Rated: SLASH, T for harsh language
Author's Notes: This post represents a newly rewritten and significantly expanded version of a story that was originally written for the 'Partners' M/K Lyric Wheel. The only female OC was written in homage to my first mentor in this fandom. Hi Listmom!
Spoilers: The characters in this story know nothing about the events after 'Existence' except for a few tidbits from 'William'.
Beta: Thanks to Ladyluck for superb beta and to Logan for the inspiring song lyrics by Concrete Blonde
Disclaimer: Characters created by others and fine-tuned by me with no intent at profit or harm.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mulder sprawled exhausted on his sofa, watching Scully clean up the remains of William's second birthday party. She was giving him the evil eye for not helping her, so he knew he'd better say something.
"Thanks for cleaning up, Scully, but I'll get the rest later, after you go home." They lived apart, having decided that their strength was their friendship, and shared joint custody of William. "Jeesh, who knew that a birthday party could take so much out of you? I really wasn't expecting so many toddlers to christen my new apartment. I didn't even know you knew that many people with kids."
"Contrary to what you obviously think, Mulder, I do have friends besides you. And we couldn't exactly have a party for William without having other little ones here to share in his excitement."
"Yeah, but I've only been moved in here for a few weeks and thought I'd eventually get around to having a housewarming party. I didn't think my first guests would be a bunch of two-year olds."
"You know, I think you can forgo the housewarming idea. You only just moved into Apartment 44 in the same building! The only difference is that this one has two bedrooms. Trust me, no one would even notice," she laughed.
Mulder apparently did not share her humorous take on the situation. "And here I thought inviting all my friends over here would be a good idea," he responded crossly.
She emptied her load of used paper plates into the trash bag she was holding, then sat on the coffee table in front of him. "Mulder, is something wrong?"
He sighed. "No. Listen, today was great, Scully, thanks again for all of your help."
"Mulder, I am not going anywhere until you talk to me. Something's obviously been bothering you these last couple of months."
"I don't know what you're talking about." He saw by her look that she didn't buy that response for an instant. "You mean you could tell? Why haven't you said anything?"
"I've been waiting for you to bring it up. Please, Mulder, what is it?"
Mulder shook his head. "It's really nothing, Scully. It's just, well, it's just that I've been feeling a little depressed lately."
"Oh, Mulder," Scully said, concerned.
"I'm actually a bit embarrassed to admit it, since I've got so much going for me. I can't figure it out. Will's the best kid that any father could ever ask for, and I've got him and I've got you. I've got my job. I've got so much more than a lot of people have, but, I don't know, I just feel like there's some sort of void in my life." He gave Scully a questioning look. "Do you think that's selfish of me to feel that way?"
"Mulder, of course it's not selfish. Don't you think that I sometimes feel that way, too?"
"You do?"
"Yes, which is why I've decided to finally do something about it. I was actually going to bring this up with you sooner or later, Mulder." At his curious look, she grinned shyly. "Well, the fact is, I've joined a dating service."
Mulder looked surprised, but then smiled. "Good for you, Scully. You deserve to find someone special."
"Well what about you, Mulder? Maybe you should join up, too. Don't you see? That's why you're feeling this way. You need someone special in your life just as much as I do."
"I don't think that's necessarily the reason I've been down, lately," Mulder defended. He turned his head and stared at the floor. "Besides, for some reason I have this feeling that there is no one out there for me."
"Well you certainly won't know if you don't try. Come on, Mulder, I really wish that you would give it some serious thought. But in the meantime, we should both just concentrate on the positive things we have in our lives." She took his hand and smiled. "Mulder, we are so lucky, aren't we? Sometimes I can't believe it. I mean, when I think back on all of the terrible things we thought we had to overcome before William was born, and now we don't have to worry about any of it anymore. It's a miracle, Mulder. It truly is."
Mulder looked at her and smiled. "Seems like it, Scully, a real miracle. You're right, I just have to focus on all the good things in my life for now. Listen, thanks for all your help, but you should go home now and get some rest."
"Okay, I'll go, but only if you promise me you'll think about starting to date." She gave him an uncompromising look, as if she wasn't going to get up without getting an answer.
"You got it. I promise that I'll *think* about it. Have a good weekend, Scully. I'll drop Will off with you around the usual time Sunday."
Scully gave him a loving look of concern before rising and heading towards the door. She stepped out of the apartment and looked back at him. "Call me if you or William need anything, or if you just need to talk." She smiled and closed the door behind her.
Mulder continued to rest on the sofa after her departure, thinking about the guest of honor sleeping soundly in the small bed in one of the bedrooms. Scully was right; before William was born, it seemed all there had been was fear of so many unknowns. How had William come to be? Was there any hope for saving the planet from colonization? If not, what kind of future could their son and the rest of the world's children hope to have?
But somehow things had fallen into place, one by one. William turned out to be just a normal kid, healthy and happy. And then miraculously the aliens began leaving the planet over the course of the next several months, because of global warming, of all things. The hybrids they'd been working on for the past fifty years could not tolerate the direct rays of the sun, and with the swift decrease in the ozone layer that had occurred over the past few years they were helpless to prevent their work from being destroyed. The aliens had no recourse but to vacate the planet, taking all remaining hybrids and super-soldiers with them.
And so it was that shortly after William's first birthday, there was simply no more alien threat to worry about. Mulder was overcome with relief and joy, for his son's future, for the entire world. He had gone back to the X-Files, happy that that the mysteries he'd be investigating would all be of terrestrial origins. The following year was simply the happiest that Mulder had ever been. He was really relaxed for the first time in his life, and he found it incredible that his happiness could be comprised of so many little things William's first steps, his first words, and all of the things that the innocent child found joy in.
The year between William's first and second birthday flew by, measured in days and weeks of normalcy. Even most of the cases Mulder investigated ended up being explained by normal rather than paranormal circumstances. But as the months went by, the novelty of being happy and normal began to wear off, and this was when Mulder had begun to realize that he was missing something in his life. There was some emptiness inside him that he could not explain, and he felt guilty that William was only partially able to fill it. Mulder had surmised that he missed the fight, the excitement of the hunt to bring down the seemingly all-powerful leaders of the former Consortium, to fight their efforts to hide the truth. But now the truth was finally out there, at least to the inner circles if not to the public at large. So there was simply no one or nothing left to fight.
The mixture of birthday cake and soda churned in Mulder's stomach, bringing him out of his repose. As he continued to rest on the sofa he couldn't suppress the feelings of guilt that always accompanied this growing emptiness. He shouldn't be feeling empty today, on William's birthday of all days. But he could no longer deny it; he needed more than his son and more than the X-Files in his life. But what, then? Suddenly Mulder didn't want to think about any of that any more. He snapped himself up into an upright position and shook his head as if to clear it.
"Aaagh! Snap out of it and be happy, damn it!" he admonished himself. He reached over and snatched up the camera from the coffee table, and contented himself by scrolling through the digital images of the afternoon's big event. A brief knock at the door interrupted him. Mulder was more than a little surprised when he opened the door to see Spender standing there.
"Please tell me you're here with severe chest pains," greeted Mulder. When no response was forthcoming, he waved a hand towards the wrapped gift in Spender's hand. "Whatever that is, William doesn't want it."
"Nonsense, Fox. I'm quite sure my grandson will love it." Spender placed the present on the table near the entry and began to move into the living room.
"I don't recall inviting you in, old man. Second-hand smoke isn't good for William."
"Of course it's not, which is why I've been considerate enough not to be smoking at the moment."
Mulder stared at Spender's face; something wasn't quite right. It didn't look as withered as he had remembered it.
"How is it that you can just waltz right in here looking moderately healthy? Last I heard you were wheelchair-bound with a tracheotomy. You were supposed to be dying of lung cancer."
"Ah yes, the miracle of alien science. There are no more aliens on Earth, of course. But prior to its departure from our planet, one of the shape-shifters returned a favor for me and healed my lungs and eradicated the cancer from my entire system. At my age, I figure I can smoke for the rest of my life without ever having to worry about lung cancer being the cause of my demise. No, I plan to go out peacefully in my sleep and die of old age."
"Bully for you. Now say what you came here to say and get out."
"I'm simply here to tell you that I've decided to take advantage of my new lease on life. My previous monies disappeared with the fall of the Consortium, so I've taken it upon myself to build a new fortune. I've got a project going that is going to make me filthy rich, Fox. I figure I've got a good 20 or 30 years left in me, and I intend to spend the time I have left having the time of my life."
Mulder stared at him blankly. "And?"
"I just thought I'd inform you that I'm going to be very busy in my new life, so unfortunately I won't have the opportunity to see little William often, if at all."
"Make it not at all."
Spender turned and began to walk towards the front door.
"I'm not buying it, Spender. I know you're not really going to walk out that door; you haven't said what you really came here to say. Just get it over with. What game are you playing now?"
Spender slowly turned back around and flashed his ugly grin. "How astute of you, Fox. Yes, I am playing a game. What's the use of all the money I stand to make without making things a bit more interesting, hmm? So here it is. The game is for me to give you information that will make your blood boil, but that you will be absolutely helpless to do anything about." He paused, as if for dramatic effect. "You see, Fox, I stand to make a fortune in the sale of super-soldiers to various factions."
Mulder startled. "That's impossible. There are no more of them left. The aliens took them all with them when they left."
"They may have taken all of the super-soldiers, but they left behind the technology to create them. I've retained a facility that was once run jointly with the alien representatives. The super-soldiers I'm producing aren't quite the same as the ones you were familiar with. These are completely manufactured from scratch; they are not formerly human. But in all other senses they function exactly like the former super-soldiers. They're in the processing stages now, but once they're ready, I already have buyers lined up. They were always created to be loyal to a master; in this case it will be the military they'll be loyal to instead of an alien race."
Mulder steamed, balling his hands into fists at his side. "You know that whichever country's military has those soldiers will be the most powerful in the world. What are you planning to do, old man? Sell to the highest bidder?"
Spender grinned although his eyes held no amusement.
"Why be so greedy as to limit the supply when there will be worldwide demand?" Spender asked. "I don't see why all of the world's major powers shouldn't benefit from their services. And make me filthy rich in the process, of course. The soldiers will be shipped in an inert state to whichever military purchases them, and be programmed by that military to serve them loyally."
"You bastard! Unleashing indestructible soldiers to any country with a big enough pocketbook. The world will be in chaos!"
Spender chuckled. "Everything is set in motion. That's why I'm here. There is no way for you or any of your government allies to find my resources. I've covered my tracks most adequately, I assure you. Oh, you may have a slim chance of tracking down the facility when production comes to an end in several months and the sales actually proceed. But by then, of course, it will be too late, since it will only be a matter of days to have the merchandize shipped to all of their various global destinations. I'll have made my fortune by then. So that's my game, Fox. I've come here to dangle the prize in front of you and make you dance for it. You'll never win, but I know you'll try. You'll try with every fiber of your being. After all, that's what makes you Fox Mulder."
"If this is true, I will fight you, and I will find a way to stop you."
"It's true. You'll just have to take my word on that."
"When has your word been anything that I can trust? How do I know you're not here just to watch me jump through your hoops, when there really is no facility out there? I need proof."
"I've already established that the reason I am here is precisely to watch you jump through my hoops, my dear boy. The facility exists."
"Go, get out. If you can't give me any proof then I'm not playing this game."
"There is no proof, Fox. No one knows exactly what my plans are, not even my employees. They've been given a cover story, even that sworn to secrecy of course."
Mulder glared at him and pointed to the door. "No proof, no game. Get out."
Spender deliberated for a few moments. "Well, I thought it might come down to this. All right, then. There is actually one person that may possibly be able to figure out my plans. I had no intention of sharing my intentions with anyone, and I didn't. But over the years this man has had access to certain files and sources, whether legitimately or by stealing from my offices. This was years ago, and the information was rather vague. You can go see him if you'd like, but whether or not he can ever make sense of the information he came upon will always remain a mystery."
