Season Six:
Episode 19

Military Installation
DeSalle, Colorado
12:03 am

It had been quiet for days. The number of men in the Quonset huts was only a very few -- a skeleton crew. Most wanted, and had managed to wrangle leave, to ring in the new year with their families. Those that remained had no where else to go, no where else they wanted to be or had sought holiday leave too late. The only tasks they had men enough to do were routine. As a result, they were bored.

The Flukeman was bored also. The diminished human activity made his task easier -- almost too easy. There was very little for him to watch. As he'd been trained to do in situations like this, the Flukeman expanded his inspection area out to beyond the third of the three perimeter fences. The Flukeman was not confident that the new strategy would improve things. He'd only once seen a man beyond the perimeter. That man had been sent to repair the fence.

To his surprise, the Flukeman saw a human outside the three perimeter fences, moving with a purpose to the corner of the fence that was furthest from the lake and dressed all in black rather than in a military uniform. Someone new. Someone who didn't belong. Someone that the Flukeman was responsible for eliminating. Finally, he had something to do. The Flukeman considered his options and decided on a direct approach. With startling speed and absolute silence, the Flukeman moved through the woods, approaching the spot where he had seen the man quickly and efficiently. Just like he'd been taught.

But ... the man was gone. He was no where in sight. That was ... impossible. Confused and frustrated, the Flukeman observed his surroundings carefully. He could see nothing. No one. Not outside the perimeter fence. Not between the fences. Not inside the interior fence. Nothing. If the man came in this way, the Flukeman reasoned that he was likely to leave by the same route. Thus, the sentry retreated into the forest, choosing a vantage point from which he could observe the position where he'd last seen the man and in.

He didn't have to wait long. Just a few minutes later, the man appeared suddenly, moving quickly away from the Quonset huts. No alarm had been raised. No search lights were engaged. No men were in pursuit. The Flukeman found this interesting. But his mission was clear -- stop the intruder using any and all means and regardless of the danger to which the Flukeman was exposed. His interpretation of the last instruction would be interesting to his "creators." The scientists who designed him would expect him to rush blindly at best possible speed after the man. The Flukeman chose a different, more cautious approach, minimizing the danger, before exposing himself to it.

Approaching the point where the man had disappeared into the woods, the Flukeman slowed down, listening. He could follow the man's progress easily, and a brief inspection of the terrain revealed the rough path that the man appeared to be following. Satisfied that he knew the lay of the land and the movements of his adversary, the Flukeman moved, quick and silent.

The man had just reached a small clearing, when the Flukeman hit him, propelling him forward until his knees came in contact with a large rock. Then he was airborne with the Flukeman moving with him and adding to his momentum. The man got his shoulder down first, making the impact of his head with the ground secondary and allowing him to remain conscious with sufficient wherewithal to kick out at whatever had attacked him.

The Flukeman avoided the kick, but the extra distance between them that his evasion created gave the man room and time to maneuver, enough to stand, and move further away. But the Flukeman wasn't focused on the man at the moment, he was distracted by what he perceived to be a failure in his approach. The man had turned slightly before he hit him, as if he'd heard or sensed him. How was that possible? The Flukeman's curiosity was his undoing.

Alex Krycek fired his weapon as the creature charged. Unless they'd radically redesigned these things, his shot should stop it. The creature made it three steps closer to Alex before he fell. As he did, their eyes met. Krycek saw what looked to be fear and disbelief on an unusually expressive face. Alex was concentrating on getting his breathing and heart rate under control and trying to ignore the pain of his various injuries.

What was one of those doing here? The answer to his unspoken question occurred to him nearly immediately. They had it on guard duty. That was incredible and had turned what should have been a relatively straightforward in and out operation into something nearly fatal. Realizing he still had his gun trained on the immobile creature and that it fully expected him to use it, Krycek slowly and deliberately lowered his arm. If he'd been looking at a man, Alex would have interpreted the reaction as confusion. It applied here as well, he supposed. The Flukeman was trying to figure him out, interesting but weird. Definitely weird.

"Don't let them use you," Krycek advised the non-mortally wounded Flukeman before limping off into the darkness.

Dana Scully was worried, but focusing on appearing calm ... and avoiding Fox Mulder's "I told you so" look. She also did her best to demonstrate that Diana Fowley's amused glance wasn't even on her radar screen. Marita Covarrubias appeared more sympathetic as did Assistant Director Skinner.

She'd left a message for Alex Krycek to meet them at Skinner's apartment, the specified rendezvous time was about forty-five minutes ago. Even though Alex was supposed to have returned yesterday, Scully had been uncomfortable committing him to a meeting without actually speaking to him, but Mulder and Diana had insisted, almost incessantly, that it was time for Krycek to "come clean." Scully suspected that they'd gotten as far as they could with some analysis that they hadn't shared with her and thought that Alex could shed some light on whatever it was.

Dana was internally cursing herself for rising to the bait. Diana Fowley had insinuated that Scully was "responsible" for Krycek and that their shared experiences in the compound and thereafter provided her a unique opportunity to influence the "renegade," as Fowley had taken to calling Alex. According to Fowley, Scully should use her influence to establish a reliable communication channel with Alex, ensuring a flow of information sufficient to garner Bureau approval. They wanted her to control his behavior, thereby avoiding egg on the face of the decision-makers that bestowed diplomatic immunity on him. Scully viewed these expectations as unrealistic ... and unwarranted.

Still, she'd accepted the implicit challenge. Diana had made the alternative impossible. Oozing politeness and sincerity for the benefit of Fox Mulder who was watching their exchange, Fowley had made a great show of trying to understand why Dana "wouldn't" do as they asked. She'd nodded with feigned sympathy while arching a disbelieving eyebrow in Mulder's direction, when Dana tried to explain the nature of her relationship with Alex Krycek and the limitations of any influence she may have over him.

Mulder had invited Fowley to "assist" he and Scully after Spender's death. Skinner hadn't stood in the way. It would've seemed petty for Scully to make waves so she'd acquiesced with reservations. In contrast to Scully's expectations, the week hadn't gone too badly. Diana kept pretty much to herself, they had done little as a threesome, and the time that Mulder spent working with Diana had allowed Dana to pursue some leads of her own. There was one problem though, a significant one in Scully's view. She didn't trust Diana Fowley at all, regardless of Mulder's view on the subject.

A knock on the door sent the level of alertness and tension in the apartment up a few notches. Skinner moved toward the source of the sound, glancing back at the others. Their expectant expressions were intense, so the Assistant Director fervently hoped that the focus of all of that attention wasn't the pizza delivery guy.

It wasn't. Alex Krycek entered with a bandage on his forehead and a noticeable limp. His eyes darted around the room, taking in those present and their relative positions. He focused briefly on Dana Scully, smiling sheepishly at her exasperated expression occasioned by his obvious injuries. The man shook his head slightly when she took a step in his direction and Dana stopped reluctantly. Alex didn't break eye contact immediately, making her smile despite herself.

Addressing the participants generally, Krycek asked, "So who called this meeting?"

"I did," Mulder informed the injured man. "I think it's time you put your cards on the table, Krycek. Past time." When Krycek merely waited, Mulder closed the distance between them. Mulder was slightly taller than Krycek, although the shorter man was broader and didn't appear intimidated by Mulder's physical presence. "Tell me about Operation Double Reverse."

