Despite the warning, Mulder smiled as he inserted the tape into the machine.
His smile quickly faded.
Scully walked into the small basement office and knew immediately that
something was wrong even before she saw the look on her partner's face. "I
have a video to show you," he said. Any joke she might have made regarding
his usual choice in videos died before it even reached her lips as she heard
the dead tone of his voice. She nodded, and he pressed Play.
The tape showed a nondescript man in a suit in what seemed to be a hospital's
private room. "Today is September 14, 1993," he said. "This is an interview
with Kitsune3, the last survivor of the control group." He moved off-screen,
revealing a group of men standing around a very battered looking young man
sitting in a chair. Gauze wrapped his wrists. His face looked swollen and
bruised in places, and a gauze pad had been taped to the left side of his face
near his mouth. Blood caked his hair at the hairline. Unevenly dilated
pupils suggested concussion. He looked dazed and drugged. He also looked like
Mulder.
"Mulder, is that Brian Kessler?" Scully asked. He nodded darkly and gestured
that she should look back at the screen.
One of the suits muttered, "My God, what the hell did the staff put him on?"
"Just some painkillers. Drugs affect the whole Kitsune line like this,"
another of the suits, an older man, said.
"I have to go save Carrie," Brian said, sounding out of his head. "Early has
her. He's going to hurt her."
"She's fine, Brian. Early will never hurt you or her again. You saw to
that," a familiar voice said from off-screen. Scully paled as she recognized
the Cancer Man's voice.
"Then where is she?"
"The nurses are taking good care of her, keeping her safe. You don't have to
worry about her anymore. Did you tell the cops anything, Brian?"
"Told them everything. If you don't tell cops everything or if you lie, they
beat the shit out of you. Dad taught me that."
"We'll have to plug that hole," one of the others said. Scully heard someone
mutter, "They really had to pick someone that much like Bill?"
The older man who'd talked about the painkillers earlier said, "Brian, I'm a
doctor. We just want to ask you a few questions to help you and Carrie."
"Okay."
"I want to ask you about your sister."
"No!" Two suits had to restrain him to keep him in his seat.
"It was a long time ago, Brian. Surely it doesn't still hurt so much?"
Brian seemed to be struggling to keep his face blank. "She ran away. Dad
said she ran away. I don't know anything about it."
"At eight? That's a bit young to seriously run away, isn't it?" At the
doctor's words Scully's heart rose into her throat. Oh, God.
"Dad said she ran away. My fault."
"Your parents broke up after that. Was that your fault too?"
"Yes," Brian said, grinding the words out. "And it's my fault Dad's dead too,
because I wanted him to die. It took a few years and a bodega store robbery,
but I got what I wanted. Now I want my gun. Early gave it to me."
"Brian, you're in no shape to—"
"I want my gun!" He exploded out of his seat and grabbed one of the men who'd
held him down. Brian had one arm around the man's neck, using him as a human
shield. Brian held the man's own gun pointed at his head. "Now, no more
questions. Do you want me to make this man shorter?" Brian's dilated eyes
glittered.
Suddenly Brian stood in the center of a circle of drawn guns. He started to
laugh. "His life means nothing to you, does it? I can see… But you still
want me alive for some reason." He said directly into his hostage's ear, "Did
you hear that? Your life is worthless to them, so it's worthless to me too."
His finger started to pull the trigger…
One of the suits rushed him from behind and plunged a hypodermic needle into
his neck. Brian went down. His former hostage quickly backed away. Two of
the men picked Brian up off the floor and pushed him back into the chair.
"Is he really out this time? I don't want 3 to rise from the dead again," the
Cancer Man said. "You're all pathetic. I give you the best training money can
buy, and someone who was drugged up, who hadn't killed anyone prior to today,
and who had been trained by some inbred redneck slasher almost got the better
of you. This whole affair has been a botch."
"We lost track of him for only a few days, sir—"
"And that was more than enough time for Early Grayce to ruin what was left of
the integrity of our final control subject."
"You didn't use a clinical setting!" the doctor protested. "I could no more
stop Kitsune3's father from taking a bullet than I could prevent the other two
control Kitsunes from killing themselves. We still have eleven experimentals
and one control. Maybe we should become more involved in their lives, fine-
tune their environments more…"
"No, that violates the whole point. 3 is still useful. Did you see how he
was analyzing the situation even in his condition? His breakdown here
mirrored Fox's breakdown only with more violence towards others. Given the
circumstances, I think we can all understand why."
"I wish I could understand why Kitsune3 shared the rest of the control group's
interest in serial killers but took it in an academic instead of forensic
route," the doctor said seemingly to himself. Then he looked at the Cancer
Man. "Sir, I have an idea."
"That's what we're paying you for."
"He took his little trip to break through the writer's block he faced on a
book he was supposed to be writing about serial killers. When I hypnotize him
to forget our presence, I can also suggest that he turn that book into the
true story of what happened to him, from his point of view. The moment his
publisher gets the manuscript a copy could be sent to us. It would be more
detailed than anything we would get from him now."
"Do it. And get him back to a doctor. He ripped some of his stitches open."
Mulder turned the tape off and gave Scully time to think about what she'd just
seen. She had accepted, with difficulty, the idea that Mulder had been cloned
by the conspiracy. He'd found out that ten of these clones were currently
scattered throughout the country. Now she had to wrap her mind around the
idea that some of those clones had been given an approximation of Mulder's
life even down to his sister's abduction and parents' divorce.
Other disturbing thoughts crowded her mind. Did the conspiracy give every
member of the control group the same sister, clones of Samantha, as well?
Brian's "breakdown mirrored Fox's breakdown"? The other two clones who had
been raised like Mulder had killed themselves. And it sounded as if Brian's
father beat him on a number of occasions, with one of the suits wondering why
"they had to pick someone so much like Bill."
Mulder looked at her as if expecting her to ask, even if it would kill him to
answer. Although her curiosity nagged her, she decided not to. If he wanted
her to know for sure, he would tell her when he could.
She worried on Brian's account as well. And, if no one had stopped him, would
he have killed that man simply because he could?
Mulder looked like death. "I have to look into this, Scully. Someone has to
pay."
Brian finished tying his hightops and got up to leave. Right now boredom was a
constant companion. As much as he wanted to write, everything he typed came
out as maudlin as his mood.
Angel had left with Douglas two days ago for parts unknown. What Brian didn't
know couldn't be dragged out of him by force. She had helped pull him back
together, and her sweetness had stunned him.
Brian intended to play a bit of basketball to get his mind off his worries.
He had his laptop computer, disks, writer's journal, and pens in his backpack;
his wallet, keys, and bullets in his jeans' pockets; and his gun in the
waistband. All the essentials.
He picked up the basketball and walked halfway to the door when the phone
rang. Since he stayed at someone else's apartment, he let the machine take it
first. After the message Mulder's voice said, "Brian, if you're there, please
pick up. This is important."
Brian picked up the phone. "Brian here. What is it? It's only been a week."
"I need to see you. I'm coming to LA. There's something you have to see."
"Sure, Mulder—" Brian heard someone stop in front of the door then the sound
of a lock being picked. He steadied the basketball in his hand. Angel had
told him long ago that anything could become a deadly weapon if applied to the
right place with enough force. He'd learned that for himself years earlier
when desperation had led him to pick up a shovel and use it as a club.
