Title: Midnight in Moscow Author: Dantzi Jean E-mail: phantom_lass@hotmail.com Website: http://www.geocities.com/myxfvoice Classification: X-File, MSR (sort of) Timeline: During the time of the Tunguska episode, 4th season Summary: What do you do when you are out of time? Rating: R Archive: Anywhere just make sure my name stays on it and let me now the URL of the site. Disclaimer: Come on everyone's favorite part! Okay you all know they are not mine. I'm just using them for my sadistic, sardonic, evil and twisted reasons and will give them back to CC and company when I am good and ready to. Author's Notes: This takes place mid-episode of Tunguska. This as if the events in Terma did not take place. Warning, character death, and graphic imagery This is my first ever attempt at mythology fic so just bare with me. Thanks! Tunguska, Russia 9:04 pm Mulder awoke in the large room, disoriented and unsure where he was, the cold wire seemed to touch every inch of his skin, as he looked around him, many other bodies of men, women, and children were within the mesh covered tables, some unconscious most awake and moaning, one woman cried. He tried to free himself but could not find a weakening in the chain links that covered his body. He saw the man walking among the bodies. The same man, who had injected him with a toxin and took him from his cell. He was bald and wore think rimmed glasses, his expressionless face held no mercy for those he was torturing on the mesh-covered tables. He stopped and looked down on the men and women whose lives he was about to take or ruin. He felt the swab of cloth covering the small-pox scar on his left arm. His mind raced to the case in which Scully had found the markers in the scars, and to the boxcar he had been in one year ago, in which the bodies that were burnt and deformed held one similarity—a smallpox scar. Were these scars used to gather information about the individuals who bore them? To use in these insidious experiments? Screams interrupted his musing and unending questions. Screaming of the people surrounding him. Loud, deep, resonant screams of the victims. The agony and terror that lay in the voices of those people inflamed his own terror. Then, without any warning black slime dripped onto his face. Making it difficult to breathe without inhaling the black ooze. This dripping started coagulating forming small worm-like creatures. The worms slithered up his face, their slick bodies aiming for an opening to enter his body. He watched as the creatures crawled toward his mouth and nose, attempting to gain entry to his body. His eyes grew wide and searching for some kind of escape from the creatures now entering on their own will into his nasal passages. They slithered and formed again into a liquid of some kind lining the membrane of his nose and eyes. They slowly took control of their host, making the body a vessel to feed from. It's life energy now being slurped and gulped to establish the new being within its conquered host. Alive, though in a trance-like state. The man's brain was no longer his own command center. The being had now found and utilized its power to control it for their own purposes. The beings settled into that man and their new-found home. * * * * Capitol Hill, Senator Sorenson's office 11:18 am Dana Scully sat down in the padded chair, she had become used to taking that chair, it became like a routine that she and Mulder had unconsciously established. AD Skinner sat to her left. Senator Sorenson had called them in to question them on the latest findings of their newest case. She listened with polite interest as the senator asked about the body that had been found outside Skinner's apartment. She did not trust Skinner, though he had helped them in the past, Scully could not help but feel that the man was hiding something within his calm, silent exterior. The senator then addressed the absence of her partner. She calmly and roundly answered the senator's questions as to Mulder’s absence. This man was not to be trusted, either. "Agent Mulder is in the field, endeavoring to find his own answers." She said with all the professionalism she could muster. "Where?" Her silence would save Mulder, if only for a short period of time. Her mind flitted back to the message on her answering machine and the note Mulder had left in her e-mail box. He had gone to Russia, he had taken Krycek with him. Taking Krycek was a mistake; the man was a murderer and a liar. Mulder trusted him. For now, his life was in the rouge agent's hands. Anger and frustration surged within her. The passion of her partner's search had left him thinking a little irrational. He had taken a passport of government issue. Though where he got it, he would not tell her. She hated when he did this to her. The adventurous side of her wanted to be with Mulder, to find what he has found, to be a part of the treasure hunt. The protective side of her wanted to follow him and make sure his head was on straight and that his life was without unnecessary danger. The partner in her just wanted to have the respect, and not to be excluded from the case. Whatever he had found, it didn't include her. She understood, though, Mulder needed to find and see for himself the wrongs done against him since childhood and she had always been excluded from those memories to spare Mulder further injury and pain. It hurt, though, just the same. The meeting was over. She took the first deep breath she had first taken since the meeting had begun. She walked to the parking lot, her stiletto heels clicking on the surface of the pavement. She walked to the car and drove to NASA Goddard Center where she was to do the examination of the infected biologist. * * * * * FBI headquarters 3:23 pm She peered in the microscope at the organism found in the research biologist during the time of his examination. It resembled a cluster of organisms, they seemed to be feeding on the pineal gland, draining the gland of it's hormones and proteins, taking in the endocrindonic secretions the gland produced. The organisms appeared to be in the larval stages of development, multiplying and growing in size. This organism acted like a cancer, destroying the brain's natural material and replacing it with it's own. Her scientific mind raced with possibilities, causes, reasons, and sources. The sickness of the pathologist occurred when dissecting the rock specimen. At the scene, researchers found the residual spray emanating from the rock, itself. The key was the rock. Where did it come from? What was it? Who knew the answers to these questions? Scenarios, questions and nagging fears ran through the mind of Dana Scully. The disease had come from the sample rock. Where that rock had come from nobody really knew, only that it was not of this world. Mulder had received information to the specimen's original location, and had found a lead in Russia. She had not heard from him since the airport when he had been on his way to Russia. Where was this pouch going? Why did the government have it? And why if it they were such a well guarded secrets were they spending their time of Mulder's location? Unanswered questions and fears continued their fast pace through her mind and finally, she arrived at a conclusion. She would have to go to Russia find Mulder and then find out once and for all what's, where's and why's of this rock. Mulder had said 'source' when referring to the travel information he had received. She would just have to travel under the FBI regulatory statutes. Did the rock have something to do with the 1908 crash of the supposed meteorite that had crashed in Tunguska, Russia? Mulder had landed in Krasnoyarsk, Russia. Then that was where she had to start looking. * * * * JFK airport 7:47 the next morning "Final boarding call for flight 682 at gate 35," the monotonous voice of the PA