Copyright:  Thursday, March 10, 2005 06:04:50 PM         PARADISE ISLAND ATLANTIC OCEAN EARLY AFTERNOON - DAY 5               "Why are you doing this, Krycek?"           Mulder awkwardly clambered up over a fallen log, and cursed his rotten luck. He should have listened to his instincts! If he’d been firm with Penny, and sent her up the mountain before Krycek had found their cave, he wouldn’t be in this predicament! Now he couldn’t make a single move against his hated enemy without endangering her life.           "Why am I doing what?" Krycek retorted. Despite having only one arm for support as he struggled up the steep hillside, he was barely winded. "Keeping you alive--again?"           That question had already occurred to Mulder several times during their long, clumsy uphill trek. Krycek could easily have killed him at Mount Weather. Instead, he’d helped Mulder escape from supersoldier Knowle Rohrer. Today he’d caught them completely off-guard. Yet instead of shooting them, he’d only taken them prisoner, and questioned them.           Was the Syndicate more clever than he’d realized, to guess that survivors from a plane crash several hundred miles away could wind up on this isolated little island? Had he and Scully inadvertently triggered some hidden alarm they’d left behind on the island?           "That’s why you took this assignment, isn’t it?" he probed. "To kill Scully and me?"           Krycek’s dark eyes glittered with hatred. "You know damned well I’m not working for the Syndicate anymore," he grated. "Not after everything they’ve done to me!"           The rogue agent’s bitter answer confirmed Mulder’s suspicions. Heedless of the risk, he deliberately sank down on the log to catch his breath. The longer he could stall Krycek, the better were Scully’s chances of escaping.           Besides, Krycek had answers to all the burning questions whirling through his mind. Keep him talking, his inner voice urged. Give him the chance to gloat over capturing you. He may relax enough to let something important slip.           "Then why are you half-killing yourself over a cave full of prehistoric spores?" he urged. His wrists were chafed beneath the coarse rope, but he ignored the pain and brushed a damp lock of hair from his eyes. "They look impressive, I’ll grant you that--but they’re hardly worth all this effort you’re expending!"           Krycek hauled himself over the log, and perched on a thick branch several feet away. Scully’s 9mm was tucked in his wide leather belt. He casually rested his good hand on its handle as he leaned back. Waiting.           Damn it, Krycek knew what he was trying to do! Mulder gritted his teeth in silent frustration. How could he even the odds, before something terrible happened to Penny?           The young assassin favored him with a derisive half-smile. "There’s a lot you’ve never known about me." He hesitated, then wryly confessed, "I really did enjoy working with you all those years ago, you know. Even if everyone did keep foisting me off as your gofer! It was fascinating, watching how your brain worked, seeing how you could draw conclusions from so little data! And you were always right in the end, no matter how far-fetched your theories sounded at first. That was the most amazing part of all!" He shook his head in bemused respect.           For just a moment, Mulder could see a trace of that fresh-faced young graduate in Krycek’s world-weary eyes. It was irritating to realize how much that brief glimpse affected him. "What does that have to do with the spores?" he demanded.           Krycek’s smile thinned. "Surely you’ve formed some theories about the spores by now, Mulder!" he mocked. "That’s what you do best, isn’t it? And you’ve been in the cave. They’ve done something to you, I can see it in your eyes. Don’t you realize yet what they’re capable of?"           By now, Scully must know that he and Penny had been captured. She’d always been able to sense when he was in danger. Had contact with the spores strengthened that innate awareness? Was that what Krycek saw in him now?           Get the hell out of here, Scully! he fumed, glancing up the sun-dappled hillside to focus his urgent mental plea. I’ll delay him as long as I can!           "I know they can heal wounds," he admitted, flexing his bandaged leg. Keep him talking! "And they glow. But that’s not unusual for subterranean life forms. There are phosphorescent fish and mosses that..."           "Cut the crap, Mulder," Krycek interrupted, scowling. "None of them can do what these spores can, and you know it. Healing a cut is just the beginning! You and I were both exposed to the black oil. You got off lucky." And he cast a baleful glare at Mulder’s muscular arms. "Now it’s my turn to even the score."           "How?" Mulder challenged, tensing. "By cutting off my arm this time?"           