"Brian?" Mulder asked. The door opened, giving Brian a split second to see
where the man's head would be, then he threw the ball with all the force he
could muster. He took a moment to recognize his target. Before Brian could
see how it hit, he dropped the phone, ran to a window, opened it, and plunged
out onto the fire escape. He slid down the ladders and hit the sidewalk
running.
Krycek wiped the blood off the side of his head and waited out the dizziness.
He could already feel the area starting to swell. Only split-second reflexes
had saved his head from being pulped. He looked back at the crater the ball
had left in the hallway wall. The two surprised-looking thugs with him
carefully stepped over the spinning ball.
"Brian? Brian?" Mulder's voice shouted from the receiver.
Krycek picked it up. "You just missed him."
"What the hell are you doing there?"
"After all we've shared, your lack of trust wounds me. I thought he might
need help. I cued you in on what's going on for a reason. He's still being
followed, you know. Paranoid puppy that he is, Brian made a run for it when
he heard me at the door. It's not as if I could kidnap him, one-armed as I
am. Could you imagine me trying to haul his lanky ass, so much like yours,
out of here?"
"I'll be in LA in an hour. I have to find him."
"Of course you do. See you soon." Krycek hung up the phone.
"He's already gone," one of the thugs snarled.
"I tried to tell you. Did you see the way he dived for that specific window?
He had an escape plan. You can't travel in the Angel of Death's circle
without being able to take care of yourself." Krycek looked out the open
window. He remembered the look on Kessler's face as he flung the basketball.
No doubt, no hesitation. It seemed that Angel had made Kessler her protege as
well as her lover. This made everything so much easier and more interesting.
He smiled. "He may be good enough to lose us. We better finish our business
and get going."
An hour later Brian stopped at an upscale café far from the apartment, ordered
a coffee, and plugged in his computer. He sent an e-mail to the Psycho
Bulletin Board at Angel's website. She started the board after realizing that
among the scoffers and true believers who signed into her Guestbook were
nutjobs and poets using it as an odd forum. Sites devoted to the paranormal
and the extraterrestrial tended to get that. The scoffers she laughed at and
the true believers often turned out to be leads for jobs for her as self-
styled monster killer. She didn't want to discourage the nutjobs and poets
though, so she created the PBB as a place where their mutant creativity could
flourish. People left rants, poetry, and messages there. Surprisingly, the
PBB had won her site some awards and attracted the interest of some
publishers.
Brian used one of the rotating e-mail addresses she'd left for him and sent:
"Déjà vu. The rat was at my door. Uncertainty is the only certainty in life.
On the road again, afoot, with no set destination. Guide me, oh sweet muse."
Eventually she would check in and find his posting. Brian had thought to call
his guardian angels, but he'd have to stay in one place for them to meet up
with him. Out of the question. He'd already called Matt at work and begged
him not to return to the apartment for fear of what might be waiting there.
Matt scoffed a little but remembered the "terrorist attack" at Brian's beach
house a week earlier and promised to stay elsewhere, especially after Brian
told him about the door's lock being picked.
Alex Krycek had picked the lock on his door and entered the apartment with a
few other people. None of Brian's prior experiences with Krycek had made
Brian ever want to see the triple agent again, especially not after Krycek had
led a small army of goons to Brian's house a week earlier. Supposedly it had
been part of some convoluted plot to save Mulder, but the personal fallout had
landed squarely on Brian, Angel, Jake, and Douglas.
He remembered what Angel had told him about Krycek. A man who never seemed to
work for less than two different sides at a time, Krycek usually tried to keep
all sides just happy enough that they wouldn't kill him while getting whatever
he could out of the deal. He remained loyal only to himself. As Angel put
it: "I don't know why anyone still trusts the little guttersnipe with
anything, unless it's something to do with the way he looks up at you from
under those long lashes." She also said that Krycek occasionally did work for
the KGB. Brian had started to say something about having thought that the KGB
had collapsed with the Soviet Republic, but she gave him a pitying look that
said it all. "Why do you think I call him 'Alexei'?" she asked.
Brian firmly brought himself back to the here and now. While an eidetic
memory had many benefits, it could also distract you down a long road of
crisp, interconnected memories until your train of thought floated in the
stratosphere somewhere and you lost all touch with physical reality. Besides,
it made him remember her so vividly that he only ached for her more.
He closed down the computer and left the cafe, unwilling to stay in one place
for too long a time. Two hours later, he signed onto the Internet at one of
the local library's computers and checked the board. Among other interesting
postings he found one using a default AOL e-mail address that said, "All roads
lead to Where You Are. A.R.B." The reference to the road and "A Round Bird"
identified her. He translated the message as Angel's way of saying, "I'm
coming." She would find him somehow.
It worried him that he found another message that said, "Bunny, come home.
All is forgiven. Peanut." He tried to decide if the message was simply a
failed attempt to fool him or a mockery, a threat. The person used the right
names but the wrong tone. Angel never joked in writing, preferring to have
facial expressions or a voice handy as a guide to the level of sarcasm being
applied. Someone knew far too much about them and wanted them to realize that
they hadn't been as sneaky as they thought. It made him wonder who else was
playing along.
Brian left the library at a brisk walk, checking all the while for tails. It
brought him back to all the times he'd played games on his tails before,
baiting them, because nothing he did got rid of them completely and he
couldn't know they followed him and do nothing. He took the alleys. If
anyone found him and took him down, he wanted as few bystanders in the way as
possible.
Brian heard a sound behind him and turned to see Krycek, alone, standing
there. Brian drew his gun and fired, but Krycek had already moved, amazingly
fast for an imbalanced man, and rushed him. If he fired now, the shrapnel
would nail him. Brian grinned as an adrenaline charge hit him. He kicked and
hit the bruised and swollen area on Krycek's head. Krycek cursed in some
foreign language, probably Russian, but kept moving after the impact set him
back a little and collided with Brian in a tackle. Brian flipped him away but
felt an odd burning in his neck. He rammed Krycek's head into a wall but felt
his arms and legs going rubbery until he slid like a boneless heap to the
ground, momentarily retaining only enough motor control to avoid landing on
the precious computer in his backpack. He couldn't even move his tongue or
lips to speak.
Grinning like a maniac through the blood running down his face, Krycek
solicitously picked up Brian's fallen gun and tucked it back into the
waistband of Brian's jeans, then pulled a hypodermic needle from Brian's neck.
Horrified, Brian couldn't even squirm under the uninvited touch. Krycek
smiled. "This worked out even better than I thought it would." Krycek flipped
open a cellular phone, dialed a number, and said, "I have your boy, Fox. I
had to get a bit rough with him since he was in full panic mode." Krycek
listened silently with a smile on his face to what had to be one of Mulder's
tirades. Krycek provided the street address and signed off with, "Come soon,
Fox. You know how I, and all the other people hunting Kessler, hate to wait."
Krycek looked down at his immobile captive. "Don't worry your pretty head
about me using a cell phone. With the tracking chip they planted in you, they
know where you are all the time anyway. That's how I found you. They did it
while you were in the hospital after your final run-in with Early Grayce.
