Part One
Scully pulled the rental car off the road with a squeal of the brakes.
"Get out of the car, Mulder."
"What are you talking about? Scully, you can't just throw me out here.
We're probably ten miles from anywhere."
"There was a rest stop about three miles back. You can make it, it's not
that far. This is Connecticut, Mulder, not Darkest Africa"
"But why ?"
"Oh, Mulder, stop whining, will you? Quite frankly, it's been eight years
of this shit, and I just can't take it anymore. I have a life now,
Mulder. I let you come along on this case unofficially, because you
couldn't stop talking about how bored you were. But I'm sorry, Mulder,
this last case was not an X-File. We have photographic proof, from our
own cameras no less, that the reported 'poltergeist' activity was caused
by the 12-year old daughter. Why can't you just let it go? But oh nooo,
not 'Spooky' Mulder. There always has to be some kind of conspiracy.
Well, not for me, thanks. No more. You can find your own way back to DC,
and I'm going to ask to be reassigned somewhere sane. Now get out of the
car or I'll shoot you again."
"Sculllyyyy..."
"And for the last time, my name is DANA !"
"But—"
Slam.
Mulder watched in amazement as the rental car sped away. Shit—his
overnight bag was still in the backseat. At least he had his wallet and
keys. And his cell phone. He pulled out this last item on the list of
his current assets and hit speed-dial #1. It rang 5 times before it was
answered.
"What?"
"Scu—Dana, could you please get my overnight bag out of the back before
you turn the car in at the airport?"
"Sure. Fine. Whatever."
"Thanks, listen, I'm s—" Click. "Dammit."
//Nothing to do but start walking. Jesus, three miles in the dark along a
deserted road. My life is a movie script. All I need now is for a car to
stop, and—
//Unbelievable. I see headlights. Let's see, it's either a beautiful
stranger, or an incredibly creepy psychopathic killer. At least I still
have my gun.//
A black Saturn convertible pulled up alongside Mulder, and the window rolled
down. "Need a lift?"
The voice was unmistakable. "Krycek?" // Oh my god, I was half right.
It's a beautiful psychopathic killer!// "We have to stop meeting like
this."
"Mulder, what the hell are you doing? I know the car didn't break down,
it's still moving. Did you get car-jacked? Where's Scully?"
"Scully kicked me out of the car and evidently her life ; and what do you
mean 'the car's still moving'? Is there a bug on the car? Are you stalking
us now?"
Krycek sighed. "Just you, really. Get in."
//Just when I thought the night couldn't get any weirder...// Mulder got
into the passenger seat.
"Okay, Krycek, spill it. What the hell are you doing here?"
"Actually, Mulder, you were right. Well, 'stalking' is kind of a needy,
pathetic word. Let's call it...'tailing you'. That's a little more
dignified. You don't seemed terribly surprised to see me alive. Wasn't my
death scene convincing enough for you?"
"Yeah, right up until the point where you started speaking in tongues .
What the fuck was up with that, anyway? Trying to get Skinner to kill
me? 'Save 1000 lives'? I knew it had to be either a replicant or you had
totally lost your mind. And since I am a psychologist, I figured I would
have noticed you losing your mind, so...I wasn't too surprised when I heard
that the body disappeared. So what's next? Where are you taking me?"
"Mulder, I'm not kidnapping you. I'll get you to the airport, and you can
go back to DC."
"Why?"
"Because you live there?"
"Why aren't you kidnapping me? Don't you think I'd make a good hostage?"
Krycek looked over to make sure it was a joke. "Mulder, you would be the
worst hostage I could ever think of. You're not with the Bureau
anymore, and you just told me Scully's pissed at you. Who'd pay to get you
back? Besides which, you're a sarcastic pain in the ass who never shuts
up, and I don't have any duct tape on me right now."
"Jesus. I think I'm gonna cry."
"Sorry."
"No, really. You're the second person in the last half hour to tell me I
what a shit I am, so I have to think maybe you're both right."
"Scully told you that?"
"She said I was whiny."
"Wow. That's pretty harsh, for her."
"Yeah."
They rode in silence for a few miles. Mulder was wrestling with words he
needed to say, trying to make them come out the way he intended them. This
could be his only chance to say some things he'd been brooding about for a
long time. Finally, he thought he had it.
