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 Four

Doggett returned to the Hoover building around midnight. Instead of going to his office some instinct or sixth sense sent him towards Skinner's. He could see when he got out of the elevator that there was still a light on in the room. He had assumed Skinner was at home when he'd spoken to him earlier on the phone. After all, the man was just out of the hospital recovering from a fairly nasty head wound. He'd suspected that Skinner's story of just being let out that evening was a smokescreen so he'd done a bit of digging and found that he was right. Skinner had in fact discharged himself against medical advice.

After taking care of placing agents with Skinner's friend Dr Borrachio, he'd stopped by the hospital to check his hypothesis and after flashing his FBI ID had been told the Assistant Director had requested his clothes repeatedly and refused to stay, despite their best efforts to persuade him otherwise. Citing an emergency at the Bureau he'd eventually forced them into handing over his clothing but had insisted he sign himself out AMA. Doggett had given the nurse on duty a resigned smile and agreed with her that the AD was a stubborn man.

This penchant for stubbornness had been apparent to John Doggett during his initial investigation into the disappearance of Agent Fox Mulder, and if anything he would say that Skinner had become more stubborn as their acquaintance lengthened. In fact the three of them, Skinner, Mulder and Scully were the most stubborn people he had ever met. After a few months of working the X -Files, however, he'd begun to understand where this stubborn self-reliance and mistrust came from. The pressures they had been under, and the levels of distrust towards them from within the FBI had formed their attitudes, made it almost impossible for anyone to begin to make a dent in their armour. He liked to think he had managed that to some extent with Skinner at least - now, however, he was beginning to doubt he really knew enough about any of them to be considered a part of their inner circle.

He supposed in a way it was his own fault. Perhaps if he had been less confrontational when he'd questioned Skinner and Scully during his investigation he might have been able to gain their confidence more easily. It wasn't that they distrusted him exactly, after all Skinner, Mulder and Scully had all warned him to look out for himself - and risked themselves to help him in the past. So no- it wasn't distrust as much as it was a long established habit to 'trust no one' and let outsiders in as little as possible.

Monica seemed to have had more luck in establishing some rapport with the trio though. Of course she actually believed in the 'alien conspiracy' thing even before she got involved in the X-Files. He had been stubborn in his own way on that front he freely admitted. However, after several months of working on the X-Files, after Mulder's miraculous 'resurrection' and the problem of the 'alien virus' both Mulder and Billy Miles had been carrying, not to mention having seen Billy Miles squashed flatter than a pancake and then knowing he'd somehow got back up on his feet and gone to harass Scully and Reyes in Georgia, he had to conclude that one of two things was true.

There could only be one truth at a time.

Therefore, either he lived in a cartoon world like the one in 'Who framed Roger Rabbit?' or the X-Files held more truth in them than he'd ever dreamed credible or possible. He had come to agree with Hamlet, that there were more things in Heaven and Earth that he'd ever dreamt of in his philosophy. It had been an uncomfortable discovery, and one he was sure that Scully had gone through herself years before, but that didn't make it any easier to cope with. Heaving a huge sigh he straightened his shoulders ready for the battle he feared he'd have to fight to get Skinner to agree to go home.

As he cautiously opened the door, after knocking and receiving no response, Doggett saw Skinner sitting at his desk. There were papers strewn across it, covered in the AD's neat script, and he was drawing a 'spider gram' apparently trying to draw all of his 'scribblings' into one coherent whole. He didn't acknowledge Doggett's entrance but continued working feverishly.

Shaking his head slightly, Doggett pulled up a chair to the other side of Skinner's desk and waited. Skinner continued as if oblivious to the fact that he was no longer alone. Only the occasional glance in his direction told Doggett that his presence had registered with the older man. Finally the silence was too much for him.

"Sir? What are you doing?" He said.

Skinner held up a hand to forestall him from further questioning and began gathering all of his sheets together, making the unaccustomed mess on his desk disappear. He leafed through the gathered sheets, glancing down at his diagram as he did so. At last he stacked the papers with customary neatness on his desk, reached for the diagram and turned towards Doggett.

"I couldn't get these questions out of my mind, I needed to start trying to figure out just what was wrong with the so called 'information' we've been given over the last few days. So much of it didn't add up. I thought after I shot 'Krycek' I'd have some answers but all I seem to have now are even more questions."

He pushed the papers, with his original thoughts on, towards Doggett.

