Late Show, by Candace

'Late Show'

The season 8 finale, the way it was meant to be

By Candace

Disclaimer: Usual disclaimers apply

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Skinner and Mulder departed the Hoover Building elevator and entered the underground parking garage. Mulder listened quietly while Skinner chastised him for repeatedly entering the premises without the benefit of current FBI credentials. He'd been returning to his former basement office for weeks, on the basis of being invited for questioning by Doggett. He had respect for his replacement, and had offered to help him in any way that he could, since Scully was on leave awaiting her impending delivery. However, each time he stepped back into the office he couldn't help but take over and make his presence known.

"So, next time Agent Doggett requires your input, he'll have to get it away from the FBI offices. I'm sorry, Mulder, but I'm getting too much grief on this from Kersh."

"Whatever you say, sir. I mean, uh, Walter? I don't know what to call you since I'm no longer with the Bureau."

A leather-clad form suddenly stepped out of the shadows to stand before them. "How about calling him what he is…Mr. Tool. Skinner was the smoking bastard's tool, and now he's Kersh's tool. And let's not forget what's most important…he's MY tool." With that remark, Krycek lifted the palm pilot into view.

The sight of Krycek holding his fate literally in the palm of his hand gave Skinner the usual momentary panic, before he recovered and slipped into anger mode. "You bastard, Krycek. What the hell do you want with me now?"

"Mulder's still a carrier of the alien virus. That ridiculous course of anti-virals that Scully ordered for him in the hospital did nothing for him. He must be eradicated with the rest of the carriers. Kill him."

A look of disbelief covered Skinner's face. "Are you out of your mind? You couldn't control me before…what makes you think you can now?" Skinner reached for his gun and removed the safety, pointing it straight at Krycek.

"Don't try it, old man. As quick as you can pull the trigger, I can press this button. Press of a button, Skinner, and it's all over for you. Come on, you know I only want Mulder dead because he's a threat to this planet. Do your duty to help save the world, and shoot him. Now." With that, Krycek raised his finger on the dial, initiating a slowly increasing level of pain throughout Skinner's body.

Skinner doubled over and tumbled against the wall. He slumped to the ground as the pain increased incrementally with every fraction of movement of Krycek's finger on the dial. He looked at Krycek with pleading eyes. "No. No, don't make me. Please, I can't do it. You'll have to kill me first."

"Whatever you say, Waaaalter." Krycek held the palm pilot closer to Skinner's face, so that the man writhing in agony could better see the dial, as well as the "kill" button. Krycek made sure Skinner could see his thumb moving into position over the button.

"No, Krycek…no…" Skinner muttered weakly, raising his gun to point to Mulder. "All right, you win, you bastard…"

Krycek smiled. "Atta boy, Walter. I knew that you could."

Skinner brought back the trigger, but before he fired he quickly turned his arm and retrained his aim on Krycek.

Bang!

Three shots. Krycek slumped to the ground, bloodied and lifeless. Skinner pocketed the palm pilot and smirked at the crumpled heap that had been his nemesis.

Mulder, who had been nervously watching from a few feet away, stepped over to gaze down at Krycek. A small sound erupted from his throat, and his hand shot up to cover his mouth.

"Mulder, are you going to be sick?"

"No, uh, no sir. I just can't believe he's finally dead and out of our lives."

"Yeah, and the bastard made me have to be the one to kill him. Now I've got to explain to Kersh why it was self-defense. He's never going to buy the fact that Krycek was holding the nanocytes over my head. Damn, now I'll have to go through god-knows-how-many tests before Kersh will really believe what's in my blood. And when he does, I'll be a scientific oddity with a hoard of scientists and doctors alike clamoring to study me. Damn Krycek. Well, no sense putting this off. Stay here with the body, Mulder. I'm going back upstairs to Kersh's office."

"Okay." Almost as an afterthought, he muttered "I'm sorry, Walter."

"For what, Mulder?"

"Huh?" Mulder hadn't thought that Skinner had heard that last remark. "Oh… I'm sorry that you've got to go through all those lab tests. And by the way, you were right about me hanging around here so much. You won't see me here anymore. I think I've given Agent Doggett all the help he needs for now, anyway. Maybe I'll take a vacation and get out of town for awhile."

"Thanks, Mulder. Your absence will make it easier for me around here. I appreciate it."

"No problem." Mulder watched Skinner disappear into the elevator, and the moment the doors closed he pivoted in a circle, frantically looking all around him. "Smith! Smith! Where are you?!"