system rang over head as Dana Scully made her way thorough the terminal to her appointed gate. She had to get to Mulder fast. He could already be infected with the organism, and possibly others as well. There was no known cure or treatment for this cancer/parasite. She needed to find Mulder fast and get him out of Russia. And with that final call she boarded her flight and set in for the long journey ahead. Midnight in Moscow Somewhere in Russia 11:42 pm Tired, dirty and just wanting to go home, Dana Scully sat in her hotel room and lay on the bed reviewing in her mind the events of the day. She had begun with a search of all flight records, making doubly sure that this was the route Mulder and Krycek had taken. They had landed at 6:15 AM and had procured a ride from a delivery man to a small area called Tunguska. When she thought she had a general idea of where they were, she employed a local hackney driver to take her there the next morning. After talking to the driver she checked into a local motel and slept for a few hours until she knew it was time to leave. Reluctantly, she rose and started to pack for roughing it in the hinterland Of Russia. She worried about Mulder but had reserves about following him. She had nowhere near the passion he had for his work. She followed him out of a curiosity for what they were searching for, and he had some sort of hold her that bound her to him. The magnetic surge of power that two individuals can have on each other was really just too much for the mind to comprehend, ever to begin to understand. But there it was, in plain sight, with her and Mulder. She grabbed the backpack, holding the few possessions she thought she might require on the journey and walked downstairs. She checked herself out of her hotel and walked to the curb headed for what she hoped was her partner. * * * * * Tunguska, Russia Mulder's cell 10:11 Groggy, and in pain, Mulder awoke on a hard floor instead of the black leather couch he was so used to. He heard a man's voice in the darkness of his cell. "How long have I been unconscious?" Mulder asked, examining a wound on his arm. The wound was located where his small-pox vaccination scar lay. He found a small two inch laceration above the old scar tissue. The type of laceration performed for some type of biopsy. "Hours," came the unknown man's voice from the other end of the hard brick wall. "What happened to me?" He asked as he briefly remembered the hard wire covering his body before slipping into oblivion. He remembered nothing of the test. “The test." "Do they do this to you too?" Came the voice from his own throat. "Yes, they do the test to everyone..." the man went on to tell Mulder why he was here, when the original rock was found, and the research done since then on the contaminants of the rock. A voice of curiosity made him mention Krycek, who orchestrated this scheme. For what purpose or agenda was unclear to Mulder. The man who was basically his only ally in this establishment handed him a make-shift knife. He gave the knife a once-over and asked the man where the knife came from. "I made it--to kill myself. It took me two months," he said with a cynical laugh, "By then I had lost desire." Revenge and death was on Mulder's mind tonight, all he had to do was wait until morning. All that was clear in the mind of Fox Mulder was that he had to survive, Krycek had to die and he hoped to God that he would not be a continuing subject in the "test" these men were conducting. * * * * * North Road, 30 miles from Tunguska forest 12:13 am The man, from which Scully had received a ride and a location of Mulder and Krycek, was a very congenial man. Though he never gave her moment of silence, and felt the need to talk to her the whole way there. She was very tired but grateful to this man. But right now all she wanted was sleep. The man drove Scully through a very dense growth of trees, hundreds of years old, from the width of the trunks. Finally, the car rolled to a stop and the man proclaimed, in heavily accented Russian, that this was his stop and he would go no further. Scully could read the fear in the man’s eyes, she knew he feared this forest, she couldn’t help but question, as to what would make this man so terribly afraid. What dark secret was being harbored in this forest? What had motivated her partner to come here searching for the answers to his questions? She climbed out of the truck and began to walk into the woods. The man indicated that to the south there was an "establishment" that might have taken Mulder and Krycek. She trudged through the woods and mud. It must have recently rained in this area, judging from the moisture gathered in the dirt and plants. The area was beautiful and green, but something dark resided here. Something not natural. She walked for about a mile and a half, stopping every few seconds trying to get her bearings and find out where she was. During this trek, she had a lot of time to think. She wondered why this thing, whatever it was, was crucial enough to kill for. Mulder ran through her mind, as well. Her partner was a brilliant man, but he has placed himself in danger for more then one stupid scheme in his career. He was an impossible, insufferable man, and yet she followed him. A familiar idiom her grandmother used to say ran through her mind. ‘Who is more the idiot? The idiot, or the idiot that follows the idiot?’ She laughed in spite of herself and continued her trek through the terrain of Russia. She would follow Mulder to the ends of the earth, if need be. His quest had not only become her life, but her love as well. She topped a ridge, and came to a clearing. She brought out her night vision glasses and peered through the night. She saw about seven armed guards standing around some sort of perimeter. She had come upon some sort of prison or mining camp. She saw a few men on horseback riding out the electrified gates. Apparently, whoever these men were, they did not want whoever was in there to become free. Deep down, inside herself, she knew that Mulder was somewhere within the walls of this camp, and in pain. She placed the glasses inside her pack and began moving slowly outside the gates of the camp. She walked until she found what she was looking for. A deep impression in the ground. A hole. From what she could tell of the shoe prints the way the dirt still appeared loose, she determined that the hole was dug about 48 hours ago and though the rain had obscured and filled in the hole a little it was still visible. She clawed through the mud, not minding the dirt that accumulated on her hands. Mulder was here, she was certain of it. Why he was here, though, was a complete mystery to her. She dug until the hole was large enough to encompass her small frame, then she pulled herself through the opening. She brushed the dirt from her pants and hands. And stood to get a better look, and find out where she was. There was about another mile to the buildings where she presumed the prisoners were housed. She wanted to get a better look at the grounds before maneuvering a rescue attempt. She walked to the east side of the "establishment". She had been fortunate enough to not been detected by any of the guards or men that canvassed. Then she heard the sound of horses neighing, and she turned around to see a few guards, she ducked low into the bushes to escape their awareness. She watched them from her hiding place, by the sound of their voices the guards were off duty, and having fun. They seemed to be teasing one another, but then she noticed the other men standing about the horses, but these men did not look like guards. The men had the bent-over postures and expressions of those who had worked strenuously for the most part of their lives. Oppression and sadness hung in the air like a tangible thing. She knew instantly that these men were