Mulder chuffed out a laugh. "Not one minute ago you stated that you left no trail that could be followed, and then you turn around and point me in the direction of some guy that might know a fair amount of your plans? If you don't start making sense, I'm not going to buy into any of this."
"You can go to this man, Fox, but he won't tell you anything."
"Why won't he? You're threatening his life if he talks? Do you really think that will stop me from getting what he knows out of him, just because he's being blackmailed?"
"No, Fox. Not blackmail. Brain damage."
"What?"
"The man is severely brain damaged. Whatever he may know he can't tell you. It's as simple as that."
Mulder contemplated this information and the likelihood of whether or not such a man really existed or if he was just a fabrication. Something wasn't adding up. He narrowed his eyes at Spender.
"It's not your style to leave loose ends, Spender, not even brain-damaged ones. I'm surprised that you haven't had this man eliminated."
"Actually," said Spender, "I was planning to have him shot a couple of years ago, execution-style. But as it turned out, your Mr. Skinner took care of that for me."
Mulder felt as if his stomach had plummeted to the floor. He could only stare wide-eyed at Spender.
"My clean-up crew took over from Skinner in the parking garage. Your former A.D. wasn't surprised to see my men show up; he knows that I kept track of everything that went on in and under the Hoover Building. My men were under orders not to finish the victim off since I preferred to have him suffer as much as possible before he died. He ended up in one of our private clinics. I kept waiting for him to wake up so I could torture him a bit, but he was in a coma for months."
Spender paused and stared at nothing, as if he were reflecting on the long months he had to wait for the victim to wake up. Eventually he began again.
"After a few months in our clinic, I lost interest in keeping him and had him shipped off to a private nursing home. When he woke up there a couple of months later my interest was renewed. I went there with the intention to inflict various tortures, but to my delight I found him to already be in a very special Hell of his own. The mental torture he was suffering far surpassed any physical torture that I could have devised. I decided to leave him be, to live out the rest of his life in this nursing home in his miserable state of being. I'm telling you he won't be any use to you, but if you feel the need to verify this for yourself then you'll find him at the Elmhurst Nursing Home and Rehabilitation Center."
Mulder clenched his fists tight again. "You came here planning to drop that little tidbit of information on me all along, didn't you?"
Spender grinned. "I've observed how much he gets under your skin. I'm beginning to enjoy this already. Go see him, Fox. Go see Alex Krycek, and let the game begin."
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The sun had set and yet Mulder still sat motionless on his sofa, long after his hated father had left the apartment. He recalled a time five years previously when he had also sat motionless in the dark on the same sofa, lost in contemplation of an inextricable relationship in his life that was neither accidental nor in his control. And how, on that night, the person in question had managed to fully restore the beliefs that he had once held strong but that had been somehow diminished.
Mulder reflected on that man. For seven years Alex Krycek had come in and out of his life until that night two years ago tonight, when he was forced to witness his murder at the end of Skinner's gun. He remembered feeling completely shocked and numbed at seeing the dead body; it somehow didn't seem right that this would be the end for Krycek. He was supposed to always be there to irritate Mulder with his mysterious double-talk, he was supposed to always be there for Mulder to lash out at, he was supposed to always be there for Mulder to try to find answers from, and all of a sudden he just...wasn't.
He was also numbed by the fact that Skinner had murdered Krycek in what could not be disputed to be cold blood. This could not be the action of the Skinner that Mulder had come to respect. All of it was too much for Mulder to process at the time since his own son was about to be born at any moment and he believed the child to be in terrible danger. His responsibility to his child had to take priority, and so it did, effectively squashing any emotion related to the body on the ground before him. Mulder had fled the parking garage in search of his son, with Krycek firmly banished from his consciousness. The joys that had occurred in Mulder's life throughout the following months had made it easy not to think about his murdered nemesis at all. After all, one dead man from his past could not compete with the supreme happiness that he derived from the world's newfound freedom from colonization, not to mention the surprisingly profound delights he found in fatherhood.
He had just assumed that Krycek was a thing of the past until the bombshell that was dropped onto his lap earlier today. Mulder ruminated on what he should do. For the first time he would be the one in control of whether or not Krycek would reappear in his life, and not the other way around. But did he really want to subject himself once again to the conflicting emotions that the man always seemed to stir up in him?
For despite the accusations that he had consistently thrown at Krycek about being a coward and a liar, he had often wondered if those allegations were completely true or not. Perhaps there had been more than a bit of truth in the scant but obtuse information that Krycek had told him over the years about the colonizers and the rebels and the old men, information that had always left Mulder guessing. And in addition to the question of where Krycek's true alliance had been, he had also been disturbed by the intensity of his visceral response to the man, which had never occurred whenever Mulder had met up with any of the other betrayers in his life.
He could certainly choose not to see Krycek, especially since Spender assured him that the visit would be useless. Brain damaged. How, exactly? If he tried to get answers from Krycek, would he only be playing into Spender's game, and nothing more? Mulder continued to sit in the dark mulling over the various reasons why he should or should not seek out Krycek, all the while knowing deep down exactly what he was going to do.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
"You're here to see Alex? My goodness, he's only ever had one visitor, and that was when he first came out of his coma well over a year ago."
Mulder leaned forward to read the name on the woman's identification badge Dr. Ruth Lesse.
"Yes, well, Dr. Lesse..."
"Please, just call me Ruth. We like to think of this place more like a home than an institution, so we tend to stay away from formalities."
"Ruth. You see, I've only just found out that Mr. Krycek was here a few days ago."
"Oh? If he's your friend, then how is it that you're only now just finding out about him?"
"Actually, I'm not here as his friend. I'm here in my capacity as a Special Agent with the FBI."
"Oh, I see," Ruth said, casting her eyes down. There was no mistaking the disappointment in her voice.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Mulder asked.
"No. It's just that when I was told someone was here to see Alex, I was so hoping that it would be a friend of his. He's such a nice young man. I feel sorry for him that no one ever comes here to see him. And he never leaves to go see anyone, either."
"He can leave? I thought he was a patient here."
Ruth shook her head. "In the strictest sense, no, he's not really a patient here anymore. As the Center's primary speech-language pathologist, I still occasionally try to help Alex with his expressive language skills, but it's clear that he reached the limits of his capabilities a long time ago and there's really nothing more that anyone can do for him. So, since he apparently had no place to go and since his communication skills are essentially nonexistent, we made him an offer to remain here as a rehabilitation aide. He helps out in return for room and board."
"Alex Krycek, rehabilitation aide," Mulder muttered to himself, as if hearing the words would make it a more feasible concept.
"Excuse me?" Ruth asked.
"Uh, so what exactly does he do around here?" Mulder asked as he glanced up and down the corridor they were in.
"Well, he spends most of the time in the gym helping the physical therapists and occupational therapists with their patients. Alex got to know the staff there pretty well, since he needed months of therapy after waking from the coma."
"Legs a bit weak after sleeping for months, huh?" Mulder asked disinterestedly as he continued to survey the place. The long silence that followed brought his focus back to Ruth, and he could see that she was irritated with his apparent disregard for her former patient.
When Mulder saw that it was clear to Ruth that she had his attention back, she proceeded. "Yes. He was in a coma for five months, so of course he needed to regain muscle tone and strength. It took several weeks before he could walk without someone helping him. He couldn't use a cane or walker or any type of assistant equipment to help him walk since the two bullet wounds to his only arm caused significant nerve and muscle damage. It took months of physical and occupational therapy to get his right limb back to full function, and thank god it did. If Alex wasn't able to use his arm, well, I don't even want to think about what that would have done to him."
Mulder had the decency to look a bit less smug in front of her. When he had first been told that Krycek had survived a bullet to the brain, the news had been so startling that he hadn't even considered the damage to his arm.
"The therapists also helped him maximize the function of his prosthesis. He really wasn't using it very well; in fact, it appeared to them that Alex had never received formal rehabilitation with it at all."
Mulder nodded, speculating that perhaps Krycek was never in one place long enough to have undergone extensive therapy.
"He's doing relatively well with both arms now," Ruth continued. "That's why he's able to spend most of his time as an aide to both the physical and occupational therapists. But he also takes patients on walks throughout the grounds, he brings patients their meals, things like that. Oh, and he's also a big help with our most unresponsive patients. We have quite a few people here that can't move or speak and we can't pinpoint their cognitive abilities with precise accuracy. But their EEGs show that they respond favorably to certain television shows or movies, especially when a family member or friend is there to watch it with them. Alex sits with them when their family isn't there, sometimes for hours. It's quite possible that the company he provides them, showing them that someone cares enough to sit with them, may really be helping these patients. Other than that, well, if there is nothing pressing for Alex to do, he'll help clean up around here. He doesn't need to do that, of course, since we have a housekeeping staff, but it seems he prefers to keep himself busy."
Mulder turned his head away from her view and rolled his eyes. "You make him sound like he's indispensable around here."
"We all make the effort to let him know what a good job he is doing, to keep his spirits up. His duties here, inconsequential as they may seem to you, are all that he has in his life."
"Right. Well, would you happen to know just where he is performing his essential work at the moment?"
Ruth folded her arms across her chest, clearly not appreciative of his attitude. "He's fixing a broken chair in the lounge at the end of this corridor. Before I bring you to see him I think it would be best if I give you a summary of his expressive and receptive abil..."
"Which way? This way?" Mulder interrupted as he began to walk briskly towards the set of closed double doors at the end of the hall.
"Please, wait," Ruth said, struggling to keep up with Mulder's long-legged strides. "No one's even told him that he has a visitor yet. I should go in first to let him know."
"I don't think that's necessary," Mulder said as he reached the doors.
He entered the lounge, Ruth following behind. Krycek, who had been facing away, turned to see who had entered. He was clearly startled, eyes going wide and mouth slightly opening. Mulder walked to within a few feet of him.
"Krycek," Mulder simply said, as if they had merely been acquaintances who bumped into each other on the street.
Krycek continued to stare at Mulder for several long and silent moments.
"Alex, are you all right?" Ruth finally asked, stepping forward to place her hand on his arm.
Ruth's presence shifted Alex's attention, and he turned to her. "Fuck."
Mulder raised his eyebrows at that. "Such manners, Krycek. I guess we know from that remark that you're surprised to see me."
"No, actually, I believe Alex was talking to me," Ruth said. Keeping her hand on his arm, Ruth turned from Alex to face Mulder. "When he gets tense or frustrated, he tends to only be able to produce mono-syllabic words from the area of the brain that produces words of highly emotional content, like swear words. I had asked him if he was all right, and he was replying to me that he was okay."
"He says 'fuck' and that means he's okay? How do you get that?" Mulder asked with all the delicacy of a bull in a china shop.
Krycek abruptly released himself from Ruth's gentle grip. "FUCK fuck." He walked away from them towards the opposite end of the large room.
Mulder made as if to go after him, but Ruth stepped into his pathway. "You wouldn't let me explain his dysfunction before, so please listen now."
"But I don't want him to get away," Mulder said. "I need to talk to him."
"Get away? Where is it exactly that you think he would go? For heaven's sake, he'll be back in a minute. He just needs to do something, like get a drink of water or use the bathroom."
Mulder looked at Ruth as if she was one of his X-file cases instead of merely a dedicated speech-language pathologist. "How could you possibly know that?" he asked.
Ruth looked at him like she about to explain something obvious to a young child. "When you work with an aphasic for a long period of time, you learn to decipher their intentions by listening carefully to subtle variations in the tempo, volume, and inflection of what they say, even if they're only repeating the same word over and over again. What Alex expressed just now was a desire to tend to an urgent need. Usually he means 'I need a drink,' or 'I need the bathroom,' or something of that nature. He's obviously startled to see you, so you should just give him time to compose himself."