Krycek smiled slowly and looked Mulder up and down before replying. "Don't know the specific referent, Mulder, but I'd guess you're looking at misdirection of one sort or another. Just like in football." Dana Scully found herself wondering specifically what it was about Mulder that brought out the insolence in Krycek. And what exactly it was in Krycek that brought out the aggressiveness in Mulder. She wasn't sure what she'd do with the information, if she had it, but her instincts suggested that the data would be useful in some fashion.

"What do you know of a terrorist group known as the Contractionists?"

Krycek had no idea where Mulder was going with this but he'd noticed Marita's increased anxiety level. "Never heard of them, but I'm not an expert. You've got two." Scully noted Krycek's nod at Diana Fowley and hand gesture aimed in Marita Covarrubias' general direction. "Why ask me?"

Surprisingly, Diana Fowley answered. Alex found that interesting development, interrupting a Mulder inquisition was not a common occurrence. "Because of what they're said to be responsible for. Large scale activities at relatively remote locations in Russia and the United States -- incinerating hundreds of people."

Agent Fowley looked pointedly at Dana Scully as she concluded her statement, no doubt reminding her of her near miss on a bridge in Pennsylvania.

Alex Krycek had retreated a half a step from Mulder in order to direct his attention to Fowley. The expressions worn by Mulder, Skinner and Covarrubias convinced him that something was potentially very wrong. He just didn't know what. Terrorists? That was absurd. And at least Mulder and Marita ought to know it. That is, unless he had walked smack dab into the middle of Operation Double Reverse. Alex had a sneaking suspicion that that was indeed the case. His thoughts were interrupted by Mulder's challenge.

"At a loss for words, Krycek? Fresh out of plausible lies? Have a head injury that's interfering with your deviant mental processes?" While asking his final question, Mulder briefly considered but rejected the idea of making his point by delivering a well placed body blow. Something of his thought process must've been apparent. Krycek braced himself against the back of Skinner's couch but otherwise held his ground.

Another interesting turn of events -- the bait/violent reaction pattern wasn't holding. Wondering why, Krycek tried to determine where Mulder was coming from and he didn't pay particular attention to Diana Fowley's approach.

He paid for his inattention, when she punctuated her ironic "Head hurt too much to comment?" with a sharp jab to the bandage on Krycek's forehead.

The pain was excruciating. Krycek's face went extremely pale and he held on to the piece of furniture to maintain his balance. Alex thought it'd help if he shut his eyes. He was wrong - that just induced the contents of his stomach to shift restlessly. Reopening them afforded little improvement as the room seemed to be following the same trajectory as his stomach contents. Panting and breaking out in a cold sweat, Krycek tried to focus on something ... anything to reorient himself. He chose fabric clutched in his right hand and thought about how it felt, struggling to remember what color it was. Then he considered the lack of the accustomed feel and weight of the cast on his left arm. It'd been removed yesterday. The spin of the room was slowing and things were slowly starting to clarify.

It had taken almost all of Dana Scully's restraint to watch the Mulder/Krycek confrontation from her original vantage point. A vestige remained, enabling her to maintain her position in the face of Diana Fowley's unexpected action. Both Mulder and Skinner were looking at Fowley in shock. Mulder's expression was tinged with disbelief, Skinner's with disapproval. Diana looked at neither of them, nor at Krycek. Her challenging gaze focused on Scully. Dana was aware of it but chose to ignore it. Even though Scully knew that her disgust and outrage must show, she was well aware that going to the injured man was more likely to make things worse.

She was proud of him, when Alex, obviously still in pain, looked Mulder in the eye and spoke in a near steady voice, "Large numbers of people. Remote areas. Sounds more like a cult to me. Has all the elements of a ritual."

Fox Mulder's eyes widened slightly, surprised by the way Krycek had analyzed the situation and by the ease with which he'd dismissed the terrorist angle. That was something that Mulder had been trying to accomplish because his theory did not accommodate terrorists. Nor cults, per se, but "evidence" suggesting terrorism had been put forth.

Mulder turned toward Marita Covarrubias. Diana Fowley redirected her attention to Alex Krycek, smiling somewhat predatorily at him. Both Scully and Skinner divided their attention between Diana, Marita and Alex. The Assistant Director was aware of an uneasy feeling encroaching on his relatively good mood and of the fact that he was torn between seeing that Agent Fowley acted in an appropriate manner and making sure Mulder didn't intimidate Marita. Krycek's posture, which eloquently communicated the "Back off" he had for some reason chosen not to voice, decided Skinner. He moved toward Marita.

Krycek glanced at Skinner, noting the Assistant Director's worried expression and the troubled look he directed at Marita. Her heartwarmingly innocent unspoken response almost made him laugh but Skinner's desire to believe her sobered him. Krycek mentally chastised himself for not dealing with this sooner. Acknowledging that further delay definitely looked like a bad idea, he inquired, "Where'd you get this terrorist idea anyway?"

Dana Scully moved closer to the action, more than ready to ensure that Fowley behaved herself. Picking up the file from an end table between her and Alex, she offered, "Have a look." As he reached for it, she mouthed "A one man job?" Krycek shrugged, not meeting her eyes. Nodding affirmatively to Scully's whispered "Are you ok?" he opened the file and perused the contents.

Cigarette Smoking Man had had a discussion with Eldest. He now knew what Eldest did, both about Alex and about how Eldest and certain other interests intended to use him. He wasn't at all sure that their plan would work. In fact, he was almost certain that it wouldn't ... in the way that they anticipated. Alex was likely to be able to do the tasks that the interested parties required; however, a meek handing over of the spoils was not in the offing unless Cigarette Smoking Man had seriously misread the boy.

Cigarette Smoking Man had waited patiently to discover what had happened to Krycek on that ill-fated "mission" in the desert. Robert's tape of a portion of the limousine-held conversation between him and Krycek was enlightening ... to a point.

According to Alex, he and Dimitri had proceeded to within three quarters of a mile of the rendezvous point. After that, Alex had gone on alone. When he arrived at the coordinates he'd been given, he noticed that a perfect circle had been circumscribed by small white rocks. Accepting what seemed to be inevitable, he'd stepped into the circle. The moment his second foot touched the ground within, a bright light flashed, and the afterimages persisted for about five minutes, rendering his eyes useless. His ears warned him that something was wrong, though. He was blinking his eyes over and over in complete and utter silence.

When his vision cleared, he saw that he was in a large room. It seemed to be made of a flat, light gray colored metal. He had no idea how he got there but fortunately the room was empty. Unfortunately, there was no door. Alex walked to the nearest wall and tentatively reached out and touched it. He got a mild shock for his trouble, as though static electricity had built up in the wall and released upon his contact with it. Wiggling his fingers in an effort to dissipate the shock, he looked around again. Now, there was an opening on the far side of the room. Realizing that certainty that it hadn't been there before meant little, he'd taken a few steps toward it. From his new vantage point, Alex could see the muted light from the room beyond. Having nothing better to do and no visual or other stimulation in the room he was in, Krycek crossed it and looked through the opening.

It was another gray room. The only difference was the presence of four chairs. Nothing else in the way of furnishing or accent was visible, other than the straight-backed metal chairs of the same flat light gray. Alone, afraid and unsure of what to do, he sat down and his back came into contact with something that was clearly not metal. Whatever it was molded to his body and reclined. Startled, he'd jumped back to his feet, turned and examined the "chair.: Visual and tactile inspection revealed the same straight backed metal chair. Cautiously, he sat back down and experienced the same sensations of molding to his frame and reclining. This time, he settled in comfortably. There seemed little harm in it. He didn't remember falling asleep, but recalled waking up with a start in response to he wasn't sure what.