the prisoners and that the guards who appeared to be teasing one another were really tormenting the prisoners. Whatever that was here, these men required a multitude of slave laborers to carry out the agenda for which it was used. She walked, cautiously through the brush and almost fell when the ground took a sharp curve downward into a make-shift cliff. She backed up a few steps and glanced downward toward fissure into which she had almost fallen. "Oh my God." She breathed when she saw that, it was a crevice that fell about 50 feet downward. She walked along the outer rim of the crevice and it appeared to be bowl shaped and rounded. She looked at the surrounding shrubbery and observed that all the trees had been flattened and some pulled from the ground. Of course, she thought to herself, of the meteorite that hit in the middle of Tunguska forest. This was the impression left by that meteor. Mulder had found that that rock specimen was part of the meteor that had fallen and impacted with earth over 80 years ago. But where was that rock today? And most importantly, what had caused men to set ‘ up a prison labor camp around the impression? Mulder, she was sure, held the answers to these questions. But first she had to find him and then get him out of this hell hole and find out what was going on here. Midnight in Moscow Tunguska forest 2:00 am Globs of encrusted dirt and mud clung to her boots, slowing her progress through the forest. Scully took a cautious glance behind her, making sure she was not being followed. She glanced at the horizon, dawn was just a few hours away. As she came closer to the prisoner's quarters, she heard the drunken ribaldry of the guards, probably over-indulging on duty. She rounded the corner of the brick structure and the shouting lessened. She crept against the wall and spied a few small windows near the ground. She dropped to the ground and peered through the closest of the windows and sure enough one of the prisoners was asleep on the floor. She gauged the window to be maybe a foot length-wise and knew she could not possibly fit through one of them. She stood and looked at the wall again. More windows lined the top of the wall. She walked and looked into each of the bottom windows until she came to what she was searching for--Mulder. He was awake and staring at something shinny in the darkness of his cell. He was in the far corner and difficult to see. She made out his shape, dirty and ragged. He looked in sore need of a shower and a shave. He was thin and pale, possibly sick. She needed to get him out of here. "Mulder?" She said making sure her voice could not be heard above the laughing and shouting of the guards. It was apparently too quiet for there was no response from the man within the cell. "Mulder!" She cried a little more urgently. She detected a small movement in the cell. "Mulder." she called again. "Scully? Is that you? What are you doing here?" He responded to her crouched form near the tiny window. "Mulder? Are you okay?" She asked making a mental inventory of his injuries once she had enough light to see him. "I don’t know, I’m weak and they’ve infected me with some kind of virus. How did you find me?” "I'm going to get you out of here, Mulder." She said with an air of finality and then was gone. * * * * He sat there still not believing what she had done. She had followed him to this hell hole. Why? She had disappeared from the window about ten minutes ago. Had she been captured? Her small form was barely recognizable when she had come up to his window. That woman still amazed him. She would not let anything stand in her way. Why had she done this? He heard the shuffle of feet along the corridor outside his cell. He wondered if it was guard, or if Scully had actually found a way in here. Then he heard her voice at the wooden door. "Mulder," she whispered. "Yeah, you okay? Did you see any guards coming down the hall?" "No, most of them are passed out in the officer's quarters. If one of them is stable enough to walk, let alone ride a horse by daylight I'll be greatly surprised," she said wryly. He smiled in spite of himself. Oh, Scully how you do amaze me so, he thought. He listened as she picked the lock at his door, a little trick he had taught her. Hurry up, Scully, we have to get out of here! The loud click that resounded from the opened lock told him he was free. He quickly opened the wooden door and cautiously stepped outside, making sure nobody was within distance of noticing his escape. Scully stepped around him, protecting him with her body. Which was an absurd notion, but she did it out of a protective instinct, which she had harbored for him since the start of his experiences in his search to find the TRUTH. * * * * Mulder and Scully ran to the exit around the corner but their steps quickly ceased when a guard shouted in crude Russian. He carried a large automatic rifle at his side and had it pointed straight at Mulder's head. Scully did not anticipate the guard or his companions, and was surprised to find that any of them were able to walk. The guard reached out and touched Scully's hair and softly caressed her face. He said something to one of the other guards and they laughed at his comment. Scully could smell the alcohol on his breath and could see the blurriness of his eyes. The man was definitely drunk. She glanced at Mulder who still held his hands in the air. His nostrils flared with anger and his breathing came in ragged breaths. He swayed a little and Scully noticed exactly how weak he really was. "My, aren't you a pretty one?" The guard said, in thickly accented English. "What do you think boys? Shall we have a go with her?" He then took a glance at Mulder and it apparently did not register to the drunken guard that Mulder was a prisoner. "You can have her too, if you want." This seemed to anger Mulder even further. His arm twitched as if to hit the guard, but he thought better of the action, and it remained where it was. The guard did not notice the anger in Mulder's expression and from his stance Scully could tell it was keeping every ounce of human willpower he possessed to keep from hitting the guard. Scully stared at the guard, who still continued to caress her face. The guard's hand then lowered to her breast, pinching the nipple with brute force. Scully did not move during this phase but when she saw the man was thoroughly saturated with drink and his mind was elsewhere on her anatomy, she sharply brought her knee into his crotch. The force of the blow took the guard by surprise. He rolled his eyes back into his head and clutched that part of his anatomy that was affected by the woman's sharp assault. He made a pathetic squealing noise and went down to his knees on the floor trying to gather enough breath to moan. Mulder had taken the opportunity of the diversion and had already knocked out one of the other men. Scully pulled her weapon from her hip holster and pointed it directly and the remaining guard's head. "What is this camp?" She asked. Needing answers from this man Scully thought of the only way she knew how--intimidation. The guard weakly answered the woman, "A mining camp." "Mining, for what?" "The rock." "Why is this rock worth taking innocent life to be used as slave labor?" "I d-don't know...I only guard the prisoners. They don't tell us why they are here," he answered meekly. Through this exchange Mulder was tying the guard's hands behind his head and to a pipe on the wall of the prison. "Where can we go?" The question was vague but the guard understood the question well enough for he answered. "The Trans-Siberian, there is a station about 10 miles from here." Satisfied with the answerers received, Scully nodded to Mulder, who then Promptly backhanded the young guard with the hilt of his gun, which knocked the poor soldier into unconsciousness. Mulder