From: dmcintoshtx@yahoo.com   
      
   Before long, they were devouring a warm delicious dinner and watching   
   for the weather report on TV.  Just a light dusting of show was all   
   that was expected, so there was no worry about the roads for tomorrow.   
      
   It was dark now and Skinner closed the curtains as Krycek cleaned up   
   after dinner.  He sat back in a chair and watched Krycek stacking the   
   dishes back into the cupboard.  He wondered, once again, about this   
   strange man he had thought of for so long as his enemy.  How could he   
   have been so wrong?  He was usually such a good judge of character.    
   Was Alex really that good an actor?  Could anyone sustain such an act   
   for eight years?  Was       
   that possible?  Or is all this an act now?     
   No!  It couldn't be; at least not the part about his family.  Those   
   were real tears and he's got to know I'll check out anything he tells   
   me when we get back home.  He said he left the boys home after five   
   years.  That would make him thirteen.  Wonder why he left?   
      
   "Questions?" Krycek asked, seating himself on the couch across from   
   Skinner.   
   "I was just wondering about the boy's home you left at thirteen.  Was   
   it awful there?  Where did you go?"   
   "No, it was wonderful there.  I loved everyone there.  It was like   
   having 43 brothers!  We were all in the same boat; no parents.  We   
   seldom talked about our families.  There was no need.  We all knew we   
   were there for the same reason.  Our parents were dead; or in two   
   cases, in prison."   
   "Why did you leave then?"   
   Krycek thought for a few minutes then answered, "I had a couple of bad   
   experiences in foster homes.  Each time I got to come back was   
   wonderful.  They told me they had another home that wanted me.  I   
   couldn't risk it.  I begged them to let me stay but the sate welfare   
   agency was in charge and said if a home was available, I had to so.    
   So I left."   
      
   "Where did you go?  You were only 13!  How did you survive?"   
   "It wasn't that hard.  I hitched a few rides from Springfield, Ohio to   
   NYC.  That's where I wanted to live; took me two days to get there.  A   
   couple of guys who picked me up bought me stuff to eat.  I walked a   
   lot but I got there.  I stopped at the first fast-food place I came to   
   and tried to get work.  The guy behind the counter, Eddie, was young   
   and he told me the first thing I had to do to get a job was to quit   
   saying I was 13.  Nobody hires a 13 year old.  He said 16 was the   
   minimum age and to tell people that was my age.  He told me he was   
   really only 15 but he had made a copy of his birth certificate and   
   changed the date on it and was hired.  I told him I didn't have a   
   birth certificate and he said he was getting off work in an hour and   
   he'd take me to the library and show me how to print one up on the   
   computer.  He made me a free burger while I waited."   
   "The next day, I had two jobs.  Mon, Wed, Fri, & Sat; 4 hours a day at   
   McDonalds; Tues, Thurs, & Sun, 4 hours a day at Jack in The Box.  I   
   stayed at Eddie's house until I started getting paid.  His mom worked   
   nights so she was always gone or sound asleep."   
   "My first paycheck I went to a nearby Goodwill store and bought a $20   
   bike and some clothes. Within a month, I had rented a room in a   
   boarding house.  I got an early morning paper route and in the fall I   
   enrolled in 11th grade at a nearby high school.  School was always   
   easy for me.  I got text books at the library and once I read them, I   
   had it all down.  I was tall for my age so no one questioned my birth   
   certificate."  He paused and took a long drink from his bottled water.   
    "Anything else you're curious about?"   
      
   "Every time you answer a question, you leave me with ten more."   
   Krycek chuckled.  "I'm going to take a shower.  Get your ten questions   
   in mind and I'll answer them when I'm done."  He rummaged through the   
   drawers in the bedroom for a minute then closed himself in the bathroom.   
      
   Skinner went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water.  "Ten   
   questions.  Hmmmm.  What do I want to ask?"  He sat back down and   
   worked on his questions.   
      
   Soon the bathroom door opened and the camper was filled with warm damp   
   air and the smell of bath soap and shampoo.  Krycek came out pulling a   
   clean sweat shirt over his head and took a seat across from Skinner.     
   "Got your questions ready?  Just ten now and I'm going to bed."   
      
   "Ten; OK, got it."  He gathered his thoughts and began.   
   "#1.  How did you get from McDonalds to Quantico?"   
   "Worked hard every day to support myself; took every martial arts   
   class I could squeeze in on my time off; studied languages; bought a   
   gun and practiced till I was expert class; read every book the library   
   had on police work; made marksman and top scholar at the Police   
   Academy; got recruited for the bureau at the end of my first year."   
      
   "OK.  #2."  Skinner considered his choices then asked.  "You worked at   
   fast-food places until you got into the academy then?"   
   "No.  Just for two years.  Between high school and the Academy, I   
   worked at several jobs. Luby's Cafeteria, Wyler's Construction   
   Company, Anderson's Landscaping & Design and in college I even sang   
   with my room mate in some small clubs around town."   
   "You sing?"  Skinner asked surprised.   
      
   "Is that question #3?"  Krycek grinned.   
      
   The grin affected Skinner in ways he didn't understand, but he went on.   
   "Uh….OK…Yeah; that's #3."   
   "Yes, I sing some.  I remember the words and melody to every song I   
   hear; I can carry a tune and have an acceptable voice.  #4?"   
      
   "#4."  Skinner was taken aback; Alex Krycek sings!  Next question,   
   next question; he noticed Krycek fiddling with his prosthesis.   
   "Your arm; what the hell happened over there in Tunguska?"   
      
   Krycek was surprised by the question.  He had expected more about his   
   childhood.   
   "OK, the arm."  He wrestled with his thoughts; how to tell it in a   
   condensed version.   
   "You know from Mulder's report that we were caught and thrown into a   
   cell."   
   Skinner agreed with a nod and, "uh huh."   
   "The first time they questioned me, it was rough.  I tried to convince   
   them that I was an undercover Russian agent, but they didn't believe   
   me.  I heard them talking about torturing the truth out of us;   
   starting with Mulder; then sending us to the lab for the tests.  The   
   second time they took me, I was able to convince them to take me to   
   their supervisor.  It turned out; I had met the guy before. He   
   remembered me as being part of "the big group" as he called it.  I   
   told him I was on assignment there and was taking Mulder back to the   
   States to be dealt with.  He bought it; gave me a meal and a decent   
   place to sleep. He made arrangements for the two of us to get   
   transportation back into town the next morning.  We were standing on   
   the dock waiting for the prisoners to be brought out so Mulder and I   
   could leave."   
     "All of the sudden, Mulder comes at me swinging some sort of knife   
   and knocks me off the dock and into the back of a truck.  I lost   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)