"Here, look these over. Tell me if I've missed anything. I'd appreciate an honest assessment and right now there aren't many people I'd trust to give me one, except perhaps Mulder you are the only one I feel I can count on right now."

Giving Skinner a surprised glance, Doggett took the offered papers and the diagram without speaking and began to read through the thoughts his superior had committed to paper. Skinner sat back, rubbing his head gingerly around the left temple. His headache had grown to mammoth proportions but he felt a little clearer in his mind now that he had managed to think around the puzzle he'd been struggling with over the last couple of days. Standing to go and fetch some water from his bathroom he wavered suddenly as he lost his balance. Doggett dropped the papers back on the desk and moved quickly round it to help him.

"Sir you need to lie down, you should be at home resting. I understand your need to keep working but you don't have to do it all alone."

He pressed his point by forcing Skinner towards the couch, one hand under his right elbow as he guided the AD.

"I can see that your head is still bothering you, and I know the hospital gave you some painkillers amongst other things, so tell me where are they and when did you last take them?"

Skinner didn't bother to protest at Doggett's treatment of him. Truth be told he had come to the end of his tether. After talking to Conrad, and promising to go home, he'd started working on his puzzle instead, ignoring the incipient pain in his head - and now his neck. He'd tried the pain killers earlier on at the hospital but they just made his head feel fuzzy so he'd ignored the doctor's directions and not taken any more. Now he was beginning to feel that had been a big mistake.

"Sir?" Doggett prompted again.

"Oh," he blinked up at Doggett, "about six this evening, before I left the hospital, but I couldn't think straight or concentrate on anything after that so I stopped."

He closed his eyes while Doggett untied his laces, removed his shoes and swung his legs up on to the couch. He felt ridiculous, but he couldn't deny that it was a welcome relief to let go and relax. He leaned back against the arm of the couch and gratefully accepted a glass of water from Doggett.

"Pills?" Doggett asked pointedly.

With a sigh Skinner opened one eye and regarded him.

"In my pocket." He said, reaching in and pulling put the prescription bottles. One of painkillers and another of antibiotics.

"Can you open the bottle? I don't think I'm quite up to doing battle with the child proof containers right now." He said with a rueful grin at his subordinate.

Doggett took the containers, opened them, checked the dosage and shook out the prescribed amount into his hand before handing them to Skinner who took them gratefully washing them down with the water Doggett had provided. Taking the now empty glass, Doggett went back to the desk to resume his reading of Skinner's notes. Before too long a gentle snoring emanated from the couch. Doggett relaxed with a faint grin. At least the AD had accepted defeat and finally done what his doctors had ordered. Now he had to try and figure out exactly what was going on.

At first he found the notes confusing, rambling even, but as he read on he began to see the clear logical line of thought that ran through them. It was impressive, a reminder, if he'd needed one, that Skinner'd had a damned fine record as an Investigative Agent before his promotion.

Skinner had started by noting that Billy Miles had been targeting Zeus Genetics and destroying their work. Zeus Genetics had, according to Duffy Haskell, been creating 'Alien Babies' and implanting them into human mothers. Therefore, ran Skinner's argument, Billy Miles was destroying the work of the alien conspiracy and was not a part of it at all. The question was why? As an Alien replacement surely he should have been helping Drs. Lev and Pirenti rather than opposing them. If Billy Miles was fighting against the alien conspiracy why was he so interested in Scully's baby? If her baby was as much a threat to the alien conspiracy as 'Krycek' had insisted then why would Billy Miles want to harm it? Surely he'd want to protect her and the baby if he was fighting the conspiracy?

Then there was the curious incident of 'Alex Krycek' himself. He also claimed to be fighting against the alien conspiracy, yet he was afraid of Billy Miles (it seemed). He had clearly warned them that Billy Miles was a threat. Skinner, it seemed, had come to the conclusion that when Billy Miles had come to the Hoover building he came looking for 'Krycek', or possibly for Crane and others also. Skinner's injury had been accidental. He had after all followed 'Krycek' as the former tried to escape Miles. At first Skinner had thought 'Krycek' was setting him up, but on further reflection he'd decided that all 'Krycek' was doing, as per usual, was saving his own skin.

The evidence seemed to point to the fact that Duffy Haskell had been killed by Billy Miles, but Lizzie Gill and Haskell had been, apparently, working together - yet the tablets Lizzie Gill had slipped into Scully's medicine cabinet had been harmless vitamin supplements according to the doctor at the hospital.