threw Scully a look that said, 'Now what?' She nodded toward the exit of the brick building and without words they headed for the door which led to freedom. Knowing now where they were going and how to get there, Mulder and Scully ran pell-mell to the gate where Scully had dug the hole only an hour ago. Mulder grunted when his clothing was caught on the wire of the fence. Scully, who was ahead of him stopped dead in her tracks to help her partner. It would be no time at all until whoever was in charge of this place, discovered the bodies of the three guards or they awoke and had the sense to figure out what was going on. "Go ahead, we have to keep moving." he said as she tried to assist him from the grasp of the fence. A few seconds later he freed himself of the annoying snare and ran with his partner through the forest headed for the Trans-Siberian which went eventually, to Moscow and the American Embassy, and then home. * * * * Tunguska Russia Same time Within the labyrinth of the camp Alex Krycek knew that Mulder would escape he was just sitting around imagining how he might do it. That was the inventive part about Mulder. That, and the fact that he never seemed to disappoint the expectations set by the men seeking to destroy him. Krycek threw Mulder into this situation. Mulder was his little chess piece. All you had to do was put him on the board and circumstances would set him in the right place at the right time. A finally, checkmate! Krycek never imagined that Mulder's red-headed skeptic of a partner would come chasing after him. Krycek never paid much attention to her, Mulder was the interesting one. She had somehow managed to escape detection. He was sure, as he watched her enter the camp, that she would never make it to the impression of the rock. He had seen what length Mulder would go for her, but it surprised him that she would do the same. Those two are a rare breed. Though destined to remain apart, they managed to stay together. Krycek would let them go until morning; he would play chess one more time, maybe this time would be the last. Midnight in Moscow Tunguska forest 4:00 am Mulder was weak from the strenuous work forced on him in the camp, and a lack of sufficient nutrition. He barely showed his weakness, but Scully could see he was tiring and fast. She guessed by the surrounding area that they were heading in the right direction and were about half way there. Only 5 more miles to go. If they could get that far they could make it back home. She stopped and waited for Mulder to catch his breath, they really could not afford the luxury of stopping, the guards they had assaulted would either, wake up, or be found in the hallway of the prison. Mulder slumped down onto a nearby boulder and sat, breathing heavily. He rose a few minuets later and nodded in the direction they had been following, indicating that rest time was over and they needed to be on the move again. She cast a glance at the surrounding area and rose to follow her partner into the Russian wilderness. * * * * * * Slowly, bit by bit, the unconscious guard made his way into consciousness. He awoke from the alcohol induced pain in his head. How the hell did he end up on the floor? He thought, as he stood and looked around him. His movements ceased when a sharp pain in his groin focused his attention elsewhere. As the spasm of pain eased, he slowly moved to take a step again and moved, but he was still slow and stiff. The guard looked over to the corner and noticed his friend Ivan Tratskivski lying on the ground with his hands tied behind his head on the wall. His head was lolled to the side and his legs were spread-eagle on the cement floor of the prison. "Ivan, man wake up," he said nudging his friend's shoulder. Ivan bolted to attention, surprised by the suddenness of his waking. "W-w-what?" Ivan said groggily. "What happened? How did you get like this? And how the hell did I end up on the floor?" He asked as he started untying his friend's bonds. "You don't remember, huh? You took an apparent interest in a woman who at the time was helping an escaped prisoner, but of course nobody noticed this until she whipped out her gun and pointed it at my head." He said a little ruefully. "Where did they go?" "They asked me how to get out of here, I directed them to the train station a few miles from here." "Do you know how she got in here?" "I don't know, but she was part of some government agency, the gun at my head was US government issue." Ivan said, standing up and rubbing his wrists, trying to let the circulation of blood flow through them once more. "The prisoner she took was in special care of Comarade Krycek. He has to know about this." The two officers trudged down to the office of their superior to tell him of the escaped prisoner, leaving behind their third companion, who was still lying on the floor unconscious. * * * * * Tunguska train station 5:30 am Mulder and Scully had made it to the railroad station just as the sun was coming up above the Russian horizon. They gained passage to Moscow with government money. Mulder was weak from the wounds on his arms and from exhaustion he had suffered in the camp. They shared a single cabin on the train. Mostly, for privacy, and for the fact that they would stand out less if only one cabin was being used. Scully glanced at Mulder, who had taken the bed in the cabin and had fallen asleep as soon as their passage was taken care of. He was pale and deathly thin. She must remember to make him eat something when he awoke. She took this time to check Mulder for wounds or abrasions. She carefully stripped him and folded his clothes in a pile next to the bed. His fist was clenched tightly around an object. She slowly opened his hand, and was surprised when her gaze fell upon a home-made knife in his grasp. She looked at his face, still relaxed in sleep and she removed the small knife and laid it in the pile with his clothes. He had a fever and he might be also sporting an infection on that arm. For now he slept; rest in the midst of a terrible nightmare. When they reached Moscow, the nightmare would end and life, as it was, could resume. But only when they reached Moscow. * * * * * Alex Krycek followed the two agents as closely as he could, without being detected. He lost them during the day, when stopping to catch his breath and gain his bearings, he came upon a group of forest men. He looked from one cold face to another. They were simple men, men who, at one time or another, had families and jobs of their own. They looked at this newcomer with suspicion and mistrust. He looked at them and instantly ascertained that they could help him. He had all the men convinced that he was a poor American tourist who had wandered from a tourist group and was lost in the forest, when a group of men from the prison camp seized him and charged him with spying for the Americans. The leader of this small band of men quickly ran his eyes over Krycek's Body. He did not notice any amount of bodily torture, which he knew the men of the camp inflicted upon the subjects of their tests. After convincing the men that he was indeed an American tourist and his story was the truth, he sat, enjoyed a rough dinner, and warmed himself by the fire. It was not until after this dinner that he noticed that all of the men that he had come upon, young and old alike, were missing something--their left arm. Mulder and Scully would not get very far, he quickly assured himself. Mulder was lame, and Krycek knew that he was going to be very sick—on the edge of death. He had made sure to order that particular test for his pawn. Scully was the other problem. Mulder was her little red button and all he had to do was push it too far and then, boom, an explosion. Scully had rescued her partner from the vise-like grip of these Russians, and succeeded, much to