As he sat up, the chair reconfigured to support him and he saw that the three remaining chairs were occupied. In one was seated an older man that Alex recalled seeing somewhere on an unauthorized excursion in Cigarette Smoking Man's files. He'd described him to Eldest as "some biblical name Smith. Jeremiah. Jebediah. Something like that." Eldest had known what he meant. An alien bounty hunter sat in another and a tall forty-ish red haired woman lounged in the third. She had a very nice, reassuring sort of smile -- one that would help to calm a scared young man who had no idea where he was.

The combination of "personages" intrigued Cigarette Smoking Man. He knew Eldest was skeptical, thinking that William had described this as a plausible scenario for Alex to use under appropriate circumstances. Cigarette Smoking Man didn't believe that. He was reasonably sure that William had never had an experience of the type that Krycek had described to Eldest.

What interested Cigarette Smoking Man was that some of Alex's explanation was very general, even to the point of being vague or obtuse. Other aspects of his experience had been described in reasonable detail. Part of it was dictated by the nature of the story and necessary to provide context to ensure understanding of what had happened. The rest was consciously directed by what Krycek wanted to reveal. And what he did not.

Moreover, Cigarette Smoking Man didn't believe that Krycek was capable of such high quality prevarication, regardless of what he'd been able to glean from whatever information he'd managed to beg, borrow or steal. The boy had spent an amount of time in the presence of three shape-shifters and lived to tell about it. You could count the number of men to have accomplished that feat on less than two hands and none of them had been so young. Cigarette Smoking Man thought that his somewhat rough treatment had toughened Alex, preparing him for this challenge. Although he had his doubts that the younger man would view it that way.

It didn't take long for Krycek to understand the game. Now all he had to do was determine how best to play it. He did what his instincts suggested, tossing the file on the end table and chuckling. When he had everyone's attention, he spoke. "Very nice. Tidy. No real suspension of disbelief required, other than that these Contractionists aren't publicity seekers. Nothing Xfile-ish here. You can go to anyone in the Bureau with this." Shaking his head and smiling, he added softly, "Too bad it isn't true."

"You just admitted you aren't a terrorist expert," Agent Fowley pointed out. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I know what happened at those three locations ... and two others incidentally. One in Spain and the other in Oman. Right around the same time frame. And so do you, Marita. It has nothing to do with terrorist activity." Krycek glanced briefly at his former lover before turning back to Fox Mulder. "You want to know what Operation Double Reverse is? Ask her."

All eyes turned to Marita. The woman in question was focused on Krycek. Her response was direct, controlled and forceful. "What I know ... what I can prove is in that file, Alex. Everything else is hearsay and speculation."

Krycek simply looked at the woman for a moment, before he smiled and laughed. "Damn, Marita. You really should've gone into acting. You even had me going for a minute and I know you're lying, although I'm not sure why."

Alex glanced quickly at their audience to see how they were taking this. Skinner looked angry and confused, the latter emotion protecting Krycek from further physical damage at least for the moment. Mulder and Fowley were looking at Krycek speculatively, as if they expected him to produce alternative evidence from up his sleeve or something. Scully was simply awaiting further explanation and withholding judgment until she got it. Unwilling to just believe him though. Ok. Not bad. He'd not lost anyone. Yet.

"What evidence, Marita? All you have is a file folder with three sheets of paper in it that I could've typed up for you. You can download that letterhead off of the Internet. I don't know what's on the disk, but I'm willing to put significant money that it's more of the same. Someone wants the FBI looking for terrorists. Who? And why?"

"How do you explain the mass burnings, Alex?"

"Nice try sweetheart, but any explanation I may have is irrelevant to whether your terrorist story is bunk."

"Don't call me that!"

"Don't lie to me."

His smirk was as infuriating as his tone was reasonable. Marita Covarrubias was in a spot of trouble and she knew it. Time to garner the sympathy vote. Without warning, Marita slapped Alex in the face as hard as she could. If anyone's attention had wandered, it was back now, except Marita's. She'd expected him to stop her hand short of his cheek. She knew he could've, but he hadn't. He merely looked at her with a slightly red cheek and that same damn smirk. Why? She didn't know, and she didn't have time to dwell on that fact. She had to muster some righteous indignation, followed by bitterness. Play this scene out to the end, establishing Krycek as the villain.

"Me lie to you!" she shouted, tears forming in her eyes. "Your lies got me into all of this in the first place. You told me every kind of lie imaginable, using words, your body. Whatever you thought would work. I trusted you Alex. I loved you. Only to find out that it was all some kind of game to you. Honing your skills for bigger challenges. Don't talk to me about lies." She was crying now. Skinner moved closer, putting his arm around her while glaring at Krycek.

"Then why don't we talk about the truth, Marita? Who gave you the file?" Krycek hadn't moved and was speaking in a tone designed to calm both Marita and her protector.

Marita sniffed becomingly before speaking. "The truth? I'm not sure I can remember ever discussing that topic with you, Alex." The woman laughed briefly, before turning her attention to Scully. "You've spent quite a bit time with him recently, Agent Scully. What's your experience been? Have you been on the receiving end of that quiet, seemingly earnest tone? It's usually seen in combination with a hesitant meeting of your eyes and a tentative smile. Irresistible, but far from honest." Covarrubias concentrated on not smiling as she focused on Scully, expression expectant.

Alex Krycek met Dana Scully's eyes, the very picture of innocence and incredulity. Their gaze held for a moment and Krycek put one hand on his own chest in a classic "Who me?" gesture before shrugging and waiting for Dana to defend him or damn him. Scully smiled, broke eye contact, and responded, "Viewing "truth" as a continuum, Alex and I have had discussions ranging through the whole spectrum. And I've found it relatively straightforward to interpret what I've been told, Ms. Covarrubias."

"A truth continuum? What a civilized way to describe a pack of lies and half truths. You've outdone yourself in the winning over arena this time, Alex." Skinner, Mulder and Fowley smiled at Marita's sarcastic tone. "So what happens when he strays to the lie end of the spectrum, Agent Scully?"

"Depends," Dana responded with a somewhat amused expression. "Blithely informing me that his latest excursion was a one man job that wasn't dangerous in the least can be adequately dealt with by a scathing look. Further dissembling, such as a description of a unlikely shaving accident, would require a more significant response. And so on."

"The punishment should fit the crime," Mulder commented with a grin. "An eye for an eye. Very Old Testament." Scully answered Mulder's grin with one of her own.

"While this discourse on my truthfulness or lack thereof is fascinating, it's also beside the point," Krycek muttered. Avoiding the almost identical Scully and Mulder smirks, he addressed Marita once again. "We're talking about you, Marita. Not me. I'm asking nicely for the last time, who and why?"

Marita smiled and shrugged, baiting him as she had so often in the past with more success than he was comfortable admitting. Alex smiled back, removed a small device from his coat pocket and held it up so she could see it. Marita's smile disappeared. "No, Alex. Don't. Please." She tried to take a step backwards, but Skinner's proximity prevented it. The Assistant Director was staring at Krycek, his expression ... dangerous.

"What's that?" Scully asked. Both Alex and Marita ignored the question.

"Who?" It was that reasonable tone again. Marita hated it.

"The one they call Cancerman," she murmured, nodding in Mulder's direction. Defeated, she turned to face Skinner, burying her face in his chest and hugging him tightly.

Reasonable became angry in an instant. "Let's try again, sweetheart. And I strongly suggest the truth this time." When she was silent, Krycek turned his attention to the small electronic module in his hand. As he began to program the device, Krycek was intensely aware of the increasing protectiveness vibes emanating from both Skinner and Mulder. He had to end this quickly, hopefully without using his trump card.

