in the compound. Thus, he did not know if any were missing. "Careless," he thought. Dimitri knew that carelessness was dangerous when dealing with the Consortium.

Nothing looked better in the muted sunlight of the next morning. No inspiration had come to him regarding the nature or content of his report to the First Elder concerning this matter. Failure tasted bitter. "Perhaps some coffee," Dimitri thought.

As he entered the cafeteria, he noticed the young boy eating some breakfast cereal. More particularly, he noticed Gibson Praise watching him. The boy had a slight smile on his face. Dimitri tried to dismiss that knowing smile from his mind as he poured his coffee, but was unable to do so. "Don't worry, he'll be back."

The confident youthful voice startled Dimitri, and he spilled about half of his coffee. Gibson poured some orange juice, smiled at Dimitri and returned to his seat. "I think I'll delay my report, pending a more thorough review of the situation," he said aloud as he passed Gibson's table.

Dimitri's hearing was acute enough to hear the somewhat sarcastic "Good idea," response.

"No I do not agree!" Marita Covarrubias stated with vehemence. "It will never work. He doesn't know Alex like I do."

"Yes. You got to know Krycek rather better than you were ordered to ... by anyone." The First Elder noted Marita's flinch at his comment. "I would have thought by now that you would be more inclined to do as you are told."

The threat underlying the First Elder's words was not lost on Marita. She muttered "Never work," again as she turned her attention to the scene before her. The one way glass revealed a rather nice living/dining area. Alex Krycek was asleep on the couch. A door opened, and a man in a black suit escorted a handcuffed Dana Scully into the room. The man removed the handcuffs and exited the room, locking the door behind him.

Scully quickly examined her surroundings.

"What were the handcuffs for? Are you dangerous?" His voice startled her, but what was more surprising was the tone. The questions were only half jest. Still relatively weak, Alex Krycek had struggled into a sitting position and was looking at Scully nervously.

"Do I look dangerous?"

Krycek didn't answer immediately. Frowning slightly, he looked at Scully in an appraising fashion. "She's small, but looks to be strong for her size," he thought. "Holds herself a little up on the balls of her feet. Ready for rapid movement in any direction. Comfortable with a weapon. Handgun most likely. Nothing exotic."

Scully stood calmly through his appraisal, surprised a little at the thoroughness with which he appeared to study her. The appraisal seemed to coalesce into an assessment, but then something else seemed to occur to him and he looked ... confused. "Alex?"

"Who are you?" The tone was distracted. Krycek appeared to be looking inward for something. Something he didn't find.

"My name is Dana Scully. I'm a Special Agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"Feds in handcuffs? Must be the pain killers. A wife I can't remember is enough for me. Next I'll ..." His voice trailed off as he noticed his left hand was devoid of a wedding ring. The silence lengthened as Krycek tried to accommodate this newest bit of information. "How do I know that you're comfortable with a handgun and prefer a side holster? Am I married or not? What the hell is going on?"

Dana Scully didn't know which question to tackle first.

Spender, Fowley and Mulder were into the second day of their investigative efforts at Ohio State University. The first had been relatively uneventful. They would have to wait to see what the Center for Disease Control in Atlanta found in the freezer unit. Spender had successfully cross-referenced the sample containers with materials/experiments in the scientists' laboratory notebooks. Otherwise, they had turned up nothing.

At the end of the previous day, they had arranged to interview people who knew the four deceased scientists in a conference room in the Edgar B. Harlan Microbiology Building. Unlike the conference room in which they had met yesterday with Dr. Collingsworth, the head of the department, this room was an interior one with no windows.

Spender and Fowley were seated on one of the long sides of a rectangular conference table. Mulder paced behind them. A nervous man of about 32 was seated across the table. "I didn't work directly with them. No one did."

"Do you know what they were working on?"

"Ebola. Scary stuff. My wife would kill me, if I started working on stuff like that."

