– Linda Rondstadt (Simple man, simple dream)

Please note this is purely self indulgent and has no redeeming qualities whatsoever. Blame Gillian - she wanted lots and lots of baby! I hate babies! Blame Lauren - she wanted to see him pregnant! It’s all their fault! I didn’t write this! I was brainwashed by Cancer Man’s doctors! Luis Cardinal wrote this! He also invented Taxes and Pop Tarts! Dolly did it! It wasn’t my fault!!!!

...Or maybe you are not reading this at all... maybe it’s YOU who have been brainwashed to believe you’re reading this...

 Do I look like a waitress to you?

"Thank you, sir," Lousy buck tip, "Please come again," and get run over on the way here, ya lousy bum, "Have a nice day," I hope you swallow your tongue. Krycek pocketed his tip, his hand sliding uncomfortably over the pumpkin shaped bulge at his middle. He couldn’t get used to this, it was like some pustulant abscess, growing and taking over his own body. Another alien invasion, although far less dangerous than the last two... or maybe it was even more dangerous. This one wouldn’t be gone again in a few days.

He started to clear the diner table, leaning over to grab plates and pile up uneaten food. Yeah, this is what I spent all those years in college for... "Goddamn it," he yelped, as his back spasmed again. He just couldn’t get used to this new body.

"Here, let me help," a strong hand grabbed his shoulder, dragging him upright, the other hand in the middle of his back helping ease the discomfort.

"Thanks, Dan," he said, gratefully.

"Don! My name is Don!" said Don, without ill humour.

"Can I help it if you look like Roseanne’s husband? Lose some weight."

"Hey, I’ll have you know this is all muscle!!! And anyway, I’m not fat, I’m just big boned."

"Oh, yeah, Dan, that’s one hell of a big bone you got hanging out over your belt there!" Krycek handed the owner of the diner the pile of dishes, he was a frail little woman now, he couldn’t be expected to carry all those big heavy plates!

"Well, Sandy, you know the best way to lose weight..." he winked and nudged her with a suggestive elbow.

"Give me a break, will you? I’m pregnant here."

"My wife never complained when I wanted to put another arm or leg on her babies."

"And she left you why?"

Don sighed, "I guess six was enough huh? Can I help it that I’m an exceptionally fertile man? I’m in my prime, I am!" he dropped the plates into the kitchen sink, and flexed a massive biceps in demonstration. The effect was rather ruined though when he scratched his equally massive butt against the stove.

"Have you ever heard of a condom?" the solution to Dan’s marital problems seemed perfectly simple.

"Have you?" Dan arched an eyebrow towards Krycek’s swollen belly.

"Touché"

"You sure you don’t want me to find the bastard..."

Krycek rolled his eyes in affectionate exasperation, "And what? Shoot him? Or perhaps you have a shot gun wedding in mind?"

"Hey, the bum..."

"That bum doesn’t know! And I don’t want him to know! I left him, Dan. I told you that."

"So maybe you should tell him, maybe if he knew he’d..."

"He’d what? Take me away from all this?" Krycek swept his hand around, encompassing the closed diner, the mess, his stupid pink uniform (god, he hated those bows), the drunken bum puking on the pavement near the door. "Why would I want to leave such magnificence?"

"Smart mouth. Grab your coat, I’ll give you a lift home. And remember, I’ll be round your place about 10am tomorrow to take you to the clinic."

They bantered companionably as Dan drove Krycek home, and Alex worked hard not to notice how Dan hinted at marriage. Poor Dan, he’d love another mother for his barbarian horde, and he had his eye firmly set on a pretty little unwed mother. Just for a second, Krycek wavered, Could do worse, Alex, Dan’s a really nice guy... but he shuddered in horror at the thought of all those kids. Unless he could arrange six little accidents... he squashed that thought as soon as it materialised.

He studied the ground as he walked to his trailer, Dan waiting in the car until he was safely inside.

I’m trailer trash, Mother would be so proud. You always said I was no good for anything, now you’ve been proven right. Look Mother, your boy’s pregnant unwed trailer trash.

Krycek couldn’t stand to look at the outside of this thing, bright pink. Hot pink. Flamingo pink. Because Dan thought he was doing his little lady friend such a big favour, feminising the soulless grey trailer that was all Krycek could afford on his wages. Ghastly. He shut the door behind himself, sighing in relief to find a little peace at last, kicking off his shoes and collapsing on the hard bench sofa.

He propped his feet up on a chair, turned the radio to some deadwood-assholes-talking-crap-station and started writing another letter to Mulder. Just a note to accompany the file he was sending, nothing specific: I hope you’re well, I miss you, I’m doing fine, here is the file, hope it’s useful. Same ol’ same ol’. Usual crud. Nothing that could be traced back, nothing terribly informative, nothing terribly emotive.

The sound of tires outside distracted him, and he realised that only now was Dan leaving. He really was a good man. And he’d ask no questions, he’d be supportive, caring, funny... maybe all those kids could be tolerated? They were good kids, really they were. But even their own mother had left eventually... well, admittedly, a slick salesman with greasy hair had played a major role in that...

-oo0oo-

Alex, I can’t believe you’re even considering this! He scoffed at himself, You hate kids! And six of them? Seven if he didn’t go through with the adoption of this lump. Yeah, that’s why you’ve spent all those years in training and education, that’s why you’ve been through hell for the past few years, so you can spend the rest of your life as a mid-western housewife, raising someone else’s screaming brats. Good plan. Not! That would all mean living the rest of his life as a woman, and that had never really been part of the plan, and Dan sure wouldn’t handle his missus suddenly becoming a mister. On the other hand, he hadn’t exactly been a success as Alex Krycek, maybe a brand new start... He felt a small tingle of amazment at himself at how he was now just accepting this. From his first hysterical reactions to finding out about the gender changing, to a fleeting thought of spending his life female.

Besides, he didn’t even know if Dan was good in bed. What was the point in marrying a man who thinks you’re some sweet little thing who needs flowers and candies? Somehow he just couldn’t picture Dan in leather and chains wielding a cat-o-nine tails. Doing it twice on a Saturday night with the lights on would be Dan’s idea of kink.

"Can’t get enough of living dangerously, can you?" he asked himself. "Or stupidly." He heaved his swollen body out of the trailer, down to the wash block. What he wouldn’t give for a decent bathroom. A bath. A television. Some chocolate. Some beer, and cheese on crackers. And another beer…

But every cent went on the shrink, and the exorbitant travelling costs to get to a shrink he could trust. Dr. Lewis was good, damn good. She’d listen for hours to his ranting, and her hypno-regression had pretty much sorted out what was real from what was implanted and phoney. It didn’t necessarily stop the programmed thoughts, but at least he nearly always knew which ones were real and which were not.

He scrubbed down in the cement shower block, sloughing away cigarette smoke and grease, This place is so depressing... he indulged in another moment of self pity, but anything’s better than the Amish. No, that wasn’t fair, they had been good people. Full of righteous thought about his sinful situation, not overtly, but in their quiet non-judgemental way. He’d always be grateful for their kindness, but all those too quiet nights, when he couldn’t hear the people who weren’t chasing him creeping around outside the buildings... he’d had to move on again. Also, the fashions were just terrible! Nothing wrong with basic black of course... just so long as it was leather.

Krycek tied his hair back, and wrapped a towel around his body. He gave his pumpkin-sized stomach a push, watching the way it slid slightly sideways Grotesque... and waddled back to his trailer.

Just enough time to spend the rest of the evening staring at the trailer ceiling for a few pointless hours. Waitressing in the diner filled his evenings, even if it meant putting up with Dan’s advances and the crass come-ons from the customers. Sweeping floors in Chez Lurlene’s Hair Emporium To The Stars filled his mornings. When the revolution comes Lurlene will be first up against the wall, he indulged his favourite fantasy of late. Making her swallow her gum and cigarettes, and her ‘ya’ll never git a mahn looking lahke that, Sandy’ comments. He twined his fingers through his pony tail, he’d get that Lurlene for this awful blonde. He’d drawn the line at waxing – he shaved his legs for no one! Still, at least he’d talked her out of the beehive. He checked out his reflection in the window of the trailer – a skunk in photographic negative. So how much does hair dye cost? Something else to do tomorrow.

He picked up pen and paper again, maybe he could put in a personal note to Mulder... Not that Mulder would really notice. The file Krycek was sending would lead the FBI Agent to a whole town of ‘special’ children.

