Title:  Fleeing the Great Bear

Author:  Waddles52

Rating:  PG 13

Classification:  MT

Spoilers:  Fill in the blank for Terma.  Brief 

mention of The Host and End Game.

Summary:  We didn't get to see how Mulder managed to 

escape and make his way back to civilization.  This 

fic is my take on that.

Disclaimer:  Not for profit.  Just for fun.  Since 

this episode had such a gaping hole in it, I felt it 

was my duty to fill it in.  I did borrow some of the 

dialogue from Terma, written by Frank Spotnitz and 

Chris Carter.

Archives:  Please ask, but I usually say yes.

Thanks:  To Lisa for the beta and the title and to my 

husband for putting up with me while I watched and 

rewound my video a kazillion times to get the opening 

scene just right.









The big, bearded man kicked the door open and threw 

the defenseless man into the simple hut where he 

landed in an undignified heap on the floor.  "This 

son of a bitch ruined my truck!"  The man shouted 

vehemently in Russian, disgust and anger evident in 

his voice.



A woman quickly moved from the table where she had 

been reading by the light of a kerosene lamp and 

helped the unexpected visitor stand and make his way 

to the table where he slumped into a chair.  "Be 

careful with him.  He's hurt."  The woman admonished 

the man, her gentle hands checking him for injuries.



Fox Mulder caught his breath and was thankful that he 

had at least been thrown into a building, allowing 

the slightest bit of warmth to seep into his body in 

many hours.  He was surprised to be there at all.  He 

had been sure that the irate truck driver would take 

him directly back to the gulag as soon as he had been 

pulled from his hiding place under the dead leaves on 

the forest floor.



The bearded man continued to speak as the woman 

fetched their visitor something to drink.  "We can't 

keep him here.  They're looking for him."



"You shouldn't bring him here if you don't want me to 

take care of him."  The woman looked at the shivering 

man sympathetically as he drank greedily from the tin 

cup.



"He's not staying!"  The man walked outside and 

angrily slammed the door.



"Kak va za voot?"  The woman kindly asked what his 

name was as she began to examine the wound on his 

head.



"No Russian."  Mulder shivered.



"American?"



"Tell your husband I'm sorry about his truck."  Pain 

and exhaustion were evident in his voice.



She examined Mulder's arm, lifting his sleeve to 

reveal the needle puncture site.  It was red and 

inflamed and had been a source of agony since he had 

awakened in his cell with the memory of the black oil 

pouring onto his face.  "The test?"



"Yeah."  Mulder was relieved that she could speak 

English.  He shivered again.  Even though they were 

inside there was very little heat.  He could see 

their breath in white swirls as they spoke.



She sighed and shook her head.  "They kill everybody 

for the test."



"Why don't they kill you?"



"My husband makes deliveries.  They spare our lives, 

but now . . .no truck . . .he is afraid."  The woman 

seemed almost apologetic as she answered.



"I have to go now."  Mulder knew he must leave and 

soon.



"No."

  

"They'll come looking for me.  They'll come looking 

for you."  The FBI agent knew he was a danger to 

them.  He didn't know how far he would get in his 

present condition, still reeling from the effects of 

the test and the truck crash.  Throw in a little 

exposure and he was feeling decidedly ill, but the 

safety of this kind woman was more important.



"No, there are other ways."



Mulder's tired mind couldn't grasp what she was 

saying.  "I don't know what you are talking about.  

What other ways?"



"Grisha!" the woman called.  A haggard looking young 

boy of about 13 entered from the back room, his shirt 

tied in a knot below the remains of his left arm.  

"No arm.  No test."



Mulder gasped, his eyes growing wide with horror.  

"Dear God, no!  That poor boy," he thought as he 

tried to come up with the words to make her see.  

"You don't understand . . .these tests.  The smallpox 

scar on your arm is some kind of identification.  You 

have to help me escape.  I'll help you escape.  You 

have to help me get to St. Petersburg."



The door crashed open and Mulder spun around to see 

the truck driver standing in the doorway, a large 

knife in his hand.  A look of fear passed over the 

American's face as the man fingered the weapon.