the surprise of anyone who knew about it. That little red-head could go a long way when her life's love was at risk. Yes, he knew that she loved her partner. Sometimes it seemed too easy, and yet anyone who got near those two, died in very compromising circumstances. Krycek vowed that he would not do that to himself. He had to look out for himself, and that meant not getting himself killed. Before he knew what his next thought was, Krycek was next to the fire, sleeping soundly. He awoke to a heavy weight on his body and his eyes flashed open to see the leader of the one-armed bandits, coming toward him with something that glowed bright red against the blackness of the night sky. The heat was strong enough for him to feel away from the blade. It radiated from the blade of the knife that was heading for him. He struggled against the men who held him to the Russian terrain. Fright poured out if him and formed a puddle next to him on the ground. "No...No!!" he screamed. No one, of the mob of bandits, came to his rescue. His cries fell short of the ears of any who might give a damn. He saw the crude blade for only an instant before it hit his skin. Light and dark spots danced in the back of his mind, as his seeing eyes fixed upon a single star in the night sky and just felt. Then white, hot searing pain ripped through him. He screamed as if the God above had no mercy upon his tortured body. Over and over again, thrust and slice came the noise and feel of the blade ripping delicate flesh. No other sense registered in his tortured mind. The feel of the men gripping his appendages and the ripping pain of the sharp pain in his upper torso. He heard the blade hit bone and felt the crack and break of it. The blade had sliced cleanly through, severing the arm from the host from which it originated. The pain never seemed to stop, he must have fainted half-way through because he was doused with water and when struggling to escape his tormentors the pain began again, fresh with new and hard thrusts. If this is death, let it be quick. He thought as the pain started again. He no longer had any coherent thought past the pain in his arm and then... darkness. * * * * * Living a life where no soul can be trusted, is a hard and difficult life. This man has lived this life and continues to live in it. Surrounding himself with those who hold not trust in his eyes. Only the trust of his own person could he hold, and even that was not absolute. Not one detail could escape this man's notice. If any of the pieces are missing from the puzzle, many lives could be lost. Ironic, that this man could consider the lives of many, when in the mundane push and pull of life, he trusted not one of the persons he is trying to protect. He saw a spark of brilliance in the young man he had employed. But, as always, he was not to be trusted. Giving this young man small powers, had made that spark glow into a bright ember. The man must be careful, the young man knew not the power of the knowledge he held, or could posses in the future. He spied the threat of betrayal on the young man's shoulder. The last communication he had received told that, the patient is sick and the doctor has come to heal. Coding letters had always been much easier in this man's line of work. It saves time as well as buys it. The message meant that the Mulder's partner has rescued him out of Russian hands. The man had meant the union of those particular individuals to act as a virus, killing the healthy cells of progress. In effect, killing the X-files. The virus, he had meant was really a vaccine against it in disguise. Still, watching had proven to be an amusing and prideful experience over the years. He had taken the necessary precautions to make sure that his virus was effective now, Mulder and Scully could not leave Russia. Given time, Mulder would learn to utilize the power he would have. Not yet, but with a little push and a little influence, Mulder could know everything he was thirsting for, all in just one drop of the well of knowledge. The young man had failed, and though he did not realize it. The young man's success would be entirely dependent on one he never knew of. The other would not fail, he was sure. Midnight in Moscow Somewhere in Russia Mulder slept through most of the next day, only tossing and turning when the small bed would not accommodate his 6 foot length. On the evening of the second day, he awoke. It took him a few minutes to take in his surroundings and figure out where he was and how had come to be there. Scully, he remembered, had taken him away from the hellish prison camp. She had come after him and his foolish crusade. He knew he did not deserve so worthy a person in his life. Scully was really too much for him at times and, at those times was when he pushed her away. He pushed, for her own protection. At the thought of his knight in shining armor, he quickly scanned the room, assessing the fact that she was nowhere to be seen. His mind raced into panic mode, and he made a move to stand. He felt a little light-headed and a trifle sick, he allowed himself to regain his sense of balance before looking again at the cabin window. As he rose his head, he spied Scully walking, through the throng of passengers, toward the cabin with a tray of food in her hands. His stomach grumbled in protest, at the thought of food. The sight of the delicious morsels on the tray made his mouth water, but a week without food could do a number on one's stomach. He lay back down on the bed, grateful he did not have to stand any longer. Scully opened the cabin door to discover a very alive, very awake Mulder staring at her. "You're awake," she stated, placing the tray on the bedside table and coming over to inspect him. "How long have I been out?" He asked, as she smoothed his hair away from his forehead, feeling it for any sign of the fever she had seen before. It was a little too warm, but that was to be expected. "About 36 hours. You were exhausted and running a fever." She calmly moved about the cabin arranging the food on the tray. "You are to eat all of this, you are suffering from acute malnutrition." Scully said in her most doctor-like tone. He nodded, consenting, and sat up in the bed as she sat beside him to help him eat. "So, are you going to tell me how you ended up in that prison camp in the middle of nowhere, Russia?" She asked, after a while. Remembering his mission, Mulder grew excited to tell her the story, like a little boy telling his mother how he had received a black eye on the playground. "It was there, Scully. The rock that crashed there in 1908, left some trace evidence of a virus or pathogen. After a few of the geologists who discovered the rock, had died, they thought it was a local transient who was responsible for the deaths. Upon examination, they discovered evidence of a pathogen. It placed the affected into suspended animation or a comatose state until further use to the virus. “The camp was established to learn more about it, to infect some with the virus and gage it's effects on the body. They did it to me, Scully." He said indicating to his present state of affairs. "The small-pox scar is the identification key, to know the effect on a particular subject." He explained. Scully looked at him with interest and with the look of a mother with a wayward son. "Why, Russia?" she asked peering at the wound on his left arm. "The diplomatic pouch, which started the whole charade, was to be sent to that prison," he added, ruefully. "They are trying to bury it, Scully. They don't want that rock, or what it contains to be found!" He had to convince her, otherwise all was lost and all they had been investigating would turn into a case of mistaken identity. "Mulder, whatever is in that rock, it's possibly in you, as well. The biologist I examined, has a parasitic organism growing