"Hey, Alex?"
"Oh, and another thing—what's up with you using my name all of a
sudden?"
"It seemed appropriate for the tone of the conversation I was trying to
start. Part of the new, improved back-from-the-dead me."
"So is there some twelve-step-plan you're following? Or was this Chapter
One in the 'Handbook for the Recently Deceased'?
That comment earned him a glare from Mulder. "If you're quite finished?"
"Sorry, go on. Please. It's—a nice change."
"Okay, well, I ... I never told you I was sorry. About your arm. About
dragging you to Russia and leaving you there. And I am. It was an insane
thing to do, and I shouldn't have involved you in it."
"Mulder—hey, can I call you 'Fox' now?"
"Don't push it."
"Mulder, I involved you in that whole thing. I knew where the trail would
lead. I also knew you'd need a translator. But my 'cooperation' wasn't
going over too well, so I figured I'd lead from behind for a while. You're
really very easy to manipulate, my friend. The night on Skinner's balcony
wasn't too pleasant, but any morning I wake up without an alien inside my
head is a good one, so..."
"What are you saying? You planned the whole thing?"
"Well, not the painful parts, but yeah, I needed to get to Russia, and you
were the way."
"Dammit, now I'm mad at you again!"
" Sorry !"
They looked at each other and burst out laughing. It lasted for a few
miles, and slowly became a comfortable silence. Mulder was the first to
break it.
"So what's next for you? I imagine 'tailing' me will get boring after a
while, since I'm still out of a job, and now I've lost any connections I had
to the X-Files. I'll probably just sit home and become one with the couch.
Jesus, I'm pathetic..."
"So why don't you come with me? I have to lay low for a while. Part of the
whole Alex-Krycek-is-dead scenario...It could be fun."
"Are you serious? Do you really think we could spend time together without
—"
"Killing each other? I'm willing to try, Mulder. After all, we we're doing
pretty well back there in DC, before it all went to hell."
"So—that reminds me, I was meaning to ask: when was it you ?"
"And not the replicant? Most of it was me. Some of what I did was not my
idea, but it was me right up until the garage. After I left Skinner at the
hospital, I got out of the way. I knew they had a replicant they made from
my clone, and I figured they weren't going to wait much longer to use it.
So I did what I do best and disappeared before they got impatient and
disappeared me themselves. That's a much more permanent condition."
As usual, Mulder picked out one thing and worried at it like a bulldog.
"Clone? There's more than one of you?"
"Mulder, they could clone every third person in America—you know they
have the DNA samples and the technology. Why would you think it hadn't been
done? But it's not really perfected yet, so they only use it when they
can't replicate the original. The cloned replicants are usually not
terribly ...stable. They can be taught to imitate their originals, but the
brain just doesn't work quite the same, for some reason. And they don't
regenerate, either. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I know damn well
if they could have replaced me a long time ago, they would have. You too,
for that matter. If they ever do get it right, we're all up that familiar
creek."
"Why clone and then replicate? I don't understand."
"The replicating process doesn't work on anyone who's had contact with Black
Oil. That's why you're alive right now."
"Is that why you were still on the inside? To keep an eye on the cloning
project?"
"One of the reasons. There are others we can go into later, if you want.
Right now, it's almost 9 and I haven't eaten since breakfast. There's a
diner up ahead. Do you mind?"
"Can I still pick your brain while you eat? This is the first time we've
had a chance to do this, and I'm not letting it go."
Alex sighed. "I noticed...Yeah, we can talk more while we eat."
Alex parked the car outside the diner and the two men went in. The place
was deserted at that time of night, and they took two seats at the counter.
The waitress, whose nametag proudly proclaimed her to be "Dottie," came over
to them with menus.
"Good evening, gentlemen. Can I get you some coffee?"
Alex gave her a grateful smile. "That'd be great, thanks. What do you
recommend for dinner?"
She considered his question seriously for a moment. "Well, hon, the
meatloaf's pretty good tonight."
"Sounds good. With fries, please. Is there gravy?"
"Wouldn't serve it any other way!" She turned to Mulder. "How 'bout you,
sweetie?"
He blinked. "F—fine. Sure, meatloaf sounds great. Thank you."
