Title: S.N.A.F.U. Part 5 Chapters 16-18
Author: Emily Sim
Headers: see part 1

**************

Chapter 16

Krycek didn't like what he was about to do. He played a dangerous 
game, moving between different factions of the organization. In 
truth, he loathed the men who felt they had the right to decide 
for the population, and for him, what was best. It really came 
down to a power play, each group vying for top dog spot. He had 
been lucky so far. He counted the loss of his arm as the lesser 
evil when there were so many times his life could have been 
forfeited. Though he felt like a cat with nine lives, he knew the 
reality of it was that one day he would turn too late or shoot 
too soon and it would be over. Perhaps his strength was in his 
causal acceptance of the eventuality of his own death. 

He pulled a single key from his pocket and let himself into the 
house. Unlike Mulder, the opulence of the house didn't impress 
him; he'd learned long ago that to put stock in possessions was 
counterproductive. He had lived with abundance, and he'd lived in 
poverty. By letting go of material comforts, he allowed no man or 
organization to gain control over him. A man with nothing to gain 
or lose owed his allegiance to no one.  

This was one of Mulder's weaknesses; he seemed to think he owed 
everyone. Throw a needy female in front of him and he was hooked. 
He was predictable, and Krycek wondered if Mulder really knew how 
easily he could be played. Sometimes he needed to remind himself 
that despite Mulder's apparent ability to undermine the 
Syndicate's work, he wasn't infallible. Krycek recalled several 
stand offs between Strughold and Spender. Strughold was shrewd 
and knew Mulder's value had limits. Spender on the other hand, 
seemed to be blind when it came to the agent. Krycek assumed it 
had something to do with the families' connection and Teena 
Mulder in particular. 

Whatever it was, Spender kept it close to his chest and 
information was scarce, though he suspected the Englishman knew 
something. Krycek smiled as he crept up the stairs. He was a 
patient and resourceful man; one day he would have what he needed 
and Spender would be unseated. The tension between the key 
players, Strughold in particular, was heating up. El Rico had 
only reduced the playing field, leaving the strongest contenders. 
That Spender was still in the game was an unfortunate oversight. 

He paused at the closed bedroom door, mentally preparing himself. 
The house was deathly silent and if he didn't know differently, 
would have sworn it was empty. He turned the doorknob slowly, 
quietly. What did it say that he was so very good at such 
unsavory tasks?  

It took only seconds to inflict the fatal wound. There was no 
time for her to react, no time to turn around and see her 
assailant. He was glad of that. As often as he had to do this, as 
necessary as it was, he still found it somewhat distasteful. He 
was glad he didn't have to look into her shocked eyes, watching 
the light fade. This one didn't bleed toxic green like the 
earlier hybrids. Her blood was red and looked human, unless 
viewed under a microscope in its living state.  There was a 
unique quality to the fluid in these new ones and he doubted even 
Scully, with her expertise in the autopsy bay, would be able to 
pick it up. 

"COH XOPMO, sleep well." He pulled the blanket up, covering the 
trickle of red, and made his way silently out of the house.

"Well, Mulder," Krycek spoke into the cool air when he was far 
enough away that noise was no longer a concern, "next one, you 
owe me." 

Krycek slipped into the dark night. Tonight was one of the 
occasions when it was all about what he needed. 

******


Chapter 17

Frohike opened the door and Mulder decided that was the better 
option. He could handle humor much better than the quiet 
disappointment he might get from Byers, or Langly's biting 
sarcasm.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

"You're damn lucky we're letting you in." Frohike snorted and 
locked the door behind him. Byers and Langly briefly looked up 
and nodded hello.

Mulder knew there was more than a grain of truth in his 
statement. "Don't I know it. Frohike, can we drop the gloves? I'm 
tired; I feel like shit, and there isn't a single person not 
pissed off at me right now."

Frohike took in Mulder's weariness and clapped him on the back. 
"We have a stool just for you and a Shiner's Bock with your name 
on it."

"I think I'm in love." 

"Mulder, you have a funny-" A sharp elbow to the ribs courtesy of 
Byers cut off Langly's comment. Mulder swallowed any smart-ass 
remark he would have made, recognizing the gesture as outside of 
Byers' usual behavior. 

"Look, guys, let me get some of this down and then you can all 
have a go." He took a long draught of the beer before setting it 
down with a satisfied smack of his lips. 

The three Gunmen pulled chairs closer and Frohike slapped a 
folder down. "Before I get into this," -- he gestured to the 
folder -- "we want to know about the chick. The pictures you gave 
us aren't anything like the ones Scully has."

Mulder sunk a little lower on the stool at the mention of his 
partner's name. "No, I was trying to keep that part out of it. 
And I guess we have a matching set now because someone dropped 
copies off to me as well."

"We can't help you when we have only part of the information." 
Byers' voice was quiet, respectful. "We all know how hard it was 
on you when she was missing. She means a lot to all of us."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, but hell, what was I going to say? 
When I was out there investigating that group it was probably the 
lowest point for me." He paused to take another drink. "I was 
lost, so lost, and numb. She was just there, right time, right 
place; totally wrong actions on my part. I knew it, she knew it Ð 
hell, Spender caught it on tape, or Krycek, or one of their 
cohorts Ð they probably knew it too. It didn't solve anything, 
except I was able to get outside of my head for a bit. You know 
I'd never deliberately hurt Scully. She's never seen the file; 
I've kept it hidden, and Skinner hadn't seen it until today. 
Kristen showed up the other day with this kid in tow. I'm not 
sure what she is, but I'm pretty damn sure the kid is..." He 
fumbled for the right word. "Connected...to me." He miserably 
pulled at the label on his bottle.

