Black Sea 
By Janus (janus@unbounded.com)
5/00

RATING: PG-13 for slash subtext
DISCLAIMER:  Chris Carter and 1013 Productions own Fox Mulder, Dana Scully
and the Well-Manicured Man.  They may think they own Alex Krycek, but I 
suspect they're in for a nasty surprise.  Not for profit; no copyright
infringement intended.
SPOILERS:  The Movie (if you haven't seen it, this won't make much sense).
Tunguska/Terma, TRATB, The End.
ARCHIVE: A.S.S. only 
SUMMARY:  A sequel to "Belyore More."
AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This is a work-in-progress.

*	* 	* 

I've heard night described as pitch-black before, a worn cliché in a hundred 
gothic novels.  But you can never know pitch-black until you've felt it seep 
from your eyes, crawl between your ears, ooze from your mouth.  I know it 
intimately.

I thought we had won.

So I've returned to the past.  Sometimes I think I fight the past, while 
Mulder believes he fights the future.  But in reality, our roles are 
reversed.  Mine is the kingdom, and the power and the glory of the future, 
while Mulder longs for the virgin sister of his ancient past.  

But his past and his sister have been cloned, over and over.  His past is 
legion.  His past is nada.  It's all nada & pues nada & nada y pues nada.  
Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name... 

"You're still delirious from the drugs," the nurse tells me.  "You're 
babbling in Spanish now.  I like when you speak Russian better.  Say 
something romantic in Russian."  Her face still holds the roundness of youth,
and she has a clear Aussie accent.  She's barely stupid enough to be cute.  
Hopefully, I won't have to hurt her.  I can see I've fucked up big time.

"Where is he?" I demand.

"Where is who?"  She asks innocently. 

If my only arm weren't strapped to an IV, I'd shoot her without a second 
thought.  She found him in my bed last night, when his nightmares had freaked
him out and he'd come to me.  Not to Scully.  To me.  "Alex," he'd whispered 
over and over.  "We've won, haven't we?"  

I narrow my eyes and give the nurse a look that has made stone-cold killers 
pee their pants.  

"He's still here," she says quickly.  "In his room.  He's with three geeks 
and a big bald guy.  They came this morning.  They wanted to handcuff you to
the bed, but I told them it would disturb the IV."  She looks at me 
suspiciously.

Three geeks and a big bald guy.  Skinner and the conspiracy freaks.  Who 
else?

"And the redhead?"  I ask.

"She's fine.  She has some ice burns on her face, but no permanent damage."

"Thanks.  You're okay, kid,"  I say, in my best Bogey imitation.

The young nurse giggles.   Too bad, because I know that at the very least, 
I'll have to truss her up and dump her in the WC.  No matter what type of 
truce Scully and Mulder and I declared out on that glacier, Skinner isn't 
letting me walk.

TO BE CONTINUED...