She moved away to get their coffee, and quickly returned with two mugs and a
thermal carafe, along with a small pitcher of cream. "Need anything else?
I'll just go get your food. I'm all alone here tonight, Susie's boy got
sick at the last minute, and I couldn't get ahold of Carl. Well, I'll be
back in a jif with your food. You need me, just holler."
As she bustled into the back, Mulder started to laugh. "Did—did she just
call me 'sweetie'? Or am I having another one of those episodes that land
me in restraints in a hospital bed?
"No, she called you 'sweetie' all right. Guess you're lucky Carl wasn't
here. No telling what he might have called you!"
With that, both men began to laugh uncontrollably. When Dottie returned
with their food, they were wiping their eyes, trying to calm down.
"You boys all right?"
Mulder recovered enough to speak. "Yeah, Dottie, we're fine. The food
looks great. C'mon, Alex, get up off the floor and eat. There's
graaaavyyyy..."
They ate their dinner and talked, each surprised to find how easy it was
between them. They soon found themselves falling into a semblance of the
banter they had last used when Alex was Mulder's shadow at the Bureau.
"So how's the little Sculder doin'? Has he said his first words yet?"
"He's fine, I guess. I hardly see him since they moved in with Skinner.
God, that's so weird. I can't believe I never saw that coming. Talk about
extreme possibilities!"
"So you're not—you and she never—sorry, that's a really personal
question. Possibly more information than I need."
"No, hey, my life's an open book! Scully and I never...it just wasn't ever
the right time. We talked about it once or twice, but...I do love her, and
I know she loves me...but sex would have complicated things between us. I
was incredibly happy that she asked me to be the father of her child, but
that's as far as it went."
"Ah. Are you gonna finish your pie?"
" Yes , hands off, Skippy."
"Just asking. I'm going to use the facilities, and then we can get back on
the road. It's only about another hour to the airport, we can pick up your
bag and you can decide what to do next."
"Sounds good. I'll settle up with Dottie."
"Don't think because you bought me dinner that I'm gonna put out, Mulder.
Not on a first date, anyway."
"I'll bear that in mind."
Mulder looked around for the waitress. He spotted her through the little
window in the kitchen door, and hopped off the stool to go get her. It was
beneath his dignity to 'holler' for anyone. As he walked around the counter
to the kitchen door, the main doors opened with a bang and three large men
sauntered in. Dressed in leather, they were the ultimate stereotypical
bad-ass bikers.
This might be very bad, Mulder thought briefly. He was armed, but three
against one was not good, even with the counter between them. He decided to
try simple courtesy, on the off-chance that they just looked like
sociopaths.
"Hi—" was as far as he got.
"Hey, boy, get us some coffee and a menu. We ain't got all night."
"I'll just get the waitress for you, she's right in the kitchen." He poked
his head in through the swinging door. "Dottie? Customers!"
//If I act like they don't scare me I should be fine. Just be polite,
nothing to it. I've certainly faced worse than this. Damn, they're big.
Where the hell is Alex?//
Dottie came through the door and got a look at her new customers. Mulder's
fears were confirmed when she said, "Oh, no. No. You're not allowed in
here anymore, Ace. Remember what Carl told you last time?
"Carl ain't here, Dottie. C'mon, alls we want is some dinner. We won't
make no trouble. Will we, boys?"
The 'boys' grinned ferally.
"So you just stay away from the phone and get us fed, doll."
Mulder could see that Dottie didn't like having the men in the place. He
slowly moved away, but one of Ace's sidekicks noticed.
"Hey, pretty boy, where you goin'? Don't let us run you off. C'mon over
here and sit down. We don't bite. Much."
The others laughed uproariously at this display of wit. Mulder reluctantly
walked over to the counter and sat around the corner from the three men.
Alex was taking way too long to come out of the bathroom. //He must have
realized something's up.// thought Mulder. //Any minute he'll be in to
back me up and then we can get rid of these guys. I wonder if he has any
handcuffs. Probably not. Maybe I can talk to them, get them thinking
friendly thoughts.//
Just then he noticed the tallest of the men was looking at him with a
certain gleam in his eye. "Hey, boy, what's your name? They call me
'Stick'. You remind me of someone I used to know. Seems a shame for you to
be all alone. How'd you like some comp'ny?"