and feeding off the enzymes produced by the pineal gland. If you were exposed to that same virus or parasite, it could have serious consequences. We don't know what this substance or life-form is capable of. You need medical attention the minute you get off this train," she reasoned. "We can go to the American Consulate in Moscow and tell them all that is going on here. For now...you need to rest." She said effectively ending the discussion. * * * * * The other spied the man and woman talking. The two made an impressive pair, and a cute couple, had they been one. At the thought of the two in the small train car becoming or already being a couple, jealousy surged through the other. She watched the close proximity of the two agents, how the woman's hand brushed along the man's forehead and upper arm, how they spoke with their heads bent toward each other's. The other wanted to tear at the woman's face and replace the woman's hand with her own. The other gave herself a shake, she could not allow personal feelings to get in the way of her mission. The other had a job to do and she needed it to succeed, no matter how much it might pain her. * * * * * Dana Scully sat across from her partner, Fox Mulder. She felt her own fatigue gaining it's fast steady pace on her body. She realized that she had not slept in over 76 hours. She glanced at the clock face on the opposite wall of the cabin, there was at least 15 hours left on the train. She cast her partner a glance and found him in deep thought. She examined him with her eyes, a habit she gotten into during their many years of working together. When she had examined him, she had noticed a small pink scar over the long-healed scar of a small-pox inoculation. It appeared as if an incision was made in the surrounding tissue, and partly, on the scar itself. Mulder was dirty and tired from his confinement, but still a splendid Specimen of manhood. His rakish hair stood out from his head, proof of his continuously running his hands through it, a sure sign of mental fatigue. His nose, long and aristocratic, showed signs of his battle- worn years with the bureau. The few lines around his eyes, showed the toll of the stress of the last few days. As she contemplated his looks and physical flaws, she knew that she would follow this man to the ends of the earth. She felt the weariness in her bones, sinking through her skin. She turned over and faced the wall of the cabin and fell into a dreamless and much needed sleep. Mulder stood, growing restless in the small space the cabin provided for him and his partner. The nausea of his earlier encounter with standing, not returning to him made him feel reckless. He paced the small cabin for a time and then grew bored. He acted very much like the caged animal, of which he felt. He stalked to the cabin door and swung it wide open with the satisfaction of a decision made. He was an escaped fugitive from a Russian prison camp, and in a world where his credentials didn't mean anything to anyone. Trapped, he felt trapped. He paced the train car, his mind jumping from one theory to the next. He saw a sea of faces--faces he didn't know and didn't care to. He pivoted on his right foot, absorbed in thought. Mulder looked up, for a second, and saw a flash of a face. He turned his head in the direction of the face. He peered into the car ahead, he saw someone, but not the someone he had thought. Sitting in a chair about half-way between his car and the next car was One of the guards from the Russian prison. The guard was in his late twenties. He was in civilian clothing, obviously trying not to be noticed. With a practiced eye, Mulder surveyed the younger man, a small bulge could be seen on the man's lower leg. Mulder guessed the weapon to be a small-caliber automatic. From the way the man surveyed the small train cabin, Mulder guessed he was not alone. Could they be looking for him? Who were they working for? Mulder managed to duck out of the man's sight range, when the guard turned his head. Slowly, Mulder stood and looked, again, into the small compartment. The guard's companion had now joined him. Mulder had to get to Scully. He didn't know how many more of these men were on the train, but he knew that he and Scully had to get off of it. He pivoted sharply on his heel, only to feel a sharp stab of pain ricochet through his body, reminding him that he was still injured. He grabbed the railing along the side of the train to keep from falling on the floor. Scully was his first and only thought, at that moment. He jogged through the myriad of cars and cabins to reach his destination. He threw open the door to the cabin reserved for Scully and himself, to find Scully sleeping soundly on one of the small cabin beds. Mulder stopped and looked back in the direction from which he had come. Mulder knew that the men had not seen him, still he felt the need for escape. He looked at Scully and considered leaving her here, after all they didn't know who she was and she was in more danger with him then without him. In a second, he pushed the thought away. He couldn't do that to her--he just couldn't. Fox Mulder sat opposite his partner, weapon in hand and watched--watched for the men of which he was escaping, watched his partner sleeping soundly not five feet away from him. Mulder felt helpless, but that was all he could do at that moment--watch. * * * * The thing knew he was being watched. He could feel the eyes of the man he sought like a spider making its way slowly, inch by inch up the base of its neck. The host from which the thing's newly acquired mobility came was an unusual source. Everyone around the thing was trying to kill it. To stamp out its existence like a dead bug. The thing could not let that happen. The thing's mate joined it, and stood by it's side. Not acknowledging anything, just knowing. The thing must wait--wait for an appropriate time to extinguish the life, which threatened its very existence. Only then, could the thing live in peace. Midnight in Moscow Scully woke to Mulder's gentle nudging. The train was no longer moving, was the first thing she noticed, the second, being that Mulder looked terrible. The stresses of the trip had taken their tool on him. His eyes were strained and small; dark circles were forming under them. She noticed the small stoop in his posture, when he walked; a sign of fatigue. She also knew that she did not look much better, but she was also in perfect health. Mulder, on the other hand, had suffered from malnutrition and medical experimentation. "Scully, we're here," he whispered in her ear and shook her shoulder. "We need to move." His movements were fast and urgent, attesting to the fact that there was need for alarm. "Mulder? What is it?" she asked sensing his need for urgency. "We're being followed." "By whom?" Instead of words he nodded toward the other end of the train car. She glanced in the direction in which he indicated, and saw what he meant. Two men, in civilian clothing were slowly scanning the train and its inhabitants, presumably for them. She recognized one of the men as a guard from the prison, he had been a companion of the two guards Mulder and she had assaulted. What was strange was that when she had last seen guard she would have sworn his eyes were a deep shade of blue, and now they had turned to a brown, almost black color. Scully then looked at Mulder and understood his need for urgency and escape. She nodded and quickly moved about the cabin, readying to exit the train. They had brought no luggage, save Scully's pack. And with that they exited the train hopefully, leaving behind this nightmare. Mulder woke his partner and prepared to get off the train, a restless night had not hampered his need for escape. Mulder watched the two guards until the steward had told him that their stop was coming shortly, then