xfc: NEW: Disconnected II - 2 of 4 - by Joann Humby
jhumby
EMAIL: jhu...@iee.org
RATING: R (mostly for language)
CLASSIFICATION: X A
Missing parts & DisconnectedI are on my website:
http://www.ctv.es/USERS/jhumby/new.htm
LEGALLY:
Not mine, never will be. Just borrowing. Forgive?
=====
Krycek slipped another weight onto the exercise machine. Being
prepared was the name of the game. Life might be about to get a little
harder, and it was important to get in shape. Though, actually, using
the damned prosthetic arm made everything hard. Trying to maintain
muscle tone and balance across the shoulders and back was miserable.
Months in that lousy prison, trying to be ready for when he got out
and with nothing, no one to help. It had been hard enough to hold onto
enough food, let alone hold onto anything else.
So Mulder was having a hard time, was he? Whiner. There had been
moments in that prison when Alex would have been grateful for anything
that knocked out the sound effects, anything that stopped him feeling
every inch of the bruising on his body. Any distance between himself
and what was happening around him, to him.
So Mulder didn't like being surrounded by aliens, was scared that he'd
go insane, worried that he might not get out? Mulder hadn't had a
monster sharing his body, hadn't spent weeks sharing a missile silo
with a thing. Insanity had looked like a very attractive option then,
but Krycek was made of sterner stuff.
He pushed against the weight machine; pushed harder until the sinews
threatened to end the session; pushed faster until the sweat dripped
through his eyebrows and slipped down onto his eyelashes.
Negative vibes, got to deal with those. Not possible to do justice to
the present, if he was still looking for revenge against the past.
Those things hadn't even been Mulder's fault. Krycek had already had
his dose of vengeance against the man who represented those hurts.
Didn't stop Mulder being a whiny-assed son of a bitch, though. Which
just made it all the more infuriating. Why did anyone care? Scully
probably had some excuse, but hell, just how good in the sack did a
man have to be to get that kind of loyalty and self-sacrifice? And
exactly when had that little turnaround occurred anyway? Surely, they
weren't lovers when Diana had been on the scene?
His mind flashed on Marita, and his blood pressure kicked up another
few points.
Skinner, those conspiracy geeks, the Cancer Man, some of the top
players in the old conspiracy, some of the leading wannabes in the new
- what the hell did Mulder have that made him attract such a devoted
following? Even the aliens gave him star treatment.
The sweat stung as it broke past the eyelash buffer zone and into his
eyes. Shit. He was going to do damage if he kept this up. He carefully
released the strain of the weights. Panting as he listened to the
thunder of his pulse raging through his temple, he tried to let it all
go. They weren't the only ones giving Mulder top billing; he was doing
it himself.
What he'd give to go and pound a punchbag and call it Mulder. That
would get it out of his system. He knew it. Trouble was, it wasn't
nearly so effective now that a quick one-two, the old left and right
combination, wasn't possible.
Brains, that was what were needed now. Mulder was feeling bad. The
rights and wrongs of it didn't matter. It didn't matter which of them
had been hurt more, been through the worse torture, the most pain, the
cruelest isolation. All that mattered was that Mulder was valuable,
therefore Mulder was an asset that needed protection.
Rational analysis was going to have to win out over the desire to
bait. Mulder needed to be saved from himself. Nothing unusual there.
Alex Krycek would save Mulder. He would nurture and protect Mulder's
sanity, even if Mulder was too busy brooding to notice the favor.
Still, today's chat should have focused Mulder's mind on the task in
hand. Tomorrow a gentler, more understanding Krycek would tempt Mulder
back out. The stick and carrot approach was necessary, and Alex knew
he couldn't let frustration or anger get in the way. Didn't stop
Mulder being a whiny ass, but Alex didn't need to let that taint their
conversations.
Krycek was pleased with himself for choosing the gym as a venue for
this meeting today. Not only a suitably public place but also a chance
to work a few things out. He'd have to come here more often. He headed
for the showers.
Walter Skinner was waiting for him as he entered the locker room.
Krycek paused in the doorway to assess any threat. The Assistant
Director could be dangerous, with or without a gun. Not today, though.
Krycek breathed a little more comfortably as he recognized the sadness
that lingered in the man's eyes and the helplessness in the droop of
his shoulders. Skinner was still in mourning.
Skinner seemed to be analyzing him in turn, so Alex brought the stand-
off to an end by supplying a bright smile. "Nice of you to join me."
Skinner didn't move. "How is he?"
"Alive. Did you give Scully my message about her keychain?"
