Celebrity

Disclaimer: I don't own Mulder, Scully, Krycek, or Skinner -- if I did I'd treat them far better than 1013 Productions has done. This story may not be archived anywhere either in part or in whole without my permission.

Note: Thanks to Rhi and tarsh for beta-ing this story and rounding up all the stray commas and keeping my continuity in order. Any mistakes that remain are my own.

Rating: PG-13 for profanity

Summary: What do you give to a man who doesn’t want anything? Mulder indulges in a spot of payback. Takes place at the end of Season 8.

Celebrity
by Gyrfalcon
March 2002

Oregon
Mid-May 2001

The alien Bounty Hunter was the last thing Fox Mulder saw as he was pushed into the circle of light. Although the alien's face was as impassive as ever, after ten months aboard this ship Mulder could decipher the minute signals that told him the alien was pissed. Giving his escort a cheeky grin, Mulder braced himself for the disorienting trip back home. As far as he was concerned, transporter beams would never replace conventional, albeit slower, means of travel. He sympathized with McCoy of Star Trek -- he did not enjoy the feeling of being disassembled and reassembled, even though his hosts had assured him that he shouldn't feel a thing. Perhaps *they* didn't, but Mulder came out of the beam feeling like stretched-out toffee.

Squatting down, he took a moment to settle his uneasy stomach. A chill, wet wind bit through his leather jacket and sweater. Mulder tried to orient himself. It was night and the rain made it difficult to distinguish landmarks, but Mulder was sure that the aliens had dumped him back in the exact same spot where they had abducted him twelve months before. It figured that they'd inconvenience him as much as possible.

Nice to know that they're just as prone to petty, vindictive acts as we are.

Mulder threw back his face, stared up into the overcast night sky, and reveled in the feeling of rain upon his face. Even a chilly wind felt good after months of climate control that had never varied more than a degree or two off a warm 78 degrees Fahrenheit. Ten deep breaths of fresh air cleared out the last of the processed air he'd been breathing. Feeling human again was a relief, even though he knew that was a partial truth. Just being alive was more than he'd expected after shoving unpleasant truths down alien throats.

His memories of the night of his abduction were hazy and no help in determining which way was civilization. Mulder turned around in a circle once, then arbitrarily picked a direction and started walking. With luck, he'd picked the correct direction. With better luck, he'd run into Scully trying to find her own way back. If the aliens had put him back exactly where they found him, then it was logical to assume they had dumped her where they had taken her, back at the perimeter of their original force field.

"Scully!" Mulder tried an experimental bellow on the off chance that she was somewhere in hearing distance. He waited for several minutes, but got no reply. He refused to consider the possibility that the aliens had reneged on their agreement as one last chance to pay him back for thwarting their plans.

Walking, Mulder soon discovered, was not going to be as easy as he had thought. Months of living at half gravity had seriously eroded his muscle strength. Every step felt as if he was slogging through thick, greasy mud. After only a few yards, he collapsed on a fallen log, breathing heavily and kneading a muscle cramp in his calf. Absently he cursed the aliens and his father, then decided to throw in Krycek for good measure. The aliens were leaving, his father was dead, but now he really needed to do something "nice" for Krycek. Standing up with a groan, Mulder pondered what his gift to Krycek should be as he stumbled through the woods.

Dawn brought with it light and the end of the rain. Mulder gave a sigh of relief when he saw that he was just yards from a road which would lead him to Bellefleur. If his calculations were correct it should be somewhere around early May, although attempting to keep time on the ship had been difficult. He was fairly certain he'd spent over a month undergoing experiments in their labs before the aliens accepted that his DNA was not entirely human nor was he one of their renegade clones. Grudgingly accepting that he was genetically their distant kindred, the aliens had elevated him from lab rat to something akin to a guest. Lightly touching his chest, Mulder absently traced the long white scar that marked his journey through the hell of the aliens' labs. The memories of that time were of despair, searing agony, and loneliness -- nothing that he'd ever be able to totally forget. He'd come out of the labs changed and he was still trying to decide if it was for the better or worse.