//Shit. It's about to get very ugly. I don't really want to be this
guy's new boyfriend. For one thing, I can smell his breath from here.
Alex, where the fuck did you go?//
As if in answer to Mulder's thoughts, the door burst open for the second
time that night.
Alex Krycek staggered into the diner. His hair was mussed, and there was
the distinct smell of beer about him. He looked around bemusedly, and
wandered over to the counter where the others were. " 'Zis a private party,
or can anybody join? Hee hee. Hey, man izzat your bike out there? I'm
real sorry about that. I don't think the dents'll show too bad, though.
Prolly just bang 'em out with a hammer or sumpin'."
The three men rose and rushed to the door. Mulder grabbed the handcuffs off
his belt; quickly using them to restrain the first two wrists he could grab.
Then he drew his gun and shoved into the nearest ear.
Krycek was meanwhile engaged in pulling Ace's arm up behind his back and
twisting the fingers on the biker's hand. "Don't even think about moving,
asshole. Hey, partner, I assume you still have a weapon? Ah, I see you've
already thought of that. That's what I like about you. Always prepared.
Gentlemen, let's move back inside, shall we?"
They manhandled the bikers into a booth and checked them for weapons. Even
Alex looked surprised at the variety of firearms and other implements of
destruction piled on the table when they were done.
"Dottie, are there any actual charges or warrants pending against these
idiots?"
"No, they just been warned to stay out of here after they tore it up last
time. Carl didn't want to get the cops involved, but one of the customers
called them."
"Maybe you could call Carl? We'll entertain these nice folks while you do
that."
Pushing Ace down onto the floor, Krycek knelt on the arm he was still
forcing up between the big man's shoulder blades and brought a roll of duct
tape out of his pocket. "Look, I found some after all! Lucky for me, huh?"
Ignoring the obscenities spewing from the mouths of their would-be
attackers, Mulder and Krycek quickly taped the men's hands and feet
together, before seating them back in their booth.
Dottie came back from the phone. "I finally found him at his sister's
house. He said to call the cops this time, so I did. They should be here
any minute."
"Good. We're not going to stick around for that. My friend here has to
catch a plane, and I'm allergic to law enforcement types. Dottie, it's been
a pleasure. Next time we're passing through, we'll be sure to stop in and
see you. C'mon, Sundance, let's saddle up 'n' ride."
Mulder had the presence of mind to throw a twenty on the counter to pay for
their meal before running to catch up with Krycek. They leapt into the car
and Alex peeled out of the parking lot as if pursued by all the hounds of
hell.
Reaction was beginning to set in, and after about ten minutes, Mulder began
to shake. He tried to keep it low key, but nothing ever got past Alex. He
pulled the car off the road and turned off the engine. "You okay?"
"No...yeah...I don't know. I almost got raped back there!"
"Mulder, you were never in any danger of that. If that asshole had even so
much as touched you, I would have shot all three of them. But I didn't want
to do that if it wasn't necessary. I know how much you hate it when I
kill people."
"Yeah, well, what took you so long?"
"I was trying to decide on a plan. The first two I came up with required
some cooperation and acting ability on your part, and I wasn't sure if you
would pick up on what was going on quickly enough. So I went with Steve,
the drunken frat boy."
Mulder was feeling a bit calmer now. He should have known Alex would have
all the angles figured before commiting to a plan of action. "Just out of
curiousity, what were the other two choices?"
"Well, we have the frightened cripple; that works real well to get them off
guard, but I usually end up having to maim somebody to get out of it. Plus
it has the added bonus of giving me nightmares for about a week...The other
one you really wouldn't have liked."
"And it was...?"
"I was gonna play dom and turn you out."
Mulder squeaked. "And how would that have helped?"
Alex grinned. "Phase two involved them fighting over who got to be first."
He started the engine again and pulled back out onto the road.
"Yeah, that might have freaked me out a little. Thanks for choosing
Steve. You're really good at this, aren't you?"
"What, staying alive and mostly out of trouble? Yeah , Mulder I am. It's
what I do."
"Don't think I didn't notice you playing the sub for Doggett, too. That
thing with the eyelashes is genius. You almost had me believing it."