Although Mulder was listening to what she was saying, he never took his eyes off of Krycek. Sure enough, he saw Krycek reach a water cooler at the far side of the lounge and fill up a paper cup. He watched him chug down the water in one gulp, then fill up the cup again and come back towards them. When Krycek reached them, he took a sip of water, gave Ruth an imploring look for support, and then faced Mulder.
"Fuck fuck fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," he said to Mulder.
"Alex used to get frustrated during his speech therapy and often aborted the sessions by walking out. I'd give him time, and he'd usually return a short while later. What he said just now is what I used to hear him say when he came back to proceed with the session." She looked at Alex. "I assume this is your way of saying that you're ready to hear what your visitor came to talk to you about?" She turned to Mulder. "Don't wait for him to answer my question by nodding his head 'yes' or shaking it 'no'. He can understand those gestures on other people, but he can't produce them himself. It's the same as your speaking to him. He can understand you, but he cannot express to you that he understands you. So go ahead. Tell him whatever it is you need to tell him."
"I don't need to tell him anything, I came here to get information from him. Obviously that's going to be more difficult than I had thought, but it's vital that I do."
Mulder put his hands on his hips and looked down, thinking on how best to proceed. He looked up at Ruth. "I'm treating this interview like an official federal investigation, and in that capacity I'm going to have to ask you not to repeat anything you hear, not to anyone. Understood?"
She nodded her consent and he continued. "Okay, look, Krycek. A certain smoking friend of ours paid me a visit a few days ago. He flaunted some information in my face that may or may not be true and said that you're the only person alive that can prove the veracity of his claim. According to him, you may know of these plans because of all the access you used to have with certain files. I came here trying to find out information about a manufacturing facility that he claims produces..." Mulder paused to consider if he should monitor his choice of words, but then decided there was no real reason he needed to remain discreet. Ruth wouldn't understand what he was referring to anyway. "That produces super-soldiers."
A look of impending dread crossed Krycek's face.
"The smoker claims the facility is up and running and ready to ship out its merchandize in a matter of months. He indicated that his first shipments will allow him to make his own personal fortune by selling them to the military."
Krycek made a fist with the hand that was holding the paper cup, crushing it and spewing its contents over the floor. Mulder couldn't decide if Krycek suddenly looked angry or ill, but either way he got the answer he was hoping he wouldn't get.
"Damn it! It's true, then, isn't it? He wasn't just yanking my chain about having that kind of capability."
Krycek began to pace back and forth, eyes to the floor as if extremely agitated. Mulder watched him complete several circuits before grabbing his left arm. Krycek neither saw Mulder's action nor felt his touch, but the firm grip on the prosthetic effectively pulled him to a stop. He whipped his head up towards Mulder.
Mulder released Krycek's arm but moved to stand directly in front of his face. "Listen, Krycek, he's playing a game with both of us. Nothing's ever enough for that bastard; it's not enough for him to make his fortune, it's not enough for him to feel like an all-powerful entity because of the new way to wage war he'll be responsible for. No, he's got to play his little games. He suggested that it's possible you got enough data from the files you've seen over the years to eventually track him down, but that there was no way for you to tell me. He wants us both to go crazy knowing that we both want to stop him but we can't. Well, he got that wrong, Krycek. One way or another I'm going to get that information out of you and we're going to put an end to this abomination before it begins."
Mulder watched as the glint of anger and distress in Krycek's eyes faded into dull resignation. He pulled his gaze from Mulder's face and turned his head away.
"We can do this, Krycek. We have to."
Krycek moved away from Mulder and sat down on a nearby sofa, staring across the room blankly. Ruth, who looked a bit uneasy at what she had been hearing, came over and sat down next to Alex. Mulder followed and sat in a chair opposite them.
Mulder leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his thighs. "From what I could tell, the smoker wasn't exactly sure what you were able to get out of any files you may have seen. He was just assuming that if you remembered any of the information, then you might be able to put various pieces together in your head to come up with something. I need to access that information somehow, so that we can sift through it together and see if any of it is useful. Uhm, let's start with the basics. Do you remember any info that might be useful about this?"
Krycek continued to stare across the room, eyes unfocused.
Mulder sat upright in his seat, slapping his hands down on his thighs in frustration. "Okay, here's how it's gonna go. One 'fuck' for 'yes' and two 'fucks' for 'no'. So, do you remember anything that might be useful?"
Krycek's eyes came into focus and he looked at Mulder as if the agent had suddenly grown two heads.
"We've been over this already," Ruth interjected. "He isn't capable of using language to express himself in that manner."
"Well, there's got to be *some* way!" Mulder exclaimed.
"Fuuuck. Fuuuck," Krycek gritted out in an annoyed fashion.
Mulder looked to Ruth for interpretation.
"He doesn't think this is going to work," she supplied. "He wants to stop."
Krycek curled his right arm around himself and his sneakered foot began a rapid tattoo on the linoleum.
"I don't care if you want to stop! This is important, damn it!" Mulder yelled.
"Don't you dare raise your voice like that. If you can't be civil I'm going to ask you to leave," Ruth admonished.
Mulder grimaced, and closed his eyes in thought. He opened them and reached into his suit coat to retrieve his pen and small pocket notebook. He looked across to see two pairs of angry eyes glaring at him.
"You don't have to look at me like that. I know he probably can't write, or else we wouldn't be having this difficulty," Mulder said to Ruth, as if Krycek was not even present.
"That's correct. The bullet caused diffuse damage to all expressive language centers. One result is that he suffers from total agraphia, so you might as well put that notebook away. It's not going to do you any good."
Disregarding that advice, Mulder opened the notebook and scribbled something down. "Ah, but you see, I'm not asking him to write anything. Here, look at this, Krycek!"
Mulder reached across the space between their chairs and enthusiastically shoved the notebook into Krycek's lap, forcing him to uncurl his right arm and grab it.
"See, I wrote 'YES' at the top of the page and 'NO' at the bottom. You don't have to say anything, you just have to point to the correct word when I ask you a question." Mulder grinned, proud of his problem-solving skills.
Krycek looked down at the page, then up at Mulder. His face contorted in anger, nostrils flaring. He sprang up from his seat and forcibly threw the notebook at Mulder, where it deflected off his head before falling to the floor. "FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK!!!!!" he screamed, then bolted out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
When Mulder looked from the door back to Ruth, he saw that she had her arms crossed and one eyebrow arched in a manner that distinctly reminded him of Scully.
"I think that meant he wants you to leave him alone." Her tone was polite, but her sarcasm was not lost on him.
"Damn it!" Mulder snapped. He reached down and grabbed his notebook, stuffing it back in his pocket. "I didn't know he couldn't read anymore!"
"Alex can read just fine," Ruth stated. At Mulder's look of confusion, she elaborated. "You haven't been listening very well, have you? Alex's receptive language skills have remained largely intact. He can understand both the spoken word and the written word, but he cannot express them. Alex could read the words 'YES' and 'NO' that you wrote and he fully understood the meaning of both words. The meaning was received by his brain just fine, but his brain could not send that same information back out, in any form. You could have shown him an entire page filled with nothing but the word 'YES' written on it twenty times and he would know that he just read the same word twenty times throughout the page, and he would know what the word meant, and he would know that all twenty words meant the same thing. But if you asked him to point to the word 'YES' on a page full of twenty words that all said 'YES', he wouldn't be able to do it. He has completely lost the capability of expressing what he understands." Ruth sighed heavily. "Is the totality of this starting to sink in now?"
The implications of Ruth's explanation were not to Mulder's liking at all. "Yes, I think I see how it is now. Look, I'm sorry if I came off as a bit rude, but you can't imagine how frustrating this is for me. I've got important work to do, Krycek is the key, and I can't access what he knows. It's just all so damned irritating!" He got up and faced the door, contemplating whether or not to go after Krycek.
"I can't believe you just said that!" Ruth exclaimed.
Mulder turned back and looked at her, seemingly baffled as to the cause of her outburst.
"Can you just step out of yourself for a moment and put yourself in Alex's place? It's obvious from his reactions that he wants to help stop this smoking man just as much as you do. He wants to help you, he really does! Can you imagine what it would be like to be Alex right now? He has important information but he is incapable of telling anyone what he knows! He desperately wants to, but he can't. How would you feel if that information were trapped like that inside of you? How would *you* cope with feeling utterly helpless, like he must be feeling right now? I understand that you're feeling frustrated right now, but what Alex is feeling is just as bad, if not much worse!"
Mulder seemed to really hear her this time. It took him a few moments to become accustomed to the thought of Krycek having any tangible emotions other than a merciless dedication to his previous pursuits. He turned once more to where Krycek had exited.
"Don't go after him, Agent. He's had enough."
"Okay, I'll leave him be for now, but I will most definitely be back."
"Please, it's no use. There's nothing that can be gained from this except for you to make him feel so much worse than he already does."
Mulder had no response to that, so he merely offered "Thank you for your help today," and departed.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
As Mulder entered the corridor, he was stopped by a voice calling out his name from down the hall. He turned to see Ruth walking up to him.
"I see that you are most persistent, Agent. May I ask what you have there in your briefcase? Nothing that will upset Alex, I presume."
"Of course not," Mulder lied. "It's just some confidential papers that I didn't feel comfortable about leaving in my car. I was told that Krycek was with some patients in the solarium. Would you like to join me?"
A quick check of her watch and she shook her head. "Can't, I've got a therapy session coming up. You shouldn't interrupt him, you should let him finish what he's doing." She took another cursory look at her watch. "You know, the lounge adjoins the solarium. I've got time to walk you there, Agent Mulder. I'd really like to fill in some details about Alex before you talk to him again." She gestured towards the lounge. "Shall we?"
After entering the lounge, Mulder followed Ruth towards the furthest wall, which was comprised mostly of a large window looking out into the solarium. There were large, leafy plants in the solarium that were very close to this window, which obscured Mulder's view somewhat, but he could see a small cluster of people tending to some plants on a table. Krycek was sitting in profile and seemed to be repotting a plant. He could hear continual animated conversation among the group, although the words were muffled by the window. Someone said something and everyone burst into laughter, including Krycek.
"He can laugh?"
"Sure, as long as it's an automatic spontaneous emotional response to a stimulus," Ruth said. "But if you instructed him to laugh on command, he wouldn't be able to do it."
Mulder continued to watch the group when, to his amazement, Krycek began speaking in regular sentences.
"What's going on?! How can he talk all of a sudden?"
"Yes, it does sound like he's talking normally, doesn't it? But that's only because it's too muffled to hear what he is really saying. If you could hear him properly, you'd realize that he was just speaking nonsense."
"But it sounds so normal."
"He's having a Wernicke's day," she agreed. "On the surface a person with Wernicke's aphasia may appear to be talking normally with appropriate punctuation, rhythm, and inflection. The sentence 'feels right' to him but it doesn't make sense to others." She leaned in towards the window and listened in for a moment. "I'm fairly sure that's what he's speaking now, although very often he uses nonexistent words, too; he tends to slip in and out of a pattern of meaningless jargon words."
"The other day he didn't talk like that. He just kept repeating 'fuck'."
"Your unexpected visit upset him. That can result in a different speech pattern altogether. You see, Alex's injuries resulted in more than one type of aphasia, and he displays aspects of each. He doesn't fall classically into any one category, but rather he segues in and out of one type of aphasia to the next. When you surprised Alex the other day, I guess you can say that you literally rendered him almost speechless. Under extreme stress, sometimes his Broca's aphasia dominates, causing his Wernicke's aphasic characteristics to disappear until he calms down again. The other day he was in full Broca mode, where the area of the brain's right hemisphere that is responsible for producing pressured speech was the only thing functioning. Typically in that mode we observe a patient that is only able to produce one syllable, and the word is usually one of an emotionally charged nature. Hence, what you witnessed the other day."