"Mulder!" Scully's voice startled him out of his melancholy reverie. Glancing around, he saw her perched on a picnic table in a small rest area across the road. He supposed that in a few weeks this would be a scenic spot, but right now it looked like a dreary setting for the bright presence of his partner.

"You look as bad as I feel, Mulder," Scully commented with a grin as she waited for him.

"I think the aliens did this on purpose," Mulder grumbled as he collapsed on the picnic bench beside her.

"Of course they did," Scully agreed with more amusement than Mulder thought appropriate for the situation. "You beat them at their own game, Mulder. I don't think they're good losers."

"Whatever," Mulder groused, but let the self-satisfied grin he'd been hoarding for weeks emerge. They were free. Earth was free. Unless the aliens reneged on their agreement. Mulder wasn't sure he trusted them even though they had conceded defeat and promised to depart as soon as they had collected their people. The fact that the aliens had returned him alive, however, offered hope that they would leave without further ado. It would have been too easy to simply make him disappear permanently and proceed with their plans until they discovered that he hadn’t been lying and that the Resistance was more than prepared to fight them on their own terms.

"You realize that we can't go back, Scully," Mulder said seriously as he slowly pried himself off the bench and stood up with a grunt. He extended a hand to Scully who took it as she slowly climbed down from her perch. "Our replicants have taken over our lives and I don't think Earth is prepared to cope with the idea that the aliens have scattered replicants among them," Mulder added slowly.

"I can't believe that my mother would be fooled by a fake," Scully grumbled.

Mulder grimaced as he remembered Scully's fury when she'd learned that she'd been replaced by a duplicate and that Mulder hadn't immediately exposed the fake. He had taken the brunt of her anger over what she saw as his betrayal. It had taken her days before she accepted the fact that Mulder hadn't been sure, and that when he was sure, had been wary of taking any action that might have jeopardized her. Mulder was fairly certain that the idea that her replicant had produced a child would always be a simmering source of resentment for her.

"She's good and your mother wants to believe you’re healed, Scully," Mulder said gently. "Can you see your mother accepting that her daughter and her grandchild are alien fakes? I think that would destroy her," he added carefully as they began plodding slowly towards town. They had had this discussion over and over the last few days.

"It's not fair. They stole my life. They stole yours," Scully said with rising anger. Mulder had no reply.

"I need to contact the Gunmen and possibly Skinner," Mulder mused aloud. He wanted to sleep and then eat a very large steak, but they had certain things they needed to do before either of them could relax. Money was going to be a problem, but he had complete confidence that the Gunmen were up to the task of raiding the mess his inheritance must be in right now. Pirating Scully's accounts and relocating her savings and investments should give her enough to start a new life somewhere if she chose to go off on her own.

"Are you sure about Skinner?"

"He's not a replicant, but he has to know about them by now. Even if he didn’t notice discrepancies in our replacements’ behavior, I’m sure Krycek would have warned him. I might be willing to disappear once the aliens leave, but I'll be damned if I let some alien replicant have my life. Besides, the aliens had Skinner on their list of people to be replaced because he was putting too many pieces of the puzzle together before they lost control of the situation."

"Can he be trusted?" Scully asked worriedly.

"He has to know in case the aliens make one last attempt to stage a takeover. Besides, I think he might enjoy kicking my butt around, even if it isn't really me," Mulder added with a smart-ass grin.

"You think they were lying?" Scully demanded in a half angry, half fearful tone. Mulder knew she didn't trust the aliens and had never been satisfied that Mulder seemed to. Mulder could never convince her that it wasn't trust, merely a profiler's assessment of the psychology of an alien race. They didn't lie, but they could come to within a hair's breadth of lying.

"Do you think he'll believe you? He has one Mulder already with enough evidence to back up its claim to be you."

Being back on Earth appeared to be re-invigorating Scully's skeptical nature. Mulder wasn't sure this was a good thing right now. He needed faith, not questions he couldn't answer, but she had earned the right to ask him those questions.