He made his way over to Mulder and threw the knife on 

the table.  "Since you have stolen my livelihood, my 

protection," he spat,  "It is only right that you 

should also be the one to take my arm."



Mulder's face registered shock.  He shook his head no 

despite the pain that lanced through it. 



"Yuri, no!"  The woman scrambled from her chair and 

embraced him.  "He can help us.  Please give him a 

chance."  She led him to the table where he sank into 

a chair, defeat etched in his features.



"What is your name, American, and what can you do to 

get us out of this hell hole?"



XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX



Mulder rested on the rickety bed in the back room, 

wrapped in a thin blanket thinking that he would 

never feel warm again.  They had dined on a watery 

vegetable stew and the black bread that was common to 

the area.  Though much better than the roach-infested 

gruel at the gulag, it had still fallen short of 

filling him up.  These people led a hard life made 

even more difficult by the fear forced upon them by 

the conspirators and their experiments.



He shivered again as he heard Anna and Grisha 

gathering the meager supplies they would be taking on 

their hastily planned journey. Yuri had talked a 

friend into transporting them as far as he felt he 

safely could in his battered, old, pick-up truck.  

From there they would have to walk a fair distance 

until they could catch a train into St. Petersburg.



Yuri came in, urging them to hurry.  Mulder took that 

as a signal to haul his weary body from the bed.  His 

head was pounding, whether from plain exhaustion or 

the tests he had no idea.  He was only aware of the 

relentless pain behind his eyes and an ache in every 

joint in his body.  He stumbled and was surprised to 

find Yuri quickly at his side, steadying him as he 

tried to catch his breath.



"American, come.  We must hurry.  The sun is going 

down and it is best to drive at night.  Bring the 

blanket.  We will be riding in the back of the 

truck."



Mulder wearily followed him out to the truck where 

Anna and Grisha were already squeezed into the cab.  

Yuri climbed up into the bed of the truck and 

extended his hand to Mulder.  He gladly took it and 

sank onto the pallet that had been arranged in the 

bed of the truck.  He closed his eyes and Yuri 

pounded on the grimy back window.  "Pavel, let's go.  

The Quadavitch family is leaving this hell hole!"



Mulder heard the roar of the engine and felt the 

truck bounce over the rough terrain, rattling his 

battered and abused body.  Despite the discomfort, he 

was sleeping before they had gone a mile, hoping not 

to dream of the black oil on his face crawling into 

his nose and eyes, a deep shiver going through him at 

the thought.



He awoke with a start when he realized the truck was 

no longer moving.  It was daylight, probably late 

afternoon he judged, noting the position of the sun.  

He had been asleep for almost twenty-four hours!  How 

was it that he still felt so weak and tired?



Yuri climbed into the bed of the truck.  "American, 

come.  Pavel must go home now and we must walk to the 

train station.  Get your blanket and follow me."



Mulder did as he was told, dizziness nearly knocking 

him to his knees when he jumped off the truck.  Once 

again, Yuri was there to steady him.  "We must walk 

until the sun goes down.  Are you able?"



Mulder nodded yes wearily and followed Yuri into the 

forest where Grisha and Anna waited.  They rose when 

the two men entered the small clearing.  Without 

another word they began to travel west.



When it was almost dark Yuri finally called a halt to 

their trek for the day and Mulder was grateful.  He 

slid to the ground beside a huge tree and propped 

himself up with the trunk as a backrest, feeling the 

last ounce of strength leaving his body.  The FBI 

agent could only remember one other time when he was 

this exhausted.



Waking up in the hospital in Alaska had been 

catalogued with his good memories.  Scully had been 

by his side and he recalled the huge smile plastered 

on her face when he finally came out of the coma.  

They shared a few words before he was overcome with 

unbearable fatigue.  Now, he was experiencing that 

same feeling without Scully and her smile.  Oh, how 

he missed her!