"I was hoping you wouldn't bust a gut laughing."
//More like I couldn't keep my—nevermind.// "So Alex, all these roles
you play...it begs the question, who is the real you? Have I ever met
him?"
"Mulder, you just ate dinner with the real me. You're talking to me right
now. There is nobody in this world who knows me better than you do. I
stopped playing games with you a while ago. You just never noticed."
"When was the last time you lied to me?"
The answer came back too promptly to be anything but the truth. "Hong Kong.
But that was to save both our asses—you would have shot me and gotten
yourself arrested. And prisons in Hong Kong are very bad, trust me."
"I do." And suddenly, he did. He really did. // Weird.//
"So how far is it to the airport, an hour?"
"Something like that. You want to put on some music?"
"Desert Island!"
Even for Mulder, that was an abrupt transition. "What?"
"Let's play the Desert Island game."
"Can you please speak English for a minute?"
"I can't believe you've never done this. It's a kind of getting-to-
know-you exercise. We had to do it once at this stupid seminar Skinner made
us go to. If you were stranded on a desert island with only
one...whatever...what would you choose?"
" 'Whatever'?"
"For example, what one CD would you want?"
"Do I get a stereo system too?"
"That's assumed."
"The Beatles' White Album."
"Really? That's mine, too."
"Must be true love...do I ask you one now?"
"Go for it."
"Movie?"
"Plan 9 from Outer Space."
"Are you serious? That piece of crap? I knew you owned it, but I didn't
think you watched it!"
"Okay, Ebert, what's your's?"
"Don't laugh."
"Hey, you brought up the category."
"Really. If you laugh I'll have to shoot you. Okay...theprincessbride."
Mulder bit back a snicker. "Alex, that is such a chick-flick."
Alex tried to defend his choice. "It's got everything! Action, adventure,
romance, and some really great lines. 'My name is Inigo Montoya. You
killed my father. Prepare to die.' " He stopped. //Oh, shit. You had to
go and bring that up, didn't you. Nice move, Alex. And we were doing so
well, too.// He peeked sideways at Mulder, who was looking thoughtful.
"Sorry."
They drove in silence for a few minutes. He was just about to stop the car
again when Mulder finally spoke. "Alex, this is stupid. We've got to lay it
to rest. I don't want us to go through the rest of our lives with this
hanging over us. So here goes...my father knew that he was involved with
the kind of people who would hire other people to shoot him. He knew what
he was doing when he called me that night. You may have pulled the trigger,
but we both know he was dead before he hung up the phone. The fact that it
was you probably gave that bastard Spender a nice little thrill. I know
that what you did, you did because you felt you had to. After recent
events, I really have to believe that.
"I don't want to be mad at you about it anymore. I think we could be
friends now, if we tried to get past the last seven years. Do you want to
try?"
"Jesus, Mulder, is that a trick question? Do I want you to keep treating
me like a real person instead of a 'invertebrate scum- sucker' ? Let me
think about that for all of two seconds , okay?"
"Sarcasm is so unattractive, Alex. So, my turn?"
"Uh, I guess. ." //This just keeps getting weirder.// "Go ahead."
"Okay...food?"
"One thing or an ethnic group?"
"Hmmm...I think I'll give you a whole restaurant. I'm feeling generous."
"This is a very strange game. But I pick Famous Luigi's."
"Mmmm. Have you ever had their calamari pizza?"
"Eeeew. No. Squid? Ick. What's your's?"
"Any Chinese place, I'm not picky."
"No kidding. My turn...um um um...is a person allowed?"
"Living or dead?"
"Mulder, only you would want to be on a desert island with a dead
person."
"Not a corpse; I meant does it have to be someone currently alive , or can
I pick a historical figure. Jeez, I'm not that sick, am I?"
"No comment. And I'm going with 'currently alive.' So?"
"You."
"What?" Alex was clearly shocked.
So was Mulder, for that matter. //I've played this game with Scully before,
you know. I thought I knew all my answers, sure, maybe once in a while a
little surprise creeps in, but this ... // Mulder had to say it out loud.
"If I was on a desert island and only one other person could be there, I
think I would want it to be you. Okay?"
"Why?"
