MISPRISION

Misprision: (pronounced, miss-prizz-ee-on); adjective; Middle English, a mistake, misdirection or a misunderstanding, deliberate concealment or deflection in the release of information - from Old French 'mesprendre' to mistake, ... was still in common usage in 16th century England.

Chapter Fifteen

Graaf worked his way, from the room where he had been held, to the CCTV control room. He carefully pried open the door, uncertain exactly who or what he might find inside. He saw the guard, who was tied firmly to his chair, a strip of tape covering his mouth. He seemed to be unharmed, though he was clearly very angry. When he saw Graaf he began to struggle, eagerly anticipating the fact that he was about to be released. Graaf ignored him, however, and turned his attention to the monitors. He switched on those screens which were currently blank and searched each one carefully.

Finally he found what he was looking for. Alex Krycek, asleep in Samantha Mulder's room. Checking all the monitors he saw that Spender was still incarcerated and the newcomers, whoever they were, the one's who had so rudely disrupted his experiment, were currently busy away from his very own favoured 'lab rat'. Doctor Borrachio was working with Mulder and Skinner while that annoying girl Samantha was working with Doggett. That gave him a clear opportunity to get to Alex without interference. He grinned nastily. As he turned to leave the room the guard began to struggle all the harder when he understood that Graaf was not going to release him.

Graaf paused and stared at the struggling man intensely, as if he was a bug on the end of a pin. He made his decision in a split second. The guard's struggles might draw attention to him that he could ill afford, therefore he had to be eliminated. It took very little effort to snap his neck. The sound gave him great satisfaction, and he left the room without a backward glance.

Skinner completed moving the last box to the entrance way. Mulder's friends and Agent Reyes had arrived, and were even now loading up the trucks that they had driven with all the equipment and data that Skinner and his party had liberated from the basement storage rooms. All that remained was the 'small' but significant problem of what to do with Spender, Graaf and Alex Krycek. Until today he'd have had no qualms about turning any of them over to the authorities. Perhaps he'd have been especially keen to hand Krycek over. Maybe he'd have even liked to get in a punch or two of his own before hand.

Knowing so much more about Krycek now though, he no longer felt he had the right to judge him. There was no way either Conrad or Samantha would condone the man being handed over to anyone, especially after Conrad had gone to all the trouble of repairing the damage done to Alex by Spender and Graaf.

The difficulty remained. They needed to 'deal' with these men in some way, as well as finding a way to rehabilitate Alex Krycek. Somehow things had become more complicated than he'd imagined when he'd set out to follow this trail. He'd feel little guilt if Spender did not survive this encounter, but Graaf was somewhat more of a problem for him. Skinner shook his head in disgust. There was no way that getting the authorities involved was a valid option here. In any case Spender, at least, would certainly worm his way out of custody before anyone was really aware of who or what he was.

Nor could Skinner bring himself to kill any of them, despite his knowledge of Spender's duplicity and wrong doing. He'd only shot the man he believed to be Alex because of the threat to Mulder. Killing was not alien to him, but killing in cold blood was. All of those facts added up to just one thing, they'd have to take all three men with them when they left, and keep them secure. With a sigh he headed back to the room where Alex had been moved for treatment.

Surfacing slowly, as if from a deep sea dive, Alex awoke. His head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton wool, his mouth was dry, his eyes felt gritty and his throat was on fire. A shudder ran through him for no discernible reason that he could fathom, other than the fact that he was covered in sweat which was cooling rapidly and causing the sheets to adhere to his body. He was still naked beneath the bed coverings, a situation he had not bothered to think about before. He had supposed, if he had consciously registered the matter at all, that Skinner's doctor had left him unclothed to allow easy access to the dressings he had applied - and besides - it was not as though nakedness was a state that was unfamiliar to him.

Alex had lost track of the number of years when he had been denied clothing as he was growing up, and certainly since he had been re-acquired by Spender after informing Mulder about the ship in Oregon he had no memory of being clothed. Yet the realisation that no-one in Skinner's party had thought to offer him clothes since their arrival reinforced his earlier fears about his current predicament.

He snorted. 'Predicament' made the whole fucked-up situation sound like a minor problem at the church social. If only!

The snort, however, made his breath catch and added to the problems caused by his dry throat which was currently,it seemed, stuck to itself. He began to cough uncontrollably. The spasms pulled at his abdominal muscles making him wince and catch his breath at the incredible pain, creating more stimulus for the coughing spasm - a vicious circle.