"American!"  Mulder's thoughts were interrupted when 

Yuri pushed a hunk of bread into his hands.  Next 

came a jug of water.  He drank greedily and once 

again rested against the tree, picking off small 

pieces of the bread to eat.  He was almost too tired 

to swallow.  He put the bread in his lap and a small 

groan escaped before he could even think about 

stopping it.  Anna was immediately at his side, her 

soft, warm hand taking his in concern.  With his eyes 

shut for a second he could almost believe.



"Mulder?"



"Mmm."  He couldn't get his mouth to work.  All his 

body knew now was the relentless pain from his head, 

his aching joints and the fire of the injection site.  

He wrapped the blanket tightly around his body as he 

shivered, more from his fever than the cold.



"Drink this," Anna ordered, putting a small jar of 

clear fluid in his trembling hand.  He tilted it up 

and swallowed a small sip, surprised at the liquid 

fire traveling down into his stomach.



Vodka!  Very strong vodka!  He began to choke and 

sputter, then relaxed as a warm feeling took over his 

entire body.



"Thanks," he managed as Anna felt his forehead.



"You have fever."



Mulder shook his head in agreement.  That effort cost 

him as shards of pain sliced through his head.



"Another swallow."  Anna pointed at the jar of vodka.



He complied, this time managing to get it down 

without choking.  With shaking hands he returned the 

jar to her, amazed that he hadn't spilled it.  He 

watched as the kind woman spread a blanket on the 

ground and beckoned him to lie down.



Mulder accepted her invitation and moved over to the 

pallet.  Surprise registered on his face when she sat 

beside him and began to massage his temples.  Yuri 

and Grisha looked on knowingly as he began to relax 

under her ministrations.  Soon the pain was more 

manageable and his eyes began to close, the vodka 

still warming him from the inside helping to wash 

away some of the discomfort.



XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX



If he thought he was tired the night before, he 

quickly realized how wrong he had been.  After 

walking since dawn with only a few brief stops, he 

found a whole new meaning to the sensation.  Yuri 

called a halt when the train station came into view.



"American, we'll catch the first train out, but we 

will probably have to wait until morning.  Do not 

talk out loud.  You'll draw attention to us.  Just 

pretend to be ill and let Anna take care of you."



Mulder nodded carefully.  He wouldn't have to act.  

He was ill.



The station was small, furnished with six long 

benches.  Anna motioned for him to lie down and put 

his head on her lap.  She whispered to him soothingly 

in her native tongue as Yuri and Grisha went to 

purchase the tickets.  "We had a few coins saved and 

Yuri begged our friends for the rest.  We have good 

friends," she smiled as she switched back to English.



"I'll repay you when we reach St. Petersburg," the 

exhausted man whispered back.



"Rest.  We still have a long journey on the train."  

When she looked down the man's eyes were closed.  She 

felt sorry for him, but he'd been lucky to escape.  

He would be weak and ill for a while from the 

testing, but it could have been much worse.  Many 

died the first time.



Anna couldn't help but wonder what would become of 

them when they reached St. Petersburg.  She hoped she 

hadn't been wrong in trusting the American.  



After Yuri and Grisha returned with the tickets, Anna 

left Mulder to find a place of her own to sleep on 

the hard bench, first making sure he was as 

comfortable as possible, careful not to disturb him 

as she moved.  She needn't have worried.  The 

American slept the sleep of the dead.



XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX



Where had the nighttime hours gone?  Once again 

Mulder found that he had slept straight through and 

still felt like hell when he woke up.  He looked 

around, hoping to locate the facilities, and found 

Yuri pointing outside, a huge grin on his face.  The 

truck driver motioned for him to follow and Mulder 

soon found himself outside facing the foulest 

smelling outhouse in the world.  The flukeman and the 

sewers of New Jersey paled in comparison.  Yuri 

motioned for him to go first and the FBI agent soon 

found himself inside, vomiting everything that he had 

put into his stomach since the gulag.



The nausea had been threatening off and on since the 

gulag, and the heaving of his stomach brought the 

headache back full-force.  Explosions of pain burst 

behind his eyes.  Weakness finally overtook him and 

he sank to his knees, still vomiting.  Mulder felt a 

large pair of hands on his shoulders, holding him 

steady.  Yuri!  Who would have thought that the 

angry, tough truck driver image was really a cover-up 

for a kind, compassionate man?