If Mulder survived his encounter with those little darlings the Agent would have a good start on another government experimentation programme, and he’d have another step on the ladder to the Consortium. Krycek pondered his own decision not to let Mulder have all of the information at once... but why not let the tension build, keep Mulder always anticipating his next envelope. Face it, Alex, you just want him to keep thinking about you.

The note he’d been intending to write had become a series of doodles; boxes, birds, flowers, lines that went nowhere. Oh what the hell, and he folded that up and put it in the envelope as well. Poor Mulder, he’ll probably be looking for conspiracy theories in a doodle of a house. That thought gave him some amusement as he arranged pillows under his distended stomach and tried to sleep through 24 hour morning sickness. Maybe he could get in a few hours before his beleaguered bladder set off the alarm clock.

Kill for a cold beer... and a bucket.

-oo0oo-

Mulder sat on the sofa, staring at the paper between his feet, listening to the phone ring. The latest batch of files Krycek had sent had been copies of the ones Mr X had given him years ago. These ones Mulder had used to track down the decision makers who’d performed surgery on soldiers, turning them into sleepless killing machines. Salvatore ‘Sal’ Matola was going to testify against the Military, he believed that seeing justice done would bring him peace and stop the ghosts of his comrades in arms. Mulder was sure that Krycek would have fully appreciated the irony of letting Mulder have these files, considering they were the ones he’d stolen from Mulder originally.

Mulder smiled, but it was twisted, the expression making him look mean. Now you want to come back to me, is that was this means? You’ve been running too long? Not that there was any personal information with the files, there never was. Mulder considered these notes his own personal torture, Krycek’s revenge for whatever wrong doing he perceived on Mulder’s part. No personal information, but continual reminders of what Mulder had lost. Krycek had to be doing that deliberately, the man had enough information on Mulder to know Mulder would be desperate to know what was happening. Krycek was sending the files through in batches, every couple of weeks, making sure that Mulder was always going to be thinking of him while he acted on the information. So Mulder tried to analyse what he could through meaningless doodles.

Mulder’s own apartment was mouldering in dust now; and he was living out of ugly boxes in this beautiful building. Only his fish had been set up permanently, they could hardly swim in cardboard.

It was all necessary, he knew that. If he was to continue his public crusade, bringing down the government from the inside, he needed protection. Scully was in the same position, although she had rather liked the change. The new apartments were large, airy, luxurious. Far too large for Mulder, who found any room he couldn’t see held something he couldn’t trust. But the security arrangements were top of the line. The FBI was bending over backwards to help him now; horrified and embarrassed about airing its dirty laundry in public. They were co-operating with the media and giving Mulder everything he needed. He’d turned up one day to find that his office had been moved, lock stock and X File, from the basement to a beautiful corner office with a view of a park. He even had a secretary now. They gave him everything he asked for, expect the one thing he really wanted. He rubbed the paper between his fingers... it really wouldn’t make do as a masterbatory device, but it was all he had of Krycek. The man had disappeared, leaving no trace of himself behind.

The phone was ringing again, and he finally picked it up. "Hello?" Silence... again. At least it wasn’t some thrill seeker who’d found his private number and wanted to speak to the alien hunter. Just another nuisance call. He’d had a lot of calls like this, someone went to a lot of trouble to get this silent number, wasted a lot of dimes to give him the silent treatment. He knew what to do, put the phone down quietly and walk away; eventually the caller would get bored and give up. That usually worked. Ah, what the hell, why not vent some anger:

"Look, you stupid son of a bitch, what the hell do you think you’re doing? You get some kind of perverted kick out of this kind of..."

"Don’t." It was the softest breeze, a voice so low and deep it was little more than resonance.

"Alex...?"

Click... the dial tone took over.

Mulder picked the other line to security, cursing himself and his stupidity, "You’re got my lines bugged right? I want a trace on the last call that came through to my phone. Now!"

It only took a few minutes, they had his lines under continual surveillance.

"It came from Lancaster, sir, in Pennsylvania. Pay phone. Do you have a pen? I’ll give you the exact location."

Mulder jotted down the address, smiling to himself. So, Krycek hadn’t left the country after all. The files had been arriving with post marks from around the world, reposted from untraceable addresses. But unless Krycek had some very expensive equipment to hand, this call had been placed from Pennsylvania.

Of all the places you could have chosen in which; Rome, Paris, Mexico, Canada, Rio... you chose Pennsylvania? You really are some weird pervert, Krycek. Mulder smiled to himself. Of course, Pennsylvania was a big state, but it was smaller than an entire world.

-oo0oo-

The coffee was wonderful, steam from expensive special blends bled like humidity into his hair, and Krycek closed his eyes to inhale the rich taste through his lips. Ignoring the lawyer’s double talk and paper shifting. Sometimes it was easier to concentrate on the finer details.

The lawyer pushed the paper’s across, "Ten thousand dollars now, ten thousand on delivery. The buyer will cover all of your medical expenses, and is happy to cover any extra costs you may incur. The buyer is also happy to provide an extra $10,000 if the child is both healthy, normal, and male."

"This is damn fine coffee."

"Miss O’Connor, I think you will agree that the offer is most generous. And in your present circumstances, you will be unable to provide the best opportunities for the child."

"You don’t know what I can and cannot provide."

"No, of course not. But with your background... you must understand that my clients are wealthy people, and they are prepared to provide everything a child could need..."

The money wouldn’t make that much difference right now. If only he could get into the money from the French that he’d stashed away before, he’d be fine, but he did want to make sure the kid was going to be taken care of.

"What if the child isn’t normal?"

"The buyer will still provide the full $20,000 as per the contract."

"That’s not what I’m asking. Will the child still be taken care of?"

"The clients will continue to provide all necessary care."

"Why so much more for a male? I mean, this day and age, what difference does it make?"

"My clients are old fashioned people, they want a boy to take over the family business. But don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll love the child just as much if it turns out to be female."

Krycek nodded, this really was good coffee.

Nothing wrong with adoption. Instead of being stuck with accidental, unwanted children because your stupid Czek father kept getting drunk and your ignorant Irish Catholic mother refused to use any contraceptives, getting themselves stuck with kids they didn’t love and couldn’t provide for... Adoptive parents were going to all this trouble and expense to get a kid... And after all, you don’t want it.

How many other little pieces of Mulder had he unknowingly aborted every time he changed back to male?

He clicked the nib in and out again. Oh well, here goes nothing.

"Oowww!"

"Are you all right, Ms O’Connor?"

"Er yes, it just kicked." Krycek stared at the lawyer, shock in his eyes.

"Is there a problem?"

"No... er... no, it’s just that, it hasn’t done that before." The foot, or hand, or pseudopodia or whatever kids had at that age slid down the inside of Krycek’s guts, hard and uncomfortable.

"Ah, this is good, shows the child is healthy!"

"I’m sorry... I think I’ve wasted your time..." Krycek got to his feet awkwardly.

"Wait a moment... if you change your mind, I’ll leave the contract open. Think about it... this is a lot of money, and you are a single parent..."

"Thanks for the coffee."

-oo0oo-

Would the ghosts of the recent dead be accepted by those already there? But if their souls were endlessly reincarnated, could they even leave ghosts? Or were ghosts simply reflections of departed souls? Mulder had heard so many theories, he was never sure how to classify the spectral remains of human lives. Right now he didn’t care, and his eyes burned, making it difficult to see the faces in the old photographs. Scully had searched through so many files to find those pictures, so Mulder could see his own face. And Melissa’s face. My wife. My husband. Then Mulder had gone back for another photograph. My lover...

Always my lover. Mulder’s finger outlined the sad, serious face of the young man in the photograph, feeling the old paper crumble and flake slightly. He should return it to the archives, before he destroyed it. He had no tears left, he’d been crying all day, and he felt a small satisfaction that the acid of his tears could not destroy the image. He just sat in his apartment now, crushed as if the weight of all of his past lives was forcing his spine to bend and crack, pushing the air out of his lungs. He sat and mourned a wife he’d never known, a husband he couldn’t remember. A lover who always betrayed him, or was betrayed, or worked for the other side.

A nazi soldier who turned a blind eye when Jews made a break for freedom, who was caught and shot for treason by his own Commandant.

The memories swirled around Mulder, as if it had only happened this morning – and to him it had – staring into his lover’s eyes, watching the dark grey cloud over, the horror of knowing he... she was unable to offer any comfort to the dying soldier. A man she would have married, had she not already had Melissa as a husband, or had they not been separated by race and politics.