The ever-calm Jeremiah Smith emerged from behind a pillar. "Relax, Mr. Mulder. Everything is going according to your plan, so far." Smith crouched over the body and rested his hands on Krycek's chest. "I have it all under control."

After a few moments, Krycek heaved a huge breath and opened his eyes. Almost totally immobile under Smith's hands, Krycek managed to turn his head slightly to gaze into Mulder's eyes. They maintained eye contact for the next minute, while the healing hands repaired the damaged body.

Mulder was entranced, and seemed to be held immobile himself by the strength of the green-eyed gaze. After what seemed to be the longest minute in history, however, Mulder began a nervous little dance. "Please, please hurry! Skinner will be back down here with Kersh any time now!"

Smith rose to his feet, and he and Mulder helped the slightly disoriented Krycek into the trunk of Mulder's waiting car. Mulder turned to shake hands with Smith.

"Thank you, thank you so much, Jeremiah. What can I ever do to repay you?"

"Be happy. That's all I want for the people of this planet. Now go. I must get myself ready for the rest of your plan." Smith watched Mulder drive away

with his precious cargo, and then morphed his body into the shape of the Alien Bounty Hunter.

A few minutes later, Skinner emerged from the elevator with Kersh in tow. When they arrived at the bloody pavement, Smith-as-Bounty Hunter made his presence known.

"Mr. Skinner. I have had Mr. Krycek's body taken back to my ship. He has been one of our greatest enemies, and my people will delight in his death. I have also had Mr. Mulder taken back aboard, too. We are most curious as to how he managed to overcome the alien virus that we had given him. We must study him once again. Don’t expect him back anytime soon, if at all, this time."

Kersh erupted like a volcano. "Is this some kind of a joke?!! What do you two take me for, anyway? I mean it, Assistant Director, I will not stand for this alien nonsense! I don't know who this guy is or what he supposedly did with the supposedly dead body, but don't expect me to believe that the ship he's referring to is a space ship! Who are you, anyway? Hey…where did he go?"

Skinner, who had been trying to get a word in edgewise with Kersh, did not notice the fact that the third party had managed to slink away during Kersh's tirade. "Excuse me, sir. I've got to go see Agent Doggett. I need him to find Mulder again." Skinner ran back to the elevator, with an angry Kersh at his heels.

"No way. There's no way the Bureau is going to spend one red cent on finding Mulder again. I won't justify it…the man's not even an agent anymore. You can forget about it, Skinner. Just forget about it. If I even hear another word about this…"

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Somewhere far away, a few weeks later…

Fox and Alex lay snuggled in bed together, watching television. Fox brightened as the commercial break ended and 'Late Show with David Letterman' came back on. "I love when Dave does this, Alex. Watch, they're going up to the roof to drop stuff off the top and watch it crash to the ground."

Alex lay with his head on Fox's shoulder, watching in boredom at Letterman's antics. He yawned as one piece of electronics after another was hoisted over the edge of the roof and went hurtling down to crash into a hundred little bits…televisions, computers, radios. He struggled to keep his eyes open as he viewed paint cans falling twenty stories to splash colors all over the ground.

Suddenly a rather mundane object caught his attention. He was rapt to the screen as Letterman dropped an ordinary pumpkin off the roof. It hit the ground with a solid "SPLAT!" He began to chuckle slightly against Fox's shoulder.

"The pumpkin? You thought that one was funny? You're weird, Alex."

At that, Alex erupted into full-blown howling that seemed to have no end. After awhile, he held his stomach, which was hurting from laughing so hard, and wiped away his tears as the laughing finally abated. "Oh, Fox. That was a good one. I liked that one."

Fox hugged Alex to him and gave him a quick kiss on his head. "That's one of the many reasons I love you. You always seem to find humor in the most ordinary things."

"Mmm, yeah." Alex settled once again against Fox's shoulder as they resumed their positions for television watching. Alex may have been looking at the t.v, but his mind was miles away, in Washington, D.C. A small grin emerged as Alex's thoughts ran through his mind. He had always thought of Skinner as a pumpkinhead, which he felt was appropriate for both the lack of hair on top of his head as well as the lack of initiative inside of his head. He thought of the palm pilot, and of the consequences that would occur if anyone tried to dismantle it or tamper with it in any way. The nanocytes were present in only limited degrees in the bloodstream in Skinner's torso and extremities, with the highest concentration located in the blood vessels in his head. The images in Alex's mind jumbled on top of each other…Skinner's head, the palm pilot being dismantled, and the remnants of the pumpkin bits splattered over the ground. 'Such a shame,' Alex mused to himself, 'Letterman will never know just how much of a true comic genius he really is.'

End

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