Skinner averted his eyes as he nodded.
"Then you know it's true?"
The suddenness of Skinner's assault took Krycek by surprise. The
ferocity of it was going to leave bruises as Krycek's face bounced
against the doorframe.
The stranglehold around Krycek's neck tightened as Skinner followed up
actions with words. "You're going to help me find him."
Skinner was going to regret this latest assault. Krycek could feel it
in his bones; his time would come again. But not right now. "You know
who he's with. We can't 'find' him."
The dull groan in Skinner's breathing as he eased back in the hold
took Krycek by surprise. The assault had been a mere whim then? A whim
that Skinner was already trying to distance himself from? "Let her
talk to him."
"I'd like to, but it just doesn't work like that." To be thought
indispensable was almost as good as being indispensable.
"So, you are - "
"A conduit."
"What's happening to him?"
"The usual. I'm sure Scully's got it in the files."
"He'll be coming back?"
"It's not up to him. We have to find something his captors want,
something they want more than they want him."
"Such as?"
"That's what we've got to try and find out. But I need more resources.
Better access to records and files. Official clearance. Protection
from prosecution. Money."
"Money."
"Don't knock it. You know how much Mulder costs; they made you a
spreadsheet about it. Now, try to think how much more it'll cost if we
don't just want a few more open-ended files? We need tangible results.
I may have to buy my way into a few secrets."
=========
K
Mulder.
Come on, breakfast time.
I've brought donuts.
---------
M
You're really funny, Krycek.
----------
K
Want me to give you a commentary while I eat?
Sorry, maybe they've disconnected your sense of humor as well.
-----------
M
Excuse me while I split my sides laughing.
I haven't got anything new.
-----------
K
I understand. It'll take time.
Skinner is trying to help.
----------
M
Help?
--------
K
If we can find something they want, maybe we can do a deal to get you
out.
Mulder?
Mulder?
----------
M
I'm not ignoring you.
---------
K
I know.
Want me to read you some box scores or something?
---------
M
How's Scully?
--------
K
No news.
Little news.
She's got a temporary partner assigned. Worked in Organized Crime then
moved into Domestic Terrorism. Good range scores. Squeaky clean.
------
M
Coming from you, I'm not sure if the references really impress.
What's his name?
------
K
Nicholson.
Jack Nicholson.
Ok. Poor joke.
It's Mike Nicholson. Wizard of the computer search.
------
M
Who tracked down the paramilitary group who did that bombing in
Sacramento by searching for people ordering more than one size of army
boot.
---------
K
Got it in one. They bought 23 pairs, 5 different sizes.
You remember stuff like that? And you're surprised people call you
Spooky.
-------
M
Tell Skinner - thanks.
--------
K
Sure.
---------
M
Look -
I -
I've got to go now. They're coming back in.
--------
K
Gotcha.
If you get time, write up something on that primordial soup thing.
Leave a message if I'm not here. Maybe Scully can use it.
======== Disconnected ==========
Krycek bit into his sugar-coated breakfast.
No wonder so many people had a thing for Mulder. It wasn't every
puppet that was so easy to handle, nor so responsive.
He took a good swig of coffee to help swallow down the mouthful of
donut.
The blinking light on the answering machine brought with it an
invitation to lunch. Things were moving along nicely.
The X-Files office was brighter than Krycek remembered it. The
reduction in clutter, the streamlining of the notice board's contents,
the plants. Someone had cleaned the glass on the high windows, the
dead tubes in the light fittings had been retired and replaced with
new "daylight" types. Little things. The new broom was sweeping clean.
The nest was being feathered.
"Mike Nicholson, I presume?"
The nod of the head was stiffly controlled, dark brown eyes never
wavering from Alex Krycek's face. "And you are?"
"Alex Krycek. I'm here to see Scully."
"Agent Scully has just slipped out for a moment." Nicholson shifted
his linebacker frame far enough out of the doorway to let Krycek enter
the office. "Coffee?"
Krycek's face shifted to a brief smile. At last, someone with manners
was working down here.
Scully's new partner was a man of few words and certainly with none to
spare. When Krycek had read the summary of the man's casework, he'd
anticipated a geek, albeit a geek with good range scores. Something
more along the lines of a Frohike than an African American version of
an Alien Bounty Hunter. Krycek watched him move, heavy and solid, but
never clumsy.
No wonder Mulder had wanted to thank Skinner for the choice. Krycek
wondered if Scully had even noticed. There had probably been a time
when she'd have been annoyed at such an obvious bodyguard. Maybe she'd
learned to accept a little protection.
