cover by Rachelle

AUTHOR: Eve (alfa_fighter_3@hotmail.com)
TITLE: Category Mistake 4
PAIRING: K/Sc, allusions to K/Ma
RATING: PG-13
SPOILERS: up to and including Requiem. Mulder's gone, people!
DISCLAIMERS: Uhhhh...sure. I own them. Riiiiiiiiiight.
NOTES: the first story was inspired by my Philosophy 231 Prof. I liked this little universe so much that I decided to stay and dabble a little while longer. Indulge me.
THANKS TO: everyone who kept asking about this series
SUMMARY: Krycek and Scully take the first steps in their uneasy alliance

Scully was too quiet for his peace of mind. She didn't ask where they were going when they left her apartment, didn't comment when he ushered her into an office building to the top floor where he could get to the safe, and to the disks. Without word she followed him back to the car and slid into the passenger seat. She didn't ask him what was on the disks. He glanced at her every few minutes, but was met by the back of her head as she stared out the window. For her stillness, she might have been asleep except for the way her hands occassionally clenched around her thighs. She really ought to learn to relax. Stress hormones weren't good for fetuses--it made them more prone to illness and birth defects. But who knew if the child inside her was even vulnerable to human illness?

So many questions. Most of them ones that he didn't even want the answers to. Why did he have to do this? Surely there were men who could do a better job at saving the world, men who were more worthy of the task--Fox Mulder for instance. He'd spent most of his life hunting aliens, searching for conspiracies involving everything from Roswell cover ups to 'just how did they get the caramilk in the caramilk bar?'. The man deserved a little recognition. They could rename Halloween 'Spooky Day', and then when all the kids dressed up in those stupid green alien costumes, it would be like an homage to Mulder himself.

Then again, Mulder was always the one who screwed up. Despite all his paranoia he let his enemies get too close--Fowley, Krycek himself. How many opportunities had he had to shoot Krycek? One bullet and it would be done. He'd never have to worry about the Rat again. He pinned his weaknesses on his sleeve for everyone to see. Through all his searching, Mulder had never been able to get the job done. That was Scully's department. My God, she'd shot her own partner to stop him from committing murder. That was what they needed. Someone who'd do whatever it took to get the job done. Maybe Marita was right. But was this even the same Scully? The strange thought occured to him that maybe this wasn't Scully at all. Maybe it was a replacement, which would explain the odd behavior. He banished the thought before it could take hold. No, he'd know about something that big.

God, Mulder. What have you left me with? He looked at his passenger. She was too thin. Her clothes hung on her already petite frame. How could a smart woman--a doctor--like Dana Scully not realize she was pregnant? This thing with Mulder must have really scrambled her brain. She'd lost a partner, and a friend, and possibly more. It probably felt like a part of her was missing. Krycek was all too aware of how that felt. His arm was laying in the back seat of the car. He'd been strangely reluctant to put it on after his big show of retrieving it. If he put it on, Dr. Scully would invariably be interested in examining the twisted remains of his left arm. And that was a little too personal for him. He didn't go around asking, "Hey, wanna see my stump?" even though it would probably make an interesting pick up line.

He sighed. "I know this probably won't mean anything coming from me, but are you all right?"

She turned and eyed him for a moment, as if considering something. "You're right. It doesn't mean anything."

Krycek clenched his jaw to keep from snapping at her. Try to do one nice thing . . . At least it seemed like she was coming out of her daze. He didn't know whether he wanted to hug her or slug her. Possibly both. Might be fun. He didn't realize he'd been smiling until she narrowed her eyes at him.

"What are you grinning at?"

Oops. Time to turn the tables. "Why did you call Marita?"

She stared out the window for a moment, chewing on her lower lip. Maybe that wasn't such a good idea. He didn't want her to go back to brooding.

"Nevermind." I'm just glad that you did, despite all the crap I had to take afterwards.

"Did you get the cuts looked after?" She still wouldn't look at him, and it occured to him that she was feeling guilty. Dana Scully, FBI Agent, doctor, defender of the weak, was feeling guilty over hurting scum like him. Welcome to the real world, Scully. We've all got the capacity for evil, even if it is a longer fall for some of us.

He shrugged, and then realized that she couldn't see him. "I'm fine. I've had worse."

Unable to help herself, her eyes shot to the backseat and the prosthetic laying there. That's right, Scully. I was nearly killed in a car bomb, had alien goo pour out of my eyes and nose and mouth, I was trapped underground in a missile silo, in the belly of a Russian freighter, I hung by a thread off your boss' balcony, and I had my arm hacked off by do-gooding peasants. Yeah, I've definitely had worse than a crazy redhead with sadistic tendencies.