Krycek’s answering chuckle was grim with bitterness. "Satisfying as it might be, that won’t help me, will it?"           "My God!" Mulder stared at him in stunned amazement. "You think the spores can regrow your missing arm? That’s impossible, Alex! Even they can’t do that!"           The young operative ignored his incredulous outburst. "I could have killed you the moment I saw you," he reminded Mulder, waving his hand toward the distant beach. "I could have killed your pretty little friend. Ask yourself, why am I sparing your life again? Why am I protecting her?"           Mulder met his mocking smile with a stony expression. "I figured you’d kill me where there were no witnesses," he countered.           Krycek bit back another sardonic laugh. "I’ve hated you every single day since you dragged me to Tunguska," he scowled. "But I can’t kill you. Like it or not, Mulder, you and I are allies--thrown together by fate, you might say."           A feverish light glittered in his dark eyes, and he urgently clenched his fist. "Only a handful of the people infected with the black oil have survived. You, me, Scully and Marita, a few unlucky wretches back in Russia. And of us all, only you and I have this incredible chance to become more than we ever could be!"           Keep him talking! The Syndicate knows the truth about those spores. He knows! Pump him for all the information he’ll give! If he’s right, and the spores do have such incredible capabilities...           "And that would be what?" Mulder retorted. "The chance to play Superman? Forget it, Krycek! The hours are long, the pay is lousy, and the fringe benefits are nonexistent. Clark Kent doesn’t even get to kiss the girl when it’s all over! Thanks for the offer, pal, but I’ll pass!"           Krycek simply stared at him in blank surprise. "You still don’t get it, do you?" he marveled. "Those spores are lyékarstva savyérsheniy--the most incredible organism ever engineered on this insignificant planet. They’ll cure any ailment that humanity has ever known. Cancer, leprosy, leukemia and multiple sclerosis--those are only the beginning! And for those of us who have already been exposed to the black oil, Mulder, the spores are supposed to have an incredible bonus effect!"           Manic intensity transformed his youthful face into something almost frightening. "I know how Dr. Barnes’ artifacts affected you," he confided. "Before he died, Kritschgau told me that you’d gained the ability to hear anyone’s thoughts. Imagine being able to regain that unique power, without the trauma that nearly killed you! The entire world would be yours!"           A harsh burst of laughter escaped Mulder before he could suppress it. "Been there, done that!" he scoffed. "That was no gift, Krycek--it was a slice of hell! You want to experience it for yourself, you have my full blessing! But you can leave me out of the equation, and out of your power-hungry scheming! I don’t want any part of your ‘power.’ I have enough problems of my own."           They stared at each other in angry silence for several long moments. Then the zealous passion faded from Krycek’s eyes, and he seemed to shrink in on himself. "I already have more power than you can possibly imagine, Mulder. And what good has it done me?           "Do you know what they did to me?" he whispered, a tormented darkness haunting his youthful face. "They strapped me down right beside your pathetic half-brother, Jeffrey. They infected me with the black oil, then cut me apart, without anesthetic, to see what made me tick--to learn why I’d survived when so many others had died. And then they put me back together again--but not the same as I was.           "Do you know what they did to me, Mulder? Do you know why I was at Mount Weather when you tried to infiltrate their security systems?"           Comprehension prickled up and down Mulder’s long spine like icy fingers. "Jesus! They turned you into a supersoldier, didn’t they?"           Hatred twisted Krycek’s face in a hideous grimace. "They turned me into a living nightmare!" he snarled, smashing his fist against the log. Wood splintered and flew in a wide swath. "I’ve risked my life a hundred times, trying to destroy every alien and Bounty Hunter I could find--and this is how they repay my loyalty and hard work!"           Mulder stared at the deep crater beneath Krycek’s fist, and felt a giant knot clench inside his chest. He’d fought supersoldiers before. They were virtually invincible. Deadly. Unstoppable.           And yet...           Twice now, Krycek could have killed him. Effortlessly. Why was he still alive?           Slowly he looked up at his treacherous young enemy again. "What is it you really want, Krycek?"           The younger man’s resentful gaze seemed fastened on long-distant memories. "He promised me everything. Your job. Your power. Your respect. Even..."           Suddenly he stopped, and jerked his gaze away.           "My partner?" Impotent rage flooded through Mulder’s veins. "You wanted Scully, too? And you believed him? You really believed that black-lunged bastard would give her to you, no questions asked?"           Without warning, Krycek grabbed him by the throat, and hauled him off the log. "I’ve wanted to do this to him for years!" he snarled, lifting his struggling enemy higher, until Mulder’s feet were dangling several inches above the ground. "And then I’d squeeze..."           Mulder’s face turned an ugly blotchy purple as Krycek’s powerful fingers tightened around his larynx, cutting off his air supply. He struggled frantically, kicking and swinging his rope-bound arms, but to no avail.           Suddenly Krycek released him, and watched impassively as Mulder fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for breath. "Now I finally have the power to make him suffer," he scowled. "And our illustrious government already blew him to smithereens in the Anasazi ruins. So it’s all been for nothing, hasn’t it, Mulder?"           With a gentleness totally at odds from his previous violence, he reached down and lifted Mulder to his feet again. "What do I really want?" he echoed, sadly shaking his head. "My humanity, Mulder. I want the right to live and die in my own way, in my own time. They took that from me, when they turned me into a goddamned Superman.           "The spores were placed here to protect humanity from the black oil. I believe they may be able to cure me."           Deep sorrow and a million unspoken regrets shone in his dark eyes as he pulled a sharp knife from his belt sheath. Mulder tensed, anticipating the fiery burst of pain as it was plunged into his heart. But to his surprise, Krycek merely cut the ropes binding his hands, then soberly returned Scully’s 9mm.           "You and I might never have been on the same side, but we’ve both fought for what we believed in," he informed his stunned adversary. "I followed my orders, just like you followed yours. And believe it or not, we both had the same goal in mind--to save the rest of humanity from a fate quite literally worse than death."           Mulder stared down at the lethal weapon cradled in his hands. "You’re setting me free," he murmured. "Just like that."           Krycek began to laugh. Dancing lights sparkled in his eyes, stripping away the weighty burdens from his young shoulders. "You never fail to amaze me, Mulder!" he chuckled. "Maybe that’s why I’ve always admired you, even when I’ve hated you the most. Your insight is always so perceptive, it’s uncanny as hell. Downright spooky, if you’ll pardon the pun."           Mulder shoved the 9mm into his holster, and glared at his young captor. "We are not on the same side, Krycek," he warned. "We never have been. And we never will be."           Krycek batted at the ever-present swarm of gnats buzzing around their heads, then politely gestured up the hill. "That’s where you’re wrong," he replied. "Now let’s get going. My men tend to get impatient when I’m not there to keep an eye on them, so we don’t have long." • • • • • •           Someone was watching them. Scully hated the uncomfortable sensation. How many times had she felt unseen eyes tracking her every movement--and how often had those unnerving forebodings proved accurate?           Yet curiously, she sensed no malice, no hostility or danger. And she’d felt it, she suddenly realized, ever since she and Mulder had left the spores’ cave.           Those glowing spores might be an unknown quantity, but they did seem to possess some form of rudimentary sentience. A group-mind intelligence, like bees or ants, that responded to direct stimuli?           So how could they possibly be keeping watch over her now? And even more bizarre, how could they be forging the uncanny link that allowed her those occasional brief glances through Mulder’s eyes? Were they actually protecting her somehow, as Mulder had claimed? If only she could be sure that they were protecting him, too!           Had he glimpsed her cautious trek over the mountaintop, just as she’d seen his awkward struggle up to the spores’ cave with Krycek in close, deadly proximity? Could he feel her momentary mental touches, or was he oblivious to her fear and anxiety?           Watch your back, Mulder! she silently urged. Krycek can’t be trusted, no matter how sincere he might sound!           How well they both knew that!           Without thinking, she touched the back of her neck again. Krycek had been responsible for her kidnaping nine years ago, and for the traumatic damage inflicted upon her by the Syndicate’s Axis-allied scientists. He was ultimately to blame for her near-fatal battle with cancer, and her inability to conceive a child normally.           He’d destroyed a vital part of her life. And he’d never showed the slightest trace of remorse.          