Mulder has one too. Just you two. The other Kitsunes are sheep who don't
need one." Brian shivered involuntarily at the word "kitsunes" without knowing
why. Krycek noticed. "Mulder is a wolf trying really hard to be a sheep,
while you…" Krycek smiled. "My head will ring for days. Angel's chosen
protege. Do you know how fortunate you are?
"I'm happy you put up such a fight. I played guide to those two to keep my
credentials current, but I would have found a way to get you loose and on your
way to Mulder. You saved me the trouble and intimidated them too. If I had
let you take Mulder's call and left you alone, Mulder would bring the tape and
Scully to your friend's apartment and you would all die."
Krycek pulled Brian into the shadows and into a firm one-armed embrace. The
other arm with its prosthetic wrapped around Brian more loosely. Someone
would have to look to see the two of them hiding there. "I've been working
out, Brian. It's amazing the things you can do when you have no choice.
You'll find out what this is all about soon, although I suspect you remember
more than they wanted you to. Kitsune."
Brian shivered again at the rush of dread that word dredged from him and felt
angry tears come to his eyes. He couldn't control himself. He felt like a
mind trapped in a dead body.
Krycek brushed the helpless tears away. "Don't feel so bad about it. When
you're caught up in something so much bigger than yourself, the best you can
do is survive and try to come out with as much as possible. It would be nice
to have Mulder this way, just once, those luscious lips parted, unable to move
or speak, only able to communicate with me through those intense green-gold
eyes. A shame your color-blindness doesn't let you appreciate your own eyes.
They're gorgeous." Then an emotion—could it possibly be guilt?—passed
through Krycek's eyes. "I'm sorry. I forgot how much he's afraid of not
being able to move. You are too, aren't you? Sorry. It can't be helped."
Failure. Caught by an enemy who had God knew what in mind. Brian had
begun to feel a little safer, a little more sufficient. Now he knew it to be
illusion. He thought of all the time he'd spent traveling with Angel while
something treacherous in his own body trumpeted their location to those she
hated most.
Krycek gripped his wrist tightly, and Brian tried to banish the irrational
wedge of panic that lodged in his heart. Any pressure on his scarred wrists
did this to him, brought him back to a place and time he couldn't forget no
matter how hard he tried. He couldn't even wear a wristwatch. Now this
bastard kidnapped him, immobilized him, and carelessly tripped every phobia he
had.
Brian dreamed of finishing what he started, splitting that head open. He
thought of what Angel would do to Krycek when she caught up with them. She
had an inventive mind and a talent for sadism.
Then the bastard started to stroke his hair, probably forgetting which one he
held. At least Brian hoped that was it. Brian prayed for Mulder to arrive
faster.
Waiting for Mulder. Krycek figured that to be the title for this chapter, the
last few years of his life. He hoped Mulder hadn't managed to convince
himself that their night together could be blamed on mind-controlling drugs or
possession or some other weird, unlikely thing Mulder could dredge from his
odd brain. He hoped Mulder wasn't feeling guilty about it. Or that if he
was, it wouldn't get in the way of them repeating the experience.
Krycek hated himself for being afraid. This was what getting involved did to
you. It made betrayal and self-preservation so much harder. Was it really
worth it? Then he remembered that night, Mulder begging him, and Mulder
consenting to being called "Fox." He remembered the next morning when Fox
helped him dress. It took 45 minutes. Maybe it was worth it.
He realized that he had been aimlessly stroking Brian Kessler's hair. Kessler
kept it shorter than Mulder did now, although Mulder's hair had been a lot
like this when Krycek had been partnered to him. It stood up a bit and felt
as fine as feathers under his fingers. He stopped the stroking, not wanting
to further antagonize a man who'd nearly killed him twice today already. This
wasn't Mulder. His hand brushed over the facial scar, unable to help itself.
This body was bonier, harder, evidence of a life lived on the run, more like
Krycek's own. Dressed all in black and dark blue, although the one blue and
one black hightop sneaker combination had a funky touch that disrupted any
further comparison of Brian with himself. Imbued with a deadly force that
Brian, unlike Mulder, seemed to feel less and less guilty about using. Krycek
felt the life crackling through the body under his hands as Brian struggled to
move.
Last control member of the Kitsune line. Brian, who had calmly withstood so
much, had shuddered and cried at the name. Japanese, like the men who did the
actual cloning. Krycek wondered if Pryor, Dark Angel, had penetrated the
Project's secrets deeply enough to know about the Imoto, "younger sister,"
line attached to Fox and the control Kitsunes 3, 7, and 9. He wondered if she
had the guts to decide the issue for herself, to see for certain if she
belonged to that line. If she was one of the Kitsune line's sisters and thus,
sister to her own lover. Remembering the threats and the blow she had
directed at him a week ago, the thought of her finding out that she was an
Imoto made him smile.
Mulder stepped into the alley. "Over here," Krycek hissed. He enjoyed
watching the conflicting emotions flow over Mulder's face as he saw them.
Some dark, sad thing in Mulder's eyes set him back though.
"What did you do to him?" Mulder asked.
"Nice greeting. What did I do to him? Look what he did to me, Mulder!"
"What did he do to your face?"
"Well, my face hit a basketball, his foot, a brick wall, a brick wall, and a
brick wall." Krycek disentangled himself and stood. The next second Mulder
wrapped him in an embrace and stole the breath from him with a deep kiss that
seemed to make a thousand promises and say I want you, I need you, and I'm
sorry all at once. Even as Krycek melted into it, he felt a deep pang of
sadness at the realization that something terrible had happened to Mulder to
prompt such a display of need. It bothered him that Mulder always chased
things that would only hurt him if he caught them, but who was he to talk?
When Mulder let him go, Krycek had to catch his breath before he spoke.
"Brian's incinerating us with his eyes right now. You'll have to get him into
the car. Be careful with the computer in the pack on his pack; he hurt himself
falling to avoid landing on it." Mulder gave him a wry look but picked Brian
up, stopping only to demand that Krycek open the door so Mulder could put
Brian in the back seat.
They drove away in silence, but Krycek could feel Mulder watching him.
"Where's Scully?" Krycek asked after twenty minutes of deep, slightly
uncomfortable silence.
"I let her know what's going on but ditched her. She has enough trouble on
her without me dragging her under the attention of the conspiracy. I left her
a message."
"I'm sure she'll be thrilled. You know she'll track us down."
"At least I left her a note this time. I don't think she would approve of
us." Mulder's smile turned wry. "She might convince me."
"I'm deeply wounded." Then an arm came around his neck from behind and
rested very lightly on him, not threatening for now but with the possibility of
strangulation in the near future. Not from Mulder but from Brian, who now
crouched behind Krycek's seat. Apparently, the drug had worn off. A long
finger started to lightly stroke the bruised and swollen side of Krycek's
head, stirring a feeling that shifted from pleasure to pain to some maddening
sensation halfway between the two that was worse than pain. He briefly
wondered where Kessler had learned that until he remembered Dark Angel.
Mulder watched out of the corner of his eye as he drove, obviously uncertain
over how he should respond or if he should intervene.