He could feel the sobs rising again, remembering another war, knowing Melissa, although he hadn’t known her by that name then, was under his feet, hidden in caverns below the sod. Knowing that he didn’t care as much for that nurse, as much as he loved her, as he did for the brother he fought against. Staring down his gun sight, unable to pull the trigger, feeling the passion again for a man he was unable to touch – forbidden by law, by church, by society, by war. Feeling the shock as the bullet tore into his flesh, watching his own blood drench the field, then feeling the warmth of strong arms as the man who killed him held him close and cried.

Tears flowed freely down Mulder’s face, as he remembered those tears from another time and place. They’d both died in that field. They’d all died there. Melissa more than once. Fated always to be together, Melissa fated to always love him and Mulder always fated to truly love another. Mulder was fated to love her, but always betray her, by thought or deed, because of his uncontrollable passion for someone he could never truly be with. Someone he could never have, but would go to his grave wanting.

In this life they Mulder had met her only in passing, but he could feel the shame, because, in a way, he could still remember loving her. In this life he hadn’t betrayed her, just helped speed along her death. He wondered if they’d meet up in the next life, another life of guilt. Marry young, in the flush of youth, then live to regret it when he found... him.

Alex Krycek.

Always Alex Krycek. Just when he thought he had a grip on life, along he’d come. Irritable, dangerous, trouble. Ripping Mulder apart, deliberately or through circumstances out of their control.

This time though... Mulder knew they were intended to be together. There was no Melissa, or law, or church, or society that was going to keep them apart. Even Krycek wasn’t going to keep them apart this time. Mulder wasn’t going to make the same mistakes this life-time. This time around they’d be together. He wiped the tears off his face, he’d been crying so often today his throat hurt, his head throbbed, and he was as exhausted as if he’d run a marathon. He steeled himself, mentally preparing himself for the hunt. This life-time they’d spend together. Mulder was going to make sure of it.

-oo0oo-

The sound of flesh impacting with flesh echoed around the room, bringing a quiet hush. For a second the Deputy tried to say something, but then he was face down in mashed potato, breathing creamy smoothness.

"For $3.00 an hour plus tips no one slaps my fanny, okay, pig boy?" Krycek growled, not letting up the pressure.

The Deputy waved his arms around, trying to draw breath, trying to show respect with frantic noddings and gestures.

Krycek stopped his intimidation to look down in horror, "Dan!" he screamed, starting to hyperventilate.

Don barrelled out of the kitchen, the sheer bulk of the man terrorising the Deputy, who now firmly believed that Don was going to tear him limb from limb for daring to touch the woman Don had been courting.

"What? Sandy, what’s wrong?"

"Dan... I think my water’s broken."

"Billy Rae, you’re in charge. Billy Joe, take over the kitchen. Sandy, let the deputy out of the potatoes. I’ve got your bag in the back of the truck, come here," Dan swept Krycek up easily, carrying him out to the pick up, "I’ve got you. Everything’s going to be okay now."

"Made a mess on the floor back there, Dan, sorry about that. That was pretty gross, huh."

"Don’t worry about it, little lady, I’ve been through this plenty of times. I’ll take care of everything. I know it’s scary, being your first time an’ all, but you’ll get used to it. Hell, by the fourth one my wife didn’t even bother going to hospital anymore, by the sixth she didn’t even stop washing up! You wait, you have a few more kids and it’ll be second nature. It’s all instinct!"

"I’m not going through this again! Hey, I think I’m having a contraction... should that happen so soon?"

"It can... what does it feel like? It should feel like a really intense period cramp."

"I never had periods."

"What?" Don turned his eyes from the road for a moment, nearly hitting a deer. A deer that happened to be slung over the hood of an oncoming four wheel drive.

"I just didn’t... yeah, I think this has to be a contraction. Definitely a contraction. Definitely unpleasant."

"Start timing them..."

"Chrissacks, Dan, this is way too soon. It’s going to be premature. What if it dies? I never had an ultrasound, what if it’s..."

"Don’t you worry your pretty little head there, honey. It’ll be just fine. The premmies are the best, two of mine were premmies, and believe me, they were a whole lot smaller and easier to pass!"

"Oh yeah, and when was the last time you shit a water melon?" Krycek huffed and puffed as Don had shown him, in their make-shift lamas classes. "Oh, this is gonna be horrible, I just know it."

Don reached over and grabbed Krycek’s hand, "You’ll be fine, sweet heart, I’ll be with you all the way. You just hang onto me and don’t let go, y’hear? It’s all perfectly natural."

Yeah, easy for you to say, ya big galoot, how would you feel if this was you? Did your childhood prepare you for this? Didn’t think so!

He puffed his way through another contraction.

If I get stretch marks from this, Mulder, you’re gonna get it!

-oo0oo-

The photo was a computer altered version of one of the ‘He’s innocent’ shots used on the Krycek T shirts. It was obvious Krycek couldn’t be travelling as a man, his face was simply too well known, so Mulder had arranged for the shot to be altered. Scully had to agree it was a pretty good likeness for Sandy.

"Have you seen this woman?" Scully asked, wondered if she could just a get a recording made. "Thank you very much." Another negative. Three days they’d been searching this area. Skinner was furious at them both for taking off while this latest case was in such a delicate state of prosecution, but there was no stopping Mulder this time.

When Mulder was finally in a position to get everything he’d worked for, he was also prepared to hand in his badge if he didn’t get his own way this time.

Mulder had finally found something more important that the truth. And it was still out there.

-oo0oo-

Be a man, Krycek, he hissed to himself, and the scream that had built up came out as a strangled sob instead. Sweat poured into his eyes, and the nurse wiped it away, kindly muttering words of support and helpful hints. He wished she’d shut the fuck up.

"Don’t push yet, luv," the hick nurse instructed.

"Fffffffffffuck thissssssssssss," he said, baring his teeth and pushing for all he was worth. His body wracked with tremors, he gulped air as the urge eased again. How long was this going to last? If it was premature and small, surely it would be easier? If it always hurts this much, why the hell do human beings breed? No one wants to reproduce so much they go through this voluntarily, surely?

The doctors were putting his feet up in stirrups, and all gathering around for a look. But after having the nurse give him an enema earlier, there was little more that they could do to humiliate him. He just pushed for everything he was worth the next time the urge hit.

Even after he’d found out, when Krycek had signed the hospital admittance forms, that Sandy wasn’t his real name, Don had stayed here, and now Krycek clung to his hand, looking for any support he could get right now. He was pathetically grateful for the large hand that soothed sweaty hair from his forehead. Your wife went through this six times? I would have shot you! Given you a six gun vasectomy, he clawed at Don’s hand, and finally gave in to the scream.

-oo0oo-

The puzzle board was set up in the spare bedroom of Mulder’s apartment, that door always shut when anyone else was here. He didn’t know what they’d make of it, but he could imagine Scully’s worried expression, as she fretted over his sanity. He put another pin in the board, a thread of red cotton connecting a car rental receipt in the name of Sandy O’Connor to a blurred photograph of a sad young woman half hidden behind the collar of an oversized raincoat.

Mulder was pulling in every favour he was ever owed, getting himself in debt to people he wouldn’t stoop to spit on, trying to find Krycek. He hadn’t tried this hard to find Krycek even after death of his own father.

This board let him track the movements and activities of anyone he hunted. An old fashioned police tool, now usually done on computers. Of course he’d also written this into a program, that he would run and update daily, but he found having it here, in concrete, helped him make predictions on Krycek’s movements.

He’d just flown back from Pennsylvania that morning after an all night stint. He was thankful he never needed a lot of sleep anyway. But even still he’d had trouble staying awake and concentrating on his case, and Scully was increasingly suspicious. It was harder and harder to put her off, he’d resorted to lies about feeling ill, phoney doctor’s appointments to make her think he had some vague virus, but he’d be just fine soon.

He knew he wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t be fine until he’d got Alex back. But if he told her that... There was no way she’d put up with that kind of nonsense.

But the trip had been productive. He’d learned some interesting things from the Amish who had sheltered a young woman for a couple of months, although not a lot about any future plans she might have had. Mulder got the distinct impression Krycek had no future plans at all, but was simply wandering in no set direction. That made it so much harder to track him. Like water, Krycek was following the path of least resistance, moving on when he thought he was in danger, when Mulder, or the press, or anyone else got too close.

The small smile that quirked Mulder’s mouth was almost involuntary as he realised Krycek was never travelling more than a few states away from Washington. That could be because he hadn’t decided to completely abandon his quest for retribution against those who had hurt him, but it suited Mulder’s ego to believe it was because Krycek couldn’t abandon Mulder, not altogether.

