From: dmcintoshtx@yahoo.com   
      
   Title:  THE BODY GUARD   
   Author:  Donna McIntosh   
   Email:  dmcintoshtx@yahoo.com   
   Fandom:  X-Files   
   Pairing:  Skinner/Krycek   
   Genre:  Slash   
   Rating:  NC - 17  -  FRAO   
   Warnings:  Bad language – adult situations   
   Disclaimer:  These characters belong to Chris Carter but they keep   
   coming to visit me!  I make no money off of them; we just like to chat.   
   Summary:  Skinner's latest field assignment?  Babysit Alex Krycek and   
   keep him alive long enough to testify against the Smoking Man.   
   Beta:  All my thanks to Ursula.     
      
   THE BODY GUARD   
      
   "Son of a fucking bitch!"  Walter Skinner raged.  "Do you have any   
   idea what you're asking?"  He paced the floor of the Director's   
   office.  "He's probably in more danger with me than with any one else."   
      
   "I repeat," Director Cassidy removed her glasses for emphasis, "You   
   WILL fly to Hong Kong, you WILL do whatever is necessary to secure   
   Alex Krycek's release; you WILL find some place, I don't care where,   
   and you WILL babysit Alex Krycek however long it takes!  Or you can   
   turn in your badge and gun right now."   
      
   "Shit!"  He fumed, "And just how long is this … assignment supposed to   
   last?"   
      
   "Unknown.  It depends on how long it takes to get a court date set."   
      
   "Why don't we save the tax payers some money and let him rot in Hong   
   Kong?"   
      
   "Because he is going to testify for us in a very important case and   
   without his testimony, we have no case at all."   
      
   "And what case would that be?"   
      
   "That's on a need to know basis and you don't need to know.  You just   
   need to keep an eye on him for us until he's needed."   
      
   "And there's no trial date set yet?"   
      
   "We're hoping to hear something this week.  In the mean time, you find   
   some hole to crawl into for a couple of months."   
      
   "A COUPLE OF MONTHS?"  Skinner bent over with both hands flat on   
   Cassidy's desk.   
      
   "Who knows how long these things can take?  I'll put out a notice that   
   you're on personal leave for the time being."   
      
   "Now wait a minute here; I haven't accepted this assignment yet."   
      
   "Walter, get a grip!  Who else would you suggest could handle this   
   job?  That wimp Stiles?  Or maybe Shoemaker?"  She leaned back in her   
   chair.  She had him now and they both knew it.  They didn't have   
   another AD willing, or agent capable, of such an assignment.   
      
   "Shit!"  Skinner resumed his pacing.  "What about Collins?  Or   
   Lawrence?  Either of them could handle something like this and they   
   don't have the history with Krycek that I do."   
      
   "Collins broke his ankle a few weeks ago and is still on crutches and   
   Lawrence and his wife are expecting a baby in three weeks."   
      
   He was nailed and he knew it.   
      
   "Here's your plane tickets, credit cards, new IDs and private cell   
   phone.  I expect you to keep in touch at least once a week."   
      
   Skinner glanced through the packet he had been handed.   
      
   "Dallas, Mexico City, Sydney Australia, Tokyo; is all this really   
   necessary?"  He asked as he flipped through the tickets.   
      
   "It is.  And you'll change identities at each location.  You know the   
   routine."  She slipped her glasses back on and returned to her work;   
   effectively dismissing him.   
      
   He stood for a moment longer, silently cursing her, then turned and   
   headed for the door.   
      
   "The plane for Dallas leaves at 8:37 tonight.  Be on it."  She picked   
   up her phone and dialed.   
      
   Skinner exited the room angry and disgusted with himself and vowed   
   never to request field work again!   
      
      
   He squared things away in his office and left.  His secretary had been   
   away from her desk when he returned from Cassidy's office; he assumed   
   it was all part of the plan so there would be no questions asked.  He   
   stopped on his way home and had dinner.  No telling when he would have   
   another decent meal.   
      
   The airport was crowded, as usual.  He made his way on to the plane,   
   found a seat and settled in.  He found a John Grisham paperback in the   
   net storage compartment in front of him and read until his eyes became   
   heavy.  He dozed the rest of the way until he was awakened by a jerk   
   of the plane as the landing gear was lowered.  A short time later they   
   landed.   
      
   He retrieved his carry-on bag from the over head compartment and   
   started down the aisle.  A young man in a cowboy hat who had been   
   sitting across from him called out to him.  "Sir, you forgot your   
   book," and handed him the novel.  He tried to explain that it wasn't   
   his but the crowd carried them on down the aisle and he pocketed the   
   book and forgot about it.   
      
   In the restroom at DFW airport, Skinner entered a stall and hung his   
   bag on the door.  Off came the business suit and shoes and out came   
   the blue jeans, flannel shirt, sneakers and baseball cap.   
      
   Thirty minutes later he was on his way to Mexico City and trying to   
   get some sleep.  Mexico City was bright, hot, and dismal.  The airport   
   lunch was tolerable – better than he had expected.  He had a few hours   
   lay-over so he walked and shopped a bit then made another change in   
   the rest room.  He was now wearing slacks, a new Mexican shirt he had   
   just purchased, sandals, and different hat.   
      
   The flight to Sydney was long and tedious.  He finished reading the   
   novel, plus both magazines he had purchased.   
      
   Once he landed in Sydney he was thoroughly jet-lagged and glad that a   
   room had been reserved for him.  He felt much better after a good   
   meal, a hot shower, and a night's sleep.   
      
   Another day spent in the air and he arrived in Tokyo; suit, tie, shiny   
   shoes, wig, and thick glasses.  He was thoroughly sick of flying now   
   and cursing the day he'd ever heard the name of Alex Krycek.   His   
   night's sleep in Tokyo did little to actually revive him and he was on   
   the first flight to Hong Kong the next morning; arriving late in the   
   afternoon.   
      
   He waited until after dark before driving his rental car out to the   
   prison.  He circled through the neighborhood scoping out the area.  He   
   found a small wooded park near by and decided that would be where he'd   
   park.  He returned to the hotel and waited.   
      
   At two AM he left the hotel by a side door carrying his small pack   
   with him.  He parked among a small copse of trees, a distance of   
   approximately two city blocks from the side fence of the prison.  He   
   slipped into is fatigues and cap; checked the contents of his pack and   
   began preparations.  He assembled the small plastic dart gun from   
   other plastic items that were allowed through customs.  He squeezed   
   the tooth paste out of the tube until the dozen small capsules popped   
   out into the palm of his hand.  Pulling the tiny points from his hair   
   brush, he assembled his darts.   
      
   The night was pitch black and he saw no one on his walk to the prison.   
    His wire cutters made short work of the fence and in moments he was   
   across the open field and flat up against the side wall waiting for   
   the guard to turn around and head back in his direction.  He eased his   
   way between some large empty boxes and waited.   
      
   It all went down very quietly.  The guard walked by him, Skinner   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)