"So I can expect him to revert to this Broca's type when he sees me again?"
"No, not necessarily. We've also observed him under extreme stress when he remains in the fluent jargon-speak mode. We've never seen so many different classic aphasic mannerisms all in the same patient before, and I haven't come across anything like it in the literature." Ruth shook her head. "He's an enigma. The truth is that we never know what to expect with Alex at any given time."
"That's definitely keeping in character," Mulder mumbled under his breath.
"Excuse me?" Ruth asked sharply, obviously hearing the remark. "Agent Mulder, it's apparent that you have issues with Alex. The staff psychologist and I had a long discussion with Alex about your visit. We let him know that you would most likely be back, and very soon, and we wanted him to be better prepared to handle the stress. So the psychologist reminded him of the various tools he had provided Alex with before for dealing with difficult situations, and encouraged him to use them." At Mulder's inquiring look, she supplied "Meditation, biofeedback, physical exercise, positive thinking strategies...you know, the usual. Which is all to say that he may be able to handle your visit better and not fall into his pattern of Broca's speech." She paused, then looked him sternly in the eye. "I really have to get to my session, now. Promise me you'll be on your best behavior."
"Of course."
After Ruth left, Mulder took a seat facing the window and waited for the group to disperse. Sitting in the corner as he was, Mulder went unnoticed as they exited the solarium and entered the lounge. Krycek accompanied an elderly woman, who looked quite pleased with the freshly potted plant she was carrying. Her gait was comprised of tiny stiff steps, and Krycek was walking very slowly alongside her.
Krycek patted the leaves on her plant tenderly. "Those shoeless light ideas wander happily," he told her. The woman smiled and nodded. Krycek then poked a finger in the soil. "Today effortlessly scarbony clean not." She nodded again as they walked on.
When they reached the open door that led to the main corridor, Mulder stood and coughed to make his presence known. When Krycek noticed him, he didn't look surprised at all; in fact, he had a resigned look of expectation. Mulder walked up to them.
"Excuse me, Ma'am. May I speak with your friend here for moment, in private?"
"Yes, yes," she responded, and then looked up at Krycek. "I can make it to my room by myself, Alex, I'll be fine. Thank you so much for my precious plant."
Krycek smiled, then bent down to kiss her cheek. "Ceramic gone olive."
"Oh, such a sweet boy," she said. "I don't understand a word that you say, but you are such a sweet boy." The old lady shuffled slowly through the door, leaving the two men alone in the lounge.
"Why don't we sit here at this table?" Mulder sat down at the table, where his briefcase lay waiting.
Krycek looked at the dirt that covered his hand and wiped it on his shirt, the front of which was already smeared abundantly with soil. With a heavy sigh he took a seat across from Mulder.
"I'm not here to upset you, but I think you know me well enough to know that I don't give up easily."
Krycek looked down from Mulder's gaze to stare at the tabletop. "Mostly blue sugars sing madly," he muttered, apparently to himself.
"The stakes are too high for me not to come back and try again, Krycek." Mulder abandoned all promises of remaining calm. "It can affect life as we know it! Spender said he's already started production, so I don't have much time to get on this." He noted Krycek's helpless expression before continuing. "What I didn't tell you before was that Spender has plans to release vast numbers of the soldiers globally; their release can have potentially devastating effects for all the world's governments."
Krycek looked up at him, visibly upset at his declaration. Mulder observed that he didn't appear angry in the slightest; on the contrary he just stared at him like he was shaken to the core. Apparently the news about the grand scale of Spender's scheme upset Krycek more than Mulder had thought it would.
"Breathless seals undone critters, already! Yesterday notions sleep furiously!"
"Hey, calm down, calm down," Mulder soothed. "Obviously you're desperate to tell me something. Let's try this."
Mulder opened his briefcase and pulled out some photographs and two maps. He turned the pictures towards Krycek.
"Okay, here's a photograph of Spender and here's one of Billy Miles. I've got a map of the States and one of the world. If you know of any states or any countries that Spender may have his soldier factory then maybe you can tell me by using these photos."
Krycek glanced at the items on the table only briefly, then his eyes began to dart frantically about the room. Mulder took a deep breath; something was definitely making Krycek panicky, and he was beginning to suspect that it was more than just his inability to communicate.
"Krycek, here, please look at this picture of Spender. Krycek, please," Mulder said gently, effectively getting the man's focus back on the photograph. "Krycek, are you able to place this picture on either of these maps to show me where Spender might have his facility? Are you able to do that, Krycek?" Mulder spoke slowly and mildly, as if he were interviewing a terrified crime victim.
Unfortunately his manner did not produce the desired affect on Krycek, who was appearing more and more distraught with each passing moment. Krycek picked up the photo, looked at the maps, then looked back at the photo.
"Aaaaafh!" Krycek screamed, sweeping his arm across the table to knock all the items onto the floor. He jumped out of his seat and walked swiftly out of the room.
After retrieving his things from the floor, Mulder looked out the door and watched Krycek walking briskly down the far end of the long corridor. When he disappeared around the corner, Mulder followed him, lagging behind so that Krycek wouldn't notice as he navigated a few more hallways. Finally Mulder saw him enter a room. He paused at the door, not really knowing what more he could say to the man. As he was contemplating this, he noticed that the door had not completely closed. He peeked through the open slit in order to see if Krycek had calmed down at all. He saw him pacing back and forth on the opposite side of a bed, the presence of which confirmed that this was his private quarters. While pacing, Krycek suddenly noticed his soil-blackened hand and then looked at his soil-laden shirt. He pulled the dirty shirt over his head and threw it angrily on the floor. Mulder saw him enter the small adjoining bathroom and turn on the faucet. He watched as Krycek washed the dirt from both his real and plastic hand, then turned the faucet off and absently dried his hands while looking at his reflection in the mirror. Krycek stared into the mirror for at least a full minute. Then, to his dismay, Mulder saw Krycek's face crumble as a few sobs escaped him.
The sobbing continued as Krycek came back into the room with his head cast to the floor, and he sat on the bed with his back towards the door and Mulder. He hid his face in his hand and got control over the sobs, but his shaking shoulders revealed that he continued to cry silently. Mulder felt a pit form in his stomach as he realized that he really commiserated with the helpless man on the bed. He recalled the many times had he himself been in this position, trying to shout out what he knew to the world, only to be rendered impotent because no one in power would believe him. He felt a compelling urge to comfort the man, and almost before he was aware of his actions Mulder had entered and walked around the bed to stand in front of him. He looked down at his weeping former nemesis.
"Krycek, I...I'm sorry."
Krycek startled only momentarily, and continued to cry silently into his hand despite Mulder's presence.
"Mondaysly unsupportable dillermeeeeeee..."
The wailing moan conveyed such incredible despair that it caused the knot in Mulder's stomach to tighten even more.
"Starelessly never meaaaaaaa..."
"I don't know what to do, or say. I'm just...I'm very sorry." Mulder placed his hand on Krycek's bare shoulder.
"Trables as can't none! Kidders many powerlees know badgelessss..." This is unbearable! I want you to hear meeeee....
Mulder did a double take and shook his head to clear it. "What? What did you say?"
"Badgeless notslee any siiiiit..." I can't stand this anymore...
"Oh my god!!" Mulder knelt in front of Krycek, grabbing both shoulders. "Krycek, I think I heard you! I mean, I really think I heard you, what you were saying, I mean, I understood what you said just now!"
Krycek was having none of it, and pushed Mulder away from him before lowering his face once again into his hand. His silent weeping went unabated.
Mulder was still trying to sort things out. "Krycek, did you just say 'This is unbearable. I want you to hear me. I can't stand this anymore'?"
At that, Krycek stilled instantly. He raised his wet face, blinking out tears that continued to fall.
"I understood you, I know I did. Say something else."
Krycek's eyes widened. "Crayons no mores done."
"Well, you said 'crayons no mores done', which doesn't make any sense."
The brief flicker of hope Mulder had seen in Krycek's eyes vanished, and Mulder felt terrible. He couldn't figure out what in the hell had just happened. And then it hit him.
"Wait, Krycek, let's try it again. I was touching you before when I understood you. Say something again." He reached out and placed his hands on Krycek's shoulders.
Krycek sniffled, but remained silent.
"Come on, don't be afraid. Just tell me what a royal pain in the ass I've always been to you."
No response.
"Or that you've always secretly envied my tie collection."
Krycek sniffled again, then took a deep breath through his mouth. He exhaled slowly.
"The colorsbee maybe circus, only fibster is neverly know badgeless, will orangesly drink sizer badgeless clusters many." If this is somehow a trick, and you really cannot understand me, then you'll be crushing what little is left of me into a million pieces.
The words came out with such profound melancholy that Mulder almost became misty-eyed. He held tight to Krycek's trembling shoulders. "I swear to god I don't know how this is happening, but, no..." he shook his head..."this is not a trick, I really can understand you, and it's not my intention to crush you into a million pieces."
Krycek froze, his eyes as wide as saucers. He began to tremble violently.
"Comser now dis out there? Comser now is dreally lippening?" Can this be true? Can this be really happening?
"Yes, yes, it's true, Krycek! It *is* really happening! Go ahead, give me an order. Tell me to do something, and I'll show you."
Krycek's breaths were short and heavy as he absorbed what was happening.
"Badgeless know-none dribbled any readersly up backwards his cabinetster no gone readersly anymore. Come fibster went his legless?" I accidentally dropped a book behind my bookcase and haven't bothered to get it yet. Will you get it for me?
Mulder got up and went to the small bookcase. He lifted it away from the wall and bent to pick up the book that was lying behind it. He returned and tossed the book on the bed, then once again placed his hands on Krycek's shoulders.
Krycek's trembling turned to wracking shudders as loud wrenching sobs overtook him.
"Noly clear, Noly clear! Here be has lippening?!" Oh god, oh god! How is this happening?!
He was crying so violently that it was hard for him to breath, let alone speak.
Mulder knelt down in front of him, all the while keeping his hands on his shoulders. He tightened his grip in an effort to comfort the distraught man. "Hey, this is a good thing. It's okay, Krycek, it's okay."
Krycek was unable to control the huge hitching breaths of his sobs. He looked momentarily at Mulder through thick layers of tears, then slid forward off the bed and down onto Mulder's lap, wrapping his arm around Mulder's back. Mulder had no choice but to embrace Krycek while he continued to cry out his release of shock and joy. He was equally caught up in the moment, his hand absently rubbing small comforting circles on Krycek's bare back as his mind raced over countless X-Files to find any correlation. Soon the loud crying abated, although the forceful hitching breaths remained. Krycek pulled back slowly to look at Mulder and attempted to speak between sobbing breaths.
"Ba...badgeless pri...priller. The many is...ever...ever line...tis peoplesters...duly topknow legless...badgeless leverlee reminder not...peoplesters so long tree...so ling over." I'm...I'm sor...sorry. It's just been...so...so long...that anyone...could understand me... I never thought...anyone ever would...ever again.
"This is amazing, Krycek. I don't think I've come across any similar phenomena in my cases over the years, but I can have Scully check the medical databases, and if that comes up empty, well, then maybe it has something to do with me. You know I was briefly telepathic, so maybe somehow that's coming back into play here."
"He creeless isn't neverlee done. Little ever sis hearty fibster topknow legless." I don't care about that right now. I'm just so happy you can understand me.
"You're right. How this is happening isn't as important as the fact that now you can help me stop Spender."
With that reminder, Krycek's entire face crumbled in misery.
"Hey, what is this? I thought you wanted to help me stop Spender making his fortune by selling super-soldiers."
