See Part 1 for Notes and Disclaimer . . . 
************************************************

Scully's Apartment Building
3:20 AM
22 May 1999

Scully killed the engine of her car, and gathered everything she needed to 
take inside her apartment.  There were so many papers and books, but she 
hated making two trips when she could probably handle the load.  Only when 
she had started climbing stairs did her cell phone ring.  Cursing the 
caller's inopportune timing, Scully set down her armful of information and 
answered the incoming call.  "Scully."

"Leave immediately," a male voice answered.

"I'm . . I'm sorry, I believe you have a wrong number." Even though she was 
bewildered, in a typical Scully fashion she dismissed the call, flipped her 
phone closed, and proceeded to gather her reference materials.  It rang 
again.  Charming.  "Scully."

"Agent Scully.  There is a man waiting for you at your apartment . . . with 
treacherous intentions.  Leave now, and you won't have to face him," the 
anonymous caller rationalized.

"Thanks for the advice.  Have a great night."  Scully stabbed the "end call" 
button with more force than was necessary, and rolled her eyes.  Just what 
she needed tonight.  Whether the caller was sincere or not wasn't really an 
issue.  Now she was either going to be fighting an attacker, or be paranoid 
for the duration of the night.  So she set aside her research on the top 
step, drew her gun, and approached her apartment.  

With the practiced ease of an experienced FBI agent, Scully quietly removed 
the safety of her gun and placed her hand on the door knob.  The man most 
likely had locked it back after entering her apartment.  Unlocking the door 
now would be a perfect way of alerting the attacker of her presence and 
destroying her main advantage -- the element of surprise.  The only other 
option would be to bust down the door.  However, if she attempted to and 
couldn't succeed the first time it would immediately backfire.  Not to 
mention the cost of repair if no one was even in her home, and the hell of a 
bruise she'd have on whichever body part was the lucky object of hitting the 
wood.

It was obvious that unlocking the door was the most logical solution.  She'd 
just have to be quick about the whole thing.  Like pulling off a Band-Aid.  
The slower it goes, the worse it is.  On the count of three.  

One . . .  

Two . . .

Suddenly, a large, muscular arm wrapped around Scully's midsection, trapping 
her own arms to her sides.  Simultaneously, a hand larger than both of hers 
combined covered her mouth with alarming strength.  She cursed herself.  She 
should have known to check her back.  Not only had they learned that one of 
the first days in the academy, but she'd been attacked from behind enough 
times to know to always check.  Always.  Not to mention the fact that it's 
common sense.  But here she was again.  

What would Mulder do?  No, judging from the numerous times Mulder has gotten 
his ass kicked, she figured she'd have to use her own judgment for this 
predicament.  Scully tried to kick her attacker, but was having trouble 
breathing without the additional exertion from a struggle.  So she relented 
and stood still until he made his next move.

"Agent Scully, I need you to listen to me," Skinner whispered.  "Your 
apartment is bugged.  Your office is bugged, my office is bugged, my 
computer, my phones, my home.  All bugged.  I need to talk to you without any 
interruptions, and away from any listening devices.  Then I'll explain 
everything.  But I need your cooperation.  I'm letting you go now.  Don't say 
anything substantial above a whisper until I say it's safe to."

Skinner released Scully, and she turned to face him with resentment written 
clearly in her expression.  He expected as much.  Being greeted in such a 
manner doesn't particularly invite trust and cooperation  -- something she 
wasn't readily providing anyway.  But she knew Skinner's reasoning behind his 
actions.  The phone call still concerned her, though.  Even though Scully 
never had trusted Skinner completely, she didn't think he would go as far as 
the informant claimed the attacker would.  So, after a few moments, Scully 
nodded and retrieved her research material before following him out of the 
building. 

