Dissolution

It's Scully who nearly trips over my legs when she comes charging out of the motel room. I seem to have left my watch in the room as well as my wallet and keys, so I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but the moon has risen in the sky and is now much smaller and not quite so bloody.

I stand up, but I'm too late. Scully has already pulled the door shut behind her.

"What're you still doing here?" she asks. She's clutching her blouse closed, her pants are zipped but not buttoned, and her feet are bare. She does, however, have the keys to her car in the fist that isn't holding her shirt together. Scully apparently has more presence of mind than I do when fleeing a scene.

On the other hand, she's still wearing the blue collar. I wonder if she realizes it.

The cut on her chest must be seeping because I see a pinkish-red stain forming on the white fabric of her blouse. That's nothing, however, to the purple bruise that's beginning to bloom by her eye.

"Fuck," I say. "Don't tell me Mulder did that to you." I feel an unexpected stab of guilt. It was me that Mulder wanted to hit, not her.

Scully snorts. "You should see him," she says. She starts to walk away.

"You shouldn't walk across that parking lot in your bare feet," I say. I'm reluctant to let her go. After she's gone, I'll have to knock on the door of the motel room and face Mulder. It's either that or walk home. If I weren't afraid of drawing back a bloody stump, I'd ask Scully for a ride, but even I'm not that suicidal. I can tell she's not in a generous mood right now.

"What do you care about my feet?" she demands, turning back around to face me. "This is mostly your fault, you know."

"How?"

Scully takes a step back toward me. "It never fails to amaze me how innocent you can make yourself look. Things were perfect until you came along, complicating things. He wanted you, right from the start, and I hated it. I should have let him shoot you. I should have shot you myself."

Scully's words, which began slowly, now are coming out her mouth in rapid succession. Her face flames and again I think of fire, this time threatening to burn out of control.

"But instead I thought I could manage things," Scully continues, the plastic diamonds at her throat flashing as she tosses her head in agitation. "I thought I could exorcise you from him. Only despite every betrayal, he still wanted you. I think it made him want you more. That should have been my first clue to cut bait, but no, that would have been giving up, and heaven forbid I ever give up."

She takes another step toward me and I take a step back. I can't believe the things coming out of her mouth. It's as if the steel bands she's kept on her feelings have broken and everything is falling out. "Scully, you don't..."

"Shut up. Just shut the fuck up. Because of you I've done things that I can't bring myself to confess to a priest. And more than that..." A look crosses her face and then everything closes down. Her face is a mask and the door she keeps her emotions behind has slammed shut.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," she says, and turns around.

I catch her hand. "Tell me."

Scully tries to wrench free from my grasp. "You're just as bad as him. Or maybe he's as bad as you. You deserve each other. Doesn't matter, anyway. You've ruined everything."

Now I'm angry. I can't believe she's blaming me for her domestic problems. "What did I do? What the fuck did I ever do but follow orders? Yours, his, theirs?"

"Get a fucking spine," she says, her eyes flat. I can't read anything in them.

I yank her towards me until our bodies touch. My prosthetic arm holds her in place while my good hand pulls her head back by the hair. I kiss her, my mouth punishing her for that last remark. Under mine, her mouth trembles a bit, then she's kissing me back savagely. Her hands go to my head to pull it down closer to hers. Our teeth connect, lips are bitten, tongues fight for dominance. I don't know how long it lasts because as far as I'm concerned, time has ceased to matter. I could do this forever, fuck the rest of the world.

Scully pulls away first. The flat look in her eyes is gone and it's replaced by one of regret. "You could have been the right man," she says. "It was just the wrong time and wrong place."

I swear my heart stops beating. What's she trying to say? That under other circumstances, another ending might have been possible? I won't believe it. It hurts too much to think like that. "Wrong universe," I say.

"That, too," she says. She turns around and this time I let her go. She picks her way around the glass and litter scattered over the parking lot to her car. It's not far. She doesn't bother with the change of clothes stashed in the trunk, just starts the car and speeds away. I pity any cop foolish enough to pull her over.

When her car is far enough away that I can't see it anymore, I look instead at the moon. It's high in the sky now, and nearly silver. Before it looked close enough that I could have plucked it from the sky, but now it looks impossibly far away.