"Our replicants aren't exact psychological or even behavioral copies, Scully. Skinner must have noticed that the Mulder and Scully he's been dealing with have been acting strangely. He might have been willing to accept that my abduction changed me or that your pregnancy had altered you, but I think he'll be open to the truth."

"Then what?" Scully seemed persistent on knowing what his plans were, and Mulder pondered whether to tell her that he had no fucking idea. He walked on for a few more yards in silence, trying to grasp that the future lay open before him with no guarantees, but also no baggage.

"If we show up there'll be questions we can't answer and I'm not about to exchange one lab for another if they even suspect what my father did," Mulder declared firmly. There had been no way of concealing the truth from Scully once he had found her on the ship. The fact that he could demand her release from testing had required an explanation. To Mulder's surprise, she had only hesitated briefly before hugging him and assuring him that it made no difference. "Chip. Altered DNA. We're both living examples of alien interference," had been her startling response.

Scully started to object to his brutal assessment, then fell silent.

"I'm not a replicant. I'm not even sure what I am," Mulder replied with a sigh after they had walked a half mile in silence.

"An out-of-work FBI agent?" Scully replied with a hint of a chuckle.

"A very tired out-of-work FBI agent," Mulder corrected with an answering smile. Trust Scully to refuse to let him dwell on his unorthodox heritage. He wasn't sure if it just didn't matter to her or whether she was falling back into her old habit of simply ignoring something she didn't want to believe in.

"Maybe we should hole up somewhere in a motel outside of town and call the Gunmen. I don't think we want to show up unannounced," Scully offered in a practical tone of voice that suggested she was putting on her professional demeanor until she could emotionally deal with the situation.

Mulder thought about it for a few moments, then nodded. "Not a bad idea. We can call the guys and Skinner and be far enough away to start running if they don't believe us." Mulder hoped his trust in Skinner and his friends wouldn't prove to be unfounded. His story was fantastic and he'd find it hard to blame them if they had doubts.

"Do you have any money?" Scully asked as she spread her hands to indicate that she had the clothes on her back and that was it.

"They gave me back the same clothes sans wallet or any other identification. I think they want to make it as difficult as possible for us to blow the whistle before they’ve made their getaway. However, I have an emergency stash hidden in one of the inside pockets. Should be enough to get us rooms for a week and food as long as we don't go for fancy."

"Then let's turn around and head away from Bellefleur. If I remember the maps correctly, there's another town about ten miles down the road. I think I remember seeing a motel there as we passed through."

Mulder groaned at the thought of more walking, but he could see her point. There were too many people in Bellefleur who might remember them and start asking questions. Hopefully, they’d run into a good Samaritan who wouldn’t might giving a lift to two hapless hikers. Mulder started sketching out the story they’d tell – two over-ambitious hikers who got lost would probably do the trick.

Scully's mood was visibly improving as she began making plans and Mulder was content to step back and let her organize things. It had been hard for her to be relegated into the background while he was the one the aliens talked with, ranted at, and ultimately agreed to negotiate with. To the aliens, Scully was just another lesser life-form, barely tolerated because she seemed necessary to Mulder. Mulder had walked a thin line between taking Scully under his protection and keeping enough distance to forestall the aliens from using her against him.

Again, he was reminded of his debt to Krycek, and put part of his mind back to fine-tuning the gift he had in mind for his erstwhile partner in defeating the aliens.

"What's so funny?" Scully asked curiously when she turned and saw the smile on Mulder's face.

"Just thinking about how to give the perfect gift to the man who has everything," Mulder replied mysteriously. Scully gave him a severe look, but he merely shook his head. She'd find out soon enough. Why spoil the surprise?

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

May 20, 2001
Washington, D.C.

The tumultuous roaming crowd of celebrants moved through garishly lit downtown Washington, D.C. picking up and shedding participants and spawning numerous corollary parties in its wake. For a week, Earth had been indulging in one long party and no one seemed very interested in going back to life as usual. Fox Mulder smiled indulgently as he watched the celebration from a safe vantage point. He had chosen this spot with deliberate care – just far enough into the shadows to discourage stray celebrants from tugging him into an impromptu dance or offering him a drink of questionable potency, but bright enough for his shadow to find him.