Hoping that Alex wasn't facile enough to listen and program at the same time, Marita started talking. "He gave it to me in the compound. He told me to use it, if things got ... confused. I'd say they have. No one's seen him since ..."

Krycek noted Marita's brief glance at Mulder and Fowley and assumed that she was referring either to Spender's hospitalization or to his death. Regardless, Krycek's answer was the same. "I have. He's angry, but otherwise, it's business as usual. No extreme measures. If he provided that file, you wouldn't be authorized to use it." Alex didn't miss Marita's flinch at his first statement and her increasing level of discomfort as he continued. He was growing tired of asking. "So?"

Marita looked up slowly, a stubborn set to her expression. The silence was absolute. It was her word against his now and she liked her chances. Skinner moved to place himself between Marita and Krycek, uncertain of how he felt about this confrontation and Marita's participation in it. But he certainly wasn't going to let Krycek bully her.

Alex acknowledged Marita's victory with a shallow bow. He then made a show of deactivating the electronic device and putting it back in his pocket. With a shake of the head, Krycek addressed his former partner. "I don't have time for this, Mulder. Whenever you're ready to talk ... really ready, Dana knows how to get in touch with me."

Cigarette Smoking Man continued to contemplate what Krycek had told Eldest as well as the responses to the few directed questions that Cigarette Smoking Man had asked when he met with Alex just yesterday. He hadn't looked so good, a head injury, something wrong with one or both knees. And he'd paled considerably when Cigarette Smoking Man began asking his questions. The boy had a healthy amount of respect for Eldest and, Cigarette Smoking Man liked to think, for him as well. Prudent from Cigarette Smoking Man's point of view. Krycek's concern over the exact nature of the deal he'd struck was augmented by his uncertainty as to the meaning of Cigarette Smoking Man's closer involvement. Alex hadn't anticipated that. And from what Cigarette Smoking Man could gather, Krycek certainly hadn't been what their contacts had expected.

"Why would they send us one so young?" the red haired woman asked her companions, as she rose and approached Krycek. "They can't think that such a specimen, however vital, would appease us. We demanded to see a representative not a sacrifice." Krycek remained silent and as motionless as possible when the woman touched his face. As her fingertips grazed his forehead, his eyes closed. He felt warm, content and safe but somewhere in the recesses of his mind, his paranoid core demanded alertness. He'd learned from bitter experience to listen to that voice, so he forced his eyes open and met the woman's. Her surprise was evident, reassessment obvious. What he couldn't tell was whether that second assessment was more or less in his favor than her original had been.

Smiling a challenge at him, she caressed his throat which instantly and painfully constricted to cut off the flow of air. Krycek tried to inhale and seemed able to take in only about a tenth of the normal volume of air. It wasn't enough. Instinct insisted that he breathe more rapidly to accommodate with increased repetitions. Intellectually, he believed that the problem wasn't what it seemed. He was almost certain that if he breathed normally, he'd be fine, despite what his lungs seemed to be telling him. He wasn't sure how he'd arrived at that conclusion, but it had something to do with feeling safe when he wasn't. Why not a feeling like he was suffocating when he wasn't? She stared at him, seemingly through him, while he labored to keep his breathing at the same pace as he did when using involuntary muscles only. When he hadn't passed out in a few minutes, his confidence increased. And he smiled at her, realizing that issuing a challenge of his own was probably unwise only after he'd already done so.

To his surprise and relief, she heartily laughed. "Perhaps not too young after all. And youth does have certain ... advantages." As she stated her final word, she ran a single fingertip down Krycek's chest. That more or less innocent appearing gesture generated the most intense stimulation of a sexual nature he'd ever experienced. She seemed amused at the sharply intaken breath that preceded the demise of his controlled and measured breathing. Painfully aware of and somewhat unnerved by her close scrutiny, Krycek fought to get his body back under control. She waited for him to begin to win the battle, before whispering "What do you want, Alex?" in his ear. He was certain that many, if not all, of the highly erotic images that flashed into his awareness were of her design. That didn't make getting them out of his mind any easier, however. His efforts were both interrupted and aided by another of the three.

"Well, young man," Smith with the biblical first name had begun. "What do you have to say for yourself?" The sound of his voice brought Krycek back to himself and he was grateful for it. Still, he didn't respond immediately, considering it best to proceed with caution. Smith had seemed to approve.

With an effort, Alex focused on Smith and asked, "Regarding?"

Smith infused his voice with a hint of sarcasm. "Efforts to develop a vaccine to our colonization symbiot? A hidden operation involving one of our ships in Antarctica? Breach of security in one of the virus breeding/transmission sites? Breach of our contract with regard to preparation for and assistance with the colonization? Aiding and abetting our rebels? Shall I go on?"

Krycek met the older man's eyes, shaking his head "no" as firmly as possible, doing his best to hide his fear. How the hell was he supposed to respond to those accusations? He was just ... what? A mid-level player with upper echelon aspirations? He doubted that such a status would excuse him. Still. Here he was. Here they were. The Consortium had sent him here alone to die. He had nothing to lose. The recognition of the desperateness of his situation, oddly enough, gave Alex courage to respond in a tone nearly matching Smith's. "What'd you expect? Everyone to honor a deal made before they were born? Maybe that's how it works where you come from, but not here." Krycek broke off, suddenly reminded of his surroundings. "I mean there."

The older man smiled, just like the woman had when he'd adopted a bit of an attitude. Krycek had relaxed then; he didn't now.

"Yes," Smith mused. "It's useful to understand how it is ... there. Perhaps you'd be interested in knowing what it's like ... where I come from." Smith saw the spark of curiosity in Krycek's face, before Alex could render his expression neutral. "I can arrange that." Jeremiah Smith stood, moved toward Krycek and offered his hand. After a deep breath and a brief consideration of whether backing down now was appropriate, conducive to his continued good health or even possible, Krycek took the offered palm, letting Smith help him stand. Before Alex could react, Smith moved behind him and put his hands on Krycek's shoulders. Krycek tried to turn and face him, but Smith was strong enough to prevent him from doing so. "Relax Alex. Follow where I lead. All that's required is an open mind. Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Smith nodded and put his index fingers on Krycek's temples. It was like visualizing -- the technique athletes used to improve their performance. There was a star field that Alex didn't recognize splayed out in front of them like a map. Suddenly they moved toward, into and through it at great speed. Alex relaxed and let it happen, enjoying the ride and the speed at which they moved. Then they arrived, suddenly and without fanfare. Alex tried to look at everything at once. It was very different, when evaluated using the five senses, yet similar at a more visceral level. It was amazing. Why the hell did they want to leave? Their world was ... well it seemed ... perfect. There was a lot of space, teeming with life and vitality.

Alex wasn't sure exactly what sort of technology they had used but he was given a quick tour of the place through a series of images. They weren't quite snapshots, more akin to short video clips. After an indeterminate amount of time had passed and what seemed like a few million video clips had been viewed, Krycek was beginning to think he had a feel for it. How the natives interacted. What was important and unimportant to them and why. It was incredible. He didn't feel tired in the least, despite the high level of activity and information overload.

Finally, the images stopped. Acclimating to the environment, Alex turned to ask Smith a question and realized that he was alone, standing on the side of what passed for a street here. A quick survey of his surroundings revealed that Smith hadn't simply moved a short distance away. He was no where that Krycek could see him. Panic was close to the surface, but Alex forced it down. "Where the hell are you, Smith?" he muttered.