I sit on a plastic chair outside of a dive motel and think about aliens and the end of the world and the possibility of ever reaching the moon. I don't think about Scully, who even now drives farther and farther away. I don't think about Mulder, who waits in the hotel room. For now, it's easier to just think about the moon.

Scully said Mulder and I deserve each other. Maybe she's right.

When I have sat long enough for my ass to fall asleep and I realize that all the thinking about the moon in the world is not getting me my wallet or car keys, I stand up and go knock on the room door.

I hear a muffled, "Go the fuck away," from inside the room and something hard hits the door.

"Open up, Mulder. I need my wallet and keys." A couple leaving one of the rooms a few doors down looks my way. Both are startled by the noise I'm making and stare at me with open curiosity. I hunch my shoulders and pound on the door again. "Let me in, damn it."

The door is wrenched open and I fall into the room. Mulder grabs me, pulling me into the room, and slams the door shut in one motion. He throws me against the door, knocking my head against it. Just my luck, it's more solid than it looks.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now," he snarls.

I kick out and connect with his kneecap. Mulder goes down, taking me with him. My left side falls against the bed and the prosthesis is knocked out of place. I can feel it hanging loosely in my shirtsleeve as I hit the floor.

I swing out with my right arm and hit something hard and bony. Mulder's jaw, maybe, but I can't be certain. We roll on the floor, feet kicking and fists flailing, until we hit something solid -- the table, I think. Mulder ends up on top. He grabs me by the shoulders and hauls me sideways, banging my head repeatedly against what I'm pretty sure must be the table. At this point, I don't really care. I just want him to fucking stop.

I try to move, but I've lost momentum and Mulder outweighs me. It's possible that he'll kill me tonight, and it'd be a shitty way to die. I can think of so many better places and so many better reasons.

Mulder pauses his assault to catch his breath. "Well," he says, panting, "tell me why I shouldn't just kill you now."

"Go ahead, Mulder. Kill me. But do it because I've betrayed you, lied to you, or because I've sold you out before and I'll do it again if I have the chance. Don't kill me over this. None of us are worth it. It was just sex."

Mulder lets go of my shirt and I'm flooded with relief. It seems I'll get to live to see another day.

"No," he says. "It was never just sex." He sits back on his haunches. "Fuck, Krycek. You look like shit. Not so pretty now, are you?"

My left eye already is swollen shut and I can feel blood trickle from the corner of my mouth. Mulder seems to be past the point of violence for the moment, so I scoot back and sit up, leaning against the end table by the side of the bed. Scully's leash hangs down. I can feel it like a lump under my right shoulder. "My arm's come loose. You mind if I put it back?"

Mulder goes from his crouching position to sitting down on the floor. He waves his hands at me. "Go ahead. Be my guest." He cradles his chin in his hand. "I think you dislocated my fucking jaw."

If I had, he wouldn't be talking so much. Besides, he may have broken my arm. If he had any idea of how much a good prosthetic costs he'd probably feel bad. Then again, maybe not. This is Mulder I'm thinking about.

I have to unbutton my shirt to reset the arm, which I'm happy to find not broken after all. While I'm fiddling with it, Mulder leans back on his hands and looks at the ceiling. I suppose it's like me looking at the moon, earlier. He's trying to think of anything but what's just happened.

"I'm too tired for this shit," he says after awhile. "I'm tired of the whole goddamned thing."

I glance up, wondering if he's going to elaborate, and get a good look at his face. "Shit," I say. "She did a number on you. That can't all be me."

Mulder's face is covered with scratches. Some of them are just pink weals and others are crusted over with blood. Only Scully's nails, which are manicure perfect, could do that kind of damage. "No GQ for you," I say with a grin. The smile hurts and I let it fall.

"Nope," Mulder says and then is silent while I finish reattaching the arm.

When I'm done, I say, "So." I don't know what else to say so I stop there.

"So," Mulder agrees.

I'd laugh but I know it would hurt. "She said we deserved each other, you and me."

Mulder does laugh, and it must hurt like hell. Scratches all over his face crack open. "That's funny," he says.

"Well, yeah, but why do you think it's funny?"

"Scully said she wanted to do this for me. She wanted me to get you out of my system. She thought that me obsessing over you wasn't healthy."

"Are you obsessed with me?" I can't help but ask.