the guards had moved. The two men were slowly making their way closer to the cabin where he and Scully resided. He did not notice earlier, when he had seen the guard, but he noticed Now, that his eyes were dark and black. Mulder had seen that look before. He didn't know exactly what had happened to the guard, but the virus was inside of him. The life-form created by the virus had somehow taken control of his body, and was using it for mobility. These men were not guards looking for an escaped fugitive, but looking for a man who threatened their existence. They had more at stake then their jobs. He needed to get away from them as fast as he could, and Scully with him. * * * * * The other was prepared to move, Moscow was the agents' final step in their journey. She knew they were going to try to contact the American Embassy. A miniature Space Race was happening, between the men the other worked for, and the Russian scientists. Despite the fact that they were political allies, they were enemies in the name of the project-which must be protected at all costs. Mulder, the man the other was hired to watch, could unlock the long-held, dearly-kept secrets, her job was to make sure that didn't happen. Mulder and Scully could not make it to the American Embassy. The other, and the men she worked for, could not risk exposure. Now, Mulder, the man which had dedicated himself to finding the proof of the existence of the project and its guardians, had become all the evidence he would ever need. They could risk the jihad for truth, the deed would cause, but not exposure--that never could happen. The other steeled herself for the performance she was about to put on for the men she was to work with. She cast a last glance at the man and the woman who could change and destroy something so tenuously held in a grasp of desperation. She walked to where she knew the thing would be waiting. She saw it, or rather its host. A man, she knew. The thing's host was a prison guard from the camp. She looked over the thing's choice in a host and then her eyes traveled up to its face. She saw the eyes of the thing and her breath was robbed from her body, black and alive, the thing's eyes seemed to move of their own volition. The oil of the thing's existence was shown in those black, murky depths. She realized she was staring at the thing and came to her senses. She held out her hand, knowing what was coming forth. The thing placed in her hand a syringe filled with black liquid. The virus, genetically mutated to bring about certain death. It was peril for the thing to carry this as it could destroy it, as well. The other knew her job and was expected to perform it with perfection. She must continue with a plan that contradicted everything she had ever held dear, and do what she must for survival. * * * * * The thing registered the being as a fellow conspirator. The thing did not trust, even those who have been charged with the continuation of its race. Within its host, the thing moved languidly through the throngs of beings escaping the moving object. Beings served as hosts, and though peculiar, hosts is all they would ever be. This being, it knew, could never be controlled by one of his kind, for it was completely off limits, it was to help him, to carry out its mission with him and for him, so that they could survive. The thing approached the being with whom it was told to co-operate. The being's face was stoic, and female. The beings came in two genders, personally, the thing preferred the male beings, they made far better hosts. The being slowly looked up and down the thing's host, assessing it's choice. A sardonic smile lifted the beings lips. The thing stared back at the being. Her gaze swept over it's host until she reached it's face and then it's eyes, her breath caught in her throat, and it was the thing's turn to smile. She was quickly composed and placed a hand between them, silently asking for what she knew the thing could give her. The thing reached its host's hand into the layer of protective covering and brought out the instrument of reproduction. The tool to create life would be effectively used to end one. The thing smiled and walked with the female being toward the future of the thing's race. * * * * * Mulder and Scully walked out of the Russian train station and headed toward to city. Mulder shielded his eyes from the light, and looked around trying to get an approximate location, as to where they should be heading. Mulder, not knowing one word of the Russian language, looked to Scully for some help. She had been able to find him in the depths of a Russian hell, why not maneuver down-town Moscow? Scully stared back at him, she looked tired and drawn, this excursion had been a breaking point for both of them. She reached into her pack and pulled out her Russian/English dictionary and proceeded to look up the necessary phrases they would need for the continuation of their journey. Mulder scanned the crowd for anyone who could offer assistance in leading them in the correct direction. A look of confusion crossed his features as he looked back at his partner and she looked at him with the same look. They stood there, helpless and neither knowing what to do next. Mulder exhaled loudly and looked over to a corner where the street turned abruptly and was made into a small alleyway. Then, he saw the face he had seen on the train. The face he knew all too well. He placed a hand on Scully's shoulder to move her out of the way. She looked at him with questioning concern in her eyes. Scully opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it when she caught the sight of Mulder's attention. Mulder stared and turned white, by what was before his eyes. He had never expected to see her. The pieces of the puzzle now fell into place, she had been the face on the train, the one who had been following him. She was the key, and Mulder knew she had answers. * * * * The other walked toward Mulder and his stunned partner, eyes fixed straight ahead, the other knew that they saw her. She took time with her approach, making sure that they had seen her and letting the knowledge sink into their heads. She was still a block away, and as she stopped for a passing car, she looked straight at Mulder, and she knew that she could perform the task at hand. Mulder stared at her with such a shock and a look of utter disbelief that the other's ego was boosted with this. The other wore a scowl as she stared at the woman by Mulder's side. Scully, she had heard Mulder refer to her as, was small woman and she wore a look of a business professional, but there was no mistaking the interest and curiosity in the steely blue gaze. Scully looked over at her partner, whose attention was rapt with the sight of the other. The other reached the spot where the man and the woman stood. She briefly touched the small syringe, concealed within her pocket, for courage and stared at the man, who had by this time composed himself for the confrontation. The other nodded in Mulder's direction, "Mulder," she said with no hint of feeling in her voice. Mulder nodded, in confirmation of her acquaintance of him, "Diana," he returned. Midnight in Moscow Scully surveyed the new arrival. She looked skeptically at the woman, then in surprise with Mulder's next words. "Diana," Mulder said with complete lack of emotion. Scully's mouth practically dropped to the ground on which she stood, and she was glad Mulder nor the woman had not turned away from each other to regard her in this state. Suspicion dawned on Scully's face. She had never seen the woman before, and she didn't know how Mulder could have, either. "What are you doing here, Fox?" the woman asked as she regarded Mulder, like a naughty child who needed punishing. Why would this woman call Mulder by his first name? How well do they know each