Her vindictive half cried out for revenge. Her sensible half remained keenly aware that time was slipping away fast. She needed to find safe shelter for her companions before sundown.          Furtively she edged forward, and peered through a ragged line of weeds. That steep hillside was treacherous. Could they navigate it safely, when they were all so tired?           Spray was already soaring up through the narrow blowhole she and Mulder had climbed the other day. No safe haven there. But what about the hole she’d glimpsed further down, between those two long spurs of rock? Did it extend deeply enough into the striated cliffs to shelter them overnight?           Warily she crept back up to Reuben’s side, and outlined her plan. "I need to investigate, to make sure it’s safe for us," she explained. "If it runs deep enough..."           "It does!" Max interrupted, his young face alight with excitement. "I went inside, that day before the big storm hit. It’s huge, absolutely perfect for us!"           Scully forced her leaping pulse back under control. "Once the tide rises, Krycek and his men will never be able to find us!" They’d be trapped inside until morning, of course--but if they couldn’t get out, the assassins couldn’t get in. Better to miss a few meals than to die at Krycek’s callous hand. If they could reach the hidden refuge safely.           She surveyed the craggy cliffs with a practiced eye. The high-tide mark was clearly visible several feet above those two long, rocky spurs. Slippery strands of kelp waved back and forth in miniature pools between worn shale slabs. They looked like wind-blown fields of brownish grain, as incoming waves lashed the rough boulders with increasing force.           One misstep could send any of them plunging down into the roiling waves, to be sucked under by the fierce undertow.           A huge column of spray soared up, showering them with cold mist. The tide was rising fast. They were running out of time. "I’ll go first," she instructed. "Esther, you wait five minutes, then follow me. Reuben, you and Max do the same."           Without another word, she crept out of the scraggly grass, and cautiously zig-zagged down the hazardous slope. Esther and Reuben clasped anxious hands, while Max held his breath in fearful anticipation. At any moment, a gun’s sharp report might send her tumbling into the churning waves. What would happen to them then?           The ocean’s loud roaring remained unchallenged as she nimbly rounded the corner, shimmied past Mulder’s blowhole, and splashed down into the long channel of weathered stone. The waves were already deeper than she’d expected, surging coldly around her hips. She grabbed an outcropping to steady herself, then peered into the shadowy cave mouth. Slick rock tilted sharply out of the foamy water, and disappeared up into darkness. She hoped the rising tide wouldn’t flood the cave’s hidden interior.           Bits of shale skittered over the edge and splashed into the waves a few feet away. Forewarned, she turned just as Esther slithered feet-first into the icy channel.           It might not have been the most graceful of landings, she conceded as she wrung water from her dripping hair. But at least the old woman was safe. She cut Esther’s stammered apology short with a comical half-grimace, and pushed her toward the low entrance. "I’m fine! Now hurry, before the water gets any higher. And watch your head!"           Another frothy wave crashed over the rocks. Esther yelped in dismay as the undertow caught at her long skirts, and dragged her backwards a few steps. Then she floundered up the slippery incline, and ducked into the concealing darkness.           Reuben and Max were already sprinting down the hillside. Scully jumped back just in time to avoid another impromptu shower, and hurriedly waved them inside.           Darkness enfolded her as she squelched up the rocky slope, and she fought back a shudder of revulsion. Hadn’t she trekked through enough gloomy caves this week?           Then her eyes widened in amazement. Max had been right--the cave was huge! And it wasn’t dark inside, either! Thin shafts of sunlight were streaming down through narrow fissures in the sloping ceiling. The rocky floor and walls gleamed with humidity. Sparkling bits of mica reflected the weak light, making every surface shimmer with silvery fire.           An ancient high-tide mark extended about three feet up the sloping embankment, but the weaving seaweed border was dry, desiccated. It crunched under her shoes as she ventured forward, staring around in bemused wonder. Clearly she didn’t have to worry about flooding, not even during bad storms.           Max couldn’t have found them a better hiding place!           Were Mulder and Penelope faring as well? Scully shivered again, and clasped both arms around her soaking ribs. If what she’d ‘seen’ was true, and not just a feverish delusion brought on by contact with those mysterious spores, Penny was being held by one of Krycek’s thugs. How could they possibly hope to rescue her, when they were trapped down here?           