Mulder smiled at the incongruous strategy of killing someone for doing something potentially dangerous, before interjecting, "Did you ever get the impression that they were working on anything other than Ebola Zaire?"

"Other filoviruses or filovirus-like viruses."

"Is it possible that they were working on something else secretly?" Spender glanced at Fowley, who shrugged. Neither approved of this particular line of questioning, but both believed that they would hear it often.

"Secretly? How do you mean?"

"Maybe a Department of Defense project? Top Secret research?"

The man looked at Mulder as though he had said something funny. "I hesitate to classify anything as impossible Agent Mulder, but the folks we're talking about, if they had one thing in common, it was ambition. In the scientific community, ambition is served by publication. I couldn't see that project team working on something they couldn't publish."

"What about their interpersonal relationships?" Agent Fowley asked. "Did you socialize with them at all?"

"We had departmental parties once in a while. They usually attended. Dr. Montgomery was a people watcher. She would observe folks at a party and make up a story about their "secret life". She was gifted that way. Also, there is a bar just off campus called "The Beaker." I'd see them there occasionally...usually more than one of them."

"Were they friends?"

"Sure. I'm surprised by what I'm reading in the papers, though. I never would've thought there was anything like that going on, especially with Fitts involved. He seemed very conservative about sex... maybe even repressed."

"What about the others?"

"The guys talked about sex like guys do. You know how I mean - right?" Mulder and Spender nodded, practically in unison. "Maggie ... I don't know. She flirted some. Other than that ..."

The three agents looked at each other as the man's answer trailed off. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Borland," Agent Fowley stated. "We have no further questions."

"Things are not adding up," Mulder commented as their interviewee exited the room. Fowley and Spender looked at each other, but both declined to react to Mulder's observation.

Cigarette Smoking Man was satisfied. He could exit the compound at will, regardless of who was "watching" him. He had also checked in on his ongoing operations, and things appeared to be moving forward. One problem had arisen, but alternative arrangements were already being made. He would have to start recruiting soon, but that was generally the easiest part of such projects.

When he felt that he had made Dimitri sweat enough, Cigarette Smoking Man returned to the compound, parked the car he had "borrowed" right outside the main entrance and breezed in. A young man in the foyer/lobby reacted as soon as he saw Cigarette Smoking Man and reached for his cellular phone. "Excuse me," Cigarette Smoking Man began before he could dial. "Do you know where Alex Krycek is?"

"The element of surprise is a very useful tool," Cigarette Smoking Man thought as the information he sought was blurted nervously. "Thank you ... oh, and do give Dimitri my best."

"Let me get this straight," Alex Krycek began. "You're an FBI agent. You and your partner investigate weird cases that the FBI would rather forget about called Xfiles. You think that a group of men...a Consortium... is masterminding some grand conspiracy, and that I'm involved in it somehow. In fact, locked in my memory somewhere is a bunch of information that these men, and you and your partner, and some guy who smokes constantly, and God knows who else wants. Is that the gist of it?"

Dana Scully listened to the description and observed the incredulous look on Krycek's face. Put that way, in relatively simple declarative sentences, she wouldn't have believed it either. When she nodded, he laughed. Not just a little chuckle either, we are talking a belly laugh here. "There's more than that," she said a trifle defensively.

Krycek stopped laughing. "Oh yeah. I forgot. I lost my arm ... and I got it back. I must have great health insurance. Wait a minute ... we don't know what kind of benefits I get, because we don't know who I work for. Is it the secret Consortium? Is it the smoking man? What did you call him ... Cancerman? Am I self-employed? I think it was Professor Plum in the Conservatory with the lead pipe. How am I doing, Agent Scully?"

Scully didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She heard the bitterness in his voice. She saw the confusion and fear in his eyes. She didn't know how to alleviate any of it, other than by telling him what she knew, which she had done for the last several hours. She had told him first hand information as well as things Mulder had told her. She had left out a few bits, her sister, Mulder's father, and other Krycek-performed (or allegedly performed) violence. He had listened attentively. Now he seemed to need to talk.