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

Fowley watched as the two agents left the building and made the short walk to 
the curb. 
She waited for Scully to get behind the wheel of her car and pull after 
Skinner's unmarked blue sedan. She let the cars get to the end of the block 
before she followed, maintaining distance to avoid suspicion. After several 
miles of navigating residental streets, the lead cars pulled into a small 
rural park. Diana made a U-turn, circling back so that she could park along 
the road. She decided it would be to her advantage to travel the rest of the 
distance on foot.

She had lucked into the meeting between Scully and Skinner; she had only been 
intending to keep tabs on the latter. She had her doubts about his dedication 
to their interests, and if he were so "dispensable" there could be no harm in 
drawing her own conclusions from his actions.

Walking briskly along a small dirt path, she spotted them several hundred 
feet ahead of her. Skinner motioned to a bench near the small pond, and 
Scully appeared almost tentative as she sat down, sitting near the edge as if 
wanting to keep her personal space.

Diana leaned against a pine and simply observed. She had not come to listen; 
the scene in front of her confirmed almost as much as a conversation could. 
Skinner was obviously not holding to his side of the bargain. If he was 
dispensable a few hours ago, he had become truly disposable now. She adjusted 
the Glock nestled against her back, not taking her eyes off the two people 
who were oblivious to her presence.

All she could do was wait.

*****************
Shirey Park
3:39 AM
22 May 1999

"How do I know I can trust you?" Scully said softly, watching a duck splash 
in the shallow water near her feet. She had found it hard to make eye contact 
with her boss since the confrontation at her building.

"I guess you don't know. I can only give you my word that you can." Skinner 
responded with no hint of anger, just a bit of resignation.

"You obviously weren't above lying to me a few days ago."

"Yes, and I regret that." 

Scully lifted her eyes to meet Skinner's. He appeared sincere, as though 
imploring her with his look to believe him. "I guess I just want to know why. 
Why did you lie and why seek me out now? Why put Mulder in jeopardy this 
way?" She raised her voice slightly, betraying a slight tremor as she spoke. 
"We put faith in you."

Skinner rose to his feet, letting his body language, not his voice speak to 
his frustration. "You don't know my situation, Scully. I'm at great risk just 
standing here talking to you. I came here today for no other reason to 
restore that faith. Yes, Mulder is in danger, but without my help it will 
only become more dire. I have information to help you, but if someone even 
gets a whim that I've been conversing with you it's all over. I'm dead, 
Mulder's condition is still a mystery, and you will lose access. If not your 
life."

Overwhelmed by this, Scully took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, letting 
a moment pass to absorb what Skinner had just told her. "Who is threatening 
you? The same people you are gathering information for?"

"Krycek." Skinner said, looking as though he expected to self destruct in 
five seconds.

"Krycek? Alex Krycek?" Scully was stunned. The thought of his participation 
in this had never crossed her mind. "But why?"

"His goal is to sell information to the highest bidder in order to out 
manuever his former colleagues. I've been 'volunteered' to help provide this 
data. Through surveillance and records theft."

"From us?"

Skinner hesitated. "From you, yes. You aren't the only ones though. Krychek 
is a free agent now. I've also been assigned the duty of infiltrating those 
he used to work for. "

"Is Agent Fowley part of that agenda?" Scully asked, already knowing the 
answer.

Nodding, he continued. "Krycek was behind my illness several months ago. He 
pushes a button, and I die. Needless to say, this must be discreet. I can 
help you, and I'm doing it willingly. Just please respect the situation I am 
in." He took her hand gently. Scully looked up in surprise until she felt the 
edge of an envelope in her palm. Sliding it into her jacket she watched as 
Skinner walked away without another word.