He struggled to sit up and reach the tumbler of water that was on the table beside his bed. The cast on his wrist extended to ensure that each of his fingers was encased in a tube of plaster, keeping each finger immobile and safe from harm but also rendering his digits totally useless. In the end he resorted to swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and leaning down to the glass. He ignored the dizziness and the stabbing pains in his body. He had to have water, come what may. He rested his lips on the glass and found contact with the liquid inside. Gratefully he began to slurp the water, lapping and sucking at it as though he was a dog. He was thus engaged when the door to his room opened to admit Graaf.

"Thirsty?" Graaf enquired, as he closed the door behind him.

Alex, who's whole being had been focused on the water, was startled and managed to knock the tumbler on its side. The precious liquid within spilled out and onto the floor below. The glass crashing beside it in a thousand pieces a moment later.

"Dear, dear, Mr Krycek, how clumsy of you." Graaf said, condescendingly. "Never mind, I may give you some more later. If you behave."

He moved forward and grasped Alex's left shoulder.

"For now though I need you to stand up and come with me."

"Fuck off." Alex managed, before be was once again overcome with coughing.

"Really Alex, your tantrums are far too predictable and they have achieved nothing but pain for you thus far. Surely you should have learned by now that I always get what I want." Graaf said, smiling nastily.

"You know?" Alex said. "I couldn't care less if my behaviour bores you, it's still my behaviour and you'll never make me change it."

Ah, but you see Mr Krycek, that's exactly what we have been doing. You can scarcely call it your behaviour when you were created and trained to be this way."

"In that case," Alex gasped, trying hard not to cough again, "it's pretty stupid of you to complain about what I do if you fixed it that way."

"Well, I'll admit that certain aspects of your behaviour seem to be a little out of sync with our original intentions." Graaf said.

"No kidding," Alex said, "and I repeat, Fuck Off!!"

"Oh dear, I was afraid of this." Graaf said. "However, I do have a means of persuasion here that I think you'll find hard to resist." So saying he pulled out a knife and held it to Alex's throat, pressing it hard against his adam's apple.

Alex's eyes widened at that. He wanted desperately to cough, and yet if he did he'd probably end up cutting his own throat without Graaf even having to move. He closed his eyes. Should he fight? He was in no real physical position to do so. Or should he just give in for now and bide his time? He was still, a split second later, pondering his options, when the door opened revealing one very pissed off looking Walter Skinner - his gun out and aimed at Graaf.

"Drop the knife doctor," Skinner growled, "or I swear I'll shoot."

Graaf was startled for a moment by Skinner's sudden appearance and his knife hand jerked against Alex's throat. In response, Alex gave a strangled moan as he felt the blade pierce his skin, the blood beginning to well around the small wound.

An enraged Skinner moved into a crouch and repeated his demand for Graaf to drop the knife. At the same time Graaf relaxed his hold on Alex and made as if to lower his arm.

Alex, from long experience, realised that this seeming acquiescence to Skinner's demand was merely a prelude to Graaf changing the focus of his attack. As Graaf seemed to lower the knife, Skinner - against all the rules of engagement - also began to lower his gun. Cursing inwardly at the Assistant Director's carelessness, Alex poised to prevent Graaf from reinforcing his hold on the situation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Skinner's gun barrel reach the point where it was facing towards to floor, he also saw Graaf change his grip on the knife. It was a subtle shift, hardly noticeable unless you were watching for it as Alex was.

Graaf's blade was pointing down and the handle dangled in his hand. Skinner straightened from his shooting stance and in that same instance Graaf's right arm flicked up. Alex, giving no quarter, raised his wrist and brought it, and the heavy cast, crashing down on the doctor's arm. Graaf screamed as he dropped the knife and Skinner, showing more speed and agility than Alex would have given him credit for, moved back into position - had his weapon up and was firing before the knife could finish its slide along the floor.

The report of the weapon coincided with a grunt of surprise from Graaf as a red hole blossomed between his eyes and he crumpled to the ground. Alex was on his knees, cradling his plastered arm close to his body and trying hard to control his breathing, cursing in Russian under his breath. Skinner crossed to check that Graaf was indeed rendered harmless. Satisfied that he man was dead, he knelt beside Alex and reached for his shoulder.