Mulder looks away and I think he blushes, but with all the scratches on his face, it's hard to tell. "When Scully gets an idea in her head, it's nearly impossible to change her mind. She became convinced that the only way for me to stop thinking about you was for me to make the fantasy become a reality. Then I'd be cured." Mulder lets out a snort of laughter.

I do the same, even though it hurts to do so. "So are you cured?" I ask.

"You don't understand," he says. "It was never about me. Never. It was you. She wanted you, for whatever reason." Mulder stops looking at the ceiling and turns towards me. "Maybe she was right, and I wanted you, too, because I agreed to her crazy plan. I found you and brought you to Scully's apartment and you did just what she said you would. I was betting that you'd figure out what was going on and run like the wind, but you didn't. You stayed. And you kissed me. That wasn't part of the plan."

I start to laugh because this is the saddest, funniest thing I've ever heard. "Oh, God," I say. I think back to that first night, and I see in retrospect how hesitant Mulder had been. I thought it had been acting, but apparently not. And then later, when it had been Mulder's turn, I remember how Mulder had cried out when I'd fucked him, how tight he'd been. It had been his first time. It had to have been. The insanity of it sweeps over me. But then I remember how he'd kissed me. Those greedy kisses, and how his lips had clung to mine. What's real and what's not?

"You liked it," I say.

Mulder goes back to looking at the ceiling. "Yeah. I guess I did."

"So what the fuck happened tonight?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine. Whatever, man." I look at the digital clock on the bedside table and see it's past three o'clock in the morning. There is no way I'm getting a cab in this part of town at this time of night. "It's late. You mind if I crash here for the night?"

Mulder shrugs. "I've paid for a whole night. Might as well. You'll have to share it with me, though."

"There's just the one bed. Do you mind? I don't want to sleep on the floor."

"I've had your cock up my ass," he says, and looks at me. While his tone is light, his eyes are filled with pain. Not, I think, for what we did, but something else. Maybe for why we did it. "I think we can share a bed."

"Good point," I say, and kick off my shoes. Then I laugh, causing more pain.

"What?" asks Mulder.

"I just put my arm on and now I've got to take it off again."

"Doesn't life just suck," he says. It isn't a question.

Even though it's incredibly late, I can't get to sleep. I keep thinking of what was supposed to happen this night, and what the ramification will be, and whether the phrase 'Mulder and Scully' will mean tomorrow what it did this morning.

Mulder and Scully. The Wonder Twins. Almost one entity. Always a pair, with a rapport so tight I thought nothing could crack it. Yet somehow I've come between them, and I'm still not clear on how. Mulder and Scully can't agree on it, either.

I wish I knew what the hell was going on.

"You know," says Mulder into the silent room, startling me, "I didn't even get to come." He laughs and I wince at the sound.

I turn to face him. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"I want you to make me not think about what happened for a while," he says. "Or can't you fuck me when Scully's not watching?"

I look into his face and can't see any expression, only dark hollows where his features should be. Things are less complicated in the dark. Pain is easier to hide.

"Oh, what the hell, Mulder. Once more for the sake of posterity."

Mulder lets out a snort of amusement then grabs my head and pulls my mouth down to his. We kiss, and when he allows me to pull back, I say, "Damn, that hurt."

"Good," he says, and kisses me again.

We fumble with clothes, pushing them aside and pulling them off as needs be. Mulder rolls on top of me and for a second I flash back to when he was trying to beat my brains out, but this time he's moving down my body, lips kissing and biting at my skin. He gets to my cock, which is aching by this point, and says, "I've never done this before."

"Huh?" I wonder what the hell he's talking about, then he takes my dick into his mouth. "Oh, Jesus."

For someone with no experience, Mulder is good at it. My hand curls into the sheet. When I come, Mulder swallows with no hesitation.

"I am a cocksucker," Mulder muses. "Where the fuck did we put the lube?" A quick search is done and the lube located. "Oh yes," he continues, pouring the liquid into his hand and then rubbing it on me. "I am a sucker of cocks. Well, one cock." He leaves the bed briefly to grab a condom.

"You don't seem too upset by it," I say, drawing in my breath as he pushes my legs up and I feel him begin to penetrate me.

"I don't know how I feel about it right now."

"You've always been a cocksucker, Mulder," I say. "Now it's just literal. Congratulations."