"Fibster neversby knowsnotwhat, his gone every wring! Knownow before his blackness, never little ironsters theys bigsters irons everywhereanywhere...never blackness, Fibman, those takeovers. That jobster those irons will giver spacedyspaces will havealotof allovers. Those biggers makings is irons meansters that watches gone faster. This spacedyspaces is havings everythingeverywheres, be when soonest motters! Says gone always, Fibster! Is never makers when broken clockedies. Omog, omog." You don't understand, you've got it all wrong! What you told me just now in the lounge about Spender, that he's not just making a few soldiers but immense numbers to be dispersed around the world...it isn't about Spender, Mulder, it's about colonization! The role of super-soldiers is to assist the aliens when they start to colonize. The mass production of the super-soldiers signals that the timetable has been moved up. It means the aliens are going to start colonization, maybe within a matter of months! It's too late, Mulder. There's nothing we can do in the short time that's left. Oh god, oh god.
Mulder looked at Krycek in confusion, then smiled as realization hit him.
"This is why you went into such panic a few minutes ago in the lounge, when I gave you the details about Spender's plans. You thought it meant the aliens were coming." Mulder shook Krycek's shoulder. "Listen to me, Krycek. There are no aliens anymore. They're gone."
Krycek face remained contorted in anguish, clearly not believing.
"Spender told me he came here to see you right after you came out of your coma. Didn't he tell you anything about this?"
"Singles words blackened knowingsly his nothingster with his hoppity- hopped mines timing him living soursing on his mines only evilling." The only thing he said was that he was assessed of my condition and that he hoped I spent the rest of my life rotting in my own private hell.
"Are you sure you remember if that's all he told you?"
"Onlys isn't making speaksters did sometimes never his dimling, Fibster. His knowlings nice. All done him his." Just because I can't talk right doesn't mean I'm stupid, Mulder. My memory's fine. That's all he told me.
"Damn that bastard! Letting you stew in here for over a year-and-a-half thinking that we're still under threat! Jesus, there really is no end to his cruelty."
He was overcome with anger and was about to continue his tirade when he noticed that Krycek was looking at him with a hopeful expression.
"Givings his allis whatsis, sterfibling." Tell me what you know, Mulder.
Mulder smiled. "Well, you may never believe this, but it all came down to the ozone layer."
Krycek narrowed his eyes, apparently trying to decipher if Mulder knew what he was talking about.
"You must have known about the problems the aliens were having with the ozone layer way before I did, Krycek. You knew they've been trying to get a handle on it for decades. You probably already knew that the aliens worked with human representatives to try to get governments worldwide to take the problem seriously. Well, no matter how much the aliens tried, the one thing they couldn't control was human greed, so the ozone problem went unabated. They couldn't prevent the sudden and drastic decrease in the ozone layer that occurred over the past few years, and with all of their superior alien technology they were helpless to stop it. What it means for us humans is that the number of skin cancers has significantly increased, and that we'd better take it an environmental warning for our future. But for the aliens, it meant that their time had run out. They didn't have the luxury of time anymore, so they decided to abandon the planet, for good."
Krycek frowned.
"Neverslee, isn't not easy. Arly fornowsky isn't eatingsnot right times news?" No, it couldn't be that simple. Are you sure you're not just being fed misinformation?
"Krycek, it *is* that simple. That's the beauty of it all. The human conspirators spent the last fifty years coming up with all manner of convoluted plans and double-crosses to protect themselves, and it was all unnecessary. The fifty-year co-operation between the conspirators and the aliens finally resulted in the development of the optimal hybrids, but all it took was an hour of the sun's exposure to kill them. Just like that, all their work was good for nothing! So they did the most expedient thing and went off to bother some other planet."
Mulder shook his head and smiled. "The ozone had always been a potential problem for them, you must have known that, Krycek. And it's not misinformation. You can verify the facts yourself. Without the need for secrecy anymore, or racing for dominance over who could come up with a working vaccine first, the remaining Consortium members and their equivalents around the world became united, if only briefly. Most of the national and international government officials with Consortium ties are still in office, and a number of them have verified these facts with certain members of the Pentagon and FBI and other agencies."
Mulder watched as Krycek let the information seep into him and allow himself to believe.
"Is forly stance, will?" It's really true, then?
At Mulder's nod, Krycek once again let the tears fall, although this time he had a wide smile on his face. He lifted himself off of Mulder and stood up, with Mulder copying his actions. Krycek grabbed Mulder's hand.
"There so lundersby, low evernot wanting there so lundersby!" It's over, I can't believe it's over!
He stepped away from Mulder and laughed hysterically, then started to pace rapidly back and forth, waving his arm about with nervous energy.
"Theresolundersby, theresolundersby, theresolundersby!"
Without warning he broke out from his pacing and ran from the room, continuing to run at full speed down the hallways and corridor until he reached an exterior exit door. Mulder caught up with him just as Krycek reached a door that opened onto the grounds. Krycek opened the door and Mulder put a hand on his arm.
"Left his only, Fibmanster." Leave me be, Mulder.
The firm look Krycek gave him made his intentions clear; he needed some time alone to process the enormity of this information. He let Krycek go and watched him sprint across the large expanse of grass, not stopping until he reached the far end with its flowerbeds and trees. He saw Krycek drop to his knees and lift his face to the heavens. Mulder remembered back to when he himself was first informed that the alien threat was no more, and how surreal it felt to have such an immense weight lifted off of his shoulders. He realized that Krycek might need a lot of time to himself right now, so after watching him a little while longer, he left him to deal with his personal solace and went to wait for him in his room.
Sitting on the bed, Mulder surveyed the room to get an idea of the type of existence that Krycek had been living the past one-and-a-half years since he had come out of the coma. The room was plain and sparsely furnished. The radio and small television looked rather old, as did the ancient turntable and the small collection of record albums. There was no sign of any newer technology. A closer inspection of the books in the bookcase revealed that they were obviously well-used. Mulder surmised that most of these items must have been hand-me-downs, left behind by previous patients or perhaps just old stock from the storage room or patient lounge. This made sense to Mulder, since Krycek received room and board instead of a salary. He wondered momentarily why he didn't have an old computer in here, since the internet could open up the whole world for a disabled recluse, which was essentially what Krycek had become. But then he realized that Krycek wouldn't be able to use a computer; he could recognize all the letters and symbols on the keyboard but he wouldn't be able to punch the right keys.
Mulder tried to imagine himself in Krycek's place. He wondered how Krycek reconciled the fact that his previous life of leading an international existence involving dangerous work with high-stakes consequences of global importance was now all reduced to whatever nonverbal tasks he could accomplish within the walls of this small rural rehabilitation center. Despite his predisposition to always vilify the man as a callous monster, Mulder couldn't help but think that such a dramatic change in lifestyle would humble Krycek. At least he hoped it would, because he was planning to work with him to catch Spender, and he cringed at the possibility that underneath all that nonsensical jargon was the same arrogant bastard that he knew before.
Almost an hour passed before Krycek returned with a bounce in his step and a look of renewed vigor. He brushed past Mulder to retrieve a clean shirt from his dresser and pulled it over his head and down over his bare torso, all the while displaying a small grin.
"I'd ask if you were okay, but by the looks of you I'd say you were."
Krycek sprang over to Mulder and grasped his hand.
I feel good. Better than I have in a long time.
"Hey, I think I'm getting the hang of listening to you more easily. I can understand you more clearly now without having to filter out all that jargon at the same time. Okay, listen, Krycek, let's get down to business. You will help me find Spender, won't you? The aliens may have left the planet, but if we don't stop him the world could still suffer dire consequences."
I'll do everything I can to stop that cigarette-smoking son of a bitch.
"Good answer, because I planned to get the information out of you one way or another, whether it was willingly or not."
Yeah, yeah, no need to play the tough guy, Mulder. I said I'd help. I just don't know if I've got the information that you seem to think I have. It may take me some time to remember what was in all of the files I've seen over the years.
"You can start by telling me everything you know about Spender's activities, everything he had his fingers in, even the seemingly inconsequential holdings."
That's decades of information, Mulder. It'll take days for me to sort things out and tell you everything.
"I realize that. That's why I'm taking you home with me."
What?
"We're racing the clock on this, Krycek, so we've got to work in the most expedient way possible. It's a five-hour drive here; I can't be driving back and forth every time I need to ask you a question. And if you should remember something, you'd have no way to let anyone know to contact me. We're not going to get anywhere on this unless I have you right at my fingertips, literally and figuratively."
Krycek look like he welcomed the idea eagerly.
Okay. It'll be good to get out and about.
"I know you've got responsibilities here with your job, but I'd like for you to come with me right away, today. I'll talk to the administrator and tell him it's official FBI business, if you want. While I do that you can pack up your things."
Wait for me, I want to go with you when you talk to him.
Krycek sprang away and opened a few drawers, tossing clothes onto the bed before grabbing some shirts from his closet. He went into the bathroom and came back carrying his toiletries. He piled the clothes together and then went to touch Mulder's hand.
This is it, everything I own in the world. I'll just need to grab a plastic bag or something to carry these in. They brought me here in an ambulance so I didn't exactly arrive with a suitcase.
Mulder looked at the small amount of clothing on the bed. Krycek's worldly possessions came down to several long- and short-sleeved shirts that all had 'Elmhurst Nursing Home and Rehabilitation Center' imprinted on them, a few pairs of pants, underwear, socks, a toothbrush, and a disposable razor. Apparently the shoes on his feet were his only pair. A thought immediately came to Mulder's mind that it was only right that Krycek should have so little; it was certainly justifiable retribution for his past deeds that after a lifetime he only owned such meager belongings. But as soon as he thought it he felt guilty at having such a selfish thought over someone who was now living with a terrible disability.
"Okay, let's go to the Admin Office. We'll get these on the way out."
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
After the meeting with the administrator, Krycek took Mulder to see all of the employees he had worked with since his arrival there, both as a patient and as a coworker. Mulder said Krycek's goodbyes for him, although never revealing that he could understand him. Ruth and the others didn't know why their enigmatic Alex wanted to leave, but they had never before seen him so joyful so they were happy for him.
They stopped in the lounge where a large group of patients was watching television. Alex identified a dozen of them with severe expressive aphasia and had Mulder test his abilities with them surreptitiously. Mulder couldn't understand any of them. That meant that it was something specific about Alex that Mulder was able to tap into. They came up with a working theory that something within Mulder, either remnants of the Tunguskan oil or else his partially alien DNA, was able to converse with the remnants of the sentient oil alien that must still exist in Krycek's system. Krycek expressed that he didn't like the idea that there might still be vestiges of that oil inside of him, but he wasn't going to argue his just-found good fortune.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
During the long drive back to Alexandria, Mulder kept his right hand on the passenger seat to provide easy access for two-way communication. If Krycek had something to say he just needed to reach across his lap and touch Mulder's hand, but he remained quiet. To fill the silence, Mulder was about to turn on the radio but then decided to try to make conversation.
"You know, you look pretty good for someone who was shot in the head," Mulder observed.
Krycek, who had been gazing out the window, turned his head sharply towards him and looked pissed.
"Hey, I didn't mean to offend you, I meant it. I don't think anyone would be able to tell there was anything wrong with you by looking at you except for that tiny scar on your forehead. And your overall appearance looks healthy, better than some of the times I'd seen you looking pretty skinny. I guess the three square meals a day you were getting at the rehab center must've agreed with you."
Krycek's eyes squinted and he gave Mulder a curious look. He reached across his lap and touched Mulder's hand.
I hadn't realized that you were so concerned about the state of my health over the years, Mulder, Krycek intoned sarcastically.
"Not hardly, I just can't help it if I've got an excellent recall for details. Any trained professional observer would have noticed that you looked downright gaunt when you gave me the tip about the Oregon ship."