-oo0oo-

 [I dreamed of] Giving Birth to Little Wet Puppies and Kittens

"Here’s the head! We have the head, hey, come and have a look."

Krycek wanted to shout, ‘Dan’s not my husband, he can’t look at me there’, but right now breathing was the main priority. And mourning the loss of his intestines as they all squirted out of his body. This wasn’t human, this wasn’t natural, couldn’t they see he was shooting all his internal organs out the wrong end? They were all celebrating and cheering while Krycek had spent the best part of a day voiding his liver and kidney’s onto the hospital floor.

Don was back, an arm supportively around his shoulders, while Krycek heaved and sweated.

"Uh... uh... iiiiiiiii... I’ll kill him for thisssssssssss..." finally it was over, it had to be, he had nothing left to give, and that had to be his lungs that he was passing now...

"It’s a girl!!!" The doctor shouted triumphantly.

Krycek tried to lean up to see what was going on. A soft, indignant "Wahhh" filled the room, but it was little more than a gasp, and he couldn’t see what was going on beyond his knees. And the contractions were still going on...

Don was cutting the umbilical, smiling like he’d just won the superbowl single handedly.

"That’s right, luv, you keep pushing. Got to get the placenta out now," the nurse soothed, thinking of her date that night.

Placenta? Isn’t that what dogs eat? Krycek regretted not reading up more on this point. He’d been so set on putting the kid up for adoption he hadn’t bothered to read beyond what he had to expect during pregnancy. After all, the kid would have been taken away soon, if he’d signed the papers, so what was the point reading up on something if he wasn’t going to be needing the information? Or maybe he had just wanted to deny the whole issue. Stupid decision either way.

The doctor was coming up to him now, holding a little bloody bundle.

"She’s perfect, Ms. Krycek," he said, smiling, proud as any father, as he put the tiny wet bundle into Krycek’s arms. "Don’t worry about fingernails, they will grow in as she gets closer to the date she was meant to be born. Looks like she just couldn’t wait for all the extras, huh."

"She’s normal?" Krycek asked. She looked disgusting, covered in blood, slime and mucus. Bright red, wrinkled, she was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. Surely that wasn’t normal. On TV they looked so much cleaner, nicer… more human…

"Just perfect. Put your hands here, hold her like that."

Don was behind him, holding him up, as he took the tiny smelly thing into his own arms. She was so tiny, he could almost hold her entire body in one of his own hands. A miniature fist waved in protest, and she gave another little ‘waaa’, not really crying, just apparently miffed at her change in circumstances.

"I made this," he whispered in awe. I made this, this grew in me. "I made a little girl..." a hot flush was spreading throughout his body, from his toes up to his hair, Ignore that, it’s just hormones, trying to make me bond... Ignore those tears...

He heard his own tired laughter, like through a stranger’s ears. "She’s perfect..." and she was. She was beautiful. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his entire life. She was more wondrous than contact with alien life, more wondrous than any of man’s creations. He held her tiny body against his chest, feeling her wuffled breath, he could even feel her tiny heartbeat in his hand. "Wow."

He laughed, and cried, and held her close, and loved her more than he had loved anyone before, more than he could ever have believed possible for one human being. He could feel it welling up, blurring his vision, closing off awareness of anything other than the tiny life he held in his hands. There was nothing as important in this whole universe than his little daughter, and he realised what he had been living for all his life. This was his reason for living.

He pressed a gentle kiss to her wet forehead, learning her scent, and his whole world narrowed down to her, in all her tiny perfection.

-oo0oo-

"Mulder," Frohike gestured to the paper work he’d printed off the PC. "Got that information you were looking for, something on that special someone."

"What have you got for me, Frohike." Mulder leaned over the little man, always interested in whatever he found.

"Well, I ran a search on the name Krycek, when you first asked. Nothing. Anyway, Byers created a small program to let us know if his name ever came up in any computer system.

"And it has?"

"Yup. A small hospital near Lansdale, Pennsylvania."

"Hospital? He’s been injured?" Mulder tried to crush down the sick feeling he felt knot his stomach. Krycek had made his own choices...

"No, Mulder, not exactly," Frohike was grinning like he’d found a new bestiality video. "Congratulations, Mulder."

"A what?" Mulder peered at the documents, a birth certificate.

Mother: (Mother!?) Alex Krycek.

Father: Fox Mulder.

Child’s name: Samantha Mulder Krycek.

The little rat bastard, even now he’s screwing with my head...

Langley sniggered and handed Mulder a cigar.

-oo0oo-

-oo0oo-

The nurses were quite exasperated with him, but they did patiently show him (‘her’ to their way of thinking) how to get the milk flowing, how to hold the baby, how to bath her, how to put on a diaper. It’s okay for you lot, you played with dolls and learned this stuff from your mothers. All I learned was how to hide in the bottom of wardrobes to avoid my father.

He packed his overnight bag, the few bits and pieces Don had, in all his worldly experience, packed for him. What he was supposed to do with six tubes of toothpaste and a black velvet disco handbag escaped him though. Looks like another trip to the library, he thought, get some books on postnatal care. He stood on wobbly legs, holding the tiny body against his chest. She snuffled slightly, but hardly moved at all. He’d been assured she wasn’t dangerously premature, and he could even take her home in a week or so, but he wasn’t taking any risks.

He’d booked in under the name of Alex Krycek for the sake of paper-work. Getting Mulder’s name on the birth certificate had been an important priority, and he grinned in self satisfaction at the look Mulder would have on his face when he saw his daughter’s name. I’d pay good money to see that! Give you a real Samantha Mulder to get obsessed over.

But that risk meant no extended stays in hospital, or even in this district. He could be tracked by his name, he had no illusions that anyone had forgotten him. He figured he had a couple of hours at least, maybe a day or two at best, but the further away he was, the better.

Don would be arriving soon, and Krycek planned to be outside the building when he did. Don comes up here to visit, I steal his pick-up, and Samantha and I are out of here.

He felt a pang of guilt at using Don like that, but he had to go, and the fewer people put at risk right now the better. It might even be necessary to go to New York again, get some of the money stored there. But then again, he could always get a few bucks from Helen in Lansdale, and that was only a few hours drive. His legs wobbled as he picked everything up, and he had to take a moment to wait for the dizziness to fade.

"Okay, bonnie baby, I’m outta here, you wanna come with me?" He rocked the tiny person a little, "Look, little lady, unless you tell me otherwise, I’ll think that you don’t wanna stay here in the hospital Hilton, and I’ll sweep you off your feet and take you away from all of this... you got nothing to say? No arguments... hmmm? Okay, babe, it’s you and me kid! You and me against the world." He kissed her pink wrinkled skin, and she was so sweet and soft he kissed her again.

The bag over his shoulder, the baby pressed close, he walked slowly down the corridor. Nice and slow to pace himself, and to attract no attention. "You’re supposed to be in maternity right now," he confided to Samantha, "Do you know what kind of tap dance I had to do to keep you with me? But I’m not letting anyone take you away. You don’t ever have to worry about that. Hang on, little miss, I’ve got to take a break."

He collapsed in one of the visitor’s chairs, breathing hard. Funny how being turned completely inside out takes it out of you, he thought, hating this weakness in himself. "Look what you’ve done to me, woman. You’ve turned me into a pussy!"

The sounds of irritated voices echoed down the halls; one of the nurses was telling someone off, and he didn’t envy whoever was at the end of that sharp tongue. Why is she so upset? he opened the door to one of the rooms, another new mother, fast asleep with her baby in a display case by the bed. You’re baby isn’t as beautiful as mine, he thought, closing the door to a crack so he could spy on the corridor.

Journalists... or someone disguised as journalists. They couldn’t know it was him, they were just homing in on anyone called Alex Krycek. If they’d even bothered to find out why he was here, they wouldn’t have assumed it was him. Some woman having a kid couldn’t be the famous Alex Krycek. He considered trying to bluff his way through, but if any of the nurses identified the strange woman as Krycek, they would probably want to get answers to questions. If his worst fear was true, and these were not journalists, he’d have a lot more than questions to worry about.

If it didn’t hurt so much right now, he would have turned to male again, and fought his way out. Lots of little internal tears and stitches made being a man right now an extremely unpleasant prospect. Not that being a woman felt all that much better.

An orderly trundled by the door, and he walked out. Hoisting himself onto the trolley, he smiled reassuringly at the young man.

"Hey, what do you think you’re doing?"