"Does it hurt?"

It took him a second to realize that she wasn't asking about his cuts anymore. She was asking about his arm. Christ. He really didn't want to discuss it, but at least she was talking.

"Sometimes. If I leave the prosthesis on too long."

He could see from the curious look on her face that she wanted to ask more questions. Probably the usual, how many surgeries did it take, how functional is the arm, blah blah blah, but he turned the corner and entered a neighbourhood that would be fairly familiar to her. She straightened in her seat and looked closely at the passing buildings.

"It has something to do with those disks, doesn't it?"

"They need to be decrypted."

After a few minutes she said, "Do you really think they'll let you in?"

"I've got you, don't I?"

***

"Frohike, let us in."

"I really don't think that's a good idea, Dana."

"For the last time, this is not a trap. I'm not a hostage. For Christ's sake." She turned her face from the security camera and looked at Krycek. "Give me your gun." She sounded tired and annoyed.

"Excuse me?"

"Just--Krycek--do you want their help or not? The batcave is sacred territory, you know."

His mouth quirked in a crooked grin as he slowly unholstered his gun and handed it to her. He'd strapped his prosthesis on before getting out of the car, and the hand was tucked docilely in his jacket pocket. He raised his own eyes to the camera and tried to look as non-threatening as possible. The next thing he knew, she shoved him forward and he felt the press of steel at the base of his skull. Geez, what was it with this woman and threatening him with his own weapons? Did she really have to take the show this far?

"Let us in, Frohike."

Two seconds later there was a buzzing noise and then the sound of about ten thousand dead bolts clicking open. A short, gnomish man cracked open the door and peered out at them from behind thick glasses. Scully could give his gun back any minute now. Any minute.

"Jesus. It really is you." Frohike looked at Scully. "Do you trust him?"

She lowered the weapon and Krycek turned to face her, curious to hear her answer. This time she didn't hesitate to look him straight in the eye.

"No. But he's all I've got at the moment."

He took back his gun and they brushed past a confused looking Frohike. They entered the inner sanctum, and Byers greeted them politely while Langly ran around, covering up 'sensitive' equipment from Krycek's eyes. He resisted the urge to snort. Some of the alien technology he knew of would have made them come in their pants. This stuff was just kiddie toys. How they managed to get so much done with all this junk, he'd never know.

Frohike continued to hover protectively, even while keeping out of striking distance from Krycek. "Dana, I don't like this. Mulder wouldn't like this."

At the mention of Mulder's name Scully visibly stiffened. The look that she pointed toward the short man could have frozen lava in its tracks. Frohike actually took a step backwards.

"Maybe not, but he'd love this. Krycek." She held out her hand without even looking at him, obviously expecting him to hand over the disks. This woman had more personalities than a Barbara Walters special. Crazed, sobbing, broken, catatonic. Now she was ordering him around like he was her personal assistant. Alex Krycek, chauffeur to the stars.

He must have taken too long because she turned her icy gaze on him and damn it all if he didn't have to steel himself against stepping back as well. Mulder, you're a braver man than I ever gave you credit for. He held out the disks and saw that the hand that took them was trembling slightly. Her gaze softened a bit. Hmm. Maybe she wasn't feeling quite as strong as she looked.

"Agent Scully, what's this all about?" Byers' soft tones eased the tension in the room.

"These disks contain information that I gather is heavily encrypted. Are you up to the task?"

Langly pushed the glasses up his hawk-like nose, looking interested. "Information about what?"

That was a good question, now, wasn't it? He didn't know how much he wanted to reveal to these men. All hell could break loose if Consortium secrets wound up on the front page of the newspaper. Mulder trusted them, but circumstance proved over and over again that Mulder wasn't the best judge of character. However, it was unlikely that they would be able to decrypt the information without actually looking at it. It didn't seem like he had much of a choice. If they tried to use it somehow, he had Scully as leverage. And that would probably be more than enough, judging by the besotted look on Frohike's grizzled face. Even after she'd almost turned him to stone with one look.

"About the abductions, the implants, colonization, the rebels, hybrid experiments. Everything," he finished simply. Four pairs of eyes widened in surprise.

"This isn't going to be another DAT tape, is it? Because that almost got a lot of people killed."

"Where did you get this?"

"How do *you* know what's on it?"

Krycek glanced at Scully, waiting for her question. A spark of curiosity glimmered in her eyes but she remained silent.

He pursed his lips. "In a moment of blinding honestly, old Smokey told me what was on it."

Frohike frowned. "If you stole it from him, there's going to be a lot of heat on our tails."