Mulder knew that the man who’d been tailing him for nearly twelve hours was no fool and would understand that an invitation to talk had been extended. No doubt he was prowling the perimeter of the small park until he was certain this wasn’t a trap. Mulder waited patiently. He'd learned patience during his abduction. Once his shadow was convinced that they were truly alone, he’d come in. Meanwhile, Mulder relaxed and enjoyed the fresh night air and the spectacle of people rejoicing in life and hope reborn.

The people of Earth deserved this holiday. He doubted if anyone understood just how close they had come to voluntary racial suicide at the hands of a few fanatical, delusional men. He had repeatedly argued with his captors, warning them that humanity wasn’t as soft, weak, and pliable as their erstwhile human collaborators had maintained. Thrust into the position of being the one man the aliens would condescend to listen to, Mulder had learned diplomacy and patience as he'd fought the ingrained alien belief that the Earth would be theirs for the asking. He'd damned Cancer Man and all his fellow quislings daily for playing into the aliens’ expectations. Before he had lost his voice or his sanity, a simultaneous wave of suicides of key government officials around the world washed away the aliens’ carefully constructed plans.

With their human quislings eliminated, the aliens appeared to be prepared to listen. Mulder had discarded polite dialogue and made a brutal and eloquent statement of hard fact – humanity would not surrender and there were a growing number of armed resistance fighters who were immunized against the alien virus. Disabusing the aliens of their decades-long charade had been mentally and physically exhausting, but finally they had listened to him, or at least he’d thought they’d listened.

A week after he’d been deposited back on earth and the slow process of identifying and eliminating the replicants had begun, he’d looked up and seen the alien ship hovering over Earth. Mulder had wondered if all his arguing had gone for naught and had cursed himself, the aliens, and every deity he could recall. The effect had been terrifying, as the aliens no doubt had intended it to be.

Whatever their purpose -- to merely frighten, a final gesture of defiance, or simply a stubborn reluctance to give up their dreams of conquest, the alien ship had vanished as abruptly as it had appeared. Mulder wasn’t sure if victory had come on the wave of key assassinations carried out by a mysterious resistance movement, or if his own desperate reassurances to Skinner and his contacts that the aliens lacked the military power to launch an invasion had stiffened Earth’s resolve. Regardless, when surrender did not come, the aliens had simply vanished.

To a fearful humanity bracing for an invasion, deliverance appeared nothing less than a miracle. Governments vied with one another to claim responsibility, but as the subsequent revelations of collaboration became public, most national governments turned inward, leaving Earth’s citizens to celebrate.

The only thing lacking, Mulder had decided, was a hero. Without a shred of remorse he’d proceeded to supply that lack. He’d had plenty of time to ponder what to do with the man who had delivered him to the aliens as he endured their tests. Throughout the long, slow process of convincing the aliens that their con job was over, Mulder comforted himself by carefully crafting a plan to repay the man who put him in the position of negotiating for Earth's survival.

When he’d realized that the entire alien invasion threat was a gigantic bluff, Mulder had reluctantly given them the respect a cop has for a really inventive, creative crook. The aliens had nearly pulled off the biggest con job since the Piltdown Man. The remnants of the Consortium had been prepared to hand Earth over to what they believed was an overwhelming, technologically advanced race without questioning or even testing the aliens’ claims of superiority. The Consortium had mistaken advanced technology for military superiority and competence and been unwittingly prepared to hand over Earth to a shipload of refugees from the losing side of a war. Mulder felt mild regret that none of them were left alive to realize that the aliens were not superior beings against whom resistance would be futile. Given the circumstances of his existence, Mulder wondered if his father had suspected the truth. He still considered his father's legacy a mixed blessing, but had no choice but to live with his double genetic heritage.