When Scully returned she exchanged a quick glance with Nicholson. He
waited for her all-clear signal and said a polite goodbye as he left
the room. It gave them the necessary privacy for what might be a
difficult conversation.
Krycek smiled. "He's cute."
Scully shook her head and almost smiled. "His looks are deceptive.
He's smart, too."
"And believes Mulder was abducted by aliens?"
Her lips tightened. "He believes Mulder is worth finding."
"Mutual appreciation, then. Mulder was pleased Skinner chose him."
"I chose him. Skinner assigned him."
"Mulder'll be jealous."
Her eyes clouded over, and she looked toward an image on the wall,
wanting to believe. "How is he?"
"He's holding up."
"I need to talk to him."
"I can't do it."
"Can't or won't?"
"Think of me as a conduit."
"Then start conducting, talk to him now."
"Doesn't work like that. He's going to send you some notes on what
they've been telling him about their history and ours."
Her mouth drifted open as she considered his words. "Oh."
"Anything you want me to tell him?"
"Just - just, that I know he'll come home."
Krycek accepted her words. They would need to start campaigning
together soon. But that was going to have to wait until tomorrow.
Today, he had other fish to fry. And one of the sharks was going to
buy him lunch.
Wasn't that a thing, a lunch invitation that wasn't just a suggestion
he stop off at a Dairy Queen on his way home? The Watergate Hotel.
Maybe the new suits really were having an impact on the weak-minded
men who wielded power, or imagined they did. Such trivial people, and
these were the leaders of the race? There were moments when Krycek
doubted not only mankind's ability to survive but also its worthiness.
Krycek had raised a flag, and now he needed to know just who would
salute. Knowledge is power. But then, so is money. And he was only one
man whereas these people, despite their setbacks, had resources he
could only dream of. How to negotiate himself into the right position?
From pawn to player was a leap, but then so was having a direct line
onto an alien ship. No need for them to know that the equipment at the
other end of the line was proving itself frustratingly fragile and all
too human.
The Maitre D' considered him for an instant. Krycek recognized the
appraising glance, punk or prince? The respectful response reassured
him of his princely status. "Mr Carver's party?"
A waiter escorted him directly to the quiet corner table.
"Mr Krycek. We've met before."
Krycek cursed powerful men with good memories. Being Cancer Man's
general gofer and temporary chauffeur was not an impressive line on
his biography. "It's been a while."
"A lot's changed."
"A lot," confirmed Krycek strongly, keen to maintain the momentum.
The man named Carver had no such compulsion. He returned to
conversation with the other three men at the table, debating menu
items, seasonal vegetables and the possible break-up of the Microsoft
Corporation.
Krycek almost lost it at that. These men had the fate of mankind in
their hands? Perhaps he could do mankind a favor and poison their
whiskeys. Later. Best to sit back and enjoy the ride; they'd get down
to business soon enough.
Business waited until the meal was almost over, until the food had
gone and only the drinks remained.
"So, Mr Krycek. What's your price?"
Krycek choked down the sip of bourbon that he'd just taken. "I'm not
selling."
"Of course you are."
"You don't even know what I've got."
"A way to talk to Fox Mulder."
"More than that. It's a link. To them."
"Captured technology. Stolen from one of my former colleagues I
believe. But I don't hold that against you. The price?"
"It's not that simple."
Krycek sensed rather than felt the gun barrels that were now trained
on his body. Carver smiled as Alex stiffened. "I suggest you think
very hard before you make my life complicated."
The four men walked out without further comment. Krycek was just
relieved that they hadn't left him to pick up the tab.
Just sell it. Sell the goddammed thing. Find out what they'll pay and
do the deal.
Solo, he wasn't a match even for the people at the table, though he
knew that he could give the men themselves a run for their money. The
people at the table weren't the problem. They were the officers; there
was no doubt that each one of them had his own personal squad of
marines backing him up.
Coup d'etats were possible. But only if you could get inside and work
on the fractures. Take money for this, and he was doomed never to be
anything more than a nobody. A rich nobody, for sure. But also, a
wanted nobody. Scully wouldn't forgive him. Neither would Skinner. And
both of them already looked so tightly wound that he was surprised
they weren't spinning. And it was always the pawns that got sacrificed
first.
Maybe there was another route. Another faction. Maybe he should get
out of the States and try his luck elsewhere.
Such as? Tunisia again? Russia? He slid the car back into the traffic
and wondered if there was some way he could use Skinner on this. Maybe
one of Skinner's government contacts could tip the balance.
