From: xf_emily_sim@yahoo.ca   
      
   Title: No Archive - S.N.A.F.U. Chapter 35   
   Author: Emily Sim   
   Rating: Mature Adults only   
   Category: M/O S/O (brief/past) MSR Angst/Mythology AU   
   Spoilers: Seasons 2 - 6   
   Disclaimer: Still don't own them and no money changed   
   hands, I always put them back when I'm done.   
   Notes: At the end   
      
   Feedback to: xf_emily_sim@yahoo.ca   
      
   Summary: What if Kristen Kilar wasn't dead, at least   
   not in   
   the traditionally understood definition of dead.   
   **************   
   Chapter 35   
      
   Krycek felt the weight of his gun as a small comfort   
   while   
   he waited. The street was crowded and far enough away   
   from   
   where he was staying that he wasn't worried about   
   someone   
   finding Marita. He hadn't wanted to leave the warm   
   confines   
   of his bed, but this meeting had been prearranged. It   
   would   
   not bode well for him to miss it.   
      
   He rocked from foot to foot observing the crowd,   
   looking   
   for anyone who might have been sent to intercept.   
   There   
   were times, like today, when he grew tired of the   
   whole   
   cloak and dagger routine. There had been a time once,   
   when   
   he'd wanted a different kind of life for himself. It   
   was   
   his misfortune to have been born to something other   
   than an   
   ordinary life.   
      
   "Planning a little trip, are you Alex?"   
      
   Krycek was adept at thinking on his feet and had   
   learned   
   long ago to keep his cards and his emotions close to   
   his   
   chest. It kept him in the game despite Spender's   
   attempts   
   to rattle him. He learned to lie brazenly, a skill he   
   employed with regularity, a tactic to protect his own   
   interests. He was a master at ferreting out   
   information and   
   using it to his own advantage. It also helped that he   
   was   
   resourceful when it came to saving his own ass, even   
   when   
   it meant selling out those he cared for.   
      
   Although he felt a modicum of _something_ towards   
   Marita,   
   he would not hesitate to pin the child's disappearance   
   on   
   her if the need arose.   
      
   "Arriving, leaving, does it matter?"   
      
   Spender pulled out a cigarette, making a small   
   production   
   of lighting it. "That depends on who or what you may   
   be   
   concealing, doesn't it, Alex?"   
      
   "Your eyes must be failing you." Krycek held his good   
   hand   
   up, fingers splayed. "See, nothing here and," -- he   
   lifted   
   his artificial arm -- "well, not much I can do with   
   this   
   one now, is there?"   
      
   "My mistake." Spender's voice was oily. "Pity about   
   the   
   child disappearing. Wouldn't you agree, Alex?"   
      
   "Pity? Or opportunity? It's all in how you look at it,   
      
   isn't it?" Krycek felt for the gun tucked at his side.   
      
   "There won't be any need for that." Spender focused   
   briefly   
   on where Krycek had placed his hand. "It's just an   
   observation."   
      
   He let his partially finished cigarette drop to the   
   sidewalk. "Make sure you remember our agreement."   
      
   "Do I have a choice?"   
      
   "We all have choices. Have a good day, Alex."   
      
   Krycek watched until Spender disappeared around the   
   street   
   corner.   
      
   **************   
      
   Mulder had meant to go straight to Scully's place. He   
   had   
   called a cab and had been waiting for it outside the   
   front   
   door when the call came. Now he found himself heading   
   in   
   the opposite direction and on his way to meeting yet   
   another anonymous informant who promised to give him   
   what   
   he needed. The grey buildings were a blur as the taxi   
   sped   
   down the beltway towards Boomers, a trendy piano bar   
   on the   
   other side of the Potomac. A rather odd choice for a   
   meeting, considering the back alleys, secluded   
   garages, and   
   deserted landscape most of his contacts chose. He   
   didn't   
   recognize the voice, but considering the venue,   
   figured   
   he'd be as safe as he could be.   
      
   He thought about calling Scully. He'd started dialing   
   her   
   number a couple of times but disconnected before   
   finishing.   
      
   When he got to the bar and took up residence in the   
   back   
   corner as instructed, he thought about calling again,   
   but   
   this time didn't even make it to flipping the phone   
   open,   
   instead turning it off and tucking it back in his   
   pocket   
   with his keys. He didn't want to have an argument with   
   her   
   over the phone, nor did he want to worry her at this   
   time   
   of night, not when she was supposed to be resting.   
      
   He opted for black coffee and a glass of water instead   
   of   
   more alcohol, noticing the waitress wrinkle her nose   
   slightly as she took his order. He wasn't sure if it   
   was   
   because of how he looked or how he smelled. He would   
   have   
   to stop and clean up before he --   
      
   Ah fuck. What did we have here?   
      
   "Let me guess, reports of your death were premature?"   
      
   "Sarcasm never did suit you, Fox." Diana Fowley slid   
   into   
   the opposite chair.   
      
   ************   
   Marita tucked the blanket around Hannah, a small,   
   humourless smile on her face. She marveled that Alex   
   could   
   be so naïve as to still believe he was in control; to   
   think   
   that those around him were blind to his machinations.   
   She   
   had long ago dismissed such notions as the romantic   
   stuff   
   of spy novels, stories in which the good guys always   
   won   
   and the handsome hero got the girl. She was no longer   
   a   
   girl, perhaps no longer capable of basic female   
   biology.   
   Her blood flowed with alien technology as surely as   
   Alex   
   would bleed red if she cut him.   
      
   She no longer held any illusions regarding whose game   
   she   
   played; it was neither hers nor his. She wondered if   
   Krycek   
   would ever realize it, but concluded it didn't really   
   matter. There was this one thing she could do, and she   
      
   would, damn the consequences to her or their precious   
   project. Hannah stirred and she stroked the little   
   girl's   
   arm, quieting her. She wouldn't wake for several hours   
   yet.   
      
   The rocking of the train was soothing and though she   
   allowed herself to relax, she fought the desire to let   
      
   herself drift too much. She had hidden her tracks   
   well, but   
   it wouldn't do to be overconfident or to underestimate   
      
   Spender's reach. She felt fairly safe choosing this   
   roundabout method to her destination, but had learned   
   early   
   on to be ready for anything.   
      
   "Wurden Sie gesehen?" A large woman slid into the seat   
      
   across from Marita and Hannah.   
      
   "Nein. Englisch, Ilse. Er setzt zu viel Aufmerksamkeit   
   auf   
   uns."   
      
   "You are correct; it would not do to have others take   
   notice." Ilse's accent was thick. "She will sleep,   
   yes?"   
      
   "For at least three more hours. I have more if we need   
   to   
   keep her out longer."   
      
   "I hope it is not so, Mari. It is not good for one so   
   little."   
      
   Marita smiled at Ilse's use of her pet name. "It will   
   be   
   okay. I made sure, Tante. It's good to see you again."   
      
   "Gut. Good," she quickly added in English. "And it is   
   good   
   to see you too, Mari."   
      
   "Thank you for helping us."   
      
   "How could I not, my little Mari? These men, they have   
      
   changed, become evil. You would do well to be rid of   
   them."   
      
   Ilse wasn't a blood relative, but she had essentially   
   raised Marita. None of what had gone on with the   
   project   
   and Marita's family's role in it had gone unnoticed by   
   the   
   German housekeeper, but she had managed to look after   
   the   
   Covarrubias household without too much interference   
   from   
   members of the Consortium. Those who were present   
   during   
   that time seemed to give a wide berth to the woman,   
   all   
   except for Spender, of course. Spender had been the   
   only   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)