When the stomach spasms eventually stopped, the 

Russian helped the federal agent to his feet and 

practically carried him to the train where Anna was 

pressed back into service as a nurse.



"You must seek a doctor when we arrive in the city," 

she ordered, reaching to feel his forehead.



"No," Mulder answered softly, trying to make himself 

comfortable in their private car.  Thank goodness 

Yuri and his friends had enough money to splurge on 

the last leg of the trip.



Anna rummaged around in her bag and came up with some 

water.  Mulder turned down her offer and pulled the 

blanket around his shoulders as tightly as he could.  

His stomach began to roll again and he swallowed, 

barely managing to keep it under control.



The shivering began in earnest again as the train 

blew its whistle and began to slowly build up speed.  

A doctor in St. Petersburg was beginning to look 

better and better.  "How long . . .Petersburg?"  A 

particularly violent chill shook him, taking some of 

his words.



"About 30 hours with many stops," Anna supplied.  

"Sorry, but it's the only train available."



"Don't apologize.  It's fine, better than I expected.  

Would've died . . .without . . .help."  Little black 

dots began to swim in his vision, followed by a 

roaring sound in his ears.  Mulder knew that feeling.  

He managed to choke out a strangled plea for help 

before he slumped over, landing limply in Anna's 

arms.



XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX



The train was still moving but the motion wasn't 

bothering him as much as it had at first.  His mouth 

felt like it was full of cotton and the injection 

site on his arm was sending out sharp pain signals.  

The ever-present headache seemed to have improved a 

bit.  He decided to try and sit up but only managed a 

pitiful groan when the pain assaulted his joints.



"Mulder, you mustn't try to move."



The agent managed to pry his eyes open and found that 

his head was once again in Anna's lap.  "What 

happened?"



"You passed out.  Your fever has been very high.  How 

are you feeling now?"



"A little better."



"Yuri searched the train for a doctor and found one 

in the next car.  He said you have to drink.  You 

have an infection in your arm and something with your 

head, a cushion, I think."  Anna looked exasperated.  

"My English . . .sorry, I don't know all the words."



"It's fine.  The word is concussion.  Must've got it 

when I crashed the truck."



"Mmph."  That was evidently still a sore point with 

Yuri.



"The doctor put an injection in your hip and left 

these tablets to take."  Anna shook a white tablet 

into her hand from a small envelope.  "He says it is 

most important to take them.  Without . . .you could 

lose your arm or worse."



Since he didn't like either alternative, Mulder took 

the pill and drank a good portion of the water that 

was offered by the Russian woman.



"Now, rest.  We still have many hours before we reach 

the city."



"Yuri, thank you."



"Don't worry about it, American.  Just be sure to 

carry out your end of the bargain."



"I will."  Mulder's eyelids began to droop and no 

amount of effort on his part could keep them open.



Later Anna once again expressed her worry about 

Mulder to her husband.  Yuri admitted that he was 

worried too, not only for the man's health but also 

for their own well-being.  If the American was unable 

to help them, the little Russian family was stranded.  

There was no turning back.



His wife chided him for thinking that way.  "He is a 

good man.  I can feel it."



Mulder shifted in his sleep and moaned, but didn't 

wake up.  Anna felt his forehead once again.  "His 

fever is still high.  Look in my bag, Grisha.  I need 

a handkerchief.  Yuri, would you soak it with water, 

please?"



She took the wet cloth from her husband and began to 

bathe Mulder's pale, sweat soaked face.



"Sc . . .Scully?"  He appeared disoriented as he 

looked around.  "Where?  Scully?"



"Shh, you're safe, Mulder.  We're on our way to St. 

Petersburg."



"Anna?"



"Yes, it's Anna.  How are you feeling?"



"Feel bad . . .cold, thirsty."



"Yuri will get you some more water."  She continued 

to bathe his face until her husband handed her a 

water bottle.  "Here, take a few sips."



Mulder tried to raise his head and found that he was 

too weak to manage it.  Yuri reached over and held 

him up while Anna tilted the bottle so he could 

drink.