Yeah, well Spender put me in a Tunisian prison that made the Tunguska gulag seem like the Hilton. I was there almost a year before he pulled me out.
"Oh...I didn't know. So, what'd you do to deserve that, hmm? Get greedy and sell more of his info?"
Fuck you, Mulder.
"Well you must have done something to piss him off. Hey, I need to know this stuff, Krycek, that was part of the deal. You tell me anything and everything you know about Spender, and that includes your dealings with him, all of them. Every dirty, bloody, murderous task."
You are such a prick, Mulder! You've found me guilty and have convicted me already without any of the facts. For your information I have no idea why Spender shipped me off there. All I know is that I thought I'd be there forever until he retrieved me just so I could deliver that message to you about the ship.
"He got you out because of me? Heh, guess this is the third time I've gotten you out of prison one way or the other, if you consider Elmhurst as a figurative prison, and of course, we can't forget how I got you out of the gulag..."
Krycek shoved Mulder's hand away violently.
"Stockety wance!!"
"What'd you say, Krycek? You just swore at me again, didn't you? Well, listen up and listen up good. It's obvious I need you for this job, but I'm not gonna put up with any of your crap! You act civil with me and I'll keep you along for the entire duration of this operation; otherwise, once I get the information I need out of you to find Spender, I'll go find him myself and dump your sorry ass back at Elmhurst."
Krycek grabbed his hand. So this is how it's gonna be? You get to cut into me whenever you want and I'm not supposed to react?
Mulder nodded curtly. "Pretty much, yeah. I'm the one running this show."
Awaiting a response that didn't appear to be forthcoming, Mulder took his eyes away from the road and looked over at his passenger. Krycek was staring at him coolly. He let go of Mulder's hand and turned away to look out his passenger-side window. He propped his chin in his just-freed hand, making it clear that he didn't want to talk anymore.
Mulder turned his attention back to driving, angered that Krycek could already piss him off when just a couple of hours ago they had both reveled together in a wondrous paranormal event. Upon further reflection, he acknowledged that what Krycek had said was true; Krycek hadn't instigated anything and was merely responding to the pointed barbs that were thrown at him. Mulder tried to figure out how it was that Krycek could always get under his skin so easily, even for seemingly no reason. He couldn't figure it out, but it didn't make the idea of living with the man very palatable and certainly didn't bode well for their upcoming partnership. He decided that he would try to suppress any offensive remarks from escaping, since stopping Spender was so much more important than any grievances he might have with the man. To that end, he decided that it would be best if he cleared the air.
"Okay, look. We can both be pricks sometimes, so let's try not to get at each other too much and just concentrate on Spender."
Krycek ignored him and continued to look out his side window.
Mulder sighed. "It's a long drive, so I'll use the time to bring you up to speed on what you've missed the last couple of years...things that you wouldn't be able to find in any newspaper."
He told Krycek about the alien departures in a much more thorough manner than he had done in his room, spending a substantial amount of time filling in the details. He informed him that the government had made a monumental effort to whitewash any evidence that aliens had ever been here, removing anyone from office or any agency position that might leak the news. These positions were then filled with people who had no knowledge of the aliens. In this way they hoped to perpetuate the falsehood that aliens had never existed in the first place. At least that's what their agenda seemed to be to Mulder, who had found it impossible to find anyone in the FBI to believe what he had been through. He told Krycek it was as if he were living in a time warp, and doubted that he'd be able to get anyone to listen to him about this new threat.
Many miles later, Mulder finally finished telling Krycek what he thought he needed to be apprised of in a professional capacity, so he began to bring him up to date on his personal information. He told him how he was back at the X-Files, but that Scully was no longer his partner since she had decided to teach part-time now that she was a mother.
Krycek, who Mulder noted had been impassive during the duration of his dialogue, suddenly turned his head sharply and slowly reached for Mulder's hand.
The child survived? he asked cautiously.
"Yes, turns out he wasn't any threat to the aliens at all, so they left him alone. William's been the best part of my life."
Mulder could feel the tension in the car build, but he remained silent, waiting for Krycek to offer up anything. It wasn't long before he did.
Mulder, you have to know I didn't really mean for Skinner to terminate Scully's pregnancy. He found me in your hospital room and I needed to come up with a reason as to what I was doing there. I told him that business about killing the baby just to jerk him around. Okay, there, I admit it, I'd had him under my control for awhile by then, and one of the few pleasures I had in my life was watching him squirm. Sorry if that pisses you off, but there it is. The point is, I meant no harm to your kid, and the real reason I was there was to...
"Was to what?"
I'll tell you, but you won't believe me.
"Give me some credit, will you? I know you were there to inject me with that serum that saved my life. You think I bought into that nonsense that simply turning off the hospital equipment and giving me anti-virals was able to reverse the process? I figured that one out a long time ago. Still don't know why you did it; I just figured that you or your bosses still needed me around like they always did in the past, for whatever reasons they had."
Krycek remained silent for a minute.
I did save your life in that hospital, Mulder, so you must know... He paused, then proceeded tentatively. ...so you must know that...that night...in the garage. I need you to know I wasn't going to go through with it. I saw you there and I just needed to scare you off, to buy me some time.
Mulder could somehow feel the emotions along with the words coming through with Krycek's touch, and he knew that he had been spoken to truthfully. He had always suspected that he had never actually been in danger from Krycek in that situation, but now he suddenly realized that he had always known it to be true.
"I know. You may have been good at bluffing your way through some situations, but that wasn't one of them. I could see right through you."
Krycek didn't offer any more explanation, and the silence in the car stretched on as the miles went by. Finally Mulder picked up where he had left off.
"Like I was saying, William is the best part of my life..."
For the duration of the trip home, the proud father inundated Krycek with story after story about his son.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
Mulder awoke the next morning, refreshed and eager to begin picking Krycek's brain. He started the coffee and after a quick shower he emerged from the bathroom and noticed that his bedroom door was still closed. He had given over his room to Krycek, since he preferred sleeping on the sofa anyway, but now it was apparent that he'd have to move some of his clothes to the closet in Will's room for easier access. He wanted to change out of his bathrobe so he went into his room to collect his clothes. Although he tried to be quiet he must have caused enough noise to rouse the sleeping man, for Krycek suddenly sat upright in bed and gasped, staring at Mulder with a look of fear and confusion.
"You all right?"
Mulder touched Krycek's bare shoulder and felt that he was trembling.
"You all right, Krycek?"
Krycek tried to blink himself awake, but he still looked scared, as if awakening from a nightmare.
Can...can you understand me? he asked shakily.
"Of course I can, why?"
Krycek inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, calming the tremors in the process.
I didn't remember where I was at first.
"Relax, you're not dreaming. You really are here in my apartment, and I really can understand you."
Mulder observed that he quickly surveyed his surroundings as if for extra verification that he wasn't still back in his room at the rehab center, and felt the shoulder under his fingers relax.
Is that coffee I smell?
And with that Krycek scurried out of bed and out of the room. He watched Krycek disappear and wondered if every morning he would be waking up with the same momentary but frightening doubts. Mulder knew that if their situations were reversed, he certainly would be himself.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
After they had finished breakfast, Mulder got right down to business. "Okay, so tell me what you saw in the Consortium files that can lead us to Spender."
Mulder, I...I don't know. I was only allowed direct access to some of the files. There were a lot more that I wasn't supposed to be involved with, and I just took whatever brief opportunities I had to steal glances at them before anyone caught me. There were hundreds of files...I'm not sure which ones involved Spender directly. I'm not sure which information he's talking about.
"Obviously they'd be the files pertaining to the super-soldiers."
The files were all-encompassing. If there were reports on the soldiers, that information would have been included with everything else they were experimenting with. At least that's what I recall.
Mulder furrowed his brows. "You mean there was no private file of Spender's that dealt exclusively with super-soldiers?"
If there was, I don't remember seeing it.
"Damn it! Where the hell are we supposed to start looking, then?! Well?!"
...I don't know...give me some time to think about this.
"Time isn't on our side, Krycek!"
I know that! Jesus, I'm trying Mulder! I want this too. I'm sorry that the information Spender thinks I might have in my head isn't just packaged up and ready for the taking. I'm trying to figure it out!
Mulder could see that he had made Krycek quite agitated. "Okay, okay, sorry. Why don't you start by telling me what you do remember?"
Krycek calmed a bit, but remained silent while he apparently collected his thoughts. After a minute he looked at Mulder.
The Consortium funded hundreds of facilities, most of them legitimate businesses that are probably still functioning. They would use them as a front and do their experiments secretly in a sectioned off area of the site with high security access. The function of each place wasn't necessarily devoted to one thing, or sometimes the purpose of a certain site would change and be devoted to a new project. I do have thorough information on a great many of those places, Mulder. I've been to quite a few of them. None of them ever had anything to do with the soldiers but maybe we can find some information there that can give us some leads, or if we're lucky, maybe some of those facilities are involved with some aspect of the soldiers themselves now, too.
"What kind of information are you expecting to find at these places that will give us leads?"
I probably won't know until I see it. Maybe...I don't know, maybe some of the former labs devoted to biochemistry and cloning are now dealing with the iron and titanium compounds that the original soldiers were made of.
Mulder sat back in his chair and shook his head. "Well, it's sure not the definite start that I thought we were going to have, but at least it gives us a starting point. You said there were hundreds of them?"
Yes. I'm sorry, but it's all I can come up with right now.
"No, no, it's okay, I appreciate it, and I know you're doing your best. Well, which ones do we check out first?"
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
During the next few weeks they researched the function of many facilities and discussed the reasons why some of them might be good to visit first while others might be put lower on the list. This resulted in the creation of an itinerary that would require a number of driving trips and flights across the country to their selected sites.
Over the course of these travels the men fell into a surprisingly easy partnership. Mulder found that he was pleased to be reacquainted with the sharp mind and problem-solving strategies that Krycek displayed, which were some of the reasons he had enjoyed working with him during their days together in the FBI. Another reason was his quick wit and dry humor, which could match Mulder's any day. The importance of their mission kept their hostilities at bay, and although they worked diligently there was room for their intelligent, focused discussions to be interspersed with gentle banter. All in all they formed a comfortable and relaxed relationship, which was perhaps influenced by the constant proximity of their bodies that was required for them to function as an interactive unit. It became second nature to them to regularly be touching a bare spot of skin on the other man, since Mulder's ability to understand Krycek's speech was hindered if the touch was through clothing. Therefore one or the other of them often found himself with his fingers simply resting on the back of the other's hand, during and awaiting conversation.
The sites that they had visited early on held no useful information, but they persevered. The two of them were energized about the prospects of investigating the next several facilities on their list, sharing a growing excitement that the conquest of their common enemy had to be just around the corner. Each morning they found themselves waking up with the optimistic galvanizing belief that this would be the day that they would make a significant finding in their search.
On one such morning, Mulder wrapped himself in his bathrobe after taking his shower and headed out of the bathroom to get dressed. He noticed Krycek on the living room floor, lying flat on his back with his knees raised and clad only in his underwear and T-shirt. He walked over to Krycek and touched his bare toes to Krycek's bare foot.
"Is something wrong, or do you just find that my ceiling makes for fascinating study?"
Just taking a break in my reps. I came out to take my shower but you'd beaten me to it, so I thought I'd better get my back exercises in.
With that, Krycek lifted his pelvis and lower back up from the floor and held the position for several seconds before lowering himself back down.
Gotta keep my back strong because of the arm, he explained, then lifted his pelvis again to repeat the exercise.
"Oh. I didn't realize it was that heavy to wear."
It's not that, he said as he came down to rest his back flat on the floor. With so much less body weight on one side, my spine could tend to start to curve. Don't want to end up with scoliosis.
"I never thought of that." Mulder watched as Krycek continued his repetitions. "Is that why you wear the prosthetic most of the time, even when we're home?"