"Did I mention the aliens? I think I forgot the aliens. How inconsiderate of me, since they seem to pop up in my life periodically. Mind controlling motor oil...green blooded assassins...nice old guys from the Social Security Office who spend their spare time healing people...little green, I mean gray, sorry, men...am I leaving anyone out? Oh yeah, the rebels...assassin types with their eyes and mouths sealed that pass the time torching bunches of humans." When he paused for breath, Scully didn't interject. He seemed to be processing internally in some way. When he looked up at her, his serious statement surprised her. "This fantasy of yours thrusts the wife/nephew/ work stress-related stroke scenario into the realm of plausibility. You know that, don't you? What exactly is the game here?"

"What I've told you is the truth, as I know it. You are not married to Marita Covarrubias. You don't have an office job ... Alex?"

Krycek had reacted to Marita's last name and was concentrating hard. When he was ready, he spoke slowly. "Marita Covarrubias works for the United Nations. I can't connect the name with the woman I saw yesterday though." Alex shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, and returned to an earlier train of thought. "The game, Agent Scully, what is it?"

"It isn't Clue, I can tell you that. As far as what it is, I'm not sure. Tactics for dealing with you have changed. Maybe Cancerman suggested it. He was unconvinced that the ...um..."create a family life" ploy would work. So was I."

"How do you know what he thought?"

"He told me," Scully admitted softly, afraid she knew what was coming. She wasn't wrong.

"He told you! You have been telling me that you and...ahh...Mulder think that Cancerman is practically evil incarnate. Now you tell me that you and he just happened to cross paths and have a conversation about tactics for getting into my head?" Krycek stood up rapidly and regretted it instantly. The room seemed to tilt. Before he could fall, Scully was at his side, steadying him, and encouraging/helping him to sit back down. "Who's side are you on Dana?" His voice was low and tired, but he was staring at her intensely awaiting her reply.

The reply that sprang to her mind and out of her lips before she thought it through surprised her. "Yours. Mine. Mulder's."

"Is that one side or three?"

"I'm not sure." As she answered, she reached out and brushed an errant lock of hair out of Alex Krycek's eyes. He smiled tentatively, probably as an apology for his outburst, as she took her hand away. Dana smiled back.

Dimitri was relieved. Cigarette Smoking Man had returned. So he knew that Dimitri was watching him. That was a minor complication, not the major screw up that losing him would have been. Relieved at his near miss with big trouble, Dimitri went in search of information that he could deliver to Katarina. He was headed to the most likely source.

When he arrived at the correct door, he knocked quickly and entered. The First Elder did not permit Marita Covarrubias to have a lock on her door. The lack of privacy was another of the subtle, yet effective, measures taken to enhance his control over the young woman.

Marita looked toward the door, but otherwise did not move. She tried not to show her relief that her visitor was Dimitri. She merely smiled at him. "Dimitri, what a pleasant surprise."

"Marita, my dear, how are you taking your most recent demotion? I hear that Alex's first real memory was that you worked at the UN. You must be flattered."

"It was? Maybe now they will understand how useful I can be ..."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up. Agent Scully is quite pretty, and Alex seemed taken with her when I first saw them together." Dimitri raised an eyebrow as Marita laughed at this revelation.

"Dana Scully is not for Alex," she stated emphatically.

"Funny...that's what Katarina said about you. In any event, I'm certain that Katarina would be interested in the events transpiring here. Any idea what they hope Alex knows?"

"Any idea why I should tell you, if I did?"

Dimitri looked at Marita and chuckled. "You are in trouble, and we both know it. Katarina may be able to help you. Information is your only bargaining power."

Marita Covarrubias weighed the odds. She didn't trust Dimitri, but she had no other way to reach Katarina. She knew that Dimitri knew both of those things. "With you as my negotiator? I might as well prepare to rot here."

