From: dmcintoshtx@yahoo.com   
      
   Title:  ENEMY, FRIEND, LOVER   
   Author:  dmcintoshtx@yahoo.com   
   Fandom:  X-FILES   
   Pairing:  Skinner/Krycek   
   Rating:  NC-17   
   Disclaimer:  These characters belong to Chris Carter.  I make no money   
   off of them.  I just like to take them out and play with them now and   
   then.   
   Summary:  An old enemy rescues Skinner.  Is he an enemy?  A friend? Or   
   a lover?   
      
       
    ENEMY, FRIEND, LOVER   
      
      
   Awareness – Dizzy, cold; pain in head, neck, leg.  Can't move.  Arms,   
   legs, tangled.  No! Not tangled; tied. He was tied up!  Smell – What   
   was that smell?  He must be in a gas station.  And urine?  Was that   
   urine?  Gas station restroom?   
   He struggled to open his eyes; heavy.  Dark.  Metalic taste in mouth.   
    Drugs!  He'd been drugged!  A stab of fear ripped through him.  He   
   struggled to sit up but could only manage a slightly propped up   
   position on one elbow and against the wall.  Noise!  Someone else was   
   in the room!  He tried to call out but couldn't.  Something was across   
   his mouth; tape.    
   Someone was crying; someone else moaning.  He blinked his eyes and   
   tried to see. The room was large; definitely not a gas station   
   restroom.  One, two, three, four others huddled on the floor in   
   various stages of consciousness.    
       
   His vision cleared somewhat; adjusting to the dim light.  Directly   
   across from him, the one crying; it was a woman.  Tied, like him; tape   
   covering her mouth.  Tears streamed down her cheeks; a look of   
   terrified resignation.  Her face twisted in pain; head and shoulders   
   thrust forward as much as her restraints would allow.  A moan escaped   
   her; head back against the wall.  She's pregnant; very pregnant.  My   
   God!  She's in labor!   
   Another moan distracted him; off to the left; an old man, 70's or   
   80's; a humming noise.  White haired, frail looking; eyes closed.  He   
   was having a seizure.  Two men watching; tied up as well; they looked   
   bad; dehydrated; like they'd been there a day or two.   
   The humming stopped; the old man was still; eyes closed.   
      
   His head thudded back against the wall behind him.  Where was he?    
   What the hell was going on?  The AD in him took over and he began to   
   analyze the situation.  The room was rectangular; approximately 20 X   
   15 feet, totally featureless.  No furniture, no windows, one large   
   archway opening into a hall; floor, walls, ceiling all a dull gray,   
   metallic feeling; dim yellowish light coming from behind recessed   
   panels in the ceiling 12 to 15 foot high; out of reach even if he   
   could stand up.   
   Footsteps!  Someone was coming! Two men appeared in the doorway.    
   Fortyish; one in jeans and flannel shirt; one slacks, white shirt,   
   tie.  They walked directly to the pregnant woman; loosened her ties;   
   helped her to stand and walked her out of the room.   
      
   Frustration and fear were building with each passing moment.  The   
   footsteps of the two men and the woman faded into silence.  What now?   
    What next in this terrifying nightmare?   
   Footsteps again; voices.  "Speak the words.  You must learn to   
   communicate as they do."   
   "It is not necessary.  I hear what they think."   
   "Your job is to become one of them.  You cannot become one of them, be   
   accepted as one of them, if you do not speak."   
   Recognition!  He knew that voice!  Just as the two men appeared, he   
   was able to put a name to that voice.  Krycek!  Alex rat-bastard Krycek!   
   As the two men entered the room, Krycek stopped dead in his tracks.   
   "What is it?" the second man asked him.    
   .     
   Krycek's expression was blank.   
   "That one." He said, pointing at Skinner "and that one," Pointing to   
   the larger of the two remaining men sitting quietly awaiting their fate.   
      
   "Two?  Why two?  There is only a need for one."   
   Krycek crossed the room and knelt beside Skinner, undoing the links   
   that held his bonds to a ring in the wall.  His companion did the same   
   with the other man that had been pointed out.   
      
   A muffled groan escaped him as he tried, with assistance, to stand.  A   
   sharp pain lanced through his right leg as it gave out and refused to   
   hold his weight.  Krycek caught him; putting a plastic arm around   
   Skinner's waist and a shoulder under his armpit.  A quick glimpse at   
   his leg showed a long tear in his slacks, soaked through with blood.    
   A flash of memory shot through him.  Two men waiting for him behind   
   his cabin, a struggle, blows exchanged, falling against the wood pile,   
   pain in his leg, a sting against the side of his neck, then darkness.   
      
   The hall was as non-descript as the room had been; narrow, dimly lit   
   from the ceiling, gray, metallic feeling from the sound of their   
   steps. A short distance down the hall, an opening into another room;   
   this one round with a small platform in the center; some sort of   
   control panel on one wall.   
      
   Krycek pushed Skinner toward the platform, helped him up on it.   
   "What are you doing?" the second man asked, still holding onto the man   
   he had escorted into the room.   
   "As you said," Krycek answered, "we need only one right now.  I'm   
   letting this one go.  He belongs to my host."   
   Krycek knelt down in front of the second bound man and began to retch.   
    At first, just convulsive coughing, then a slow dripping; black   
   streams flowed from his mouth, eyes, nose and ears.   
   Skinner watched in horror as the black liquid came together into one   
   puddle and moved steadily over to and up the body of the terrified   
   bound man.  He struggled mightily but in seconds the Oilian had   
   entered his body and the fear was gone; replaced by the same blank   
   expression his former captor was wearing.  The new host was untied and   
   the two walked from the room.   
      
   Krycek regained his composure and went to Skinner.  "Just relax," he   
   said, pulling the tape from Skinner's mouth.  "I'll have you out of   
   here in a minute."  He stepped down from the platform and over to the   
   control panel.  He moved his fingers swiftly over the surface then   
   stepped back up beside Skinner.   
   "What the hell's going on here, Krycek?" he managed to get out before   
   the strange sensation of falling overtook him; like being in an   
   elevator going down, down, way to fast.  He lost consciousness.   
      
   He was cold, so cold; something was hitting his face; someone pulling   
   on him.   
   "C'mon, Skinner, wake up.  I can't carry you."  Krycek was tugging him   
   into a sitting position.   
   "What happened?"  He tried to make sense of where he was; what was   
   happening.  He was wet; rain was hitting his face with a sting. He was   
   untied now.   Krycek got him to his feet, once again supporting his   
   right side.   
   "Where are we?  How'd we get here?"  Skinner asked in disbelief.   
   "Some farmer's field, I guess."  Krycek answered leading him toward a   
   fence-line.  "We've got to find shelter before we freeze to death."   
      
   The going was rough; the field riddled with deep ruts, wet, slippery,   
   half frozen and now being covered with a light dusting of snow.  They   
   stumbled as far as an old wooden fence and stopped to rest.   
   "We can't stay here long.  We have to keep going."  Krycek said and   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)