Dare he ask Mulder? He struck that thought away, Mulder was a boy
scout, not a player. Had he ever considered becoming a player? Tried
it and found himself lacking? Or had he never even tried?
Krycek could have laughed at the irony. If only it wasn't so fucking
pathetic. What was the betting if Mulder had walked up to that table,
bearing no gifts at all, they'd have welcomed him home like some
prodigal son? Which, of course, was exactly what Mulder was.
When he pulled into the parking garage, he was struggling against the
urge to walk up to his apartment, pick up the palmtop computer and use
it to ream Mulder a new one. Play nice? Why the fuck should he? Maybe
if he played it right and messed with Mulder's head efficiently
enough, he could sell them exactly what they deserved, a piece of
worthless junk.
He double-checked the locks on the car's door before heading for the
stairs.
Something was moving in the shadows.
Krycek slipped behind a concrete pillar and froze, willing himself to
be silent and invisible. Wonderful. He'd spent too much time profiling
Mulder, and now he was so into the mindset that he had started to pick
up his sloppy habits. Just great. Someone had trailed him home.
Inevitable, really.
They needed the palmtop. They couldn't risk violence back at the
restaurant. If they'd killed him there, they might never have located
it. Now, back in his apartment block, it didn't even matter that he'd
not led them to his door. They could order an emergency evacuation
using the CDC or FEMA for cover and search the place top to bottom
without a moment's delay.
The thought made him smile. Amateurs. They'd followed him inside. All
they'd had to do was log which building, and they could have driven
straight past without him ever spotting them. Easy then. It would only
be one car. Four men tops, and probably not even that.
All he had to do was grab the palmtop and get away. They hadn't won
anything yet.
He edged forward, listening for any sound. How patient were these
guys? He knew they were stupid. But were they patient, or were they
going to need to get it over with, presenting themselves as targets
like over-eager sitting ducks?
A car pulled in through the gates and Krycek got his answer. The man
he'd seen in the shadows tried to use the new arrival's engine noise
as cover and started to run to the next pillar, looking to improve his
angle on Krycek. A second man offered covering fire from the driver's
seat of a dark sedan.
Alex was sure of it now, these two were simply not good enough. He
ignored the covering fire, sensing that the range and the awkwardness
of the shooter's position would render him ineffectual. Krycek pushed
forward, took aim and fired at the running man. The man's run turned
in an instant into a dead weight tumble that deposited the body
messily between two parked cars.
The car that had just entered the garage discharged two people. A
linebacker and a redhead. "FBI. Hands in the air."
Great timing.
The other shooter chose that moment to drive out of the lot, losing
the car's open door as he turned too hard past a concrete wall. Really
great timing. It was bad enough that he'd picked up Mulder's sloppy
habits, now he'd inherited his luck as well.
"Put down your weapon."
Krycek turned around, furious, but he did as he was told. There was no
point testing the nerves of Agent Nicholson. Nor the temper of Agent
Scully.
Palms forward, he walked slowly towards them. "We've got to get it and
get out of here."
"It?" Scully's excitement obvious even through her professional calm.
Nicholson acted as if there was nothing to negotiate. "Hands behind
your back, you're under arrest."
Alex made no attempt to comply, just kept talking. "The communications
device. They'll be back. With more men."
The words went directly from Krycek's mouth to Scully's brain, she
took her decision in an instant and there was no doubt in her voice.
"Mike." She caught her partner's eyes as he turned toward her. "Check
on him," she waved at the unmoving body between the cars. "Call it in.
I'll catch up with you."
She nodded at the tilt of Nicholson's head that asked if she was
serious.
She motioned to Krycek to head for the stairs and they ran. Krycek
listened to the familiar survival mantra playing through his head that
ordered him to worry about later, later. Right now, they needed that
palmtop.
Later, he could make sure that it was his and not theirs. Later was
another opportunity.
=======
END of Part 2 of 4
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KassXF
Please, ma'am, may I have a little more?
kasszoot
"Rollin', rollin', rollin', keep dem logs a rollin'...." Anonymous
Rachel Anton
exciting and very very real. I take it from the 2/4 that this isn't a WIP and
that there will be more soon? Or am I wishfully thinking?
Rachel
jerry
Rachel Anton <ranto...@aol.com> wrote in message
The whole thing, thankfully, is on her website:
http://www.ctv.es/USERS/jhumby/new.htm
It's not enough, though <g>
Jerry
DBKate
EYYIIIEEE!
<running and stumbling to site>
Kate
WickdZoot
zoot, who wants MOOOOOOOOORE
"Scully has sex" is a sentence, not a plot. - Justin