"Not as much as you will be. How does it feel?" Brain asked, his warm breath
flickering over Krycek's ear, his arm putting more pressure on Krycek's neck.
"Not as much fun being on the other side, is it?"
Krycek hadn't seen Brian in action a week ago, but he could swear that this
sort of behavior was out of character for Kessler even if you counted the
months he'd spent in the Angel of Death's company. Casual violence without
hesitation or remorse from a man who'd been guilt-stricken over such impulses
only a few months ago. It made him wonder.
"Brian, we're here to help you," Mulder said.
"Forgive me if I don't see being attacked, kidnapped, and drugged as being
very helpful."
"Krycek dug up some information and a video tape you need to see."
"You ask yourself how far you should trust Krycek. I don't know what he is to
you, but he's a harbinger of disaster to me. He keeps leading killers to the
places I live in."
Krycek felt Mulder and then Brian too focusing in on him until he felt like a
bug pinned under a magnifying glass with the sunlight streaming down. As
Brian's whole attitude seemed to shift towards Mulder's, becoming less
threatening and a little more sexual, Krycek finally understood Brian's
metamorphosis.
Mulder had been an uncanny profiler for his empathy, his ability to get inside
the minds of others and become them. Before his mental breakdown, he had
started to transform into an unholy amalgam of the creatures he hunted,
evaluating passersby for victim status, ever aware of places that would serve
as a good dumping ground for bodies. He never acted on these things as far as
anyone knew, but his feeling of drowning combined with burnout and the trauma
of his sister's abduction breaking through the barriers sent him to breakdown-
land. A similar thing had happened to two of the Kitsune controls.
Mulder survived because his connections got him the best in personalized,
individual care. The other two didn't. Sent to warehouse-style institutions,
they received neither the therapy nor supervision they needed. Warren Elend
slashed his own throat with the sharp, jagged end of a snapped plastic spork
while Keith Connor broke free, attacked the most dangerous mental patient he
could find, and let the man kill him. No one knew how either of them had
escaped supervision, the hospital's or that of their government tails.
After his release, Mulder further cultivated a protective self-centeredness
and abstraction to shut down the empathy when he didn't need it the same way
he cultivated a feeling of queasiness when around corpses to stop himself from
dwelling on things he didn't want to think about. But what if Kessler, a
writer, had the same talent but left himself open, using that empathy and a
gift for observation for his own profession?
Put such a person tranked down in a room full of professional killers and he
would try to kill a man for no reason other than that he couldn't use him.
With Mulder, Brian became a more intense version of himself with a few of
Mulder's unique quirks tossed in. Alone with Krycek, Brian had fought as
Krycek would. Put him with Dark Angel, who was famous for her lack of
remorse, and you created a very dangerous man. Krycek tried to imagine Brian
on that fateful road trip years ago being one person while with his girlfriend
Carrie and another entirely while with Early Grayce. Some core of Kessler
seemed to remain constant but the people around him would affect his
proclivities. When in the company of killers, the empathy would provide a
handy protective camouflage, but at what cost? Did Kessler even know what
happened to him?
Actually, this helped Krycek better understand what had gone wrong with Elend
and Connor. Locking an already disturbed person with empathy into a building
full of insane people with violent and self-destructive tendencies could
constitute aiding and abetting suicide.
Brian snapped out of his Mulder-induced trance and leaned forward to turn on
the radio with his free hand. He flipped through the channels until he heard
something lite-industrial, then let go of Krycek's neck and sat back in his
seat. Krycek felt oddly disappointed. Under his breath, Brian sang, "…Black
as your soul/I'd rather die/Than give you control/Bow down before the one you
serve/You're going to get what you deserve…"
"You don't have to listen to that stuff when Angel's not around," Mulder said.
"How many ways can you misunderstand me, Mulder? I dressed all in black ages
before I met Serafine. I dated girls like Carrie, who seemed to be trying to
gather the world's largest collection of black lacy bras. Angel was still
Nicole Desjardin, casual utilitarian, not Goth, when I first met her anyway.
Why does your famous insight always fail around the people you're close to?"
"Damned if I know," Mulder answered in all seriousness. "What do you think?"
"Maybe your own delusions get in the way with people you have a personal stake
in."
"Why did you take your interest in serial killers in an academic instead of a
forensic route like I did?" Mulder's question made Krycek sit up straighter as
he remembered where he first heard it.
"It's not a nice story."
"Indulge me."
"Why not? My father thought I was stupid and useless but he wouldn't think of
me breaking with the Kessler family tradition of law enforcement. I was
heading in your direction, Mulder. NYPD instead of FBI though. Then Dad got
killed while I was at college.
"They had one of those big pomp-and-circumstance cop funerals. As they
lowered the coffin into the hole, I finally realized that he was really dead,
he wouldn't come up behind me and smack me across the back of my head for
being stupid enough to believe him dead. I was free.
"I changed my major and courses as soon as I could. Sometimes I would be
sitting in a literature or writing class and feel the bastard looking over my
shoulder muttering that it was stupid and I would never make a living with it.
That I would never be any good at it. I flipped off his memory every time. I
lost the clean-cut Young Republican look and hung with a new group of people
my father would have killed me for.
"I think I'm better off away from forensics. With what I know about you, I
know I made the right decision."
"You have no idea." He frowned when he saw Krycek's smirk. "You still feel
guilt over your father's death though."
"I would accuse you of transferring your own emotions to me if you weren't
right. We seem to be designed for guilt."
They ended up at a hotel in a room with two double beds and a VCR. Mulder
pretended not to notice the significant looks Krycek kept tossing him. Mulder
put the tape in and set Brian in front of the TV, watching him as he watched
the tape. At the end, Mulder asked, "You read my dossier and never
suspected?"
Brian sat there looking as if breathing took more thought than he had to
spare. "My father's death, years before your father's death, screwed it. I
wasn't egotistical enough to think that it would have to be a plot if someone
else lost a sister and had parents who divorced because of it. Apparently I
was wrong. I didn't know about the two dead ones they mentioned; if I had I
would have seen a pattern. My God, if I had gone into forensics like Dad
wanted me to I'd be dead now."
"What did your sister look like?"
"You mean, was she Samantha's clone?" Brian took a picture out of his wallet
and handed it to Mulder. The photograph, soft and ragged-edged from years of
handling, showed a boy, eyes rolled heavenwards in older brother disdain,
being clutched by a younger girl. At first glance the girl could be
Samantha's twin, but on closer scrutiny you could see slight differences in
the eyes and nose. "Elizabeth Ann Kessler, called 'Bethie' by her obnoxious
older brother because he knew it annoyed her."
"She's obviously our sister, but not Samantha."
"The Imoto line needed a little genetic diversity for the Project's plans,"
Krycek said. He ignored the intense stares of the two men. "They were
designed to be the control Kitsunes' sisters, but the Project always thought
they could have other uses. All of them were abducted. I've been researching
since I unearthed the video."
Brian retrieved the picture from Mulder's grip and returned it to his wallet.
"What I want to know is, why now? Angel couldn't find any of this stuff a few
months ago, and she's damned good at unearthing these kinds of secrets," Brian
said. He took off his jacket and sprawled out on one of the beds, but his
face didn't reflect the casual comfort his pose tried for.