*****************
4:05 AM

Skinner picked up his pace en route to the car.  He was deeply relieved and 
thankful that he had regained an alliance with Scully.  At what cost, 
however, he was unsure.  Never had he thought his life would come down to the 
lies and paranoia that now so completely consumed him.  He had never 
considered himself a coward, and he suspected no one else had in the past.  
Whenever fear would surface, Skinner was trained to turn the unsoldierly 
emotion into a helpful one.  He could then use the transformed fear as an 
advantage instead of a vulnerability.  But the virus inside him robbed him of 
that strategy.  There was no conventional or plausible way of ridding himself 
of the intrinsic affliction, therefore he couldn't create an advantage from 
his fear.  He was left with helplessness.  Skinner remembered the pain with 
alarming clarity, and had no desire to face the situation again.  But he 
couldn't prevent it if Krycek, or whomever had possession of the device, 
chose to initiate the reaction.  It seemed inevitable that at some point he 
would fail to comply, or loose everything in the process of obeying.  The 
only way he could communicate outside his facade was through discreet and 
vague conversations.  Even then, he wasn't sure of the capabilities of this 
man-made computer virus.  Could it in itself be a bug?  Realizing the 
absurdity of his train of thought, Skinner pushed the worry to the recesses 
of his mind.  He had pressing matters that he could actually do something 
about to deal with.

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

Fowley silently followed Skinner down the long dirt path, carefully avoiding 
leaves or sticks that could make any noise.  She paused behind another pine 
when Skinner looked over his shoulder, and used the opportunity to place a 
silencer on her 9 mm.  She found a clearing where a bullet would have an 
opening through any trees, and to her moving target.  She took the needed 
stance of a skilled markswoman, and aimed at the back of Skinner's head.  Her 
finger began to tighten on the trigger, when she fell forward from an 
unexpected sharp pain in her back.  Placing a hand over her heart, blood 
seeped between her fingers.  Diana fell to the ground, dropping her gun.  
With her last breath, she turned her head to face her cancer-prone companion, 
holding his own smoking gun.  He put out his cigarette and nonchalantly 
walked away, never looking back to the rogue who would have done so well in 
the consortium had she followed the bylaw.

*****************
4:29 AM

Scully remained seated on the park bench long after Skinner had departed.  
The thought of going back to a bugged apartment didn't really appeal to her, 
but it was nearing dawn and she desperately needed sleep.  Scully was 
becoming disoriented from exhaustion.  She'd just not speak inside until the 
Lone Gunmen had the opportunity to sweep her apartment for any devices they'd 
use.  With her decision made, Scully patted her jacket for the reassurance 
the envelope was still intact and made her way to the car.  The park was more 
of a wooded trail than any sort of open meadow.  She usually preferred the 
nature and privacy of the walk, but in the middle of the night it was simply 
too dark.  The meager lanterns the park provided weren't nearly sufficient.  

The ground suddenly became soft beneath her feet, and Scully's heel slightly 
stuck in the mud.  It hadn't rained in days, so she knelt down to check out 
the soil.  She touched the soggy land with her fingertips, and held them up 
to a lantern.  They were dark red, and Scully realized the mud was the result 
of a massive amount of blood.  

"Oh, God."  Searching the pockets of her trench coat, she produced a 
flashlight.  Sure enough, the body of Diana Fowley lay prone on the ground, 
with her face turned slightly away from Scully.  As she approached the body, 
she took out a pair of latex gloves.  She didn't particularly want her 
fingerprints on the corpse.  It would immediately involve her in a future 
murder case.  Scully confirmed that there was no pulse, and Fowley was in 
fact dead.  She directed the flashlight onto the agent's lifeless face.  It 
was relaxed, not contorted in pain or shock.  A gun rested beside her, but 
Scully knew the woman well enough to realize that she'd never commit suicide. 
 

Scully pocketed her gloves and rubbed her temples.  She knew she had to 
contact the authorities, but she had no rational explanation for her presence 
at the park when a known enemy was gunned down.  At four-thirty in the 
morning, no less.  And if she didn't lie, Skinner would be put in danger.  It 
seemed she had no choice but to make an anonymous call.  It would be short 
enough so it couldn't be traced by the police, if for whatever reason they 
tried to. She returned to her car and informed them of the situation.  She 
ascertained that sleep wasn't forthcoming, after all.


*****Continued in part 5*****