In his mind, he heard the reply, "Back at the ship. Waiting for you."

The amusement in Smith's voice was plain. Krycek was suddenly very very afraid. He was certain that he really didn't want to know Smith's reply to the question that his mind was insisting that he ask, but he inquired anyway. The verbal manifestation much more calm and rational than the mental one. "How do I get back?"

"That, Alexander, son of Nicholas son of Alexander, is up to you to ascertain." Krycek wasn't sure what the hell his father or grandfather had to do with this, if anything. He also had no idea how to return, so he leaned against a structure that he thought was some sort of multi-unit dwelling and tried to recall exactly how he'd gotten here. It was difficult. What he'd seen since then kept intruding and distracting him. When he allowed himself to admit that he hadn't paid very close attention and accepted the fact that, even if he had, his memory wasn't capable of recreating the star fields that Smith used for navigation. Mulder might've been able to on a good day. Krycek couldn't, and he knew it. Alex could feel despair creeping up on him. And then he saw her. She looked human, more or less, with dark hair and light eyes. She'd just come out of the building that he was leaning against, had stopped and noticed him. In fact, she was smiling at him and her smile reached her eyes. Without thinking, he smiled back. The rest, as they say, is history.

In his situation, Alex Krycek couldn't exactly say that he mustered up the courage to approach her. Self-preservation is a wonderful, and to Krycek a familiar, motivator. Meeting her had become imperative to his survival as did struggling with the language barrier. Haltingly, he managing to get across that he was lost and in trouble. When she offered shelter, he accepted and devoted time and energy to discovering things that he could do to pay her back. At first, his efforts were confined mostly to lifting heavy things and cooking. Many of the basic principles translated well enough in the culinary arena. Over time, he learned to communicate. Her language was within the limitations of the operation of his vocal chords. Fitting in was a skill; Krycek had it. This particular challenge took all of his skill and a bit of luck, but he did it. So completely that it frightened him, whenever he thought about home.

She knew he got depressed when he became contemplative and dealt with it by distracting him. When she showed him something he hadn't seen of her world, his natural curiosity would take over. As they got more comfortable together, the distractions became more physical, even intimate. The discovery that their anatomies were similar enough for sex was an unexpected pleasure, allowing him to channel his energy in a different manner. Consideration of the consequences came too late. Hell, who knew that consequences were even possible? With those consequences came consideration of committing to and making a life together with someone. Those considerations were foreign to Alex Krycek, a luxury he hadn't been able to afford.

But she had other ideas. She withdrew from him completely, smiling enigmatic and self-satisfied smiles, content to be alone. The pragmatic side of Alex Krycek recognized the reality of his situation. He'd done all that she needed, she was cutting him out and there was nothing he could do about it. He had no leverage or other way to force her to let him participate. How could he with no connection to this world beyond her? Krycek had never before felt like a part of an experiment - a part that was no longer useful. And he didn't care for the feeling.

Gibson wouldn't live his whole life like this, he'd vowed. Even a lab rat, as Gibson so often referred to himself, that hadn't outlived its usefulness deserved better. He'd get it if Krycek had anything to say about it. If he could get back. For the first time in months, Krycek focused on getting back. As he concentrated on mentally retracing his path, he though he heard a voice continuously repeating his name from very far away.

He moved toward the sound, concentrating on it to the exclusion of everything else. As completely focused as he'd ever been, Alex had left one reality, hopefully for home. Through what? Alex wasn't sure because his surroundings seemed to be constantly shifting. He didn't waste energy trying to figure it out. He just kept moving. Progress was slow but sure, seeming like days of constant hiking before he got near his goal. Then he was there just as suddenly as he'd left.

Krycek opened his eyes to the light gray metal room and realized that he was lying down. With that realization came the questions. Had he actually been gone at all? Was any of what he experienced real? And did it really matter? Pushing the questions aside, he sat up and surveyed his surroundings, making sure that he was back where he started at least part of the way home. Satisfied that he'd made the first step successfully, he leaned back and shut his eyes.

The "Well there you are," sent a surge of adrenaline through his system. He recognized the red haired woman's voice.

Krycek sat up fast. He didn't see the woman, but Smith was standing to his left. Trying to focus on Jeremiah Smith, Krycek felt himself getting dizzy. "Did you enjoy your hour in my world?" Smith asked amiably.

An hour? Only an hour? That was impossible. Wasn't it? He'd heard of missing time, you couldn't spend more than a day and a half in Mulder's presence and avoid that. It was part of the new partner indoctrination. But he'd never heard of gaining it. Gaining months in some other place, maybe in some other time as well. He'd have to remember to ask Mulder, when he saw him next.

Fox Mulder wasn't impressed with Alex Krycek's "I'm out of here" posturing, primarily because Mulder wasn't done with Krycek yet. But he wasn't sure how best to keep the younger man contained. Krycek was wired, fidgeting as a result of too much caffeine, adrenaline or both. And Marita Covarrubias had to be dealt with as Mulder's instincts were in line with Krycek's analysis with regard to his former informant. She was up to something. But what? And how would Skinner react to determined questioning of the woman in his arms? There were too many questions and it was high time to get some answers. All Mulder had to do was figure out who to ask.

"A moment of your time, Agent Scully?" Krycek asked softly.

Dana nodded, abandoning her observation of Mulder relative to Diana Fowley and Skinner relative to Marita Covarrubias and allowing Krycek to steer her a small distance away from the others.

He briefly forgot what he intended to say when he saw her concern for him as she moved closer and felt it in her gentle touch to his injured temple. "I'm ok, Dana. Really." She smiled skeptically, expertly assessing the damage to his right shoulder. He was barely favoring it. He was certain of that, but it seemed that Scully had been watching him more closely than he'd realized. "It's just a bruise."

"I'll be the judge of that, Alex. Relax your arm muscles now. This may hurt a little." Scully felt, rather than saw, his wince as she continued her examination. He'd tried to remain still and mostly succeeded. "You're right. It's a deep bruise, but just that. Now, what was it you wanted to tell me?" Scully was grinning when she asked her question, but sobered quickly as she perceived the strain that Alex was trying to mask.

Skinner and Mulder watched Dana Scully take Alex Krycek's hand, their fingers interlacing. The naturalness of that gesture made both men uneasy. Those being observed appeared unaware of the observers. Mulder's curiosity overcame his annoyance at seeing the two of them together and he saw that he wasn't the only one. Diana Fowley had also moved closer to the two, endeavoring to overhear their conversation. Mulder joined her in time to hear Krycek's hesitantly spoken words. "I can tell you that your Flukeman's been redesigned, but that's not what I ... not the reason I came here tonight."

"I won't kid myself that it's because I asked you to," Scully observed with a slightly sad smile. "Are you in trouble?"

"No more so than the last time I saw you. I still don't know if I'm a target or not." Alex squeezed her hand to try and soften his words. "I did come here," Krycek began, gesturing vaguely at their surroundings to indicate that "here" meant Skinner's apartment, "because you asked. But I had to see you anyway. Dana ... I need ... some help."

Scully could see and hear how difficult his last statement had been for Alex. How much it cost him to ask for assistance, even though he didn't phrase it in the form of a question. Now he was looking at her uncertainly, waiting for her response. She wasn't sure, but he might've even been holding his breath. "What can I do?"

"Nothing," Fox Mulder interrupted. "You want to drag someone into your melodrama, Krcyek, I'm your man. Leave Scully out of it." Both Krycek and Scully turned toward Mulder. The man's annoyance was obvious; the woman's expression was far more difficult to read. Silently, Mulder willed Scully to understand how concerned he was, how afraid he was that she'd be hurt and how he'd never forgive himself if she were. That she didn't respond in any way gave Mulder hope.