Dimitri watched the woman begin to pace. Her tension level was rising. "Again, any idea what they hope Alex knows?"

"Not exactly, but I know they're afraid. They sent Alex somewhere, and expected him to die there. Instead he comes back with a new arm and some altered brain function. The meaning of those changes is what they are after. That should be enough for Katarina."

"Yes, for now."

"Dimitri. Remember where you got the information."

Dimitri nodded and exited the room.

After interviewing 16 people that knew the victims in one form or fashion, Fowley and Spender were becoming satisfied with the extent and findings of their investigation. Mulder was not.

"We need to speak with Elaine Broadford," Fox Mulder insisted.

"She is on leave Mulder. She isn't here."

"Diana, I think we have to find her. Something isn't right here. Their immediate supervisor may be able to identify that something. I mean, do you really believe the Russian Roulette/suicide scenario for the three guys, followed by the remorseful flight to Pennsylvania and ultimate suicide of the woman?"

"Mulder, that scenario is just as likely, if not infinitely more likely, than the one you and Spender posed regarding Marita, Katarina and the crippled research effort," Diana replied. "Listen to yourself Fox."

Agent Mulder glared at Diana Fowley. "Dr. Collingsworth is hiding something."

"What could he possibly be hiding?"

"Difficult for you to figure out, since you swoon every time you look at his eyes or his rear end."

"Time out!" shouted Spender, making a T with his hands like a football referee. "If the good doctor is hiding something, he is unlikely to divulge it to Mulder or I. That means that Diana deals with Collingsworth, and we find Dr. Broadford. Ok?"

Mulder and Fowley glared at each other again. Diana made a show of turning from Mulder to Spender and replying "Fine." In the face of that, Mulder reluctantly nodded as well.

Cigarette Smoking Man entered the observation room. There was a video camera, numerous recording devices and a number of people manning them. Despite the distractions present in the room, the scene before him attracted his interest quickly.

Dana Scully and Alex Krycek had finished dinner. They had sat on the couch and used the coffee table for the plates and glassware. Cigarette Smoking Man had to admit that the leather couch did look more comfortable than the wooden chairs located around the table more designed for dining. The two seemed to be lost in their own thoughts. Krycek broke the companionable silence. "Why didn't you think that the...um ... "manufactured family strategy" would work?"

"We talked before you left. You didn't like your chances of returning and reflected generally on your life. The only regrets you said you had were the lack of normalcy and ..." Dana chuckled before continuing. "And subjecting me to your "monologue. The scenario they were creating for you was too normal."

Alex Krycek smiled briefly, but he couldn't maintain it. He didn't know who to trust. He didn't even know whether there was anyone he could trust. He did know that he would have to take a chance, but his instincts screamed against it. The phrase "Trust No One" was reverberating in his mind. "Why should I believe you?" he asked softly, acknowledging to himself that he needed to believe someone. From the way things were going, he thought Dana could probably sense or intuit that need.

"Why not?" The light tone and smile that accompanied it convinced Krycek he was correct in his assessment. To avoid having to take that conversational avenue any further for the moment, Alex picked up the glass of mineral water he was drinking and studied it. After he got tired of that, he spent a few seconds pushing the remaining food that he had no intention of eating around on his plate. When he could think of no other stalling tactics he looked up. Dana Scully was still smiling at him. "What would I gain by lying?"

"Who knows? Your motivation could be anything. I don't have enough information to ..." Scully was about to prompt him to continue, when she noticed that he had that look of concentration again. The look that she had seen prior to him making the Covarrubias/UN connection. Thus, she remained silent. "My motivation?" he asked himself softly. "He had a gun. What more motivation did I need?" Krycek blinked his eyes and looked at Scully. "I shot someone, didn't I?"

"I think so, Alex. I think more than once."

"Maybe you ought to tell me about that."