“Hey, mister, wanna buy a T-shirt?”

Mulder smiled at the boisterous young man lugging an armful of colorful T-shirts over one shoulder. “No, thanks. Already got one,” Mulder said, pulling apart his leather jacket to reveal a crisp white T-shirt emblazoned with the ennobled features of Earth’s Hero.

The young man gave him a thumbs up and ran off in pursuit of a pack of teenagers milling about on the street corner. Two of the boys had obviously dyed their hair and slicked it back in an attempt to imitate the sleek, dark looks of their hero. Mulder chuckled. The Gunmen hadn’t been underestimating their abilities to transform someone from anonymous to world-famous in less than three days.

“What’s so funny?” a familiar voice growled behind him.

Mulder turned around cautiously, not surprised to see the muzzle of a gun inches from his face. There had always been a risk in this plan. He knew that Krycek would instinctively know that he was the mastermind behind his sudden rise to fame, just as he’d instinctively known that Krycek had deliberately set him up for abduction. They knew each other far beyond the limits of logic or even rules of evidence.

“Hello, Krycek. Or should I address you as Our Hero?” Mulder asked in a mild tone that held just a hint of a chuckle. He smiled benevolently at Krycek, barely recognizable in unkempt long hair and the scraggly beginnings of a full beard. His eyes had a hunted look that told Mulder he had already encountered his new-found fame and didn’t like the experience.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here?” Krycek asked with a vicious bite, moving the muzzle closer to Mulder’s head. His voice betrayed his exhaustion, but Mulder had no doubt that he could kill and disappear with calm professionalism in spite of how tired he was.

“It wouldn’t change anything and you’re too smart to kill just for the pleasure of it,” Mulder replied evenly, moving aside slightly to give Krycek room to sit down on the bench beside him.

“Don’t bet on it, Mulder,” Krycek snarled in a ragged imitation of his usual smooth tones. Mulder surveyed him with grim amusement, noting the tense way he held himself, as if expecting an ambush.

“Your choice,” Mulder replied in a deliberately calm voice. No doubt Krycek could read him just as well and would know that while he wasn’t quite as calm as he appeared, he wasn’t afraid. Mulder saw Krycek's eyes narrow as he reconsidered the situation.

“You’ve changed,” Krycek said slowly as he shoved the gun back under his coat. He still maintained the dominant posture, but Mulder suspected that he wasn’t quite as sure who was controlling the situation as he had been a moment before. One thing you could always count on Krycek to do was think fast on his feet and adapt to a rapidly changing scenario, Mulder thought. He welcomed the chance to deal with a familiar opponent, even one as obscure as Krycek. After the mind-warping thought processes of the aliens, Krycek’s enigmatic motives felt almost comforting.

“Several weeks of torture followed by months of beating my head against an alien brick wall could be considered a life-transforming experience,” Mulder said dryly. He fought the urge to raise his hand to trace the massive scars on his chest. Even with the quick healing his altered DNA provided, the scars would remain as a reminder of his father’s legacy and Krycek’s machiavellian scheming.

“Why?” Krycek asked. His tone left no doubt that Mulder would know exactly what he was asking.

“It’s not revenge, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’ll admit that it makes an interesting payback, but that’ s just serendipity. You could have warned me,” Mulder replied, matching Krycek’s obliqueness with some of his own. He’d always secretly enjoyed matching wits with Krycek, even if the man drove him to blows half the time. Krycek made an interesting brother.

Krycek gave a snarling laugh that implied he’d believe revenge was secondary when pigs sprouted wings. Mulder wondered if the Gunmen were up to providing a holographic illusion of flying pigs, but decided not to even suggest the idea. The Gunmen were having way too much fun at the moment – they didn’t need suggestions.

“Not in front of the imposter masquerading as your partner,” Krycek said impatiently. “And those geek friends of yours aren’t exactly what I’d call good security risks.”