"Does there need to be a reason?"
"Yeah, I think there does."
"Well, I don't have one. I didn't even realize I was going to say that
until it was out. So you'll have to wait for a reason. I'm going to turn
on the radio."
They drove the rest of the way to the airport without conversation, each
lost in his own thoughts. Mulder picked up his overnight bag from the car
rental office where Scully had left it, and opened it to find a note inside.
//Call me tomorrow. I'm sorry. D.//
He showed it to Krycek, who nodded.
"So what now?"
"Are you up for a little road trip, Mulder? There's somewhere I need to go.
It's not too far from here. We could grab a few hours rest and be on the
road early tomorrow morning."
"Okay by me. Do you want me to ask about a cheap motel?"
"Actually, I was going to sleep in the car, but if you want to get a room we
can."
"Fine by me. I'll go ask at the rental place." He trotted back inside, and
quickly returned. "There's a place about two miles away. The guy gave me a
map—here."
They found the motel easily. Mulder checked them in and they found their
room.
"Sorry about having to share, but I don't think the Bureau will reimburse me
for this."
"Hey, don't worry about it. Dibs on the shower first!"
"Fine. I'm going to pick which bed I want. You get the lumpy mattress."
"Have you no shame?"
"None at all. Hurry up in the bathroom, I want to take a shower too."
"Give me fifteen minutes."
Alex was as good as his word, emerging from the bathroom in fifteen minutes,
wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and carrying his clothes and prosthesis. It
was the first time Mulder had seen him without it, and he tried not to stare
at the remains of Alex's left arm peeping out from the sleeve of his shirt.
//Of course he doesn't sleep in it. It can't be very comfortable. I wonder
if it hurts?// He looked closer then, noticing Alex was moving his
shoulders and head in a way that bespoke tension in the muscles there.
"Are you okay? You did all the driving tonight, your back must be killing
you."
Alex looked at him strangely. "I'm fine, Mulder. Go take your shower. I'm
going to sleep."
"Okay. Sweet dreams, Alex."
That earned him another strange look, followed by a shy smile. "You too,
Mulder. G'night."
Mulder hurried through his shower and came out of the bathroom to find the
room lit by a single lamp between the beds. Alex was curled up on one
looking for all the world like a ten-year-old. His eyes snapped open as
Mulder moved to his own bed. Satisfied that there was no threat to his
safety, he closed them again, only to hear Mulder say, "Alex?"
Sigh. "What, Mulder? Do you want a bedtime story now?"
"Yeah, Daddy; tell me what happened to Spender."
"Can't this wait for tomorrow?"
"Evidently not. Did you kill him?"
"Mulder, I'm not going to confess to a capital crime in your presence.
Can we please just say he fell down some stairs?"
"Did he?"
Sigh. "Yes. He did. I was there."
"Good. I'm glad it was you. If it couldn't be me, I'm glad it was you."
"This may be the oddest conversation we've ever had."
"Yeah, I get that a lot. Can I ask you one more?"
Sigh. "It was...a Russian thing, Mulder. Okay?"
"What?"
//Shit// "Never mind. What's your question?"
"Did you bring Scully back?"
"Yeah. I—I couldn't get to her in time to—I didn't know they—
fuck." Alex took a deep breath. "It took me a while to find her. I
couldn't let them know I was interested, or they would've—anyway, as soon
as I knew where they were holding her, I got her out. I'm sorry it wasn't
sooner. I was just an errand boy in those days, Mulder."
"'S'okay. I knew it was you. Well, not then. But later, when I thought
about who it might have been, your face kept popping into my head. Weird,
huh?"
"Mmmm"
"Alex?"
"Oh, God, Mulder. Do I have to really shoot you in order to get some
sleep?"
"Why were you tailing us? Are we still in danger?"
"Mulder, you attract trouble like no one else I know. I figured a little
back-up wasn't out of line. I don't think Scully could've handled those
bikers. She's tough, but not that tough. Don't tell her I said that,
though."
"If she ever speaks to me again, I promise I won't tell her you don't think
she could take three bikers."
"Thanks. Now, goodnight, Mulder."
"Night, Alex."
Road Trip
by Starfish
Rest Stop
Connecticut
Friday, August 15
8:45 p.m.