Krycek pulled the small hand gun out of his bag, still smiling, "You’re going to take us both down to the morgue, okay? Nice and calm, no noise, no fuss." He lay down on the trolley, looking up the young man’s nose, holding the gun against the poor unfortunate’s groin.

"Okay, okay, lady. Whatever you want, just don’t shoot me, okay?"

"I don’t want to shoot you, boy. Just be quiet, and get us to the lift.

The poor kid was sweating and shaking, but he did as he was told.

This was rather nice. Krycek thought he could get used to being wheeled around like this. The rocking motion almost sending him to sleep.

The morgue was quiet, and he shut the orderly into a coat locker. He’d make his own way out once he realised Krycek hadn’t actually locked the door, but that would take at least half an hour, the way he’d been shivering with terror.

Krycek made his way through the cold rooms, finding the exit where the bodies would be hauled away. He walked out through the loading zone, struggled up stairs, and out into the carpark. He was 4 minutes behind schedule, Don would be upstairs by now. Possibly even aware that his Sandy was missing.

Krycek used the walls as support as he homed in on the pick-up. Sweat trickled down his forearms, and he trembled in every muscle. Don had given him his own set of keys to the pick up, and he was grateful he didn’t have to go to the trouble of hot-wiring the machine. He almost cried as he realised he couldn’t even swing himself into the cabin, and had to slide his daughter across the seat, crawling in after her.

The truck started first time, and he pulled out of the carpark, happily side-swiping the awkwardly parked cars with television logos.

"Thanks, Dan," he waved to the hospital, "I won’t forget."

-oo0oo-

"Have you seen this woman?" Mulder was sick of the sound of the answer. It was always ‘no’.

"I cannot give you that information," the doctor’s eyes flickered a little.

"Then you have seen her!" Mulder leaned forward eagerly. If she hadn’t, the doctor would simply have said no.

"This is a free clinic, we do not identify patients. If we did..."

"Then mothers carrying crack babies would go without medical attention. I understand that. But this is not the case. This is not a drug addict, she’s a witness in an important case, and her life could be in danger." So okay, that wasn’t quite true, but it was close.

"That doesn’t make any difference. If you want to catch this woman you’ll have to find another source."

"Okay okay, can you tell me why she came in here? What kind of condition was she in?" He didn’t give the doctor any room to negotiate whether or not Sandy had been there.

"She didn’t come in for herself..."

"She had a child with her, a very young infant?" Mulder was sweating slightly. "Was it ill?"

"No, she wanted to have the child checked out, it was in perfect health to the best of my knowledge. I gave her the address of a good social worker, but I found that note in the waste paper bin later."

"Why a social worker? Is the child..."

"The child is fine," the doctor was obviously uncomfortable with talking about her patient.

"Please... help me." Mulder wasn’t sure now if he was pleading for information on Alex, or on the slowly sinking realisation he had accepted Krycek had a child. He had to believe it, if this woman had seen it.

"I’m sorry, this is confidential..."

"It’s my child," Mulder pleaded, laying it on as thickly as he thought he could get away with, even though he didn’t want to accept that fact, wasn’t sure it was true anyway.

"Is she your wife?" the doctor was obviously wavering.

"Is she okay? If the child is fine, then what condition is her mother?"

"Ill. She refused to believe me, or do anything about it, but she was ill and obviously exhausted. I gave her some vitamins, some advice, I don’t think she took either."

"Do you have any idea why she was ill?"

"Maybe you can tell me why she is in this state? Why a new mother is in this position. If it’s your child, and you’re trying to take her in as a protected witness... perhaps I shouldn’t be giving you any of this information." The doctor was obviously starting to get suspicious.

"I need to help her. If you can give me any information, anyway I can find her... Or if she’s going to come back here, maybe I could leave you something. Some money or a message to pass on to her." Mulder hoped his sincerity would convince the doctor to help.

"Look, honestly, I cannot help you find her... but I did give her some coupons, for medical supplies, things for the baby."

"I thought you said the baby was healthy?"

"Yes, it is. But it will still need diapers." the doctor’s tone made it obvious she thought she was dealing with a complete ignoramus. But then, when it came to little children, she was. "Here..." she wrote down an address on a prescription pad, "If she hasn’t already filled it in, she can pick these things up here."

-oo0oo-

Pregnancy had deepened her voice, his voice, he got confused a lot on that nowadays, but he had to admit he did sound good. He sang to his daughter a selection of Linda Rondstadt tunes, things he remembered from long car journey’s. Sad songs, ‘he gone dun me wrong songs’, all refreshed in his memory from the CD in Dan’s pick-up . Sammy loved Blue Bayou and Poor Poor Pitiful Me, but wailed her tiny little lungs out at Carmelita or Sorrow Lives Here.

Maybe she just heard the songs made her mummy sad, or maybe she just had a very particular musical taste. Could a baby be that picky? Alex didn’t know, but he sang Blue Bayou for the eight time in the hour, rocking her gently, staring into huge blue grey eyes that regarded him so seriously. He wasn’t sure yet, but he was reasonably certain those were Mulder’s eyes, perhaps not so sad. Maybe they were his own, almond shaped and exotic. He hoped she wouldn’t get Mulder’s nose... it was generous and endearing on Mulder, holding ripe promise of hungry sexuality. On a little girl? That would be a different story.

The warm gentle sun dried his skin, and delighted Sammie. He leaned over her, sheltering her tender skin from the harsher rays with his own body. "Well, sweetheart, what do you think? Time for mummy to become daddy?"

Very slowly, very carefully, he let the change take place. Stretching his arms up towards the sun, he stretched out his spine ‘til it cracked.

"Ooh, testosterone! What a rush!"

He hugged his arms around himself, enjoying the larger rib cage, ran his hands down his body. Okay, so the chest wasn’t entirely flat, seemed the milk wasn’t going to be automatically absorbed. And okay, so his stomach was a little softer than usual, a good few weeks of sit ups would fix that. And maybe his general body line just seemed a little less sharp, eight months of oestrogen could do that.

He grasped his penis: "Hello there, little Mr Happy! Have I ever missed you!"

He gave it a friendly stroke, no real discomfort there. "Samantha, you’ll never know how much I’m looking forward to being able to pee standing up again! Well, I hope you’ll never know, but we’ll deal with that if it happens. Are you going to be a genderbender? Hmm? You going to be a little boy when you grow up?"

She glared at him through her screwed up eyes, and vaguely waved a skinny pink fist. And he had to kiss her again. In fact, she needed lots of kisses, and he indulged them both.

"Come on, bubs, let’s give you a bath." He plopped himself back into the stream, sitting on his butt on the pebbles, the water just waist high. He let her find a nipple, and laughed at her grumble of annoyance at how little that nipple had become, and washed her down. Baby shampoo, and baby soap, and then he decided he’d just lick her face clean.

"Well, baby cakes, we are out of money. You and all your diapers! Three months of lousy tips didn’t cover you’re poopy habits. So what do you think about a trip to the big city? Do you want to see Washington? Yeah, I know you do, bet you’ve spent you’re whole life dreaming of the big city!"

Her silence showed her assent. "Okay, I’ll leave Dan’s truck at Tyres’R’Us and we’ll take the train to the city. It’ll take a few days, and will use up nearly all of the last of the cash. You got money for your ticket? Or do you expect me to pay for everything, hmm? These days women can’t expect a man to pay for everything, this is the age of liberation! You’re going to have to get yourself a job, little miss, you know that? How many employment opportunities do you think there are for handbags that poop?" He realised she had fallen asleep mid suck, and dragged them both out of the water again.

"Time to leave our country idyll, I have treason money to collect. What do you think about that, huh? Your daddy sold government secrets about aliens, to the French, just so they could find someone else to feel superior to. You don’t care do you? You still love me. As long as I keep making food you’ll love me, won’t you." Her tiny mouth moved again, sucking in her sleep, and he just stood, letting sun dry them both off again, enjoying the breeze against his body, enjoying being almost a man again.

Once he had the money he’d rest. Sleep for a week. He was shaking now like he’d been shaking when Mulder had found him in Hong Kong. Stressed out, every second spent waiting to die. He wasn’t in that much danger now, but physically... he seemed to be exhausting himself at the slightest effort. What do you expect, idiot, you just gave birth a while ago, in a body originally not designed for that purpose.