Mulder abandons any thought of finesse and shoves himself inside me. I think he means it to hurt, and it does, but it feels good, too. He seems to fuck me forever, and at first it's amazing, but eventually it gets to the point where I'm hoping it'll end soon.

"Mulder, damn it, just come," I say. My legs are cramped up to the point of agony and my asshole is sore. I'd like to take a shower and then finally sleep. If checkout time is noon, and I figure in time for a shower, that'll make seven, maybe eight hours of sleep. I think longingly of the luxury of it.

"I can't." It's almost a cry. Mulder pulls out of me and lies back down. "Oh, fuck me." I can't see to be sure, but I think I hear tears in his voice.

We lie, side by side, not speaking for several minutes. Then Mulder gets up and starts walking away. I should just try to sleep but my curiosity gets the better of me. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to take a piss. Then I'm going to do what I should have done in the first place. Jack off in the bathroom."

I see the bathroom light go on and then the door slams shut and the light disappears. I hear Mulder turn on the shower.

I'm so exhausted by now that sleep should come immediately, but I can't get the image of Mulder masturbating in the shower out of my mind. It's just too sad and pathetic. Not even Mulder, king of all assholes, deserves to have such a shitty night. I get up and go to the bathroom.

I'm blinded by the bright light in the small, white room, and my eyes don't want to adjust. I'm still stumbling around when I hear Mulder call out, "Just leave me the fuck alone. Is that too much to ask?"

I pull back the shower curtain and step behind Mulder. "Shut up, Mulder," I say.

"What do you want? Haven't you done enough?"

"I just want to go to sleep," I say. I run my hand over Mulder's abdomen, which is slick with soap, then curl my hand around his cock. I stroke him slowly at first, until his body starts to respond and he hardens in my hand. I bite his shoulder and my grip is firmer, the strokes faster.

"Oh, God, yeah," moans Mulder, and the sound reverberates around the room.

He braces his hands on the shower's tiled wall, his hips bucking against my hand, fucking it like he fucked first Scully, then me, earlier. This time, however, there is release. I hear his grunt of satisfaction, feel him soften in my grip, see his semen on my hand.

Mulder doesn't move when I withdraw my hand and rinse it in the shower's spray that is just now becoming tepid.

"Thank you," he says.

"Do you think you can sleep now?" I ask.

"Maybe."

I think he wants me to leave him alone, so I step out of the shower, dry off, and feel my way through the dark room to the bed. I lie down, and before I know it, fall asleep.

I wake to the gray light of morning, disoriented, the previous night coming back to me in slow waves. Beside me, Mulder is snoring, his face turned toward the wall. I get up and go to the bathroom to take a shower.

The hot water hits me, and I'm reminded of the previous night. As I wash, I wonder if Mulder will join me as I joined him last night.

He doesn't. I turn off the water when it becomes obvious that he won't.

When I come out of the bathroom, he's fully dressed and sitting on the bed. "I can't find one of your socks," he says, gesturing to the heap of my clothing that he's gathered by him.

"I'll live," I say. I dress, grateful and oddly touched that he'd do this small service for me.

Mulder removes the leash from around the lamp. "Do you want this?" he asks.

I shake my head. "God, no."

He drops it into the wastebasket without a word.

We walk outside to a humid, overcast morning.

"I don't envy you," Mulder says as he pulls the door to the room shut.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything."

We walk to our separate directions -- me to call a cab and Mulder to turn in the room key -- but Mulder turns around after taking only a few steps. "She's hard to love," he says. "I was never sure she loved me back." Then he gives me his back and walks away. I hear him say something else, but I can't quite make t out. It sounds almost like, "You'll see," but I can't be sure.

I wake to a handcuff being fastened on my wrist. I kick out with my feet and hit someone, throwing him back.

I hear a startled, "Oof." Not him. Her. Scully? I try to sit up and find that the other manacle of the handcuff is attached to the headboard of my bed.

"Scully, is that you?"

What is she doing here? It's been weeks since I saw her last. From all accounts she and Mulder are still joined at the hip, still a thorn in the side of my employers, still as sickeningly devoted to each other as they are to their quest for truth, justice, and evidence of aliens.

I thought that hellish last night the three of us spent together was only a minor blip on their radar screen, forgotten even before their wounds healed. But if that's so, then why is Scully here?