Doggett sighed. His own head was beginning to ache with the effort of trying to unravel the evidence before him, and he had no head injury to blame for it. Skinner must be exhausted after all his efforts here, yet so far he could find no fault with the older man's reasoning. He skimmed through the rest of Skinner's ponderings and his chart. it was very difficult not to come to the same conclusions. There had to be at least two sides involved here and Billy Miles was apparently not on the same side as 'Krycek'. Then there was the fact that the Krycek who had been shot in the garage was, according to medical records, not the same Krycek who had been assigned to Mulder. There were also several medical peculiarities, anomalies, with the corpse of the mystery Krycek double. Doggett grabbed a blank sheet and began to make his own notes to add to Skinner's findings so far.

Knowle Rohrer and Agent Crane were apparently working with 'Krycek' (or whoever he was) - or at least they were not actively working against him. Kersh, it seemed, was also involved. Whatever process had produced Billy Miles had also produced Rohrer and Crane. They had the same tell tale vertebral protrusions. However, clearly Billy Miles was not working with them and they had actively participated in the mission to throw him off the scent during 'operation protect Scully'. The more Doggett thought about it, the more he tried to untangle the mess, the more impenetrable it seemed to become. One thing was clear though, whatever the truth of the matter, if Skinner's notes on the meeting with Spender were anything to go by, the need to get moving on the investigation into Zeus Genetics was paramount. Still and all, however urgent this was, he too needed to get some sleep. He loosened his tie, removed his jacket and rolled it up, making it into a makeshift pillow. Placing it on the desk he put his head down and closed his eyes. soon he too was sleeping soundly.

Mulder entered the building leaving Reyes to go and tell the helicopter pilot that they would be taking a trip to the hospital, allowing him time to make his contacts and file an emergency flight plan. He saw Scully sitting on the bed, her hair mussed, holding the child in her arms. She looked sweaty and exhausted but incredibly pleased. Mulder blinked slightly as he hesitantly approached the bed.

"Hey," he said, feeling somewhat lame and out of place, "we've got a helicopter outside to take you to the hospital."

'That's right Mulder,' he thought, ' can't handle this emotionally so you concentrate on details.' He didn't even dare to ask about the baby. One thing at a time was the only way he could do this.

Scully, however, looked incredibly relieved and gave him a tired smile. Apart from the trauma of labour and the worries she'd harboured all through her pregnancy, she'd been terrified of two things. That whoever was with Billy Miles would take her baby from her, and that there would be something wrong with the baby. Add to that the fact that she was a doctor, she felt more at home with the paraphernalia of hospital than she did here. Reyes had done a wonderful job of making things bearable here but the sooner she could wrap herself in the comfort blanket of hospital routine the happier she would be. All other questions could wait until later.

"My White Knight to the rescue," she joked, " sounds wonderful Mulder, let's get this show on the road."

Mulder gave her what support he could as she carried the baby. Reyes reappeared and, grabbing their bags, she followed them out to the waiting chopper. She had a feeling that she was needed back in DC as soon as possible so she left the car to be collected later and clambered aboard with Mulder and Scully, sitting up front with the pilot to give Scully and Mulder a little privacy. She signalled for take off when the pilot was ready. As they rose above the small, and now empty town she found herself puzzling over the actions of the game warden towards Billy Miles. They'd both had those ridges on their necks, which made them both 'alien replacements' according to what Doggett had told her on the phone. The question was, were they both on the same side? How many sides were there? And who were they? There were more questions than answers it appeared. Still, she was sure it was only a matter of time before she and Agent Doggett would get it all straightened out so that they could see how next to proceed. Picking Mulder's brain wouldn't hurt either, but right now he had other things to occupy him. Lost in thought she stared out of the window, hardly noticing their progress through the sky.

Milton Graaf handed his data to Spender with something of a flourish. It was evident that he as pleased with himself and his findings.

Alex, watched and listened, unable even to feign sleep since whatever the last substance they had given him was, it was making him feel as if he needed to run coast to coast before he'd even be able to think of winding down. His alarm grew deeper throughout Graaf's recitation.

"The haemoglobin oxygenation was phenomenal, the ability of the cells to deal with high levels of carbon dioxide was equally pleasing. Response to atmospheric pressure was way beyond expectations. Digestive system responses are, again, more than exemplary. The subject was able to absorb nutrients from the electrolytic mixture contained within the IV fluids more than adequately, added to which it took over ninety six hours for the nutrients to be totally broken down. We've managed to successfully increase physical efficiency whilst slowing the metabolism beyond all hoped for results."