"Nice shoes." Krycek sneered.
Brian glanced down at the one blue, one black hightop sneakers he wore. "You
like them? I have a similar pair at home. Stop changing the subject."
"When the execution order went out on you and the others, the documentation
started to rise to the surface. I found the transcript of their hypnotist's
session with you. Do you know that they planted your current terror of the
police in you?"
"That makes sense. The bastards. I hated and feared my father but prior to
that I hadn't transferred my feelings to every other cop I met. I want a copy
of the transcripts," Brian said. As Brian stretched out, Mulder saw aging
green-brown-yellow bruises circling his clone's wrists. They had the shape of
handprints, prints too small to belong to Krycek's hand. Mulder shuddered.
"Ask nicely," Krycek said.
"Go to hell," Brian said flatly and didn't even look at him, seeming to prefer
to watch the commercials on TV even with the Mute on in a gesture of ultimate
disdain.
"That's nice?"
Mulder knew where this conversation was heading by experience, so he said,
"Enough already. Brian, with your distrust of Krycek, would you really
believe that anything he gave you was the genuine article?"
"Hey!" Krycek protested.
"It would be nice to see anyway." Then Brian's eyes widened, and he used the
remote embedded in the night table to turn the volume up again on the TV.
Over a sensationalistic shot of a building engulfed in flames, the reporter
spoke of ten people dead in what appeared to have been a firebombing centered
in one apartment, #431B. "That's Matt's apartment," Brian said in a very
small voice that quickly went very loud. "Your asshole friends just blew up
his apartment! Why? It wasn't necessary, and they knew I wasn't there!"
"They're not my friends. They believe in making a point. You warned your
friend not to go back anyway, right?"
Brian leapt to his feet and stood directly in front of Krycek, leaning into
his face. "What the hell do they want from me? I don't like being a
permanent fixture on the 11 o'clock news. They won't be happy until I'm
forced to live in a cardboard box for everyone else's safety? That way, when
they attack, I'm the only one who suffers. Are they trying to force me onto
the road with Angel?"
"I swear I don't know." Krycek looked to Mulder for help, but Mulder only
looked at him with a blank expression and eyes that smoldered with dark
emotions. Brian's questions had struck a chord.
"That's not good enough!" Brian all but vibrated with aggression, holding
himself back from striking Krycek only with great difficulty. He stepped
back. "Why am I bothering with you anyway? It's not like you'd tell me the
truth unless it served your purposes. I'm going to call Matt's friends one by
one until I find him. If you disapprove, you can just bite me."
Mulder forestalled Krycek's inevitable response with a "Don't even think about
it."
"How safe are we here?" Brian asked as he dialed. "Are you at least jamming
the homing signals my and Mulder's chips are putting out?"
Krycek felt Mulder's eyes on him. "I am. They won't find us here." He knew
he would have to answer for this. He had no idea why he'd stupidly told
Kessler about it.
"What chips?" Mulder asked with a dark, flat tone.
"The Consortium put a homing chip in Brain five years ago and one in you last
week."
"And you didn't think I needed to know?"
"They always know where you are anyway! It helps me keep track of you."
"So I'm supposed to be happy about this."
Krycek sighed. This was going to be a long fight.
PART II: JUMPING THROUGH HOOPS
Two hours later, Krycek was bored. Brian had gone to bed an hour ago, ending
a very entertaining sniping match involving the three of them, after he
located his friend Matt at another friend's house. Even in sleep in that
darkened end of the room, Brian's pose screamed don't-touch-me-or-I'll-kill-
you. Mulder finally got tired of carrying on his argument with Krycek and
engrossed himself in the FBI records he'd called up on his laptop. Mulder
hadn't conceded the match but hadn't walked out either. He also had that
don't-touch-me aura but mixed with that patented Mulder intent focus that
would ignore a plane landing next to him. As much as Krycek would enjoy
trying to distract him, the futility of it dissuaded him. Mulder had his
sleeves rolled up and his glasses on. Why did Mulder, who looked so sexy in
glasses, only wear them in such situations?
Krycek felt a very naughty idea coming on. He walked over to Brian's bed and
looked down at its occupant. Even in the dimness Krycek could see that Brian
looked disturbed in sleep as in consciousness. Krycek got up on the bed and
straddled Brian, leaning over until he could feel Brian's breath on his face.
He looked over at Mulder, who still hadn't moved or noticed anything. This
was dangerous, but that only added spice. Krycek never let danger stop him
from doing anything he wanted to do. Of course, his one-armed state suggested
that policy to be less than wise, but still
He brushed Brian's lips lightly with his own, then went in deeper, parting
those lush lips with his tongue. Those lips tasted different than Mulder's,
less salty and spicy. Sweeter. Brian murmured in his sleep and started to
melt into the kiss. Krycek smiled as Brian's hands came out from under the
covers and embraced him, running along his back. The smile died when the arms
locked him into a death grip and Brian's kiss turned harsh and demanding,
almost ravaging. Brian seemed to be humming. Krycek couldn't breathe, could
feel himself starting to black out, but still felt intensely aroused by the
writhing body beneath him. Then Brian turned his face away and Krycek could
hear him laughing maniacally, thus explaining the writhing.
"You don't have an original bone in your body, do you, Krycek?" Brian choked
out between giggles. "Did you really think I could mistake you for anyone
who'd have a reason to be in my bed, like Angel?"
"You can't admit that you're not excited by this. I can feel it."
'I can want you and not need you." Brian stretched to turn on the light,
squirming in a way that only intensified Krycek's distress.
"You bastard."
"You haven't begun to pay for what you did to me, to Douglas, to her. Douglas
faced an island full of homicidal beast-people and escaped blood-innocent,
never having fired his gun on a living being. He came to my house for
sanctuary, and he was forced to kill two of the goons you led there."
In the sudden light, Brian's eyes, darkly green and glittering madly, gave
Krycek chills. He'd last seen those eyes in Tunguska as Mulder, defying all
expectation, rushed at him in the gulag yard. Years earlier, Krycek saw them
in Warren Elend's face as he stood in a warehouse surrounded by the dead and
mutilated bodies of young girls with his dead partner at his feet and the
cause of all the corpses standing in front of him. When the rest of the Miami
police arrived they found the bodies of the girls and Elend's partner, Warren
Elend deep in incoherent insanity, and a body that had been so mutilated that
they could only identify it through dental records as belonging to the
suspect. That shimmering green indicated violence and madness, and not every
Kitsune who went that far came out the other side.
Kessler had been pushed too far too fast recently, and Krycek had to remind
Kessler of who was who here. "It's not a good idea to play me like this,"
Krycek said.
"What else could you do to me? What else haven't you done yet? Kill me?
Maybe you could rape me. That would win Mulder's devotion."
Curious, Krycek deliberately ran through different emotional states, trying to
see how sensitive Brain's empathy was, how much a person could influence him.
He could see the expressions on Brian's face shifting a minute behind each
change until Brian, with some effort, closed down and went blank. "So I can't
scare you anymore?" Krycek asked.
"Are you dense or do you enjoy rejection?"
"Before the Consortium set me up as Mulder's partner, they sent me after the
other two controls to see how I'd do."