-oo0oo-

More coupons cashed in, this time by a man carrying a tiny new-born. Someone had spotted someone who looked like Alex Krycek, and approached him for an autograph, getting a black eye for their interest. Someone answering Krycek’s description had emptied a phoney bank account, withdrawing several thousand dollars before the computer warned the bank. A married couple had approached a young man they thought was ill, staggering in the street, she had tried to help him by taking his child while her husband helped the young man sit down, and had reported being assaulted for their trouble. She had given a good description to the police.

Mulder tallied up the appearances, tracking Krycek’s progress. Krycek was being careless, incredibly careless. Perhaps he didn’t care anymore, but more likely he was just tired and slipping. He’d travelled anonymously for months, but that was before he’d become famous. Now everybody was happy to see him, everyone wanted a piece of him. And anyone who got close got hurt.

-oo0oo-

The hotel bed was soft and warm... well, actually, it was a cheap foam mattress on an unforgiving wooden base that had seen better decades. But compared to the trailer, or to the abandoned buildings, bus shelters, and even the odd doorway Krycek had slept in recently, it was bliss. He couldn’t rest properly, starting at every sound, and he didn’t even dare undress. He slept, boots and all, on top of the bed, her tiny body on his chest, her breathing the only soothing sound in his world. He’d eaten well that night, spending nearly all of the last of the money, but he had to make sure he could still make milk for her, starving himself wasn’t going to solve any problems.

Soon he’s make a move to get the cash. He knew Mulder had to know he was here. Mulder was brilliant, and Krycek new he’d made too many mistakes. But he was always so tired now, and it was harder and harder to pretend nothing was wrong, so no one would be suspicious. He was seeing shadows everywhere, and everybody was out to hurt him, or to take his kid. They wouldn’t let him keep her, he was sure of it. They’d say he was a danger to her, or that he couldn’t care for her properly, or maybe one day she’d just disappear. Maybe she’d end up an experiment somewhere. Paranoia was one of Mulder’s greatest tools and defences, but it was making Krycek careless and panicky.

He needed the money, there was nothing left for another night in this fleabag hotel, but it was so nice to sleep on a bed for a change, no matter how cruddy. He could hear noises outside, cars pulling up and voices low, they disturbed the half sleep he had fallen into. He pulled the back-pack up over one shoulder, not getting up. The slightest hint of trouble and he could bolt like a rabbit. She was never out of his arms, he never put her down for a second, making sure she was ready to travel in a second’s notice. Everything he owned was either in the bag or in his pockets, so he’d leave nothing behind. Pared down to the bare essentials, everything important in his life weighed little more than 40 pounds, and that included his daughter and the clothes he was wearing.

A car door shut carefully, he could hear it just across from his own room and he came fully awake. People who stayed at hotels like this slammed their doors, and staggered drunkenly to their hotel rooms, dragging gum snapping hos behind them. He swung his legs off the bed and twitched the curtains aside. Two men, dark suits. He didn’t stop to see any more. They could be bankers or accountants, in town away from the wives looking for some fun. Business men on their way to a convention in another state. MIBs hunting him down. Whatever it was, he didn’t stop to wait. He slunk out the back window, and high tailed it past dumpsters, cursing the lost money he’d wasted on a bed for the night.

-oo0oo-

It was difficult to concentrate on the case notes, partially because he could hear two security guards chatting outside his apartment door, partly because his mind always wanted to go back to puzzling out Krycek’s location.

They were so close to bringing this particular case to a close. He’d found a centre, he was fairly certain was something to do with the Consortium, with stolen children and people living like scientific lab experiments. It was something Krycek had tipped them off to, and as he stared at dull eyed rescue-ees, he could only wonder if Alex had also been through this kind of experience. Not from childhood, he didn’t think so at least, not like some of the people they’d found and released, but for some period of his life. Probably not even Alex could tell him how long.

The people they’d pulled out had moved quietly, cautiously. They hadn’t been mistreated, not physically but some of them hadn’t seen the sky in years. He remembered Scully’s expression as a young man cried on her shoulder, overwhelmed to be free after most of his childhood had been spent in their labs. They would all testify, although not even the victims, and not even the scientists could explain exactly what the experiments had been for. Another step up the ladder.

And despite the satisfaction of a job well done, and finding another chink in the armour of his enemies, all Mulder could think about was Alex. Had Alex been there, how had this helped shape him as a person, what was the special personal significance of this place to Mulder’s ex lover.

He knew he was becoming as obsessed with Krycek as Krycek had been with him – once upon a time. But Krycek had had the excuse of having been brainwashed into his obsession. What excuse did Mulder have? He’d been bewitched by big green eyes and talented hands, by devoted loving and the feeling of easy companionship and understanding. So, okay, Krycek seemed to be the first person Mulder had been involved with who not only could put up with Mulder, but who genuinely did not seem to think Mulder was overly weird. Or, if he thought Mulder weird, he thought of it as a positive, not a negative, and loved Mulder because of it, not in spite of it.

Mulder wanted that back. He wanted not just the sex, but the friendship, the companionship. And, he admitted to himself, he wanted the sex again. And again. And again.

He wanted to rest his face against smooth skin, listening to a strong heart beating under his ear. He couldn’t help remembering and yearning for the man’s strength, heavy muscled thighs against his, being crushed by arms stronger than his own.

He still had a few of Krycek’s things. A shirt he’d borrowed from Mulder, unwashed, folded under Mulder’s pillow. The scent had long since gone, but he could imagine it, he could pretend the shirt still had a perfume that lingered. Hair oil, or aftershave, or whatever it was that mingled with Krycek’s own delicious odour. He wanted to hear that squeaky husky sexy voice and feel the brush of too long lashes and the rash of heavy stubble. He wanted to press his lips to delicate fingers and trace intricate patterns on Krycek’s back with his tongue. He wanted the chance to be jealous of Krycek’s nose again, and to cup firm round muscular buttocks with his own thighs. And he wanted to plunge his own body into Krycek’s, again and again, hearing their flesh slap together, and those muscles working against his own body...

Sharply Mulder brought his mind back to the papers in front of him, the blur going back into black and white type. He would give himself another four hours on this case, then he’d treat himself to another night trying to find his missing partner. Ex partner! ...partner.

-oo0oo-

The light in the silo never changed, day after day, the same dim ominous eternal dusk. It was so cold, he was dying, slowly and painfully. Flesh split as the pounded on the door, his blood black and viscous, his voice harsh with his screaming. He collapsed again, sobbing, licking his own salty black tears to save the moisture. He could hear the voices in the corridor, his ex-boss/owner, or was it Mulder’s voice? A baby crying softly somewhere distant...

He jerked awake, "Oh, I’m sorry, honey, did I wake you up". He flicked the switch on the torch, the pathetic drizzle of light illuminating the basement he’d snuck into the night before. As Samantha was getting nearer to her real birth date, her lungs were getting more powerful, and he jiggled and rocked her soothingly, trying to let her know daddy was okay. Trying to tell himself exactly the same thing, not convincing himself so easily.

"Ow, my back!" He creaked upright, walking her around the limited space. He’d taken to sleeping with her on his stomach or chest, and trying not to move around at night, but it was killing his back. Again. "I’m going to need physio at this rate, Bonnie. Tomorrow I’m going to hit that hotel we saw on the way here, they have that deal where you can use their gym for $2 just by pretending to be a hotel guest. I’ll use up all their hot water, I think."

He opened a couple of shirt buttons, talking nonsense to her all the while, nothing meaningful, just the sound of his own voice, "You wanna drink? I might have to go female again for a few days, make sure your supply doesn’t dry up. What do you think? So far though everything seems to be flowing just fine. Aliens, you never can tell, huh." She was starting to fall asleep again, and he held her up to the limit of the baby sling, kissing her milky lips.

"We’ll get the money tomorrow, and then we can go anywhere. Where would you like to go? Is there any place you have your heart set on? No ideas? Well, you sleep on it, and tell me in the morning." He settled back down on the sleeping mat, her head positioned so she could hear his heart beat.

"And you," he tapped himself on the nose, "no more nightmares. You’re sleeping for two now."

-oo0oo-

"You’re sure he’s in this area, Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked, wondering if he’d been dragged out on yet another wild Alex chase. Mulder’s frantic attempts to track down the other man had become as annoyingly obsessive as his searches to find his sister.

"I’ve had two independent reports since yesterday. He’s been travelling this way for the past few days, and he’s been spotted in this neighbourhood. My guess is he’s here to contact someone, or pick something up."

"What if he has already made the pick up? He could already be on his way out. What are you going to do if this turns out to be another dead end?"

"Keep on looking elsewhere."

Skinner pushed his glasses up, rubbing the bridge of his nose. This was going to lead to another migraine, he just knew it.