"Tomorrow. When you're rested."

"Now." Scully laughed and leaned back into the couch, away from the coffee table with the food and beverages on it. "What's so funny?"

"You look like a little boy who wants a bedtime story."

"You could think of it that way, if you like. I need to know this Dana."

Dana Scully looked at the man beside her. It did not require much scrutiny to see that he was fighting sleep and losing. "All right. Get ready for bed and into it. I'll be along in a few minutes to tell you your story." Scully saw the frown and the beginning of a stubborn set to Alex's posture. "And no amount of arguing or pouting is going to change anything. Go on." For a moment, she thought he'd balk. He didn't. He shook his head, sighed a "how much I suffer" sort of sigh, and did as he was told.

"As it should be," Scully thought.

"The First Elder should be pleased," was Cigarette Smoking Man's thought, as he contemplated what he had observed. Agent Scully was drawing Alex out, as Cigarette Smoking Man himself had predicted. "She has her own reasons, but I wonder if she knows what they are."

"That should do it," a non-descript man, wearing surgical gloves, stated as he resealed a box (the box we recall from the opening sequence). "The analysis at CDC will provide no startling revelations."

"Good," replied a second man wearing black leather gloves.

"Where do you want this?"

"Right there is fine."

The surgical glove-wearing man was never aware of the danger. The black leather-gloved man drew a gun equipped with a silencer. It "coughed" four times.

Agent Fowley reappeared in Marjorie's, Dr. Collingsworth's administrative assistant's, field of vision. "Excuse me. I had a few more questions for Dr. Collingsworth. Is he available?"

Marjorie picked up her telephone and relayed the message to her boss. "You aren't prone to claustrophobia, are you Diana?" Dr. Collingsworth asked with a smile as he stood in the doorway of his office. Diana noted with appreciation the rolled up sleeves and loosened tie.

"No. I think I can handle your office."

She was smiling as she walked past the man through the doorway. He wasn't kidding about his office. Papers, boxes and the like were everywhere. Diana noticed immediately that the number of boxes seemed wrong. Dr. Collingsworth appeared to be packing. "Going somewhere," she asked.

"Yes. I've been offered an Associate Dean position at my alma mater. I had accepted before this unpleasantness. I had had some regrets, but in retrospect the decision seems like a good one. You had some questions?"

"I was wondering what you thought happened."

Collingsworth sighed and moved a pile of papers from a guest chair onto the floor. He gestured for Diana to sit as he moved toward his desk chair. Opting for perching on the corner of his desk, he asked "Why does what I think interest the FBI?"

"You knew them. They worked for you. The situation is ... unusual."

"Those four were "unusual" Diana. They were brilliant and young, all in their twenties. Their work on a very dangerous virus was very stressful. I think the tension built up, and they chose an immature way of dealing with it. Dr. Montgomery was a little on the pretty side of plain. Hardly the type to inspire melodrama otherwise."

"Can you think of anyone who would want them dead? Any scientific or departmental rivals?"

Robert Collingsworth started to laugh. "I'm sorry Diana, I've never thought of publish or perish quite so literally before."

"Dr. Collingsworth ..."

"Robert."

"You haven't answered my question."

"Must be because my throat is dry. Would you join me for a drink? It has been a long day."

Diana Fowley was quite aware of all of the Bureau rules about this sort of thing. Ignoring them seemed the only way to get the information she wanted. It might also have the extra added benefit of pissing off Fox Mulder, a hobby of hers. "I'd like that."

Dr. Collingsworth smiled and motioned Diana toward the door. As she reached it, the telephone rang. With an exasperated sigh, Collingsworth picked up the receiver. "Yes," he snapped. After listening briefly, he added "Hold on." To Diana, "I have to take this call. If you can wait, it should only take a few minutes." Diana noted his hopeful look, nodded, smiled and exited his office to give him privacy.

"What's the matter now?" he asked the caller.