"Not after me too? I'm crushed."
"You were the atypical control even before your brush with Early Grayce
changed you. Anyway, I got along well with Warren Elend in Miami and Keith
Connor in Austin. Connor was a master of technique, but Elend had a way of
seeming to hand his whole being over to you for safekeeping that made him an
overwhelming experience."
"Now you want to complete the set?" Brian sounded more tired than angry.
"I've been involved in varying capacities with the Kitsune line for years. I
have more of an emotional investment in the line than anyone who isn't a
Kitsune himself. I know you don't trust me or approve of my methods and
means; that's fine and probably wise. But I do care."
"Yes, but when does it end? When do I get to stop worrying that every
footstep belongs to someone who wants to kill or use me?"
"Do you want me to lie?"
"No, and I know the answer to my own questions." A knock at the door startled
them both, but Brian recovered first and took advantage of Krycek's
distraction to dump him off and walk over to the door. Brian look through the
peephole then opened the door to let Dark Angel in. Mulder looked up from his
computer.
Dressed all in black as usual with a shiny black raincoat as the last layer,
Dark Angel had a very unusual shocky look in her eyes. The eyeliner around
them looked a little smeared, as if from tears. "Brian, I have something very
important to tell you," she said softly.
"I know about the chip and the Kitsune line, Sera. I also know that someone
posted a message to me using some of our code-words," Brian answered while
standing back from her, as if he expected her to run or hit something.
"It's another important thing. Did you hear about the Imoto line? The one
designed to be the Kitsune controls' younger sisters? I'm one of them; the
blood test confirmed it. I match as one of Mulder's relatives. I'm not
Elizabeth Kessler or Samantha Mulder at least, but I am Cheryl Kathleen Elend.
That makes me your sister, Brian, yours and Mulder's."
"I don't I don't understand."
She looked at the identically pole-axed expressions on the faces of the three
men in front of her. Her words came out in a flood. "There's nothing to
understand; it's incomprehensible. The whole Fox group is genetically
identical. The Imotos were created as genetic sisters, each slightly
different from one another, to the Kitsunes. As Warren Elend's sister, I'm
also yours and Mulder's. I know this isn't a good time for you to have to
hear this, but I had to tell someone before I exploded. Now I have to get out
of here." She bolted the room so quickly that none of them had a chance to
react before she was gone.
"Shit! Sera!" Brian pulled his gun out from under his pillow and stuck it into
his waistband, put on his shoes, and went running after her. Krycek closed
the door.
"You don't look as surprised about this as you should be," Mulder said.
"I suspected, but having my suspicions confirmed is still a bit of a shock,"
Krycek said.
"I should go after them."
"Even in their distracted state they can look after themselves." Krycek
walked over to Mulder's chair and crouched until they were eye to eye. "How
is the news affecting you?"
"My family just keeps getting larger, although it does make me wonder if some
relationships maybe aren't meant to be." Mulder pulled him forward until
Krycek sat on his lap and kissed him roughly.
When Krycek got a chance to break away for air, he said, "You're sending out
some mixed signals here."
"I wonder if it's all that powdered sugar Brian loves that makes him taste so
sweet. I can taste him on your lips, Alex."
"Fox—"
"Depending on how I choose to take it, I can be either very angry or rather
flattered. I'm more aware of my surroundings when I'm working than you
realize. I'm not upset as long as you're not forcing yourself on him. I know
what you are," Mulder whispered into Krycek's ear, his words followed by
the brief flick of his tongue.
"Fox—"
"Brian has a talent for repression. He can be falling apart inside and still
do a good impression of a normal human being until he either resolves his
insanity or explodes. I knew something was wrong with him a week ago, but I
let Serafine reassure me that he was fine and she could take care of him.
Maybe she was right then, but it doesn't matter much now, because today's
events put extra stress on him. So I want to know, what are your intentions
toward my brother since he's not willing?" Through the torrent of words,
Mulder still stroked and kissed him, making it hard for Krycek to think.
"Fox, you're seriously fucked-up, do you know that? What's going on with
you?"
"Two days ago I tracked an artificial intelligence to its home. It took me
prisoner and plunged me into a virtual reality hell. I thought it was all
real. First it cut off my left arm, then smothered me, then took my right arm
and threatened to start on my legs if I didn't tell it what it wanted to
know."
"Oh, Fox." Now he understood the look he kept getting from Mulder.
"Scully got me out. The experience made me appreciate things a bit more. I
appreciate you. I missed you," Mulder said against his neck. "I don't want
to think for a while."
"I can give you that." Wrapped around one another, they exchanged kisses and
touches, losing themselves in sensation. Mulder undressed him with the speed
and determination of a child opening presents on Christmas morning. He was
about as gentle too, but Krycek liked it. Eventually Krycek heard a noise
that broke him out of his trance. "What the hell was that?"
Brian stood near his bed putting his pack over his shoulder. "Sorry, I'll be
gone in a minute. As you were." His eyes looked dead, matching a body that
looked fatally tired.
Mulder's voice sounded harsh and raspy as he asked, "What happened? Where do
you think you're going?"
"She vanished. When she's ready to talk to me again, she'll find me. She'll
say that she shouldn't have sprung that on me, and I'll say I could have
reacted better, making both of us wrong, and we'll make up."
"Brian, she's your sister."
"Only genetically. It doesn't matter to me if it doesn't matter to her. I
love her. In the meantime, I'll get out of your way. I'll find a cheap motel
somewhere."
"Like hell you will."
"Mulder!" both Brian and Krycek said at once.
"I see no reason for you to leave. Besides, I know you sleep deeply enough
that Krycek and I won't wake you." Mulder couldn't fail to notice the look of
growing excitement in Krycek's eyes.
"Another night spent hiding under the covers. All right, but if I do wake up
in the middle I'm going to spend the rest of the night in the bathroom."
Brian finally went to sleep twenty minutes later, fifteen minutes longer than
it would have taken him if he hadn't been hyper-aware of his roommates
watching him so closely. He ducked under the sheets and eventually stopped
shifting.
"Is he asleep yet?" Mulder asked.
"Who cares? Actually, I wouldn't mind if he watched."
"You're a slut."
"And that's why you're here. If you don't get out of them now, those
expensive pants are going to be ruined. I'm totally naked, so it's only
fair," Krycek said.
"I ruin suits all the time, but you're right." With a sudden motion Mulder
lifted the both of them up from the chair and shimmied out of his pants and
boxers with Krycek against him to feel every move. Then he dropped them both
back down.
Mulder may have been almost out of his shirt, but his loosened tie still hung
around his neck. Krycek used it to pull him close, letting it tighten a bit
around the long neck, making Mulder gasp. Krycek grinned at the image Mulder
presented half in his federal agent attire, as if he were involved in some
illicit office romance. After a long kiss, Krycek asked, "Do you have any
idea how hideous this tie is?"
"I don't have a personal shopper. Besides, you don't seem to be complaining
right now." Mulder's hands ranged all over Krycek's body with a speed that
seemed almost more desperate than lustful. Krycek deliberately slowed him
down, sometimes using the tie as a choke collar.