"Thanks."



"More?"



"Not now."



"How is your pain?"



Mulder took a quick inventory and found that there 

wasn't much improvement.  "Same . . .hurts."



"You should rest some more.  We are about half-way 

there and you will need your strength when we reach 

the city."



"Our money is almost gone.  We will have to walk to 

your embassy," Yuri supplied, watching his wife 

minister to the stranger.



"'Kay, I'll make it."



"Yes, you are a strong man to escape the gulag, but a 

little more rest wouldn't hurt," Anna decided.



Mulder agreed.  He was going to need a lot of rest 

just to make it off the train.



Several hours later Anna shook Mulder awake.  "It is 

time to take more medicine."



He made a face but dutifully took the tablet and 

swallowed almost half a bottle of water.  "Thanks.  

How much longer?"



"Maybe ten hours.  You still have time to rest."



Mulder shook his head no and pushed himself up.  "I 

need to sit up for a while."  He looked around and 

saw that Yuri and Grisha were gone.



"My men were restless.  They went for a walk."  She 

reached up to feel the agent's forehead.  "Your fever 

is better."



"I feel a little stronger," he volunteered, flexing 

his left arm with a wince.  "Still sore, but 

improving."



"That is good.  Have you thought . . .what your plans 

are when we reach the city?"



"If you have enough money for a pay phone I can make 

a call, get us some transportation."



"We have enough," she assured him, rubbing his 

shoulder in a comforting, yet familiar way.



He found her world-weary eyes and held them with his 

own.  "Anna, I know you're worried, but I wouldn't 

lie to you.  I can get someone to help you start over 

in a different place."



"America?"



"I can't promise that, but somewhere nice where you 

won't have to worry about the tests."  He hoped there 

was such a place.



"How will we support ourselves?"



Mulder was forced to smile at her persistence.  She 

reminded him so much of Scully.



"You'll take on new names and identities.  A job or 

training will be provided, but until you're ready to 

make it on your own you'll receive assistance in the 

form of food, money and transportation."



Anna looked relieved and her eyes held a flicker of 

hope, but she was still curious.  "Do you think I 

could become a nurse?"



He gave her a tired smile.  "I don't see why not.  

You're a natural."  The agent's voice was getting 

weaker, the conversation sapping his strength.



Anna quickly recognized his distress.  She took him 

by the shoulders and helped him ease down until he 

was flat on his back once again.  "Sorry," he gasped.



"You say sorry too much."  She tucked the blanket 

around him and smiled.



"Sor . . .right, I do."



"Rest now."



XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX



Mulder woke to the sounds of anguished screams.  He 

attempted to look around, to figure out where he was, 

but found that he was unable to move.  Something was 

pressing down on him, holding him in place.  The 

wails grew louder as a black substance began to drip 

from a pipe above.  Shit!  He was back at the gulag!  

What had happened to Anna and Yuri?  He found himself 

praying that they would leave Grisha alone.



A drop of the black, oily substance landed on his 

nose.  He tried to avoid the liquid, struggling 

against the chicken wire holding him in place to no 

avail.  Soon his screams joined with the others.



Something heavy clamped onto his shoulders, forcing 

him to open his eyes and see what new torture was 

being inflicted on him. His vision was blurry due to 

the black oil that had fallen into his eyes, but he 

thought he could make out several figures.  They were 

talking but sounded far away.  His heart racing, 

breath ragged in his ears, he forced himself to 

listen to what was being said.  Someone was shaking 

him and he tried desperately to avoid his grasp.



"Nononono!"



"Wake up! Mulder! You are worse?" Yuri questioned, 

quickly withdrawing his hand upon seeing the sick 

man's distress.  His eyes were wild, his breath 

labored, obviously somewhere else entirely.  It 

wasn't too difficult to guess what dreams held the 

pale American in their grip.



Mulder took a few seconds to orient himself before he 

answered.  "Bad dream."  He pushed up from his 

reclining position, tearing away the blanket that was 

cocooning his body.  He wiped the perspiration from 

his face with a corner of the cover.  "Hot."