"You have many women break into your apartment and chain you to your bed?"

"You'd be surprised," I say.

Awkward as my position is, I manage to sit up. Scully is perched on the end of my bed. "I doubt it," she says. "You're the kind of man best kept on a short leash. Which reminds me. I came here to eturn something." She takes something from her pocket and tosses it at me so that it lands on my lap. It's the blue nylon collar.

"Scully," I say. "You shouldn't have."

"I was thinking that it might look good around your neck."

My heart beats faster. But there is a look to her face that is more desperation than desire. "What about Mulder?" I ask.

"His neck's too big."

"Cut the shit, Scully. You know what I mean."

She dangles the key before me from two of her fingers. "I've got you at my mercy, Krycek. You should be more careful what you say and how you say it."

I start manipulating the bones in my right hand, slipping my thumb out of its socket with a painful crunch. Then pull my hand through the manacle of the handcuff. I hold my thumb between my teeth and pull. The thumb settles back in place and I flex my hand to make sure everything is still working. It feels like a son of a bitch, but some lessons are worth the pain it takes to teach them.

I look into Scully's face to see her eyes are open wide. "I didn't know you could do that," she says.

"I would never have let you take me if I couldn't," I say. "It's not a coincidence that I'm still alive."

"Why did you agree to..." Scully makes a gesture with her hand, not able to put words to what she's thinking. "To do what we did?" she ends up saying.

"Because sleeping with the enemy is useful," I say. "And because I couldn't turn down the chance to fuck you. Or Mulder, either."

"So you're just Alex Krycek, Consortium Whore?" She looks disappointed.

I shrug. "I've been called worse things. Why are you here, Scully? Why isn't Mulder with you?"

"Mulder," She exclaims. "Is that it? He's what you wanted all along." She looks furious, but hurt, too.

"Scully, nothing's ever that simple," I say. "It's funny. You're jealous of Mulder. Mulder is jealous of me. See how fucked up things can get?"

"Who are you jealous of, Krycek?" Scully asks.

"Think about it. But first, tell me why you're here."

"I came to return the collar," she says, as if it's obvious.

"Wrong answer."

"What do you want from me?" Scully stands up in her agitation.

"The truth. Tell me the fucking truth," I shout.

"Since when do you deserve the truth?" she shoots back.

"Get the fuck out of my home." I won't deal with this. I keep thinking back to what Mulder said: "She's hard to love." Truer words were never spoken, especially not by him.

"What?" I guess Scully doesn't think that I'll actually throw her out of my apartment. I get off the bed and walk toward her to show her I mean it.

"Tell me why you came here and chained me to my own goddamned bed, Scully, or get the fuck out."

She's silent for a moment, considering her options, then says, "Mulder won't touch me."

We're getting closer to the truth. "So you came here because you thought I would? Was Mulder right? Are you that much of a slut?"

"No!" She lashes out with her hand but I catch it.

"Tell me, damn it. I'm not Mulder. I'm not going to let you lead me around by the nose."

"Because...because I want you." This is probably the most I'm ever going to get out of her. Just to admit that she wants me is near torture for her. But it's not enough. Not now, somehow.

"She's hard to love," Mulder had said. I can't get that out of my head. "She's hard to love."

I herd Scully out of my bedroom and through the apartment to the front door. "You don't want me, either," she says bitterly. "I don't know why I came here. I must have been insane."

I stop, push her against the wall, and kiss her. Her arms go around me and run up and down my back before cupping my ass. My erection pushes into her stomach and she has to know that of course I want her. I pull my head back, bracing my weight on the wall behind her. "Yeah, I want you, Scully. It's just not enough."

"I don't understand," she says.

"You told me to get a spine," I tell her. "Come back when you've gotten yours."

I think I see comprehension dawn her eyes, but maybe I'm just fooling myself. I hold the door open for her and she hesitates on the threshold before stepping through. She squares her shoulders, wrapping her fallen dignity back around her. I wonder if I'll ever see her again.

I hope that I'm doing the right thing. My cock wants to drag her back into the room and pull her down to the floor with me. My heart wants to hold her and tell her everything will be okay. Only my head stands firm, remembering Mulder's advice. "She's hard to love. You'll see."

I do. I see that now.

"Good-bye, Scully," I say, and then I close the door behind her.