other? "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing." Mulder responded, with his customary dryness. He crossed his arms across the expanse of his chest to further accent his impatience. "What do you want from me, Diana?" He asked, coming to the point. She laughed a sardonic laugh and made an attempt to roll her eyes, but didn't quite make it. "Well, no 'Hi, hello?" With a glance at Scully she shifted her gaze back to Mulder. "Are you going to introduce us or just sit there pouting?" She said a little sarcastically, and Scully could have sworn that she saw pain in the other woman's eyes. "Dana Scully, this is Diana Fowley, Diana this is my partner Dana Scully." Mulder said, not dropping the impatience from his tone. Scully looked at the other woman, and smiled at her. The other woman took her hand and shook it in a friendly gesture. "Hi," said the other woman, and looked at Scully as if she were a bug that needed squashing. Mulder stood back and let the two women shake hands, then he stepped foreword, not saying a word, but waiting for an answer to his question. Seeing the look Mulder threw her, the other woman responded by crossing her own arms. Looking as if she were preparing for an argument and a verbal war, Scully mused. "I'm serving as escort to Ambassador Thomas." She responded dryly, letting Mulder take his chances and believe her or not. "Now answer me my question," She told him. Mulder looked at the woman and came up with a convenient lie. "We're following up on a lead." "In Russia?" The woman asked in doubt. "Where else?" Mulder answered with his dry humor. Mulder then turned to Scully and motioned for her to head down the street, "C'mon, Scully we need to find a motel...or something." He added remembering where he was. Scully walked ahead of Mulder and left the unknown woman behind. He ushered and practically pushed her to turn on the next block. Perturbed by her partner's strange behavior, Scully looked at her partner and forced her arm out of his grip. She stopped in the middle of the street and forced Mulder to look at her by pinning him with a steely gaze. "So, are you going to tell me what the hell went on, back there?" She said raising an eyebrow for emphasis. Mulder regarded his partner with annoyance and impatience. "It's a long story, Scully. I'll tell you later. Now, we need to get out of here." Mulder's gaze shifted from Scully's face to behind her. Scully was still staring at him, wanting and expecting answers to what was an undoubtedly confusing confrontation. He looked past her and his eyes focused on the object behind his partner. About ten men were gathered at the end of the block, they were marching in military fashion and carrying very large, very deadly weapons. Mulder doubted if they were even legal. Panic hit Mulder with a start when he realized and recognized the leader of the small militia. A small man, bald and with glasses. He was, what could be referred to, as the warden of the prison camp, where Mulder had spent the last few days being tortured and experimented upon. All of these heinous acts were preformed under the orders of this man. The group of men were searching for something, or rather, someone, and that someone was him. The small man saw he and Scully standing at the end of the street and ordered one of the closer guards to fire at the two agents. Mulder watched the man and stared into his eyes. The man had a Napoleonic ordering system, short, but enough power to conquer a empire. Mulder's FBI training immediately took hold of his motor functions, as he pushed Scully to the ground and grabbed the home-made knife that the prisoner at the camp had given him and held it in front of himself, readying to defend himself against these men. Scully's protestations at being rudely pushed to the ground stopped when she saw her partner's face. She cast a glance in the direction his knife was pointing and pulled out her own weapon in response. The guard who had been ordered to shoot had not yet fired, and the crowed which had gathered in the bustle of the Russian mid-day, had dispersed with the silent war between a fugitive and a slave driver. Mulder locked and held gazes with the guard who had the gun pointed straight at his head. From this distance, the bullet would do harm but would probably leave him alive. The guard was young, maybe 18 or 19 in age, his hair was blonde with highlights of something darker, his face still held the roundness of childhood, and his eyes held the bright determination and stupidity of a teenage boy. Mulder wanted to avoid death of any kind, if he could. He had been forced by his occupation to kill and wound many men, but not once did he want to pull that trigger. Ironic, that when your life is being threatened you think about the lives you have taken. Nonetheless, if the boy shot at either he or Scully, Mulder would be forced, once again, to end another life. The boy was a soldier and he followed orders. The sound of the weapon being fired resounded off of the many buildings in the area. The bullet missed Mulder and entered into the stub of a tree, planted in the middle of the walk-way. Indignation surged on the boy's features as he saw where his shot landed and that his target was still very much alive. He fired another shot, that again came short of it's mark. The young soldier regarded his commander to find what he was doing wrong. Scully fired off one shot and hit the young soldier in the right shoulder, leaving the boy crying out in pain. The boy dropped to his knees, more in shock then in actual pain, he looked at his comrades who had continued to stand where they stood, watching the scene before them with complete detachment. The boy looked at Mulder and tried, once again, to fire upon him, when an apparent firebrand of pain hit his shoulder, making him drop the knife he held. The leader of these soldiers of men was shouting obscenities in Russian to the young man. The short, bald man picked up the young soldier's disregarded weapon and fired a single shot into the boy's chest. Scully watched this scene with horror and disgust for the man who would end a boy's life, because he missed a shot. Scully fired on the leader and hit him in the lower leg. Another loud obscenity was expelled from the man's mouth and more soldiers were ordered to fire upon the two agents. Scully took one last look at the teenage boy whose blood now stained the pavement of the Russian street a bright red. His life-less eyes registered shock and death. Scully pitied the boy and said a quick prayer for the boy before Mulder pushed her behind him and started running away from the small army of men. * * * * The other watched the scene, with a look that said 'all had gone along with the plan', she looked at the woman who was her lover's partner. She hated the woman. Mulder seemed very protective of her, she watched, when he pushed his small partner down on the ground. Her heart lurched when she had witnessed the protective nature of this man and his partner. She watched as Scully fired upon the soldier who had fired upon Mulder, she hit the young soldier in the shoulder and the young boy immediately collapsed in pain. The other touched the small syringe hidden within her clothing again. Touching it seemed to give her the strength to face what she must do, to reconcile the fact that she was about to kill her once-lover. Seeing the man and woman together now, she felt renewed courage that she could do the job ahead of her. The other sensed a presence behind her, and turned with her gun drawn toward the sound of footsteps in the darkened alley way. She saw him, the man she had despised from the moment she had started this assignment. He was slumped over in a stooping position, he still wore the sling from their earlier encounter. The young man smiled when he caught sight of the other and motioned for