Mulder started to talk against Krycek's skin, his breathless words flying like
bright leaves in an autumn wind. Sex seemed to detach his mental editing
mechanism, not that Krycek minded, and not just for the information or the
vibrating Mulder's voice produced. Right now, Krycek felt like he had a
glimpse into that speeding, free-associating mind. What he said didn't always
make sense; Mulder's mind seemed to leap over what many people would consider
important connecting pieces of information. Gleaning anything of value from
the stream was like trying to catch fish with your hands.
Krycek thought of all the history they shared. The Consortium had Krycek help
cover up the abduction of Mulder's partner, prevent Mulder from stopping it,
try to frame him, betray him every way possible, drug his water supply, kill
his father, lead him around by the nose numerous times. Even to Krycek it
seemed like overkill. It was a good thing Mulder didn't have a dog, because
they'd probably want Krycek to kill it too. Then their relationship would
make the perfect country/western song. Krycek started to giggle.
"Is there something here you find funny?" Mulder said as he thrust against
him, making Krycek gasp.
"No, sir." Krycek wanted him now, and Mulder certainly felt ready, but before
he could impale himself Mulder moved out of the way a bit, reaching for his
suit jacket. The friction only made Krycek crazier, and his voice sounded
harsh as he asked, "What the hell are you doing?" Mulder took out a condom
and a tube of lubricant. Krycek said, "Don't tell me that's standard issue."
Mulder's eyes glinted darkly. "I knew I'd be meeting you and made the obvious
assumption."
"I should be offended."
"I'm sorry. I must have mistaken you for someone else. I'll be going then."
"You win."
Mulder pushed Krycek back a bit then slowly and sensuously put the condom on
and lubricated it while Krycek vibrated with impatience and lust at the sight.
Krycek immediately plunged himself down on it, but Mulder wasn't done yet. He
picked Krycek up a little, then let him slide back down the hard shaft,
repeating the motion over and over, slowly building speed as he began to
thrust. Krycek could barely do more than whimper in harsh gasps.
Gasping himself, Mulder grated out, "Did Elend or Connor ever do anything like
this for you, Alex? Do you think Brian would? Tell me, how alike are we?"
His thrusts became harder, more violent. Krycek screamed with pleasure and
satisfaction from the sensations and from getting Mulder to that point of
pure, ruthless aggression he'd wanted to see in Mulder during sex ever since
Mulder first got truly rough with him body-to-body in Hong Kong.
With the two brain cells that still worked, Krycek realized that Mulder had
heard everything and that tomorrow Mulder would ream him in a very different,
far less pleasurable way, but for now he didn't care as long as Mulder didn't
stop what he was doing. Krycek locked the words back with a kiss, and they
screamed into one another's mouths as they came.
The rest of Mulder went limp but Krycek continued to ride him, rocking a bit,
for as long as he could. Finally he got up and led an unresisting Mulder by
the tie to the bathroom and into the shower to clean up. One thing about
Mulder few people knew was that his mind tended to blank out completely after
sex. Maybe that was why he masturbated so often.
Krycek soaped up, kissed, and caressed a fuzzed and blissed out Mulder, and
Mulder took it all wordlessly like a big, pliant doll. When Krycek's
ministrations had the desired effect, he took Mulder in again, managing only
through skill and experience to avoid having them both slip and kill
themselves on the wet tiles and soap. He burned the feeling of Mulder within
him into his memory. With their lives and loyalties, Krycek knew he had to
take advantage of every opportunity that came his way. By the time he turned
off the water and started to towel the both of them dry, the tie was
completely ruined but Krycek couldn't see that as a loss.
He dragged them both, still naked, into bed. He bit at Mulder's neck just
hard enough to leave a mark. Mulder sighed and burrowed closer.
Sometime later, a noise woke Krycek up. Someone was moving around in the dark
room. He slid out from under Mulder's arms and grabbed his gun from the night
table.
"Krycek, what—" Mulder mumbled.
"Someone's in the room," Krycek whispered.
Mulder came awake instantly and put on his boxers before he picked up his gun.
"Aren't you going to get dressed?" he whispered back, any antipathy put aside
to take care of trouble.
"This person broke into our room. He deserves whatever he sees. He's in the
bathroom"
Both armed, they walked to the door and opened it when they heard no sound.
Against Krycek's better instincts, Mulder turned on the light. Brian was
curled up on the floor in the corner, eyes wide, gun in hand, making horrible
choking noises. He didn't react at all to the light.
To Krycek's horror, Mulder immediately crouched down and casually took the gun
from Brian's hands. "They're gone, Brian," Mulder said. "You can move now."
"They took her again?" Brian asked, his voice sounding very young. "The bad
things always take them away and they never come back."
"They?"
"Bethie, Carrie, Angel. If they come back, they're never the same."
"I don't get it," Krycek said.
"Brian's asleep, dreaming. His mind is making him relive his sister's
abduction but changing it enough so everyone he loves is being taken from
him," Mulder said.
"His eyes are open!"
"I'm told I do that too when I'm under stress. I walk in my sleep sometimes,
and if anyone meets up with me my eyes are open and I even seem to be making
conversation, even if it makes no sense, but I'm asleep. I woke up sitting
under the kitchen table with all the lights on once. Sometimes I wake up
with a gun in my hand and my back to a corner. It's one of the reasons why I
usually sleep fully clothed." Mulder pulled Brian close to him in a hug while
Brian shuddered. "You have to go back to bed, Bri."
"No! They never take me; they just mess me up a bit. They only go after the
people I love, and it's all my fault!"
"If I put him back to bed by himself he'll just do this again. He'll have to
get into bed with us," Mulder said then, when he saw the look on Krycek's
face, said, "That's not happening."
"I'm not made of stone, Fox!"
"I'll send you to the other bed if I have to."
"Fine, I'll behave."
The three of them wandered over to the bed and managed to squeeze in. The
moment Mulder had them tucked in, Brian woke up. "What? What the hell am I
doing here?"
"We found you in the bathroom, Bri. You were paralyzed, clutching a gun, and
talking about your sister," Mulder said.
"Oh, shit," Brian choked as he tried to get away, but Mulder had a death grip
on his arm.
"You don't have to hide, Brian. I understand."
"I can't—I can't let anyone see me like this. This is weak." Brian's arm
shook under Mulder's hand, and Mulder pulled him in close. Brian held out for
a minute before he started to sob into Mulder's arms.
Mulder stroked Brian's hair the way you would an injured child's and said over
and over, "It's okay. It wasn't your fault. You've been hurt, and you can
cry, and I won't judge you for it."
Krycek was caught by the sound of Mulder comforting his twin and, by
extension, himself. It stopped whatever snide thoughts he would usually have.
He found himself gently stroking Brian's back in slow, comforting circles,
again as a person would calm a child. He didn't know how long they stayed
that way until exhaustion claimed them.
Brian woke with his head feeling swollen to three times its normal size to the
sound of Mulder cursing. It didn't take him long to gather that Krycek had
snuck off sometime during the night. He smiled ruefully then winced as the
motion brought a stabbing pain behind his eyes.
The events of the night came back in a rush. Shameful enough that he had
broken down in front of Mulder but worse that he'd displayed such weakness in
front of Krycek. He felt his heart clench in horror.