Yuri handed him a bottle of water.  "Don't drink too 

much.  That is the only bottle left."



Mulder took a couple of gulps and screwed the top 

back on.  "Where's Anna?"



"With the boy trying to buy some food."



Mulder nodded his understanding and suddenly felt 

uncomfortable when he found Yuri staring at him.



"Yuri, what's wrong?"



"You told Anna she could be a nurse.  That has been 

her dream since she was a girl.  You do not tell her 

lies about that?"



"No, Yuri.  I didn't lie.  If that's what she wants 

to do I'll make sure she has a chance to go back to 

school."



"I'll hold you to that.  She has made many 

sacrifices.  Too many.  It is time for her to have a 

good life."



"I couldn't agree more," Mulder assured him, lying 

back against the seat with a sigh.



The door began to open and both men tensed, expecting 

the gulag goons to have found them.  Both sighed in 

relief as Anna and Grisha walked in.  He held several 

sandwiches in his remaining hand while Anna brought 

up the rear bearing oranges.  The men smiled and made 

room for the scavengers.



The sandwiches were simple fare, some kind of fruit 

preserves on buttered bread.  The oranges were a true 

delight.  Plump and juicy, they were just sweet 

enough to leave them wanting more.



"Sorry, but I had to keep back money for the phone.  

I couldn't afford more."



"That's okay, Anna," Mulder smiled.  "We'll have a 

good meal in St. Petersburg.  This will tide us over 

nicely."



"How are you feeling?  The fever is better?"



"Yes, I think so.  My arm feels better and I don't 

ache as much."  He made an effort to stand up but 

sank back weakly.



"Guess I feel worse than I thought," The FBI agent 

sighed and tried to regain his footing once again.  

This time Yuri was there to steady him.



"You need the restroom?"  The big Russian had noticed 

Mulder's fidgeting while they ate.



"Yes, I do."



"Then I will go with you in case someone tries to 

speak to you.  Your Russian is not good."



"My Russian is non-existent," Mulder grinned.



"I was trying to be polite," Yuri grinned back.



The walk through the train helped to clear some of 

the cobwebs from his head.  Though still somewhat 

weak, Mulder realized that he was feeling much 

better.  The fever was gone and the joint pain was 

just a dull ache.  He winced as he moved his left 

arm.  It was still pretty painful, but bearable.  

Right now he'd almost kill for a shower, but that 

would have to wait.



When they returned to their compartment, Grisha began 

to ask Mulder questions in halting English.  Shy at 

first, after a few minutes the Russian youth was 

bombarding him with inquiries about food, sports, 

clothing and any other thing he could think of 

concerning his new life.



"Grisha, I hope you get to live in the Washington, 

D.C. area because I'd really like to take you to some 

college and professional ball games."  The FBI agent 

smiled kindly.



Grisha nodded his approval then a wistful look took 

over his features as he looked at what remained of 

his arm.  Mulder noticed the change of expression and 

could tell that the boy was thinking of all the 

activities that he could never experience.



Before saying anything else, Mulder took a few 

moments to choose his words carefully then decided 

that he didn't need to be so cautious.  His father 

had left the major portion of his estate to him and 

he would make it happen,period!  A warm feeling 

spread through his chilled bones at the thought.  

Something good would come of this whole, evil mess if 

nothing else. 



"Grisha, as soon as you get settled, no matter where 

you live, you will be the owner of a new, state-of- 

the-art prosthesis."  There, his promise was out in 

the open.



The little Russian family looked confused.  Although 

their conversational English was quite good, their 

vocabulary was rather limited.  "What that means is 

that Grisha will have the finest artificial arm 

available."



The looks of confusion turned to cries of joy as Anna 

hugged Mulder tightly.  Yuri clapped him soundly on 

the back while tears of happiness flowed from 

Grisha's eyes.



Mulder noted sadly that it was the first time he had 

seen them truly happy since he had met them.  He 

hoped that he could be responsible for keeping that 

grin on their faces.  That money was just sitting 

around drawing interest.  It was only right that his 

inheritance should be used to help right some of the 

wrongs his father had caused, even if the older 

Mulder hadn't been directly involved.



