From: mrkeller829@gmail.com   
      
   =====o============================o=====   
   "Chermera" by Mary Ruth Keller Part 40  of 45   
   E-mail: mrkeller@eclipse.net, mrkeller829@gmail.com   
   PG-13   X-File: Myth-arc   Disclaimed in Part I   
   Already sent to Gossamer   
   =====o============================o=====   
      
   over the Atlantic   
   Sunday, July 19, 1998   
   11:36 pm   
      
   "We're still on British soil! This airplane is in the custody of the Foreign   
   Office. I want asylum, and I want it now!" Krycek was twisting on the leather   
   seat, his wrists cuffed separately to the supports for the padded arms.   
      
   Walter Skinner set his face in a mask. The dark-haired man had been shouting   
   since they had climbed on-board, but, with nearly eight hours left in the   
   flight, he could no longer stand the noise. "Krycek!" He stalked to the back   
   of the plane. "Enough! You    
   know the pilot is American, and the Bureau took over the rental on the ground.   
   Your claim has no standing here. Be quiet. You're on US soil, surrounded by US   
   citizens. You will be charged with the attempted murder of one American   
   citizen. You admitted to    
   murdering another, and being an accessory to a third, all unprompted, and all   
   in front of witnesses."   
      
   The dark-haired man tried to throw himself at the Assistant Director, but only   
   succeeded in bruising his wrists in his fury. "These witnesses! I have a right   
   to hear their statements! Where are they?"   
      
   A long, frustrated sigh escaped the bald man. "You will hear them where you   
   are entitled to hear them: from your attorney, Krycek. Not now. You know   
   this." He leaned over until his bared teeth were a fraction of an inch from   
   the former operative's nose. "   
   Now, be quiet."   
      
   "Or what, Skinner, you'll throw me out of the plane?"   
      
   A snort, then, shaking his head, the bespectacled Director walked away. His   
   gaze fell on the entwined hands of Arthur Pendrell and Terry Phillips, seated   
   side-by-side about mid-way up the short aisle. He found himself missing   
   Sharon, so sent them a nod    
   as he passed.   
      
   --o-0-o--   
      
   Pendrell wrapped an arm around his spouse. "You going to be okay with all   
   this, Ter?"   
      
   She leaned into his embrace. "Yes. Not exactly what I expecting for our first   
   case, but then, I guess I should get used to it." She rested her head on his   
   shoulder. "Will Dana be okay? There was so much blood, more than I'm used to   
   coming out of a living    
   person."   
      
   He found himself unable to refrain from hugging her tightly. "Director Skinner   
   made certain she was out of danger before we left. She has a long road to   
   recovery, but, she's in good hands." He lifted her chin with his knuckle.   
   "She'll be okay, hum?"   
      
   Terry nodded. "Okay. I'll be glad to be home, finally. Who would have thought   
   we'd be crossing half the planet in a little over a month."   
      
   He smiled as she settled. "Yeah. Not like just working in a lab."   
      
   --o-0-o--   
      
   In the front of the plane, Bill Stickle was chewing his lower lip. "Director   
   Skinner?"   
      
   The bald man shifted in his seat, then eyed him. "Yes, Agent Stickle?"   
      
   "What happens now?"   
      
   Skinner's dark brows drew together. "We take Krycek back and start assembling   
   our case against him. Agents Mulder and Scully, ASAC Nichols, and Professor   
   Rosen will be in the UK for at least a month, so we'll attend the legal side   
   of the proceedings    
   while they're away." He leaned toward the younger man. "You did well, Stickle.   
   Your father would be proud of how you handled yourself on your first case, so   
   put your mind at ease. You'll make a fine Agent." He settled back, hoping this   
   reassurance was    
   sufficient for the situation.   
      
   Stickle ran a hand through his blond curls. "Thank you, Sir. I'm relieved to   
   hear you say that. I wish Dad were still here so I could discuss it with him."   
      
   The bespectacled director gazed out the window. "It's good you think so, Agent   
   Stickle. Your father was a mentor to me, back in the day. He had his own   
   quirks, but he was an honorable man, and was as fine an officer as I've worked   
   with over the years."   
      
   A flash of a grin crossed the younger man's features. "Dad had quirks? He was   
   also so stone-cold G-man at home. Always so Eliot Ness."   
      
   The older man's eyes lightened. "Let me tell you some stories, Stickle. It   
   will help pass the time."   
      
   --o-0-o--   
      
   Royal Victoria Infirmary   
   Great North Trauma and Emergency Center   
   Newcastle-on-Tyne, UK   
   Monday, July 20, 1998   
   7:17 pm   
      
   Dana Scully took a deep breath. For the first time in days, she no longer felt   
   cold, but she could hear an annoying beeping. She lay still, attempting to   
   work out just how long she had been confined, before she remembered:   
   attempting to flee, fighting    
   with Krycek, Mulder arriving with SUV's and a helicopter, gasping for air. She   
   heard the woop, woop, woop of helicopter blades, saw the dark, anxious face of   
   her partner gazing down at her, his hands pressed against her chest, his   
   hoarse tenor attempting    
   to soothe them both, being in an operating room, debating with, someone. Then,   
   this. She opened her eyes to check around her. The beeping was her heartbeat,   
   strong and regular, jabbing spikes upward on traces, an IV bag suspended on   
   her left. There was    
   still a tube in her chest, which her clinician's mind found unsurprising,   
   given the pneumothorax.   
      
   She tried lifting her right hand, but it pulled the muscles in her chest   
   around sutures, so she let it drop. When she attempted to move her left, she   
   felt warmth wrapping her palm, heard a body shifting. Mulder. "Hey." The hand   
   moved up, grasping her    
   shoulder, then sliding behind her neck, leaving the thumb free to trace her   
   cheekbone. "Mulder?"   
      
   He was wearing a grin, but his eyes were deeply troubled. "I'm here, Scully."   
      
   She focused on his jaw. "You had a chance to shave?"   
      
   He nodded as he lifted his fingers to his chin. "Those two tyrants we trained   
   wouldn't hear otherwise. They fed me and made me sleep. In a bed." He smiled   
   softly.   
      
   She clucked, then rocked her head from side to side on the pillows. "No raises   
   for them this year." She reached up to wrap her fingers around his palm, but   
   winced. The flexing shifted the IV needle, so she dropped her hand to the   
   sheets. "Where's Krycek?"   
      
   He leaned back, adjusting his seat until he could grasp her arm, Roman-style.   
   "In the hoosegow. Skinner flew him back there, with Pendrell, Phillips, and   
   Stickle. There's a preliminary hearing in a couple of weeks, which we may or   
   may not make."   
      
   She smiled gently down at him, then sobered. "Mulder, we need to talk."   
      
   He leaned forward to resume rubbing her cheek with his thumb. "When you're   
   better, Scully."   
      
   She shook her head. "No. Now while we have the time."   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)