Brian felt someone grip his hand. He turned to see Serafine—Cheryl?—sitting
by the bed smiling at him. She wore all deep, new black except for her
favorite battered and faded Eldritch jacket with the duct tape over the scars.
Her pale, almost translucent skin seemed to glow in the morning light. Her
black eyeliner was perfect, with no smudges. Good signs. He thought of how
he must look and tried to turn away.
She gently tipped his face back. "Forget that; you're beautiful. Forgive
me?" she asked.
"Always. Forgive me?"
"Always."
"You look better."
"I've come to a kind of peace with what I've found out about myself. It only
increases the poetic justice. Mulder told me that you said our blood
relationship doesn't matter to you."
"He's right. But what do I call you?"
"You can still call me 'Serafine' or 'Angel.' The difference is that I now
have a name to come home to." She kissed him and licked the salt of his tears
from her lips. "I have something I have to do, someone I have to look up in
Florida, but I'll stay as long as you need me."
"I'm going with you. Fate is pushing me onto the road with you. Who am I to
argue?"
Her smile blinded him. "First, we'll go see Rachel Elend. Then we'll find the
people who firebombed your friend's home—"
"—and we'll take them down."
"Then we'll find out who sent that taunting message to you—"
"—and we'll take him down too." Their hands intertwined.
"They made us what we are, even more than we first realized."
Brian's smile turned savage. "And we'll make them pay for it."
Her smile matched his. "How do you feel?"
"Like my head is five times its normal size, my eyes are welded shut, and an
ocean is trapped just under my skin."
"You know that's not what I mean." She leaped up onto the bed and snuggled
next to him.
"I feel drained, bleached. Maybe later I'll be able to say it's the pain you
get from draining pus from a wound, a current pain to end future pain, but for
now I feel like shit." He closed his eyes and sighed as she gently kissed the
tear trails from his face. "But I feel less like shit every passing moment."
A knock at the door interrupted them. Mulder rushed to the peephole to see
who it was, then shook his head as he opened the door. A very angry Scully
said, "Mulder, what have you been up to?" in a tone that could melt steel.
Brian drove the rental car through the wide sunny streets of Stuart, Florida.
He glanced into the rearview mirror to see Mulder and Dana sitting in the back
seat, both of them out of their ubiquitous trench coats for once. Both of
them stayed quiet, although Dana kept shooting her partner and Angel resentful
looks. Dana had set these events in motion and wanted to see them to the end,
even if it hadn't gone where she'd hoped and anticipated. She could almost
feel all the secrets the others kept from her.
Brian looked at Angel in the passenger seat. She wore a white poet's blouse,
black skirt, black opaque hose, and black pumps. She'd left her hair uncurled
and had used more restrained makeup. She still looked a little threatening
but much more socially presentable.
They'd already stopped at the house the Elend family would have lived in
during her childhood. They only looked at the outside. It brought back no
memories for her, but Brian made her notice all the gardenias on the property.
Gardenia was her favorite scent.
"It's so sunny and flat," Angel kept muttering to herself. Brian squeezed her
hand.
Finally they stopped at Rachel Elend's current address. Angel intended to go
to the door pretending to be lost. She just wanted to see the woman who'd
been her mother in her forgotten childhood, see if the sight triggered any
memories. It would be too dangerous for her to form a relationship with the
woman, not when so many people were hunting her.
Angel pressed the doorbell and waited on the step, drowning in nervousness and
the scent of gardenia. When the woman came to the door Angel almost felt
relief that the sight tripped no memories, but then the woman spoke. "May I
help you?"
Angel knew she should say something, anything, but the voice cut through her
mind like the laser sight on a rifle, illuminating memories that waited at the
back of her mind for the proper catalyst. Prior to this moment, she'd still
felt some lingering doubts. She couldn't deny the truth anymore.
Rachel Elend stared at the tall stranger quivering silently in front of her.
Then she asked with a trembling voice, "Sherry? Cheryl, is it you? It is
you. I prayed for this day for so long "
"How do—"
"Your eyes, Sherry, I knew it from your eyes." Then she wrapped Angel in a
tight hug. "I've been hoping to see you here every day since they took you
away."
"You have to understand. I don't remember anything; I don't remember you."
"Do you know about Warren?"
"Yes." Her fragmented memory of her abduction now had the sight and sound of
him screaming her name. She remembered him at last but he was long dead by
his own hand.
"We should have fought them, raised the two of you the way we wanted, but they
said they would take you away from us if we didn't follow their orders. Then
they took you anyway and later Warren It broke Arnold. He only wanted to
serve his country, and his country to be cold with you and Warren and stole
you and told him to leave me and led Warren to kill himself. Arnold stopped
caring after Warren died, took a bullet he could have avoided. We should have
fought them."
"There was nothing you could do. If you had fought them, they would have
taken us away."
"I understand. I'm not the innocent I used to be. I bet now that you're
afraid someone will try to have me killed now that you found me. It doesn't
matter, Sherry. Given the choice between living or dying tomorrow after
seeing you again today, I would rather die." Then her eyes widened. "Oh, oh
God."
"What is it?" Then Angel realized that her mother had seen Brian, who had
gotten out of the car and stared at the reunion with such hunger on his face
even as Mulder tried to pull him back down out of sight. She remembered what
Brian had told her about his own mother. "That's Brian Kessler and Fox
Mulder. They belong to the same group as Warren."
"I thought they'd all killed themselves." Tears ran down her face.
"Oh, no. Eleven of them are still wandering the country."
"Can I meet them, Sherry?"
"Of course you can. Brian, Mulder, get over here!" Brian, Mulder, and Scully
walked over. "Mom, this is Brian, Mulder, and Scully. Scully's not related
to any of us."
"You have no idea what this means to me. It's almost like Warren is still
alive in some small way."
Angel grinned. "Hug them. You know you want to."
Rachel Elend needed no more prompting, sweeping both Brian and Mulder into her
arms. Brian melted immediately, but Mulder first stiffened with a look of
total disbelief on his face before he relaxed into it and closed his eyes.
Watching them, Scully couldn't help feeling that something of value had come
of this after all. Both Brian and Mulder looked dazed and disappointed when
Rachel Elend pulled back.
"Please come in and make yourselves at home. I want to know all about all of
you."
Krycek sighed as he put down the binoculars. He didn't know how she did it.
While Mulder and everyone else had been distracted by the hug, Dark Angel's
hand had swept lightly under the collar of Mulder's shirt and plucked out the
bug Krycek had hidden under Mulder's hairline early this morning. He had no
idea how she knew. He managed to get the plug out of his ear before the bug
made a high-pitched squealing noise as she crushed it under her shoe without
anyone else noticing. It was a shame because he was dying to know what they'd
talk about.
Instead of getting upset, Krycek thought of Warren Elend and what he'd just
seen, Mulder smiling and letting it all go as Rachel Elend embraced him. With
that last image at the front of his mind, Krycek smiled himself and walked
away.
One of the Chosen
by Viridian5
When the small box arrived in the mail at his apartment, Mulder was surprised.
He hadn't ordered anything. It contained an unlabeled videocassette. The
yellow post-it note attached to it had these words written on it: "You have
to see this for yourself. I have to warn you though that it isn't pretty. K."