"She's already in it, Mulder," Krycek pointed out sharply. "And you're of no use to me."

"I'd be interested in knowing what you're planning to allow me to justify diversion of one of my agents from Bureau business, should I choose to do so," Walter Skinner stated, halting a few paces away and placing a restraining hand on Mulder's shoulder as the Special Agent tried to move past him. "Especially since investigation of XFiles appears to be important to any number of constituencies." The Assistant Director waited for Krycek's attention to shift to him from Mulder, before adding, "And I'd like to know who you think is interested in misdirecting the Bureau's efforts with regard to these Contractionists ... and why." Skinner saw Krycek's quick glance at Marita. The Assistant Director also sensed her surprise and rapid movement toward him. "I intend to hear him out, Marita," he stated before she could speak. Effectively forestalling any effort on her part to convince him of the appropriateness of an alternative course of action.

Krycek nodded. Skinner's first request was certainly reasonable. The second was unexpected. Maybe the fair Marita had only won round one. "I need to pick up something. I'm not sure exactly what, but it's related to the XFiles. I know generally where it is, but not specifically. That's why I need Dana."

"Is Agent Scully part blood hound?" Diana Fowley asked wryly.

"Not exactly." Krycek response was admirably vague which was wholly and completely appropriate as far as Scully was concerned. Dana unconsciously reached her free hand to the back of her neck, rubbing the base before meeting Alex's eyes. Her question unspoken, but obvious. He nodded his answer. Yes. Scully couldn't believe it. After all the fuss on Christmas Eve. Ironically, he now needed her because of her implant. She half-heartedly tried to extricate her hand from his; he resisted. Oddly pleased, she left her hand where it was. Krycek saw understanding of the situation in Mulder's eyes and the male Special Agent's nod seemed to appease Skinner. "So can I divert Scully for three to five days?"

The Assistant Director caught Dana Scully's eye, asking her opinion with a raised eyebrow. With no hesitation, Scully nodded affirmatively. "Fine. I'll expect daily reports. Agents Mulder and Fowley will provide back up."

Scully felt Alex's increased anxiety level and wasn't surprised when he spoke. "That won't be necessary and may even be counterproductive."

Skinner calmly regarded the younger man. "Are you hard of hearing, Krycek? You can divert my resources under my conditions or you can do without. Is that clear?"

"Yes, but it makes no sense." Hoping that Skinner was willing to see reason, Krycek offered, "Where we have to go, back up won't be inconspicuous or particularly effective. In this case, fewer people translates into fewer chances of things going wrong."

"What sort of things?" Diana Fowley inquired lightly. Her skepticism and amusement were apparent. "If you two want to be alone, just say so. We're all adults here."

Not to be outdone, Krycek's reply was delivered in his best sardonic tone. "The only thing that's relevant is the retrieval, Agent Fowley. As for getting Dana alone, I'd prefer a five star hotel and room service." Having dealt with Diana, Krycek redirected his attention to Skinner. "So what do you say, Skinner? Sending more people'll just add to the degree of difficulty." This wasn't precisely exactly completely true, but ... Krycek had no interest in Diana Fowley accompanying him anywhere. He could admit that he now shared Dana's dislike and distrust of the woman.

Walter Skinner sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. He was afraid for Scully, but there might well be some truth in what Krycek was saying. And the boy seemed ... Oh God. Had he actually, even mentally, been about to use the word sincere to describe Alex Krycek. Sighing again, the Assistant Director fixed Krycek with a patented Skinner glare. "All right, Alex. But if anything happens to her, you'll answer to me. And nothing you say will suffice."

"Understood." Krycek and Skinner faced each other. Neither wanting to be the first to look away. After observing the stand off for a moment, Fox Mulder caught his partner's eye. Seeing the anxiety he couldn't hide, she smiled reassuringly. Her expression endeavoring to convey that her future adventure with Krycek was "just another day at the office."

According to Alex Krycek, the shape-shifters hadn't ever returned to their series of questions concerning the human resistance activities. Instead, their curiosity focused on the younger-than-usual person in their midst. Eldest had asked Krycek for his analysis of that shift in approach. Alex had speculated that they'd correctly determined that the Consortium had sent a scapegoat and decided to make the best of it. So they'd taken the opportunity to assuage their curiosity at his expense. Any information they got out of him on topics of interest was a bonus. Or so Alex said that he believed.

Cigarette Smoking Man didn't buy that explanation and had made sure that Krycek knew it when they'd discussed his experience. Given some of what had transpired since then, Cigarette Smoking Man believed that Krycek had been grilled at length about issues concerning which he'd had varying degrees of reliable information. Alex had somehow navigated his way out of trouble. Perhaps WMM had prepared him for the onslaught; he certainly could've foreseen possible consequences to providing the vaccine to Mulder. In any event, Cigarette Smoking Man was certain that the boy had cut a deal of some sort. He'd obtained a new left arm and who knew what else. Cigarette Smoking Man had to find out what Krycek had traded. He wondered whether lovely Agent Scully had managed to get that information out of Alex and decided that it couldn't hurt to ask.

One thing was certain, Alex' trademark curiosity had attracted the interest of the contacts. Consequently, they had shown him things, challenging his mind and his spirit. But to what end? In an effort to answer that question, Cigarette Smoking Man considered the rest of Alex' story.

Alex barely cleared his head from his "hour long" excursion when the woman sat down next to him, quite closely even though there was plenty of room on the flat light gray metal bench. Until she sat, Krycek was sure he was sitting on one of the straight backed chairs he'd encountered earlier. Given what else he'd experienced and the proximity of what he viewed to be a dangerous being, the transformation of a chair to a bench to accommodate the woman was not even worth the effort of concern.

She asked, "Alex, do you know what this is?"

Determinedly ignoring the effect her husky voice and her nearness was having on him, Krycek applied himself to the question posed. She was holding a pyramid shaped object, made out of what looked to be glass, in the palm of her hand. It was a deep shade of blue. All of that was interesting, but he had to admit, "No, I don't."

Taking his right hand in hers, she turned it palm up and placed the pyramid in it. As soon as she completed her task, she lightly grasped his wrist. Her grip tightened, when Krycek tried to jerk his hand back as the pyramid became bitterly cold. The cold numbed his hand and moved up his arm. When the cold reached his shoulder, the pain began in his hand. "Let go. It hurts." Krycek realized that he sounded weak and a little whiny, but the cold was spreading across his chest and the pain was shooting up his arm to the elbow. He tried, but could no longer control his arm to pull against her restraining hand. Bracing both feet, Krycek prepared to propel himself off of the bench.

"That won't be necessary, Alex." The pain and the cold were gone before Krycek could shift his gaze to the woman who'd spoken. She was currently bouncing the small blue pyramid in her hand, eyeing him closely. "I'm sorry that it chose to test you so quickly."

She didn't look or sound particularly sorry to Krycek. She looked thoughtful and maybe intrigued. But sorry? No.

"I thought you'd be interested in my little trinket, but I didn't anticipate that it would be so fascinated by you. You seem to appreciate ... and perhaps covet ... power. This device channels power. To control it ..."

She smiled as she watched him consider the implications, completing the sentence she began in his mind. Humans were so predictable in this regard.

Hesitantly, he asked, "Did I fail?"

His question seemed to both surprise and disappoint her. Alex wasn't sure why and her words provided little enlightenment. "Fail, Alex? No. But you've been warned. If you choose to seek what the pyramid can offer, you'll have to pay for it." Without more, she offered the device to him once again.