Yeah, partly. My left arm evens out the weight and helps keep my back straight. Keeps me balanced.
"You said 'partly'. Why else do you wear it?"
Because it's my left arm, he responded in an explanatory tone that made the question sound stupid.
Krycek got up from the floor and replaced his foot back to where it touched Mulder's. I'm used to working out every day at the rehab center with the weight machines that the physical therapists recommended for me. I don't suppose you belong to a local gym that we could go to, do you?
"No, I just use the Hoover gym and pool," replied Mulder with a sudden strange feeling of guilt.
Krycek shrugged. Well, mind if I go along with you on some of your runs? Keeping my leg muscles stretched and in shape is good for the back, too.
"Sure, I'd like the company." Mulder had responded automatically, but he was surprised by how true this reply had been. With the exception of William, Mulder was used to a relatively solitary existence outside of work and he never thought that he could tolerate someone else living in his apartment with him. But even after this relatively brief period of time, he was finding that he enjoyed the company of another adult sharing his home.
Thanks. Done in the bathroom? Mulder nodded. Good. Oh, and I think you should know. There *is* something up there, Mulder.
"I've been saying that for years!" Mulder grinned.
I meant the spots on your ceiling, smart ass.
"I know. Grape juice from Will's birthday party. Don't ask."
Don't ask what? How it got there, or why you haven't bothered to clean it up yet?
"Both. Go take your shower," Mulder chuckled as he headed off to get dressed.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
The two men spent the rest of the day reviewing and revamping their upcoming travel plans. They were home in between excursions and were attempting to narrow down the reasons why the places that they had already visited had held no clues for them, in an effort to make better decisions for their next trip. After hours of often frustrating work, both men needed a dinner break and they headed out to a local restaurant.
The waiter placed their menus across from each other on the small table, indicating that the men were supposed to sit opposite of each other. However, Mulder took the seat directly next to Krycek so that he would be within easy reach for conversation. The waiter smiled, apparently at their choice of seating arrangements, and he gave a conspiratorial look to the men.
"I'm Daniel, and I'll be your waiter for the evening. Let me start off by telling you the specials," he said to Krycek as he looked him up and down.
Mulder noticed the waiter's interest in Krycek just as his cell phone rang. His caller ID told him that it was Scully.
"Hey Scully, what's up?...No, I didn't forget to call to tell Will goodnight. I was going to call after dinner."
Mulder rolled his eyes for Krycek's benefit. "Yes, I realize that you two already had your dinner awhile ago. I was referring to my own dinner." He looked up at the waiter, who was still lingering by Krycek's side. "Uh, this may take awhile. Can you give us a few minutes before telling us about the specials or whatever?" The waiter departed, and Mulder talked back into the phone. "Yes, I know I haven't seen Will very much lately."
Mulder spoke to Scully for quite awhile, trying to ease her concerns about the fact that he wasn't able to spend much time with their son anymore. As the conversation became drawn out for an inordinate amount of time, Mulder cast his eyes down towards the tabletop so that he could avoid Krycek's growing look of impatience. After a few more minutes passed, the waiter returned to their table. Mulder looked at Krycek apologetically and then turned to the waiter.
"Sorry, can you give me a little while more? My ex is just about to put my kid on the phone." When he spoke again it was with the higher-pitched, more gleeful tone that he reserved only for his son. "Heya, Will! How's my best buddy, huh?"
Mulder knew that William liked to talk forever, and yet as the conversation lengthened he didn't seem to mind that Krycek was left with no recourse except to enviously eye the foods being served to the other tables. The waiter approached again several minutes later but veered away without a word before he ever reached their table, apparently realizing that Mulder would not want his conversation with his son to be disturbed. Mulder watched as the waiter spoke to the busboy, who disappeared in the back but reappeared shortly with a pitcher of water and a breadbasket. The busboy delivered these items to their table, and the apparently ravenous Krycek wasted no time in biting into a dinner roll.
"Wow, it sounds like you had a lot of fun with Grandma Maggie! I wish I could have been there with you. Thanks for telling me all about it, Will. Now listen, buddy, it's time for me to talk with Mommy again, okay? It's almost bedtime, so I think you should get ready for bed. Goodnight, Will, I love you."
Scully got back on the phone and Mulder finished up the call and hung up. Krycek made a show of putting his hand under the table and waited for Mulder's to join it.
Jeez, you've been talking on the phone forever, Mulder. It's a wonder your battery didn't die on you.
"You think this was long? I once tied up an air phone for three hours. I don't speak Japanese, but I think some business traveler told me to stick sushi where the sun don't shine."
I'll stick your phone up there, too, if we don't order soon. I'm starving.
"Hmm, speaking of sushi, I could go for some right now. Too bad they don't serve any here."
I hope you don't eat sushi with raw fish in it.
"Of course, that's the best kind!"
Are you nuts? Do you know how much bacteria is in uncooked food?
"Yesss, mother. Next thing you'll be telling me is not to order anything cooked less than well-done." Mulder perused the menu. "Ooh, lucky me. They've got steak tartare."
Mulll-der. Are you going to make me cite the statistics of the number of people who've died as a result of eating raw steak? Do you have a death wish or something?
"Look at it this way, Krycek. If I ever get on your nerves too much you can commit the perfect crime. No one would ever suspect you of killing me if the murder weapon was a top sirloin."
Krycek rolled his eyes. Don't tempt me. He then sighed and furrowed his brows. Seriously, Mulder, you've got a kid to think about now, so you shouldn't be taking any stupid risks like inviting E. coli or salmonella into your system.
"Anyone ever tell you you're a bad date in a restaurant?"
Well, contrary to what you may think, you're not immortal, you know. He looked at Mulder very intensely. Have you ever once thought seriously about dying?
The humor immediately left Mulder's face and he stared at Krycek with solemn eyes. "Yes, once. Didn't...didn't I ever tell you about that incident?"
Krycek's eyes widened and he leaned in closer. No, you didn't. Tell me about it.
A haunted look overcame Mulder. "It's difficult to talk about. You see, it happened when...when..." he said with, struggling to get the words out.
When what, Mulder?
"When Scully dragged me to the Ice Capades. I had to sit there for almost two hours, Krycek. Two hours!"
Krycek stared at Mulder in stunned silence for a few seconds before breaking hand contact and pulling back away from him. His spontaneous reaction was that he grabbed a dinner roll and threw it at Mulder, where it bounced off his shoulder and fell to the floor and began to roll. Both men visually followed the path of the traveling dinner roll until it came to a stop by hitting another patron's shoe. The patron continued eating, apparently never having noticed that he had just been assaulted by the cruising bread. Mulder and Krycek looked from the roll back to each other, and they simultaneously erupted into a fit of laughter.
The waiter reappeared and the men pulled themselves together.
"Well, gentlemen, before you order, I'd like to tell you the specials. We're featuring an international menu with a wonderful German Rouladen. We also have tender filet mignon tips bathed in French burgundy sauce with truffles." The waiter rattled off the rest of the specials, never once taking his eyes off of Krycek.
"Thanks, just give us a minute," Mulder said. When the dismissed waiter was sufficiently far away, Mulder raised his brows. "Well, looks like we know what Daniel would like for dinner, if he had his way."
Krycek put his hand back under the table. What are you talking about?
"Oh, come on, the guy couldn't stop staring at you. I'd say he was quite smitten by you, Krycek," Mulder snickered.
You're crazy. He was just trying to be friendly so he could score a big tip.
"Oh yeah, he wants to score a big tip, all right," Mulder chuckled. "And I know whose."
Krycek rolled his eyes.
"Hey, when he comes back, should I ask him exactly where he would like you to put your big tip?" Mulder asked, waggling his brows.
Cut it out and just decide what you want to eat.
"Lighten up," he chuckled as he scanned the menu and the list of specials. "Hmm. You ever heard of Rouladen?"
Sounds like something you'd take for an upset stomach.
"Yep. Guess I'll stick with the filet mignon tips. Does medium-well meet with your approval?" he asked teasingly.
Krycek then decided on what he wanted, and when the waiter returned, Mulder ordered for both of them. Later, during the course of their meal, Mulder held up the conversation single-sidedly since it was too difficult to touch Krycek discreetly under the table and eat at the same time. Inevitably he turned the topic of discussion to their upcoming trip and the plans that they had revised earlier that day.
"So, you think we made the right decisions in changing the order of the list of facilities that we're going to tackle?"
Krycek put his fork down, suddenly obviously upset, and touched Mulder's hand. Hell if I know. This is so damned frustrating! We spent all day revising our plans, and it was all based on mere speculation on my part. He shook his head. I'm reaching back in my memories with everything I have, trying to remember any little thing that might help us make sense of all of this, but all I can come up with is possibilities. I wish I had more to go on, Mulder.
"At least you have the information necessary in order to even come up with speculations and possibilities. That's more than what I can give to this operation. So don't put yourself down. Spender left us with practically nothing to go on, so it's like finding a needle in a global-sized haystack."
Is it? Sometimes I wonder if he's really all that hard to find.
"What?"
I can't help it, Mulder. I keep getting this feeling that the answer is right in front of us, but we can't see it. Krycek turned his head and narrowed his eyes in apparent contemplation. He looked back at Mulder. If we become blinded by the stealth of our adversary we may fail to see the simplicity of its capture, he quoted.
"Churchill? General Patton?"
The Crocodile Hunter. He shrugged in response to the look Mulder shot at him. I watched a lot of TV at the rehab center.
Daniel came up to their table. "Well, I see that you're not quite done with the main course. I'll come back in a few minutes to tell you about our dessert menu. The dessert chef here can do absolute magic." He turned to Krycek. "I bet you're a man that can appreciate an artist's magic touch," he said suggestively, before departing.
"Oh my god. You still gonna tell me he's not flirting with you?"
Krycek just looked at Mulder indifferently.
"So, tell me, Krycek. Are you a man that can appreciate an artist's magic touch?" asked Mulder in an expert imitation of Daniel's voice. He reached over towards Krycek's head and pulled a quarter out from behind his ear. Mulder held the quarter up in front of Krycek proudly.
Krycek scrunched his face. That's pretty pathetic, Mulder.
"I'll have you know that I impressed all of the girls in my sixth grade class with that trick."
Krycek turned his head from Mulder and began to scan the crowded restaurant.
"What are you doing?"
Looking for a sixth-grade girl.
"Very funny. What about you? Don't you know any magic tricks?"
Krycek turned back around and eyed Mulder's dinner plate. Sure. I bet I could make the rest of those filet tips disappear.
Mulder chuckled and shoved his plate closer to Krycek. "Here, go for it."
A few minutes later Daniel returned, and once again lavished all of his attention onto Krycek. "Dessert? We have a lovely tiramisu that is to die for," he said.
Krycek shut his eyelids halfway, as if the idea of the dessert was overly appealing.
Mulder knew how much his partner enjoyed desserts, and he watched in amusement as Krycek's face reacted to the descriptions of the different confections.
"And a raspberry tart with an absolutely delicious cream sauce," Daniel said, eating up Krycek with his eyes. Krycek lowered his head slightly and peered up at Daniel through his lashes. Daniel smiled. "That one's a personal favorite of mine. I love the cream," Daniel said slowly, licking his lips. "Don't you love cream?" he asked Krycek.
Krycek turned towards Mulder and licked his lips. Mulder knew that Krycek's action was simply an automatic response to the description of the dessert, but he found it to be strangely alluring. That thought made him almost burst out laughing, but he held it inside. Playing along, he slowly licked his lips back at Krycek, who appeared unaccountably unsettled by Mulder's actions and looked away and back up to the waiter.
"And the piece de resistance, we have a sinful chaud et tres froid chocolat. Doesn't that sound perfectly decadent?" Daniel asked, obviously entranced by the attention that Krycek was returning to him. "It's like a wicked dream."