Krycek wasn’t using credit cards, he wasn’t talking to anyone, he left no clues, and moved in the darkness. And yet still Mulder tracked him. Always one step behind, always just a little too late, but he wasn’t giving up. Skinner had to admire his perspicacity, but he also had to doubt, again, Mulder’s sanity. It seemed more and more he was treading a fine line. Since Krycek had packed up and left without warning, Mulder seemed to have drawn into himself even more. He’d started to trust Krycek, again, and again had been torn apart. This time though, there had been little anger, little emotion at all really, from what Skinner had seen. Just this dogged determination to find him again.

"Central station..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Central station... Krycek likes hiding things in lockers. He’s left me a number of little surprises in lockers in several states, I’m guessing he’s here either to leave something else for me to find, or to pick something up."

"I thought you said he could be here to meet someone?"

"I’m guessing, sir. It’s all I have to go on right now."

Skinner released a pent up breath, to be honest Mulder’s guesses were better than most other agent’s reasoned deductions.

"And why Central Station?"

"It has the most lockers, sir."

Skinner just looked at him. He’d been looking forward to a quiet lunch with his top agent before the phone call with this information had come through.

"I’m grabbing at straws!" Mulder said honestly, shrugging, "And anyway, there’s more people, he can get lost in the crowd easier." Mulder turned the car around. He had another goal, obscure as it was. As long as he had something to grab onto, he’d keep going.

"I’ll see if I can get Jones and Mohammed there before us. If Krycek does show up, we’ll need back up."

"He’s not to be harmed!"

"I know. But I want to have an ambulance standing by. Just in case, he may attack one of the other agents."

-oo0oo-

Women kept cooing, some old lady had even tried to touch Samantha, so he pulled his jacket around her close and tight. He knew it was paranoid, but who knew what kind of diseases those old biddies were breathing on his baby. And old ladies could be government spies as well.

He rummaged in his jacket pocket for the key, and sighed in relief when he found the contents of the locker untouched. There would be just over ten thousand dollars here, one of the best stashes he’d hidden, plus some fake identification, even a passport. It was a terrible risk coming here, even coming to this city, but this stash could be his ticket out of the states.

"We’ll start up somewhere new, just you and me, baby. Somewhere they’ve never heard of Alex Krycek, or they just don’t care..." somewhere Mulder can’t find us? That seemed pretty final... maybe in a few years...

He stuffed the money and papers into his pockets, keeping up a running commentary to Samantha the entire time. One eye on every person who moved nearby, he picked out one man in a suit and turban who seemed less self-centred than the others. Instead of putting his head down and shouldering his way through the other’s he was politely letting people pass him. Krycek dropped his head, moving quickly away from the man, while watching him surreptitiously. The man made eye contact with someone else, Krycek followed the line of sight and recognised the second man as an FBI Agent. A quick scan revealed no one else he recognised immediately, but he started to move faster.

"They know we are here, honey, hold on tight, this could be a bumpy ride..."

"Krycek!"

Krycek was already running away from the sound of the voice, but he couldn’t help looking over his shoulder. It was Mulder, and he looked dreadful. Krycek poured on all the speed he could before they could close the trap. He could see the end of the row of lockers, once he was past that he could jump the barriers and get onto a train. They would find it impossible to track him down once he was out of this station.

He didn’t even see the fist that came out from behind the side of the lockers, but he felt the lights explode behind his eyes as it impacted with his forehead, throwing him backwards onto the ground.

Dizzy and disoriented, he thought could hear Mulder’s distressed voice, "Sir, you didn’t have to hit him that hard..." but it was vague, and he was concentrating on trying to get his feet under himself again. A hand was over his face then, he recognised the smell of chloroform and started fighting. He had the satisfaction of feeling flesh crushed under his fists before the darkness started edging in. He could hear Mulder swearing and struggling to hold the chloroform pad in place, then:

"Oh my god, what’s that!"

The last thing Alex felt was the weight of the baby being lifted from his body.

-oo0oo-

Mulder stared in horrified disbelief at the small moving thing on Krycek’s chest. He put his hand under the other man’s head, partly to keep it off the cement, partly to give himself something to do, so he wouldn’t touch that thing. A tiny hand was patting Krycek’s chest in an unco-ordinated and fretful motion. It was whimpered quietly.

"Keep it together, Agent Mulder. Help me get him onto the stretcher," Skinner ordered.

Mulder heaved Krycek’s shoulders up, helped Skinner haul the man onto the stretcher.

"Agent Mulder, I think, given these circumstances," Skinner pointed to the infant, "it might be best if we take him straight to the hospital for a check up."

"I’m going with him," Mulder said vaguely, following the gurney, rubbing his ribs where furious blows had landed.

Skinner also pushed his way into the vehicle, his gun drawn. Mulder was pleased to see at least one of them had the sense to be wary, he was feeling somewhat stunned himself right now.

The medical officer riding with them glared daggers as all his manoeuvring space was taken up by the two agents, "Is the kid his? Or is this a kidnap case?"

"It’s his, I guess." Knowing the child existed, and actually having to face the living flesh were two quite different philosophies.

-oo0oo-

Very carefully he eased himself upright, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Why an IV? He wasn’t sick so it seemed somewhat pointless. He grabbed the tube, pulling it out, stifling his instinctive cry. Shit, that was a mistake, it always looks so painless on television. The blood from where the large needle had been jerked free trickled down his arm, giving him an idea. Chewing through the tubing, he threaded the needle through the fabric of the hospital gown.

There was a guard on his door, of course. He smiled at the man, who stood up, letting Krycek see his gun.

"Hi, I guess you’re here to keep things quiet, huh?" Krycek asked, non threateningly.

The man nodded, suspicious, but it was hard to take this skinny guy in the revealing hospital gown too seriously.

Krycek backed into the room, looking nervously over his shoulder, beyond the guard’s vision. The guard followed him, willing to check the room if it would make his charge rest easier. He’d read the newspaper reports of Krycek’s trial, this guy was a hero! He’d taken on the government and won!

Krycek waited until the guard was inside, kicked the door shut, and swung at the guard’s head. He didn’t have the strength he’d had before, but he was still strong, and nervous energy lent some power to his attack. The guard tried defending himself, but Krycek had the gun out of his holster, and pounded his head with the butt. And again, collapsing on top of the guard as he went down.

"Poor man," he whispered, touching the bloody abrasions. Nothing too serious, possible concussion, not likely to be brain damage though. "I’m sorry, but I’ve gotta find my kid, you understand?"

For a moment he stared at the gun, considering. He didn’t want it, the weight in his hand now turned his already sensitive stomach. But this was his daughter at stake, would he kill for her? Definitely. But... what if he choked? What if he couldn’t pull the trigger? Maybe he could kill, for his daughter, but not with a gun. He needed a weapon he could rely upon. He dropped the gun by the guard, habit making him wipe off his prints first.

The needle was pulled out and concealed in his palm before he went outside the room again. It was a weapon he knew he could rely on himself to use. Another orderly, what is it with me and terrorising orderlies lately, he grinned to himself, grabbing the man around the neck and holding the needle against his right eye.

"Stay calm, okay?" Krycek tried to ignore his own trembling, as much from nervousness as any lingering weakness, "You just help me find someone, and we’ll both walk away just fine. Nod if you understand."

The man nodded frantically, sweat starting to form between their bodies.

"Okay, you relax, just relax." He had read once, in some hostage negotiations training manual, just saying the words relax and okay, made people feel calm, "I need to find a child, can you access hospital admissions?"

More furious nodding.

"Good, I assume we can use the reception counter there." Krycek started to pull them both to where he could see a computer terminal, ignoring the stares of patients. "What’s your name?"

"Larson, sir."

"Okay, Larson. Type in Krycek, k. r. y. c. e. k., that’s right."

The screen came up with only his name and admission details, he noted distractedly that he was in for dehydration and a few other problems he hadn’t even noticed, more tests scheduled, of course. No mention of his daughter. He bared his teeth again, feeling the anger rise. If what he thought was true...

"Type in Mulder, m. u. l... that’s right." And there she was. Samantha Mulder. The urge to vomit was back, and not this time from lingering after affects of chloroform. "You bastard. You’re not taking her away from me. I’ll kill you first," he whispered. "Okay, Larson, you’re taking me to her now, you understand."

"Yes, sir." Larson was trying to make eye contact with the nurses and other hospital personnel who had gathered around them.