Krycek stared at it. He couldn't seem to look away. There were images that he couldn't quite make out on the faces of the pyramid. Some of those images were in motion. One part of him desperately wanted to know what the device could tell him. Such information could be invaluable, but the price would be high --maybe too much. Sighing, he prepared to refuse her offer, but something caught his eye. One of the images looked like ... him. He was sure of it. Looking closer at the image of interest, the resolution of which remained frustratingly poor, it suddenly seemed to him that the pyramid was larger than it had been. Focusing on the device, rather than any individual image, revealed that it was of a size that would require both of his hands to hold it. Dismissing the difference as an optical illusion or trick of some sort and wanting to know what the device "knew" about him, Krycek reached for the pyramid.

Holding it with both hands, Alex brought the pyramid to eye level. That allowed him to see better, perhaps too well. Perfectly clear images assaulted his senses. He saw Cigarette Smoking Man smoking a cigarette in about a thousand different venues, at times conversing with him amiably at others applying a lit cigarette to some sensitive portion of someone's anatomy in an effort to extract information. He saw Consortium members in varying states of agitation, including Strughold in moments of consummate control ... and uncontrollable rage. He witnessed Fox Mulder's death at least fifteen times and in a variety of ways. One in particular stuck in Alex Krycek's mind. He simply couldn't imagine Mulder dying as a result of autoerotic asphyxiation. The device revealed more of Dana Scully than he'd ever imagined. Who'd have thought that she hid a body like that under her FBI-appropriate wardrobe? And was that uninhibited when she chose to be. He saw Marita with what seemed like everyone he'd ever met, including Fox Mulder and Cigarette Smoking Man. He didn't know if the images were real or based upon input from him somehow, but the interaction between Marita and Strughold made him sick to his stomach.

At least that's what he thought had done it. Krycek realized that he felt light headed, heart racing, breathing shallow. A splitting headache drew his attention away from what appeared to be significant chest pains. Something was seriously wrong. He'd begun to lower the pyramid, when it showed him ... himself, what had caught his attention in the first place and the questions assailed him. What did it know? Could he afford to pass up this opportunity?

In the images depicting him, the past, present and future seemed to be interconnected. He saw himself losing his arm, and then doing things that he knew had never happened with both appendages. He relived some of his early, incredibly bad suit and tie, moments with Mulder. Juxtaposed with that were images for which he had no context, he in an Armani suit and tasteful tie and Mulder in jeans. Both of them in reasonably sartorially satisfying suits. Scully. Skinner. Some other woman he remembered vaguely from the file on Mulder he'd studied before becoming his partner. Scully again, smiling. He didn't think he'd ever seen Scully smile. Marita. Skinner. Marita and Skinner together. Whoa! Mr. Control meets his match. Mulder angry. Typical. Mulder lost and forlorn. Not so typical. And Scully asking him for something. Him? Not Mulder? But Krycek couldn't tell, or even imagine really, what she wanted.

The shooting pain in his skull got his attention. What the ...? It happened sometimes during a particularly bad headache. All he had to do was relax and shut his eyes and it would go away. When he shut his eyes, he heard what sounded like a scream of rage. It was followed by a seductive whisper, hinting at the myriad of important things that he hadn't yet seen. Alex was about to open his eyes when he realized that he barely had the strength to lift the pyramid. His body felt as though he'd been beaten soundly, heart and lungs laboring as they never had before. Searing pains seemed to randomly fire along his nerve endings. He felt as though he was breaking up. Still, the voice in his head persisted. There was so much more to see and know. Knowledge was the ultimate power and he had in his hands the means to win the information war. In his hands. All he had to do was use it.

Survival is an instinct. But it can be, and often is, overlaid with learned behavior. Instinct combined with learned behavior demanded that Krycek put down the pyramid immediately. Alex tried, but he found that he couldn't. And the voice in his head merely became more reasonable and persuasive. The desire ... no the need ... to open his eyes and reestablish the flow of information was overwhelming. With the last of his conscious effort, Alex Krycek threw the pyramid against the gray metal wall. He collapsed when it shattered, but the voice was gone as were the immense physiological stresses that accompanied his interaction with the device. Realizing that his eyes were still closed, Krycek risked opening them slightly. He was on one of the reclining chairs (benches?) on his back, breathing hard. The red haired woman was there, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Rest now," she instructed as she placed her hand on his shoulder. Unconsciousness was unavoidable ... and oddly welcome.

"Well, Alex? What about my other questions?" Skinner had moved to stand at Krycek's right. Marita had shifted with him, maintaining physical contact, but she was staring at Krycek, angry and vindictive, the negative things he'd come over time to associate with her. Alex wouldn't have been surprised if she'd stuck her tongue out at him. It would fit perfectly with the rest of her demeanor.

Krycek looked at Skinner closely and observed how the Assistant Director was responding to Marita's proximity. Caution seemed to be the order of the day. "The answer to both who and why is I don't know."

Skinner noted the careful tone and cadence to Krycek's speech. Fowley, Mulder and Scully saw Marita's grateful smile aimed at Alex. "Speculate," the Assistant Director ordered.

"If the mass burning incidents are attributed to terrorism, then ... I'd expect that a unifying theory relating to the reopened XFiles either wouldn't be possible or would be altered enough to matter." As he spoke, Krycek made eye contact with Mulder. He held it as he continued. "As to who? There are a number of possibilities, but I'm not sure it matters to any of us other than Marita."

"So explain the burnings, Alex. I'm sure Walter is interested in prosecuting the correct party."

Facing Marita who was batting eyelashes associated with seemingly innocent blue eyes, Krycek hesitated. Catching Mulder's eye only garnered him an "it's all yours, smart guy" sort of smirk. No help there. How much of the truth was Skinner capable of swallowing? That was the real issue. Had Mulder and Scully, and maybe even Marita herself, managed to open his mind sufficiently for this? Maybe more importantly, how much of his answer did he want to give in front of Diana Fowley? The latter consideration decided him.

"I can explain them, Skinner, to you in a controlled environment. No listening devices. No extraneous participants." During his response, Krycek stared pointedly at Dana when he referred to listening devices, hoping that she'd understand not to offer the services of her Christmas present. When he fell silent, she winked at him, causing the clenched muscles in his shoulders to relax.

Skinner considered. "I'd feel more comfortable knowing the answer to the who question, Krycek."

"There's a way." Skinner noted that Krycek was focused on him, studiously avoiding eye contact of any type with Marita. She was having none of it.

"No, Alex. Don't. I don't know where you got your information or your codes, but you stay away from me. I mean it." Marita looked both defiant and frightened. Skinner felt like he was between a rock and a hard place. Nothing unusual, that's where he'd been living his life lately.

Krycek smiled slightly, still focused on Skinner. "Well, Assistant Director Skinner? For the record, I can get you your information while complying with Ms. Covarrubias' distance maintenance requirement."

Skinner turned toward the young woman, placing his hands on her shoulders. "Why don't you just tell us, Marita? Don't make things more difficult. I need to know, and I'll authorize whatever is necessary ... within reason."

Marita looked into Skinner's eyes and saw that he was serious ... and sorry. Then she turned and faced Krycek, back straight and chin up. Blue eyes met green and Marita smiled sweetly. "Your favorite European, Alex. Lives in Tunisia."