Krycek looked back up at Daniel and grinned, as if it did sound decadent to him, but then he turned towards Mulder with a puzzled expression.
"What?" Mulder asked him.
Krycek didn't say anything. He just kept giving Mulder the same puzzled expression. Several long moments went by.
"What? I don't know what you're trying to tell me, or ask me," Mulder said.
Krycek's expression became frustrated and he whispered to Mulder.
Ask him what that last one is.
"What? It's too noisy in here, I can't hear you. Talk louder," Mulder implored.
Ask him what that last one is, Krycek repeated, slightly louder.
"He wants to know what that last one is," Mulder said to the waiter.
"Ooh, a foreigner, how exotic," Daniel remarked excitedly. "I've never heard a language like that before. What country is he from?"
"He's not foreign. He has a speaking disorder from a brain injury he sustained," Mulder explained.
Krycek glared at Mulder, who was taken aback by the sudden anger in his partner's eyes.
"Oh, oh my," blurted Daniel, sounding somewhat dumbfounded. Mulder looked back up to the waiter and noticed that all traces of lust had left Daniel's face. For the first time that evening Daniel avoided looking at Krycek and spoke directly to Mulder. "Uh, that last one is just a warm brownie with ice cream on top. The only thing fancy about it is the name," he said distractedly. The waiter had become noticeably uncomfortable, but Mulder ignored his state of being and turned back to Krycek.
"Krycek? Which dessert did you want?"
Just get the check so we can get out of here, Krycek said softly but angrily.
"I thought you wanted dessert." Krycek looked like he was going to explode, so Mulder turned back to Daniel. "We'll just take the check, please."
Daniel and Mulder handled the bill, and then the waiter scurried away without a word. Mulder turned back to Krycek.
"So what got up your butt all of a sudden?"
Krycek's cheeks flushed with anger. How could you do that to me? he fumed, pinning Mulder with his glare.
"Do what?" Mulder asked, confused.
You *told* him about my injury.
"Yeah, so? It was the truth."
Jesus, Mulder, are you being purposefully dense here? Couldn't you tell that I didn't want him to know about my speech? That I didn't want him to hear me talk?
"How would I know that?"
Oh gee, I don't know. How about the fact that I was obviously trying *not* to speak in front of him, and when I did I made sure I whispered. Or at least I tried to, until you made me talk loud enough for him to hear me!
"I don't get it. You never cared if any other waiters ever heard you speak before."
Christ, Mulder, his whole demeanor changed when you told him I was brain damaged. It was like he couldn't get away from me fast enough.
"Sorry," Mulder said only somewhat contritely. "But if Daniel has a problem with people who are different, then that's his weakness, not yours."
You don't get it, Krycek muttered, casting his head down.
"Well, what does it matter, anyway? He may have been flirting with you, but it's not like you were really flirting back at him. He's a guy."
Krycek shot his head up and stared at Mulder, looking both hurt and angry.
And how the hell would you know whether I'm into guys or not?
Mulder sat back, momentarily surprised, before raising his brows and grinning. "Well, well, do tell," he said bemused. "Are you?"
Krycek's face contorted in anger. That's not the fucking point! he screamed as he flew up from his chair. He broke hand contact and gave Mulder one last glare before he turned and strode briskly towards the door.
Mulder noticed that a good portion of the other diners were staring, wondering about the loud outburst in gibberish that had come from his table. He got up and left the building, where he caught up with Krycek in the parking lot. Mulder passed him and unlocked his car, and they both got in without a word. Mulder didn't turn on the engine, and the two of them sat in silence looking straight ahead of them out of the windshield. He let the silence prevail for a couple of minutes while he reviewed what had happened in his mind, stealing occasional glances at Krycek's face to try to profile what he was feeling. Slowly, everything clicked together in Mulder's mind, and he felt terrible.
"Okay, I get it now. You weren't really flirting with that guy, but he thought you were, and he kept his end of the conversation up because of that. So, in your own way you were actually talking with him, which you've never been able to do with anyone else but me. Now granted, you were only using body language, so the communication with the waiter was very limited. But the fact that you were able to communicate at all with someone, in any way, was precious to you."
Krycek turned his head towards the passenger window.
"I ruined that opportunity for you. I'm sorry."
He heard Krycek take a deep breath, hold it for a second, and then release it slowly. Krycek turned towards Mulder and touched his hand.
You don't have anything to be sorry for, you didn't know what was going on. I just over-reacted, that's all.
Mulder stared at Krycek's fingers as they rested atop his own fingers. He cupped Krycek's hand within his, then lifted their coupled hands towards his face to get a better look at them. He intensely studied their joined hands in a clinical manner, taking the time to recognize that their union was a real X-file.
Mulder spoke while still staring at their hands. "You know, this thing we have together, whatever mystery it is that allows me to understand you through touch, I've been taking it for granted. I mean, sure, I know I have to touch you to understand you, but then I can simply turn around and talk to anyone else, anywhere, any time, including just picking up the phone. So to me, you're just one more person I can talk with." He lowered their hands back down and looked at Krycek. "But to you, I'm it." Mulder shook his head. "I don't know how I'd cope if I was in your place. I'm sorry if I haven't been seeing it from your side enough of the time."
Krycek lowered his head and didn't respond, although Mulder could feel him gently tighten his fingers around his.
"I'm sorry that you had to be stuck with such a stupid, insensitive lout like me," Mulder said in a lighter tone, trying to change the mood.
Insensitive I can take, said Krycek as he raised his head. Just don't do anything stupid like stand in front of a bullet, he smirked.
Mulder noticed the incongruity between Krycek's chiding tone with his obvious acute need for Mulder to stay safe.
"Too late for that, I'm afraid," he chuckled. "But I'll try not to from now on." Parts of their earlier conversation in the restaurant came back to him. "And I promise not to eat raw fish or meat, either." Judging by the embarrassed look that suddenly covered Krycek's face, Mulder surmised that the man's earlier complaints about his food choices were made primarily out of a fearful need to keep his only source of communication alive and well. Mulder felt badly for him, but released his hand.
"It's late, we better get some sleep before we take off again tomorrow. How about some tunes on the way home?"
Mulder turned on the engine and clicked on a radio station, filling the car with music as they drove away.
~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~
A few weeks later, during a long drive to one facility, Mulder pulled into a fast-food restaurant's drive-through lane. Krycek reached over his lap to touch Mulder's hand.
A drive-through? You don't want to stop and eat inside? Krycek inquired.
"Well I figured we just had a rest-stop a few minutes ago before we pulled off the highway, and since we're just over an hour away from the site I thought it best if we just eat on the run. You do want to get there as soon as possible, don't you?"
You better believe it, Krycek agreed. Okay, takeout it is, then. I really think we're going to find something once we get there, Mulder, I feel it. I can't wait to find the trail that will lead to that bastard. We've waited long enough.
"I can't wait either," Mulder said as he surveyed the brightly-lit menu sign. "What do you want for dinner?"
Mmm, I want one barbecued Spender skewered on a spit, extra crispy. How much do they charge for that?
Mulder chuckled. "It depends on if you want the Special. That's the better deal, Krycek. It comes with an apple in his mouth."
Krycek chuckled in return. Well then, the Special, of course!
"Want fries with that?" Mulder chortled.
Sure, why not?
"May I take your order?" came the distorted voice over the intercom.
"Yeah," said Mulder. "Do you have any barbecued Spender-on-a-spit?"
A burst of laughter escaped from Krycek as Mulder awaited an answer.
The distorted voice spoke again. "I'm sorry, we don't have anything barbecued here."
Both men were overcome with a fit of laughter, which lingered for quite awhile before they could compose themselves enough to get a real order placed.
They were only on the road again for a few minutes before Mulder had finished devouring his meal and then began to review out loud the details concerning the facility that they were heading to. "Did I leave anything out?" he asked. Eyes still on the road ahead, he took his right hand off the steering wheel and extended it in the general direction of Krycek, expecting him to take hold of it in order to answer him. When no touch was forthcoming, he stole a glance from the road over to Krycek.
Mulder had to bite back a smile at what he saw. Krycek still held the last of his burger, with sauce dripping all over his hand and down his wrist, as well as splattered generously around his mouth. It amused Mulder how much Krycek reminded him of Will when his son ate messy foods, but he knew that the other man wouldn't appreciate the comparison. With a soda cup held firmly within the prosthetic's grip, Krycek had apparently chosen to wait until he was completely done eating before cleaning himself up. Mulder kept a straight face so that Krycek wouldn't think he was making fun of his limited dexterity. He wasn't; he just thought that it was a rather cute look on him, just as it was on Will.
Mulder was still waiting for an answer to his question, so he cupped the palm of his right hand to rest against the bare skin on the back of Krycek's neck. Krycek turned towards him with a demure look, and Mulder wondered if in the darkness he was just imagining the blush he thought he saw bloom on Krycek's face.
"I'd like to keep talking to you as we drive, and since your hand is busy, well, then a touch on the back of the neck will have to do." Mulder settled his forearm on Krycek's left shoulder and thought that the feel of of Krycek's warm neck under his palm felt oddly pleasant and natural. "It's quite comfortable, actually. I guess this'll be a good way to talk whenever you're eating in the car." He felt a momentary tremble in Krycek, which puzzled him, but then he thought he knew the cause. "I'll try not to make it tickle. So, about the facility, did I leave anything out?"
No, you were pretty thorough. We're all set. I just need to relax for the rest of the drive, Mulder, so could you turn on some tunes?
Mulder removed his hand from its warm resting spot on Krycek's neck and turned to a rock station that he knew Krycek seemed to favor. The high-energy songs would keep Krycek pumped up, which during their last several weeks of traveling Mulder had come to know was what he had meant by his 'need to relax'. Sure enough, only a few seconds had gone by before Mulder noticed that his passenger was beginning to slightly sway his body to the music while he finished his meal.
Once he had finished the messy burger, Krycek did his best to wipe his hand on the small napkin one-handed, since the prosthetic still held his drink. He unlatched the glove compartment and retrieved a wet-wipe foil pack, which he tore open with his mouth before proceeding to thoroughly clean his hand and face. The music changed and Krycek started moving more forcefully to the hard guitar riffs of a KCM song.
Mulder heard him start humming along to the song and knew that it was the precursor to Krycek's all-out singing, which he was prone to do on these trips. It seemed to Mulder that Krycek had a real need to sing, both to keep himself energized and as a release of tension. However, Krycek was embarrassed by his jargon-speech and would only sing while touching Mulder's hand so that Mulder could hear the actual words to the song as he sang them. Predicting what was about to come, Mulder laid his hand down near Krycek's leg so that it would be within easy reach of his touch.
"Nevernot fixings..." sang Krycek before he cut himself off sharply and reached over to grab Mulder's waiting hand. Oops, sorry, he apologized before proceeding with the song. You crushed me into a fine powder...I'm falling through your fingers. You sift me like I'm a fistful of flour...You won't allow a little lump of hope to linger.
"What are you apologizing for?" Mulder asked, interrupting Krycek's singing. "I don't care if I understand the words you sing or not," he offered helpfully.
Well I care. I don't want to sound like a moron.
"I don't think you sound like that!"
But Krycek just firmed his grip on Mulder's hand and rocked to the beat of the song as he continued to sing along with the radio. I've been through your mill...But I am NOT that easy to kill! I'm not broken...I'm not broken! I'm not bro-ken...I'm just refined!
Mulder yielded to Krycek's preference and continued the drive listening to the spirited singing in words that he could comprehend. He enjoyed that Krycek sang, although he truthfully didn't care whether or not he understood the words. The important thing to Mulder was that he himself also felt energized by the infectious vitality that infused Krycek while he was singing