Alex flinched involuntarily, but allowed Skinner to make contact.

"Are you all right?" Skinner asked.

Alex could not speak, but managed to nod in the affirmative.

"Did you hurt your wrist?" Skinner persisted, not liking the clamminess of Alex's skin or the sickly grey-green tinge to his face.

Again, Alex nodded, his breathing still laboured.

"What were you thinking?" Skinner asked in concern. "Your wrist is already fragile!"

"Not thinking, reacting." Alex managed.

"Not that I'm not grateful, but it might mot have been the wisest course of action."

"Bastard was going to stick you." Alex choked out.

"No kidding." Skinner said, dryly. "Never would have thought he was so sneaky.

Alex snorted and was about to make some pithy comment in reply when Doggett burst in, gun drawn, and looking ready to take on the world. He relaxed when he saw that the A.D. seemed to have everything under control.

"I heard a shot," he said, "thought you might need some help."

Skinner merely nodded in acknowledgement and grabbed the blanket from the bed to wrap around Alex's shaking body.

|

"Help me get Alex something to wear and find something to cover this." He said, indicating Graaf's body.

Doggett replaced his firearm in the holster and turned his attention to the closet. Inside there were several items of clothing, but all of them clearly belonged to Samantha. Doggett had trouble imagining any of them as suitable garments for Alex Krycek, even if they'd have fitted him. Alex Krycek was not exactly frail looking, though god knew he had any right to be after all he'd been through. He was somewhat thinner than Doggett remembered though. Of course he wasn't to o sure exactly which Krycek he'd seen on any given occasion - except for the last time...when it had definitely not been Alex.

He shook himself mentally. The problem at hand needed to be dealt with, all other considerations could be explored later. Closing the closet door Doggett turned his attention to a tallboy in the corner of the room. In the top drawer he found sets of surgical scrubs. Loose fitting clothing that looked as though they'd have been big on Samantha and might fit Alex reasonably well - at least until something more suitable could be found.

Silently he passed the clothing to Skinner before pulling the remaining bedclothes from the bed to wrap around Graaf's body. As he finished Mulder poked his head around the door.

"We're just about finished loading, you ready to roll?" he asked. Then he took in the scene before him. "Jesus! What happened?"

"Give us a hand Mulder. " Doggett said, not bothering to answer, not sure if he could...

Skinner barely acknowledged Mulder's presence, he concentrated instead on getting Alex into the outfit Doggett had found which proved extremely difficult as the man was by now completely unaware of his surroundings and shaking uncontrollably. The problem was compounded by Skinner's reluctance to cause any further pain to the man. The injuries he had received during his incarceration with Graaf and Spender, whilst they had been neatly dressed by Graaf, were obviously extremely painful.

In addition he felt a strange reluctance to touch Alex's left arm. He'd never thought of himself as squeamish, but it was all too easy to imagine what Alex must have endured when his arm had been amputated. From what he'd understood this had been no neat hospital job, and anaesthetics probably not involved. It horrified him. Added to that the scar tissue was still red and ugly, even after all this time, from the burns he'd suffered recently.

In truth there seemed to be little of Alex that was not covered in fresh bruising, abrasions or dressings. However, it was imperative that he get Alex dressed, and quickly, so that he could be moved. Gritting his teeth skinner decided that the easiest course of action would be to put Alex's right arm into the sleeve of the top first and dealt with his left arm later.

As Skinner approached the crouching man, his arm outstretched to grasp Alex's wrist, he was startled by the reaction. Alex had been rocking gently backwards and forwards. As he saw Skinner move closer to he, green scrubs in hand, he raised his right arm as if to shield himself from a blow, ducking his head to hide his face.

Skinner flushed, but continued to move.

"It's all right Alex, I'm not going to hurt you." He said, his voice gentle but firm.

As he spoke he slipped the right sleeve over the arm with the cast and quickly followed with the left. Alex's head was now hidden from view by the shirt , but Skinner did not allow him time to become panicked. Grasping the shirt by the hem, front and back, he tugged sharply. Alex's head popped through the neck hole and he had to resist the urge to laugh at the surprised look on his face. At least, he reflected, Alex seemed to be back in the here and now. Skinner held out the pants to him, but he made now move to take them. Perhaps he was not quite as together as he appeared.

"Alex?"

Alex appeared to shake himself and at last his face showed real recognition.