Max suddenly appeared by her side. "So what do you think?" he boasted in a soft whisper. "These catacombs must extend all up and down the coast. The entire hillside is riddled with them!"           The teenager’s new-found confidence would have been amusing, if their situation hadn’t been so dire. "It’s impressive," she conceded with an approving smile. "You did well!"           Now that he’d drawn her attention to the far walls, she could see the darker shadows of a dozen passages leading further into the island. Had it been volcanic at one time, after all? But that simply didn’t make sense. The rock and soil were totally wrong. Unless long-term exposure to the spores had changed them somehow, too...           "I didn’t get a chance to explore half the passages when I was in here the other day," Max added, interrupting her troubled introspection. "Shall I take a quick look down the rest, to make sure there are no other entrances? We wouldn’t want them to sneak up on us!"           Some subtle nuance in his voice made Scully’s nerves prickle with alarm. But it should be safe to let him explore a little, if he was careful and stayed quiet. Much better than having him go stir-crazy from being trapped underground! "All right," she decided. "Just don’t go too far."           Max’s eyes seemed to glitter in the dusky shadows. Then he pointed toward one of the passages on her far left. "I saw some snakes down there. Maybe I ought to take along that big knife you found, just in case. If we get really hungry tonight, dead snake’s better than nothing."           Scully shuddered with revulsion. She dreaded the prospect of eating raw snake. But they couldn’t possibly start a fire in this damp cavern and hope to remain hidden. Maybe Reuben could devise some clever way to prepare it without fire, though. He could probably turn old shoe leather into high cuisine fit for a king!           Sighing, she reluctantly pulled the Russian bayonet from her belt. "Be careful, it’s very sharp," she cautioned. "I’ll want it back when you’re done hunting."           Max nodded again, and slid the knife into his waistband. Then he was gone, and she heard the light patter of his footsteps fade away into the dappled shadows.           Reuben and Esther were resting against a nearby wall. Scully made sure they were comfortable, and took heart from their gentle teasing banter. Then she made a slow circuit of the chamber, searching for signs of any previous visitors.           Thousands of tiny diamond flecks winked at her as she passed through a narrow beam of light. Mulder would love this place, she mused, a wistful smile curving her lips. It would appeal to his adventurous side.           She touched a sparkling patch with one hand. The glittering fragments were surprisingly warm under her curious fingers.           Suddenly a damp footprint several feet down the nearest tunnel caught her attention, and she straightened. "Max?" She was sure she’d heard him head down a different corridor. Had he doubled back without her knowledge?           You’re slipping, if a half-grown boy can outwit you, her inner voice mocked.           But what would Max need to hide down here?           Prickles of alarm raced along her spine as she followed his tracks up the dimly-lit sloping tunnel. It narrowed steadily until, like the impetuous teenager she was tracking, she was forced to turn sideways and squeeze through its narrowest section. Logically she must be deep under the hillside by now, yet faint sunlight still streamed through minute cracks just over her head. She tried not to think what would happen if that thin layer of rock overhead fragmented and crashed down.           The light ahead seemed to intensify as she silently hurried forward.           Not another cave full of spores!           No, the brightening golden glow hinted more of sunlight than phosphorescence.           Suddenly she knew, and her blood ran cold. "Max? Where are you?"           There was no answer to her urgent call. Scully began to run.           The tunnel dead-ended in a small oval chamber. Dazzling sunlight was cascading through a jagged hole in the ceiling. She skidded to a halt, and blinked in pain as her eyes adjusted to the brilliance.           Thick masses of lush green vines were tumbling through the hole and clinging to the far wall, softening its angular lines. Some of the leaves were brown and wilted, as if careless hands had tugged at them recently, ripping them from their sturdy stems. Others were freshly broken, just starting to ooze clear sap.           The boy’s footprints were clearly visible in a fresh mound of damp soil piled near the wall’s base.           Scully gritted her teeth in angry frustration.           Max was gone.