"Mulder, you're sure?" Yuri asked cautiously.



"You have my word," Mulder promised solemnly.



The next few hours were spent resting.  Mulder first 

listened to their excited chattering in Russian then 

nodded off.  He felt someone gently shake his 

shoulder, rousing him.  "Wake up, Mulder."



The tired traveler yawned and stretched as Anna's 

face came into focus.  "What?  Is it time?"



"We will be there in about an hour," Anna informed 

him.  "How are you feeling?"



Once again he took stock of his physical state.  The 

omni-present headache had faded to a dull throb 

behind his eyes.  Once so stiff and sore that every 

bounce of the train had caused intense pain, his 

joints were almost back to normal.  No fever, chills 

or nausea could be detected leaving only one more 

area to analyze, his left arm.  After cautiously 

flexing it, the American smiled.  "Everything is much 

better.  Thank you for taking care of me.  I think I 

would have died if you hadn't taken me in and nursed 

me back to health."



"Perhaps it wouldn't have been that terrible on your 

own, but we were happy to assist."



The last hour of travel was spent planning what he 

would say to his United Nations contact, Marita 

Covarrubias.  Normally able to make his wishes known 

to others quite easily, Mulder realized that the 

wellbeing of his rescuers depended on his ability to 

convince his contact that they deserved asylum.



XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX



Mulder leaned back and relaxed for the first time in 

days.  Of course, the luxurious limousine made that a 

lot easier.  He opened the bar and looked over the 

offerings.  Settling on bottled orange juice, his 

thoughts went to the Quadavitch family.  They were 

traveling in another fancy car heading for a 

different embassy.



Even though his U.N. contact had promised eventual 

relocation in the United States, she felt it would be 

much safer to split up at the train station.  He 

sighed and twisted the cap off the orange juice and 

drained it in a few swallows.  He really needed the 

Vitamin C after his adventures.  Disposing of that 

bottle, he quickly searched the bar for another.  His 

illness had left him slightly dehydrated and his body 

was demanding that its fluids be replenished.  The 

cold liquid went down easily.



Hopefully it wouldn't take him too long to reclaim 

his ID and passport from the American embassy.  

Mulder's body was reminding him of the lack of proper 

food, water and sanitary conditions that he had 

suffered through over the past few days.



Krycek entered his thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome.  

He vowed to find that son of a bitch and punish him 

for all the indignities he'd suffered since his 

arrival on Russian soil and after that he'd punish 

him some more for killing his father and the part he 

played in Melissa's death and Scully's abduction.



Scully.  How he missed her.  He couldn't wait to get 

back to D.C. and give her a hug, grateful that he was 

still alive and had two arms to do it.  There was so 

much to tell her.



XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX



Three months later Mulder entered the basement office 

after raiding the snack cart upstairs.  Scully hung 

up the phone as he laid a bagel in front of her.



"That was security, Mulder.  It seems that you have 

some visitors," Scully stated.



"Oh?  That's odd.  No one ever visits me.  Did the 

officer give a name?"



"He said it was the Smirnoff family and they spoke 

with heavy Russian accents."



Mulder's eyes lit up.  "Scully, come with me.  You've 

got to meet these people.  They're the ones who 

literally saved my life in Russia.  My contact came 

through and managed to get them to the states and get 

them new identities."



"I'd love to meet them, Mulder."  Scully rose from 

her seat and pulled on her jacket.  "I'd like to 

thank them for bringing you back to me."  She smiled 

broadly and cupped his left cheek with her hand, 

savoring his beautiful eyes and smile, realizing how 

close she had come to loosing him yet again but for 

the kind people they were about to meet.  Several 

emotions sifted through his gaze and then she smiled 

again



Mulder paused then opened the door for her.  Their 

hands met unconsciously, the light pressure of her 

squeezing his hand suddenly made his face break out 

in a smile too.  "I'm so glad they did."



The agents made their way to the elevator, Mulder 

gently guiding Scully with his hand at her back.







End