"Sir." he said. Then he looked at the pants in Skinner's hand, at his own semi nakedness, and grinned wryly.

"I think I might need a hand." he quipped, waving his half empty left sleeve. The grotesque juxtaposition of the pun and the action should have been shocking, but instead Skinner found himself grinning too.

"Seems I might have one or two to spare." he said, and offered Alex his right hand, pulling him to his feet.

It was a simple matter then for Alex to lean against him, his one hand resting awkwardly on his shoulder, whilst Skinner held the pants open at the waist allowing him to step in. Skinner pulled up the pants and tied them at the waist, loosely, noting that even so the material bunched around Alex's waist, swamping him. He was definitely more slight than Skinner remembered.

"OK" he said "it's time we left."

Alex nodded and started to shuffle forward towards the door. His gait was uneven and it was obviously an effort for him to walk, but he moved determinedly, if slowly; Skinner supporting him at this elbow. As they entered the hallway they saw Mulder, a look of murderous rage on his face, holding open a door to allow doggett to wheel Spender through. When Spender set eyes on Alex his own fury was plain to see. he barely kept it in check as he spoke.

"I hope you know what you are doing with that Mr Skinner." he said viscously. "It will bite that hand that feeds it and destroy the unwary handler."

Skinner bristled with indignation.

"Considering the hand in question Mr Spender, perhaps someone should have bitten it harder and earlier." he spat.

Spender shrugged, apparently nonchalant.

"You are, of course, entitled to your opinion Mr Skinner," he said evenly, "though I'm sure you do remember what you had to do to prevent the other creature from despatching Mr Mulder here."

His voice grew more venomous and spiteful as he ground out the final words.

"What I remember, with great clarity, is that he was your creature." Skinner growled," as Alex here has been, against his will."

"His will! Spender all but shrieked, "his will was supposed to have been subsumed, he's nothing but a failure."

"I'm sure it must be an extreme irritation to you that despite all your best efforts you did not manage to quell the personalities or the spirit of either of your proteges to quite the degree you would have liked. I, on the other hand, find it most reassuring." Skinner said.

He could feel Alex trembling beside him and was anxious to get him away from Spender and sitting down as soon as possible. He turned to move Alex to the protection of the waiting van. As his arm came to rest around Alex's waist he saw the man stiffen and gasp in pain. Every vein stood out darkly in an eerily familiar pattern . Skinner felt himself responding, involuntarily, to the sight.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Spender struggling with Mulder but he could not spare more than a passing amount of attention for either of them. Alex was struggling to breath and the dark veins were now pulsing. With a sense of helplessness he caught the man up in his arms, as if he was a new born child, and hurried out to the van - barely registering the sharp report of gunfire behind him.

Carefully he laid his burden on the backseat. Beads of sweat trickled down Alex's forehead. His eyes were almost closed , the eyelids fluttering. The veins standing in stark contrast to the pallor of his skin. He watched in amazement as the ugly networked pattern began to fade, slowly but perceptibly.

Alex relaxed suddenly. Going limp and letting out an involuntary sigh. Remembering only too well the agony caused by the nanocytes in his own bloodstream Skinner let out a sigh of relief. He retained his outrage at what had been done to him. Knowing where to direct that rage was more of a problem. The realisation that Alex Krycek had been as much of a victim of the Consortium as any of them made it impossible to see him in the role of villain any longer. Undoubtedly the man had committed crimes on behalf of his 'employers', however, who really bore the blame for Krycek's actions? And given the discovery that Alex had a twin brother, who also belonged (in the form of property) to the Consortium, was it even possible to say which one of the Krycek twins had done what?

Skinner's introspection was interrupted by Mulder's appearance behind him. He was somewhat out of breath.

"Is Krycek ok?" he asked. Skinner was about to reply when Alex opened his eyes.

"Fabulous." he rasped. Then a wicked grin crossed his face. "Did you kill him Mulder?" he asked.

"What do you think?" Mulder said. "It's not as though he didn't deserve it a dozen times over."

Alex closed his eyes. He was so tired. He felt as though he was disintegrating. The light hurt his eyes, his throat was so far beyond dry that he had no vocabulary left to describe it, and every breath was agony - a hangover from the nanocytes that usually took hours to recede. he'd dearly like to sleep for the next few millennia.

"You killed your father Mulder" he said.

Mulder swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He'd never acknowledged Spender as his father. He knew in his heart that it was likely though.