Byers cleared his throat loudly and Mulder watched furtive 
glances pass between his three friends.  

"What aren't you telling me?" Mulder asked.

Langly elbowed Frohike who in turn gave Byers a push. If the 
situation weren't so grim, Mulder would find their posturing 
amusing.  

"It's why Scully has been trying to reach you all night." Byers 
retrieved a folder from the table. 

"Am I going to need another drink before you tell me what those 
are?" He pointed to the numbers on the page Byers had pulled out.

"Depends." Frohike retrieved another beer from the fridge and 
slid it towards him. "Just in case."

Byers' throat clearing was getting on Mulder's nerves. "Just spit 
it out, okay? I'm a big boy and the suspense is killing me. 
Besides, I have a lot more I need to do tonight."

"These are the numbers that were on a file Agent Scully had with 
her. Recognize them, Mulder?"

A soft gasp escaped him. "Sam's birthday." He pulled the paper 
closer. "Shit, her abduction date, too."

"They were on the reports she had, medical reports."

"What was the report for? Did it say what they did? Where she is? 
Where they kept her?"

Frohike held his hand up. "Stop, just hold up. There was nothing 
that would help locate her." His voice softened. "There were 
eight reports in total."

"So?"

"The last report indicated a live birth. Scully had two sets of 
PCR's; one we're pretty sure was Samantha's and the other was the 
baby's. It looks like your sister had a baby, and the date," -- 
he pointed to the last set of numbers they had copied -- "would 
make her about three and a half."

Mulder grimaced and sat back down, at a loss for words. Was 
Hannah Samantha's child or was she something they created using 
his sister? Either way, it was looking like Hannah was Sam's and 
they didn't need Sam alive for them to do their dirty work. He 
looked up at his three friends. "She's not mine, is she? She's 
Samantha's." 

A sharp rap on the door interrupted them and all four sets of 
eyes moved to the screen that monitored the entrance door. 

Frohike's whistle was loud in the silent room. "Looks like your 
number's up, Mulder." 

Her arms wrapped tightly about her body, Scully rocked from foot 
to foot, waiting for the door to open.


*******

Chapter 18

There was no joking, no banter or sarcasm to be had as Scully 
followed Frohike in. Her hair was still damp, held back in a 
loose ponytail, and her sweats spoke of a last minute decision to 
come here. She stood just outside the circle of men as they all 
waited for someone to make the first sound. There was an 
uncomfortable silence and the Gunmen, one by one, retreated to a 
back room, leaving Mulder and Scully alone. Mulder had yet to 
meet her eyes and she focused her attention on the papers spread 
before him.

"I wanted to tell you before you saw it. That's why I was 
calling."

He made a weak attempt to match her gaze, lost the battle and 
focused on the papers again. 

"You turned your phone off, and I left messages, but - dammit 
Mulder, how can I help you when you won't let me?"

He looked up then. "Oh, that's sweet, Scully. We know how much 
you let me -" Her anger he could handle, but the tears he could 
see forming were his undoing. "Fuck, I don't know what you want 
me to say."

"I don't have a script for you, I just don't understand how you 
could keep all this from me and expect me to be okay with it, 
especially with all..." 

"With all _what_, Scully? Are you referring to our clinical 
exchange of body fluids?" 

Her mouth was open, but no words were making it out. "That 
doesn't give you the right to hide things from me," she finally 
sputtered.

"This has nothing to do with you."

She had been ready to spar, to jump into the fray and continue 
the fight, but his words, flat and cold, seemed to leach it out 
of her. She appeared to deflate before him hurt rushing in to 
fill the spots anger had vacated. "I guess maybe it doesn't." 

"Look, there are some things I just can't talk to you about. This 
is one of them, at least right now." He was pleading with her 
now, the arrogance gone. "I promise, Scully - Dana - we'll talk, 
later."

His interjection of her first name, meant to placate her, had the 
opposite effect. Her mouth opened and closed but nothing came 
out. She turned abruptly and left, the door slamming shut behind 
her. 

******

When Mulder finally raised his head, he was greeted by the soft 
sounds of his friends keeping busy in the furthermost corners of 
their home. He'd been an ass, he knew it and, no doubt, so did 
the Gunmen. Scully knew it as well, he guessed, but she would 
never call him on it to his face. He was acutely aware of what 
happened the last time he'd taken her for granted and pissed her 
off. Groaning, he stood and made his way toward a shuffling noise 
he hoped would turn out to be Frohike.

"You can come out; I won't bite."

Frohike's cautiously stepped from behind the door. "Is it clear?"

"You heard her go, you can stop stalling." He raised his voice. 
"It's all clear, boys; I'm not going to self destruct."

Byers and Langly materialized from the back. 

"I think I need to go after her." Mulder raised his hand to his 
head and gave himself a smack. "That is what you guys need to do 
to me once in awhile."

"No offense, Mulder, but you can be a bit of a bear when you're 
pissed." Langly slouched against the wall. 

"Not to mention how uncomfortable it gets when the two of you go 
at it." Frohike was somber. "You have some apologizing to do." He 
poked his finger at Mulder's chest. "And if you make her cry 
anymore I'll hunt you down."

"Look, those papers are-"

"We got it covered, man." Langly moved to collect the documents 
from the table. "We've already filed and uploaded to a safe 
place."

"That's why I pay you the big bucks, boys." Mulder grabbed his 
jacket and made his way to the door. He turned to bid them 
goodnight and found Byers on his heels. Byers reached up and 
clasped Mulder's shoulder. "She's confused and hurt, Mulder. Take 
some advice from someone who loved and lost: talk to her. Don't 
waste the time you've been given. Just go."

Mulder nodded and let himself out. 


*****