Alex' mouth drop open in surprise. "Damn. How long ...?" Krycek ruthlessly aborted his question. An association with Strughold, a man that Krycek despised for a number of very good reasons, would explain why she'd jumped at the chance to acquire the boy infected with the black oil, particularly at Alex's expense. It would also provide meaningful context to her sudden interest in Skinner. There was more than one way to control the XFiles.

Marita, maintaining her innocent posture, sauntered up to Krycek and stood bare inches away, staring up at him. She had his full attention for the first time, since their encounter on the Russian freighter and she basked in it and the palpable tension between them. "Explains a few things, yes?" A mocking expression on her face, Marita reached up and caressed Krycek's cheek, tracing his lips gently with her thumb.

Krycek bit his lower lip. He'd wanted revenge on Marita for taking the boy, knowing the identity of her accomplice only added fuel to that particular fire, gasoline rather than wood. He was maintaining control only by a very thin thread and Marita knew it. That only made it worse. He suspected that she was only biding her time, selecting the next button that she'd push.

Dana Scully moved closer and turned Alex' head toward her, giving him a reason, other than retreat, to put a little distance between himself and Marita and he took full advantage of the opportunity. Satisfied that he followed her lead this far, Dana decided to see if she could defuse the situation completely. Scully leaned closer and pitched her voice so only he could hear. "Let it go, Alex. She's part of the past."

Scully wasn't sure he'd heard her at first, because he appeared to be focused on something only he could see. Something that was located somewhere above her left shoulder. Then he took a deep breath. When he exhaled, it seemed that a lot of his anger went with it. He even managed a smile that only looked slightly forced. Catching Scully's eye, Krycek whispered, "Thanks. I mean it." Scully just smiled. Skinner and Mulder shared a concerned look.

Skinner prompted, "Can we address the why question with regard to this ... European?" Skinner asked his question of Marita but she remained silent, refusing to look at him. To his surprise, Mulder spoke, looking to Krycek for confirmation.

"Same old story, sir. To provide a plausible explanation that requires no XFile, an easier to swallow solution." Krycek's nod spurred Mulder on effectively. "And it would drastically alter any unifying theory regarding the reopened XFiles, because the mass burnings couldn't be considered XFiles at all. The whole exercise would be called into question." Mulder grinned at Krycek's frown and contemplative look that followed his last statement. It seemed that Alex hadn't thought of that.

"Making it more difficult for you to continue to lend maximum support to the XFiles," Scully added. "And, over time, you'd become convinced that it wasn't in your best interests to do so." Skinner's jaw tightened. He knew what Scully was getting at, however obliquely even though she hadn't even looked at Marita when she spoke. He didn't particularly want to admit, even to himself, how vulnerable he could be to manipulation by the young woman he'd come to value so highly in such a short period of time. "Someone should take Ms. Covarrubias' statement, sir."

Skinner nodded without hesitation or noticeable reluctance. He saw no need to share that he felt sick, depressed, angry and a myriad of other emotions that he'd need space and time to sort through.

Fox Mulder was tired and incapable of stifling a yawn. He'd spent the better part of the last thirty-six hours questioning Marita Covarrubias. Scully had participated but Fowley and Skinner hadn't, the former because Marita had balked. Mulder suspected, but couldn't prove, that Krycek had something to do with her attitude. The two had spoken briefly before Alex had left, promising to get in contact with Scully soon. Skinner had forcefully declined.

"Go home, Mulder," Scully instructed. "I can finish up here." Mulder watched his partner diligently incorporating her notes from Marita's "interview" into her report. They hadn't learned a whole lot. She'd gotten the file from some member of the Consortium and was instructed to use it, and any other means a her disposal, to de-XFile certain XFiles. Breaking through Assistant Director Skinner's reserve seemed a non-obvious way to accomplish her task. She'd enjoyed the challenge he posed with regard to gaining his trust and support. In exchange, she escaped the slaughter of Katarina's people and received a deposit of significant funds into a numbered account in the Grand Caymans.

Mulder had already processed the Covarrubias information, fitted it more or less neatly in with all of the other facts at his disposal. Now his mind had moved on to more pressing matters. For Mulder today, that meant Dana Scully. "I'm worried about you." There, he'd said it, blurted out his concern into the silence that had otherwise been broken only by the sound of her fingers impacting the keys on her laptop computer. His statement caused the tap tap tap of typing to cease. Scully looked up, curious, so Mulder continued, "I don't trust Krycek. I can't. Not after everything he's done. To me. To us. I just can't."

Scully nodded. She'd been wondering when Mulder would get around to stating his position. His implicit disapproval of her decision to go with Krycek to retrieve ... whatever was inextricably intertwined with his real concern for her welfare so she couldn't really hold it against him. Besides, she had a position of her own with regard to Mulder and there was no time like the present to get it out in the open. "I'm worried about you too, Mulder." His look of surprise made her smile. The smile faded to a stern near frown as she continued, "I don't trust Fowley. I think she's the one who disclosed Alex' location at the safe house. If you recall, she's the one who suggested that he stay there. But more than that, she's manipulative. She ..."

"Wait a minute, Scully. You can't put Diana in the same category as Krycek. That's ridiculous." Mulder was wearing one of his best incredulous expressions and his tone held a non-veiled hint of both sarcasm and condescension.

Scully ignored him, focusing on the message she felt she had to deliver. "Manipulation is manipulation, Mulder. She's done it to me. And to you. Whether you care to admit it or not." Scully did her best to keep her voice even, demeanor calm. She knew this information would be difficult for Mulder to accept. Maybe even more so, because she was the one telling him. "And what about the safe house? You don't really think it was Spender, do you? I don't."

"Could've been any one of a number of people, Scully. People overhear and observe. Sometimes they put two and two together and actually get four."

She wasn't going to make any more progress in this regard tonight. That was obvious. Still, she'd planted the seed of the possibility of duplicity from Diana. One more volley wouldn't hurt her initial foray. "Just consider what I've said and use your head when you're dealing with Agent Fowley. That's all I ask, Mulder."

Mulder was having trouble taking this conversation seriously, but it couldn't hurt to agree. In fact, the converse might even save Scully's life, not to mention preserve her mental health when Krycek reverted to type. "Fine. If you'll do the same with respect to Krycek. And if you keep your distance. Letting that guy close ... trusting him ... is just asking for trouble, Scully. Take it from someone who's made that mistake ... on more than one occasion."

"And who would make it again in a heart beat if access to the right information was on the table. C'mon, Mulder, let's be honest."

Mulder opened his mouth to protest, but her request for honesty stopped him. She was right. He knew it. She knew it. "Just ... be careful. Call in. Ok?"

Scully wasn't surprised that Mulder was concerned about her but she was taken aback a bit by the intensity of those emotions. They showed in his eyes and his posture. Dana was spared the requirement of a response by the ringing of the telephone on Mulder's desk. Still focused on her, he let it ring a second time before answering, "Mulder."

Walter Skinner's voice was flat and emotionless. "Agent Mulder, Ms. Covarrubias is dead. So are the agents who were assigned to her. They were murdered. Shot. Glocks with silencers. Bullets ... "artistically" placed according to the agents on the scene. It happened early this morning, just before dawn."

"Are you all right, sir?" Mulder asked softly, glancing at Scully.

In response to her mouthed "What?" Mulder scrawled "Marita is dead" on a piece of paper and passed it to her. Scully's shock and worry about Skinner was apparent.

"Sir?" Mulder repeated, mounting concern evident.

"No, Agent Mulder. I'm not. I'll have the report sent down to you as soon as the ink is dry." With that, Skinner hung up. Fox Mulder listened to the dial tone for a few moments, before returning the receiver to its cradle.