Mulder took a deep breath to calm himself before replying. Even now, he tried to avoid thinking about the alien replicant that had journeyed back to Washington with him in Scully's guise. He had been puzzled by Scully’s unusual public intimacy, but had allowed himself to believe that she was finally accepting his love for her. The little voice in the back of his head had been easily ignored until it was too late. He wondered if Scully would ever entirely forgive him.

“You could have told Skinner and he could have told me,” Mulder retorted with more heat than he intended. “If I was such an important part of the grand plan, it might have been nice to fill me in,” he said with just a trace of anger. Mulder didn’t want to drive Krycek over the edge. In spite of his assumed indifference to his personal safety, he wanted to live. Needling Krycek was a treat he had promised himself once he’d abandoned the dreams of a more violent payback that had sustained him through the six weeks of brutal experimentation.

“You did just fine. Too much knowledge is a dangerous thing, Mulder. You have a habit of going off half-cocked and I didn’t trust you.” Krycek let out a bitter laugh. "Would you have believed me if I'd told you that two men in the early Sixties could have anticipated this, or even had the technology available to turn us into weapons of war?” Krycek’s expression was bleak.

Mulder wondered what demons of memory and resentment haunted his dreams. Probably many of the same ones that haunted his own, he conceded.

“I believe in a lot of extreme possibilities these days," Mulder replied bluntly. "Besides, they had help. Who and why we'll probably never know, but there are as many political factions as there are aliens; those so-called rebels should have told you that, Krycek," Mulder said in a slightly snarky tone.

Krycek scowled at the mention of the mysterious rebel aliens who had disappeared as soon as their killing spree was over. "Someone had a grudge against the Consortium," he said with a cold smile, as if claiming some of the credit for the disruption their rampage had produced among the aliens' human collaborators.

"A power struggle," Mulder retorted. "All they did was skim off the surface scum. Pity they missed the smoking SOB, but I hear you took care of that oversight." Mulder flinched a bit at the lack of pity he heard in his own voice. He didn't like the cold satisfaction he felt over the death of the man who had tried to play alien against human for his own ends. Krycek was right; he had changed, and in ways he wasn't always happy about.

"If you need a reason, then consider my actions as payback for not leaving my father alive for me to ask him why he did this to me,” Mulder said with a twisted smile, returning to Krycek's earlier question to avoid delving too deep into his psyche in front of the one man who could use it against him. His feelings about his father were still too complicated to unravel, even before his brother/enemy. Mulder realized that a lot of his resentment towards Krycek stemmed from the fact that Krycek had deprived him of the chance to slug his father before getting some straight answers out of him.

“He was even more of a loose cannon than you are. What is it with you Mulders?” Krycek asked mockingly.

Mulder shrugged and gave Krycek an understanding smile. In all but blood, they were brothers. Spawned by fathers who saw them as the ultimate weapon against the aliens, their destinies were inextricably meshed. Mulder recalled an old Navajo legend sent to him by Albert shortly before he died. The implications of the story of the Twin Gods –- the Monster Slayers had been impossible to miss. It explained much, especially why Krycek had always been so interested in keeping him alive. The question of whether Krycek knew about their destiny had been rudely answered when Mulder walked into the trap Krycek had laid for him. He had no doubt that Krycek had known about the alien ship and was counting on the aliens grabbing Mulder if he wandered into their web.

At first he’d believed this was Krycek’s way of eliminating him. In the midst of agonizing pain and loneliness, it would have been difficult to take a different view. Only later, when Mulder had been faced with the Herculean task of trying to talk sense into the aliens, did he realize the possibility of Krycek’s true motives. It hadn’t made him feel any less angry, but at least he had taken comfort in the fact that there was a reason beyond simple murder.

"It would serve you right if I made public your contribution to this miracle," Krycek said smoothly, giving Mulder a cat-in-the-cream smile.

"Nice try, but Fox Mulder died messily and publicly six days ago in an apparent murder/suicide pact." Mulder grimaced in disgust, but had accepted the aliens’ complete lack of creativity in disposing of unneeded servants. It felt odd to be the one advocating the suppression of the truth, but he didn't think people were ready to cope with the idea that their saviors were not entirely human. He was still having problems coping with the truth.