"Frankly I think I'd rather have been found under a gooseberry bush than have had either Bill Mulder or Spender as my father." he said. " Whether he was my father or not, he was a vile, conniving, manipulative old bastard who cared nothing about anything that did not benefit him personally. Besides he would have killed you if I hadn't stopped him."

"Never knew you cared." Alex whispered dryly.

"Hey guys, time's a wasting here." Doggett's voice cut in. "We're done loading the stuff, are we ready to leave?"

"Sure." Skinner said.

"Dr Borrachio wants to bring the body with us. Doggett said.

"Bodies." Mulder corrected.

"If Conrad wants them we bring them... both of them." Skinner said. " Besides we can't really leave them behind.

"We've got three bodies Sir." mulder said. "Graaf, Spender and a guard. I hope you've got good storage facilities where we are going."

" The best." skinner said.

"we should torch the place," Mulder said, looking at the entrance way with a grimace.

"No!" Alex said. His hoarse voice jarred Mulder out of his contemplation.

Alex tried to swallow. Every word hurt like hell.

" You do that and you'll be knee deep in people asking questions before you know it." he said.

"Alex is right," Skinner said," much as I'd like to raze the place to the ground, we can't afford the attention and we've got a long way to go. the sooner we leave the better."

He cast a look at Alex. The pallor of the man's skin was alarming. His breathing was laboured and it was obvious that he was trying to deal with a high level of pain. He didn't dare give him anything until Conrad had seen him. Just then Conrad emerged from the building carrying a large box.

"Well Walt old buddy," he said, " quite like old times. Doggett says we need to bug out asap. and that's fine by me, but I need to check on my patient before we hit the road."

"Sure." Skinner said. "I was just coming to find you. He's not looking so good."

He stepped aside so that Conrad could examine Alex.

"Well now young man. I understand that you hit the good doctor Graaf in there with your cast. Whilst I appreciate your saving old Walt here from a knife in the chest, if you've caused further damage to your wrist I'm going to be rather pissed."

As he spoke he gently checked Alex's pulse, pupil dilation and skin temperature.

Alex merely stared straight ahead, not really responding - though Conrad knew he'd been heard.

"I guess we'll have to leave a further examination until later. However, we need to prop you up a bit and get some fluids into you. Walt go and fetch some water for Alex please."

Skinner went to fetch some of the bottled water the Gunmen had brought with them. As he left Conrad pulled out a syringe. Alex looked at it warily, going paler if it were possible.

"Don't worry boy, this is only a pain killer and a muscle relaxant, nothing more." Conrad held his patient's gaze. " I realise that you've probably had more than your fair share of needles lately, but you need to rest so that your body can begin healing. Being in pain won't help you. I'd have given you something before, but your blood work was so odd that I wasn't sure what you could have without making things worse...too many other drugs were floating around your system."

Alex tried to relax. He still wasn't sure he trusted any of Skinner's group, but they had prevented Graaf and Spender from going further with their tortures. Whatever they intended to do with him could scarcely be worse. He desperately wanted a shot for the pain, but he found it difficult not to tense up. He'd had years of having needles shoved into him without so much as a by your leave and none of the results had ever been good. Was it any wonder he had a mammoth phobia of the things. He could feel the sweat forming on his forehead and his jaw was tight with tension.

"I'll try to make this as quick and painless as possible." Conrad said reassuringly.

Alex held his breath, making him tense up even more Conrad rubbed at his right bicep with a disinfected swab and waited. Alex inevitably had to breathe out at some point and that was when Conrad slid the needle home, depressing the plunger and withdrawing almost before Alex registered what he'd done. Alex blinked in surprise. Certainly he'd felt the needle but it hadn't hurt anywhere near as much as every other shot he'd ever had. Then again no-one had ever given him a shot against pain before as far as could remember.

As he began to relax he cold feel a delicious lassitude sweep over him. The world seemed to have a softer focus. He was warm A sense of well-being, even euphoria, enveloped him and he felt - for perhaps the first time in his life - that he was safe.

Skinner returned with the water, sat himself in the van next to Alex and cradled him as he helped him to drink - the sports bottles making this easier. Skinner gave the order for the vans to pull out and Alex allowed himself to succumb to the alien feeling of pleasure and peace safe in the circle of Skinner's arms.

end of chapter 15

Chapter 16

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