'Shit!' thought Alex, 'whatever the hell they are up to it sounds as though I am guinea pig number one yet again.' His thoughts skittered around in horror trying to pin down what the purpose of all this experimentation might be. It boded no good for him, and maybe not for others either, that was the one thing which could be absolutely guaranteed.

"Cardiac capacity is increased five-fold. Lactic acid production is down by sixty percent. Lung capacity and aerobic respiration has been increased by three times the normal rate, which corresponds to the oxygen levels in the blood. Physically the subject is able to function fully in extremely adverse conditions. Lymph Node activity in the face of infection is hyper efficient. The Thymus Gland was not only capable of fighting of the Smallpox virus but also the Typhus infection that was introduced. Large numbers of antibodies were produced. It's very impressive."

'Fuck! Typhus! The bastard gave me Typhus.' Alex panicked inwardly, though he was still incapable of moving or making any noise.

"Indeed." Spender said dryly, perusing the report his tame scientist had given him. "I do, however, have a question."

"Yes sir?" Graaf responded.

"You paint quite a shining picture of our guest's achievements with regard to your tests. Am I to understand that you think he is physically stronger now than he was before?"

"That is my assessment sir." The pale man replied.

"Then are we safe to leave him unguarded? You tell me his physical body is now more efficient, that you have lowered his metabolism so that even four days without food will have no effect on him, and I am greatly impressed and pleased with your work Dr Graaf. However, I wonder if we are not also creating problems for ourselves here?"

Graaf looked at Spender. He seemed totally at ease and had obviously been expecting the question.

'Believe me sir, I understand your concern, but rest assured that the tests were conducted in such a way that the test subject remained restrained and unmoving throughout. He is being given a paralysing drug, of the sort that prevents muscle movement during surgery. If I was to remove the bonds and tell him now to get off the table he would be totally unable to respond. Also, after several weeks of restraint the muscle tone is less than adequate for him to even twitch a finger voluntarily, even without the chemical barrier to movement. All the trials of his muscle action and responses have been done with minimal stimulation - certainly not enough to constitute exercise, only to simulate it. The subject is weak and lethargic."

He gave what was meant to be a reassuring smile, but it looked for all the world to Alex like a grimace. He shuddered inwardly at the sight, and at the information that he had been restrained here for 'weeks'.

"Well then I shall accept your assurances and look forward to our next thrilling session. Is he ready yet do you think?"

'Great! Now he's talking about me as if I wasn't even aware of what's going on.' Alex thought. It chilled him. He hated Spender, but he rather thought it was better to be a 'someone' rather than a 'something' around the Old Man. He was definitely in very deep shit here.

"He can be made ready whenever you need him sir." Graaf said. "Just give me some time to get the new monitors hooked up."

Spender looked at his watch. Alex having lost track of time long since, idly wondered whether it was night or day, but otherwise concentrated on trying not to think about what joyous little entertainment the old man and the washed out looking man had in line for him next, and failed miserably.

"It's getting late," Spender said, " and I need my beauty sleep. Will you be ready tomorrow morning at say, eight thirty?"

"As you wish sir." Graaf said, moving to collect up his papers which were now lying on Alex's still naked body.

"You may leave those," Spender said, waving the man away. "I will see you at eight thirty sharp in the morning."

So saying he gathered up the notes himself so that he might read them again.

Wordlessly, Graaf bowed his head toward Spender and left quietly, only the sound of the airlock interrupted the silence. He was ecstatic. There was a great deal to get ready before the next round of tests, and the questioning of his subject. A surge of glee at the way things were progressing rushed through him. Things would be very interesting in the morning. He grinned nastily to himself as he returned to his office to gather the things he needed.

'Beauty sleep?' Alex thought as he looked at his former boss with barely concealed contempt, 'wonder how long he'll have to sleep to achieve that? Forever wouldn't even begin to be sufficient.'

"Well now Alex dear boy," Spender said dispassionately, barely even looking up from the papers Graaf had left with him. " I think you also need your beauty sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long and very interesting day. I'll bid you good night. Sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite."

He patted Alex's cheek in a pseudo friendly manner before folding the papers, placing them inside his jacket and turning his chair and leaving.

Alex was alone again, alone with his thoughts. The panic he'd felt earlier was nothing to what he felt now. Any chance of sleep was now seemingly banished forever from his unquiet mind.

end of chapter 4

Chapter Five

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