Krycek totally ignored them, holding the bloody needle closer to Larson’s eye, letting them all know, including himself, he was quite willing to pop it like caviar if they tried to stop him.

It seemed to take forever, the lift to the maternity wing slow, with nothing but their breathing and the stench of fear from the both of them filling the tiny space. "This is not so bad now, is it?" He kept talking to keep the other man calm, poor chap could be permanently traumatised by an experience like this. "I’m just going to get my daughter, then you walk free. Won’t take long, and you’ll be just fine as long as you stay calm and relaxed. You with me here, Larson?"

"Uh huh," Larson was facing a one eyed future, and was too terrified to put together anything more coherent.

They marched on wobbly legs down a corridor already filled with hospital staff waiting for them, a middle aged security guard held a gun ready. Krycek manoeuvred his latest orderly between him and the gun, and kept them both moving quickly down the corridor.

Pushing Larson out into the corridor, he slammed the door to the maternity ward. The guard wouldn’t follow him, not in here with the new-borns, not while he was carrying the needle, but the nurses were coming for him quickly. Nothing was going to stop them. Where is she? So many similar little bodies, pinks, browns, every shade in between. Sleeping, screaming. But he could hear her, her quiet, raspy, cry. He didn’t need to see the Mulder tag to know his little girl.

He palmed the needle and picked her up, holding her close, rocking her gently. Finding a corner of the room, he folded his body around her, crooning softly until her she quieted. Nurses left him alone, checking on the infants he’d pushed aside while trying to find his own, fixing the cots back into place. Someone was kneeling beside him now, and he recognised him by scent, and he recognised the large hand that rested on his back.

"You’re not taking her away from me, Mulder."

"No, I won’t," Mulder said quietly, in his ‘don’t upset the madman’ voice that irritated Krycek so. He rubbed the naked skin of Krycek’s back through the gown soothingly.

The needle slid out of Krycek’s palm, and he prepared to make Mulder leave him alone. He wasn’t sure he could even injure the man, but no one was going to take Samantha away; not for experiments, not for any reason whatsoever. Not even Mulder. Especially not Mulder.

Mulder bent down and whispered in his ear, "Protect Mulder..."

The needle slid through suddenly nerveless fingers, clicking onto the floor, "That’s not fair," Krycek sighed, his eyes prickling with shame at his Pavlov’s dog reaction to the old code phrase.

"We’re not going to hurt you, Krycek, let me help..."

Ignoring Mulder’s words, "I can’t get out of here," Krycek admitted, more to himself. He simply didn’t have the strength right now to pull off another escape. Right now, it was taking all his strength to hold his tiny daughter, and sitting here, vulnerable in the indecent gown, he realised he’d used up his last retreat. "Tired..." he folded over until his aching head rested on his knees, encasing Samantha totally within his own body. His breath shuddered, although he didn’t give into the fearful tears. Mulder’s voice droned quietly in the background, trying to soothe. Mulder’s hands caressed his back, his shins, Mulder’s body shielded Krycek from the rest of the hospital. Krycek didn’t flinch as a nurse slipped a needle under his skin...

-oo0oo-

Not resting peacefully, Mulder noticed. He couldn’t resist trying to smooth out the crease at the top of Krycek’s nose, an imprinted frown line, with the tip of one finger. Even sedated Krycek was trying to fight, his hands were tensing and tugging at the leather restraints the hospital administrator had insisted upon.

"I know this is going to be difficult, but it’s better that you’re back. We’ll work this out," Mulder whispered to the sleeping man. He couldn’t resist letting his lips rest against Krycek’s forehead, feeling his warmth, so terribly missed. He brushed back the awful hair and made a mental note to himself to get a hairdresser in here to get rid of the bleached out scrag ends.

Wheeling over the side table, Mulder started unloading the back pack Krycek had been carrying when caught, looking for clues to where Krycek had been, so he justified, although it was really just curiosity. A lot of toothpaste here, Mulder was pleased to see he was using his own toothbrush for a change, by why in a small velvet disco hand bag? He’d have to find out the significance of that later. There was easily $10,000 dollars in a few envelopes of used, small denomination bills, plus about $15 in change from Krycek’s pockets. Another envelope revealed a number of photographs. Mulder had to smile as he saw the surveillance photo Krycek was carrying around, So, I’m not the only one who can’t let go.

It was a shot of himself, Mulder guessed from just before Sandy had walked into his life, back when Krycek had been stalking the FBI agent, planning his approach. The photo now was well battered, torn and tattered. Mulder slipped it back into the envelope with many similar pictures. Another one looked like a quick Polaroid shot. This time it was of Krycek himself, looking concerned, holding his daughter protectively. It appeared someone had snapped the photo without Alex’s approval, but Mulder studied the shot closely, realising it was as close to a new-born baby photo as he was likely to see. There was also a photo, very badly posed, of Sandy, blond scraggly hair and swollen belly, standing beside a very large man. The man had an arm across Sandy’s shoulders, and a shit eating grin. Mulder took an instant dislike to the man’s familiarity with Sandy. He slipped the photos back into the pack, he’d study the rest of them later.

There were surprisingly few baby things. Nothing more than some wipes, sachets of shampoo, and two diapers. Mulder continued to rummage, finding a hidden pocket inside, and pulling out a tape. His eyes bugged as he realised it was the copy of the original DAT tape. He could feel a slight tremble in his fingers. No more getting things one secret at a time, as Krycek saw fit to feed them to him, one tantalising bite size bit by bite-sized bit. This was his holy grail! Every thing he needed was on this tape.

Biting his lip until he tasted blood, he slipped it back into the secret pocket, put everything else back into the bag, and left it on the side table where Krycek would see it upon awakening.

-oo0oo-

The whimper escaped before he could stop it. Sigh now, Stupid, make it sound like you did that in your sleep, maybe no one will know you’re awake. When there was no reaction to the noise, he started to test the restraints. Heavy, unmoveable, only to be expected. At least the sedative the hospital used didn’t leave him vomiting like chloroform, although he did feel disoriented and disconnected.

"Krycek?" it was Mulder again. The man was nothing if not persistent.

Krycek opened his eyes, staring into Mulder’s, too close, Mulder’s breath was sour. Sour like he hadn’t been home in a while, sour like no opportunity for personal hygiene, sour like betrayal. Krycek resisted the desire to spit on the man, swallowing his own saliva instead. "Where is she?"

"Krycek..."

"Where is she, you bastard?"

"Calm down..." Mulder tried to get Krycek to stop jerking against his restraints. He couldn’t understand why Krycek’s eyes held such hate.

"Nooooooo...." Krycek started to thrash against the restraints, uncaring he didn’t stand a chance at breaking them. He’d chew through his own limbs before he’d let them experiment on his daughter.

Mulder grabbed Krycek’s head in both hands, twisting it sideways to focus him in on the cot by the bed, amazed at the strength in muscles rigid with mania, "Look. Look you stupid asshole!"

Krycek went limp like Jell-O, "She’s all right?"

"She’s just fine. A little small, but by my estimation she was premature, right? Considering the last time we had sex and the date on the birth certificate."

"You’ve got some ego, thinking she’s yours." Krycek slurred, too tired now to be bothered with enunciation.

"They’ve already done blood tests, Krycek, and they can do DNA as well," Mulder bit out, "But don’t worry, no one is trying to take her away from you. Yet. After that psychotic little performance you put on yesterday, that could be in question."

Krycek ignored him, focussed on his little girl, in the odd plastic display crib. She was snuffing and crying a little under her breath. "Untie me."

"Under no circumstances."

"She’s crying, untie me so I can pick her up." Krycek spoke as if to a cretin.

Mulder left his side to look at the infant, her tiny screwed up face passing impartial judgement on him. Awkwardly he lifted her, and her waa’s turned to wails at his inexpert handling.

"Put her on my chest... not like that, keep her head up," Krycek snapped out instructions. "Jesus Christ, Mulder, just stop her sliding off..."

"Krycek, I’m going to unstrap one arm, all right? Don’t cause any trouble, and you can hold her for a while."

Mulder unstrapped Krycek’s left arm, and Krycek had the right unstrapped in a split second. Braced for an attack, Mulder was relieved when Krycek simply held the child against his chest, rocking her and whispering comforting things.

"Mulder," his voice took on a sing song quality, the tone directed to his child, the words to Mulder, "What drugs are in me, and how strong are they likely to be now?"

"Most of them should have worn off by now, why do you ask?"

Krycek didn’t answer, just pulled up the gown and settled Samantha for a feed, "Because I don’t know what they’ve been putt