"I didn't steal it. I guess you could say I inherited it." He couldn't stop the smug look that stole over his face.

Bushy eyebrows went up. "So he's really dead?"

Langly snorted. "We've heard that before, but he keeps turning up, just like Elvis."

Elvis? Jesus. "He's dead."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because I did it myself," he finally said, watching them all take a step back in unison. All but Scully. She was still looking at him with that curious expression, even though he just admitting to murdering a man.

"So," she said, "you're in charge now."

He nodded in confirmation.

"And if the Gunmen decrypt the disks you can guarantee that no one will come after them?"

Krycek thought briefly of Spender's confidante, damn the man anyway. He was the only real threat left, and that was simply because they didn't know whether he was a threat or not. But the idea of having all those files in his own hands made him salivate. Keeping his expression perfectly neutral, he replied, "Guaranteed. If they get themselves killed, it won't have anything to do with the Consortium." Judging by the looks he was getting, that wasn't entirely reassuring. Scully still appeared unfazed.

"I get copies of anything having to do with me or with Mulder's whereabouts."

He nodded. Giving her that information was the least he could do.

"And the Gunmen get copies of anything they find interesting."

"Yes!"

"Absolutely not," Krycek snapped, cutting short Frohike's enthusiasm.

"It's only fair, man. After all, we're doing all this work for you and what do we get out of it?" Langly glared at him, hands planted firmly on his bony hips.

"The satisfaction of a job well done?" He could have sworn Scully snorted, but by the time he looked at her she was composed. He was beginning to think he liked crying Scully better. She was easier to handle.

After a long silence Scully said, "Can you guys excuse us for a moment?"

"And leave you alone with him? I don't think so." Ah, Frohike to the rescue. The guy's bluster was kind of amusing actually. Too bad Mulder hadn't stood up for her like that. Maybe none of them would be in this situation.

"Look, do you want a chance to get at these files or not? Because we can just walk out of here. I'm sure Krycek has plenty of resources that put up less of a fight than you three."

Whoa. Were his ears decieving him? Because it just sounded like Scully--Agent Dana Scully--was defending him. From the expressions scattered around the room, the Gunmen were just as suprised as he felt. Nevertheless, they shuffled quietly out of the room with one magnified glare in his direction.

Scully stepped right up to him, keeping her voice low. No doubt they were listening in. "Krycek, just let them take what they want. They have like, six subscribers to their newsletter. And afterwards you can probably argue that they owe *you* a favor."

"And what's to stop them from copying everything and giving it to you? Our deal was that I only give you certain information. There's a lot of stuff on those disks that I don't want the FBI getting their hands on."

She studied him for a long moment, one of those long, cutting Scullystares. "Tell you what. I promise not to go to the authorities with any of the information as long as you can give me solid and plausible reasons for not doing so."

"You promise?" he laughed. What good was a promise? Then he remembered who he was talking to. To Scully, a promise was everything. He held out his hand, indicating that he wanted to shake on it She slid her hand into his and he felt its strength, despite her seeming frailty. "It's a promise," he said, then pulled her toward him. He was a little surprised that she didn't resist. "But remember Scully, you get into bed with a snake, you might get bit."

She glared at him and jerked her hand free just as the door burst open. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Krycek?" Christ. Frohike was nearly foaming at the mouth as he stormed toward them. It would have been funny if it wasn't getting so annoying. Could they *please* get out of here now?

"Since I'm the one with the gun, I was about to ask you the same question."

Frohike stopped short. "You said we wouldn't get killed."

"There's an annoyance clause I forgot to tell you about," he growled.

Beside him Scully sighed. His disk went flying through the air and landed in Byers' immaculate hands. "Call when you're finished. And don't do anything crazy until we can get here to look at the information." Scully immediately started for the exit, leaving him standing there alone for a few seconds, feeling like an idiot. He hurried after her, the sound of voices fading as the door shut behind him. Well, that wasn't quite the menacing exit he had hoped for. They'd have to work on that.

Scully stopped to lean on the trunk, shoulders slumped, head hanging. Guess their little confrontation with the Gunmen had taken a lot out of her.

"How long do you think it will take them?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. How long have you been working on it?"

"Almost a month."

"Give them a week." She pushed herself back from the car-- "Mulder may have been . . ." --and started to sway. He ran around and caught her before she could fall. God, her skin was almost grey.

"Scully? Come on Scully, not now." She blinked a few times, but otherwise there was no response. Grunting, he managed to manouver her one-armed into the passenger seat and buckle her seatbelt. He couldn't take her home, not like this.

He started the car and did a u-turn. Not home, but he couldn't leave her alone. Marita was *not* going to like this.

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