"There are times I think we won not because we exposed them for the frauds they were, but because after half a century they still didn't have a clue how we think or behave," Mulder said with a shake of his head, forcing himself not to sink into a morose contemplation of his less than human status. "Personally, I've met cleverer criminals."

"We won because I eliminated their human support system while you probably talked them to death," Krycek retorted irritably.

"Then you certainly deserve the title Hero of Earth." Mulder smothered his grin when Krycek glared at him. It really didn't suit his purpose to be shot at this stage of the game.

"Fuck you."

"Not a chance, Krycek," Mulder replied cheerfully. Krycek’s resigned but still irritable tone was a good indication that he was beginning to relax, which meant that the odds of this encounter ending with a fatality were decreasing every minute.

"Look at the bright side, Krycek -- Skinner has agreed that the satisfaction he got from killing your replicant makes up for the torture you put him through. However, he did tell me to warn you to stay the fuck away from him. I don't think he likes you very much," Mulder commented innocently, then broke into a chuckle. Krycek gave him a puzzled look mixed with exasperation.

"Skinner said that my replicant just stood there like a poled ox then decided he needed to be elsewhere immediately. You’d be offended if you knew just how crazy your replicant behaved. Of course, I'm not too thrilled by how mine behaved either, so it appears we have something else in common," Mulder said cheerfully.

Krycek growled an obscene profanity to which Mulder could only nod in agreement. It had taken what passed for an alien medic six hours to put his hand back together after he'd tried to shove his fist through a bulkhead when he heard that a replicant had taken his place. Then he had gotten to be the one to tell Scully that she'd been replaced, too.

"So, what are you planning to do now that you're officially dead?" Krycek asked curiously.

"Go off somewhere and sleep for about six months. Scully needs some time alone to adjust to the idea that she can't contact her family without starting a chain of questions neither of us can answer."

"So, you just ride off into the sunset and leave me holding the bag." Krycek sounded bitter, but Mulder suspected that he wasn't quite as deep into despair as he appeared.

"I'd invite you along, but three's a crowd. Besides, you and I are opposite sides of the same coin and I don't think close proximity for prolonged periods of time would be beneficial to either of us."

"I still owe you about a half dozen beatings, Mulder," Krycek said flippantly, but with just enough of an edge to suggest that he intended to collect sooner or later.

"Probably," Mulder admitted blandly. Eventually he expected Krycek would track him down and collect. He didn't think he or Krycek could ever completely escape each other. Their fathers had bound them together by more than altered DNA. They were each the antithesis of the other, but when they worked in unison, they became an unbeatable force. No wonder Cancer Man had been so afraid of them and had tried so hard to seduce them to his side. Mulder almost wished the old man was alive to see the collapse of his dreams.

"If you're going to kill me, Krycek, do it now and just get it over with." Mulder decided it was time to swing the conversation back to the question of his continued existence. Krycek seemed to be torn between a glare and a smile. Mulder sympathized; he knew that feeling of mixed emotions well and felt that it was time Krycek learned it, too. Mulder was about eighty percent certain Krycek wouldn't kill him, but with Krycek even a twenty percent doubt left a lot of room for mistakes. Mulder didn't want to die, but he'd rather do it and get it over with than live with the anticipation of a bullet out of nowhere.

"You so eager to die, Mulder? That doesn't sound like the self-absorbed ass I used to know," Krycek snapped.

"I don't want to die, but you're the one with the gun. Either use it or let me go in peace," Mulder replied, a bit more sharply than he had intended. He held his breath while Krycek hovered on the brink of a decision. Finally Krycek gave a short nod and visibly relaxed and Mulder started breathing again.

"You owe me one, Mulder." Krycek gave him a predatory smile which Mulder acknowledged with a wry smile of his own. Krycek got up and started walking towards the shadows.

Mulder waited until Krycek was almost out of sight before calling out, "Hey, I made you a celebrity. What more do you want?"

The End.