Mayday 2: Succor

When Mulder returned to work on Wednesday, his scratchy throat and lingering cough only helped his case as far as his bogus alibi went. Every time he coughed, he'd think of Krycek...Alex, leaning over him with a scary- looking syringe. And he'd get a feeling of warmth all through him.

As the workdays trudged by, he began to second-guess his memories of those few days on the glacier. After all, he had been feverish through almost the whole ordeal. Perhaps his perception of everything had been warped. He couldn't quite convince himself, though, that Alex hadn't said and done the things he'd said and done. He couldn't quite believe, upon reflection, that he'd said and done the things *he'd* said and done. But he knew in his heart that he'd meant them. He'd meant them then, and, when he wasn't trying to convince himself otherwise, he meant them now.

Sometimes he'd hear a step in the hall outside of his apartment late at night and watch the door, frozen, waiting...maybe even hoping...for Alex to take him up on his offer. But the pounding in his throat would subside, and he'd swallow and lean back into the couch, as night after night, it wasn't him.

Until the night that it was.

He was sprawled on his couch watching one of his tapes on the Loch Ness Monster, scratching his bare stomach and tucking his fingertips into the waistband of his jeans, when he heard a shuffling in the hall. He quickly looked up at the door, then down at his watch, then back up at the door. He felt like a dog waiting for the return of its master, but he couldn't help but stare at the peephole, as if he could see through to the other side from his position across the foyer and living room. It was three o' clock in the morning. An odd time for his neighbors to be up and about. But it wouldn't be the first time, and he swallowed against the pounding in his throat and breathed shallowly, waiting.

And he heard a low, quiet sound. Not a knock; more of a bump. His lips parted on a gasp and he was standing before he'd made the choice to do so. He hurried to the door and looked out the peephole, but he could see nothing except the far wall of his hallway. He frowned, retrieving his gun from the desk before returning to the door. He flipped off the safety and turned the knob.

The door pushed its way open, and Mulder stepped back as a body fell over the threshold of his apartment. He knew it instantly.

"Alex!" he gasped, crouching over the still form. He looked up and down the hallway quickly to see if anyone had either seen or dumped the body on his floor, but there was nothing but the low buzz of the light fixtures. He tossed his gun to the side and dragged Alex the rest of the way into his apartment before shutting and locking the door behind him. He went to his knees beside the still-unmoving form.

Alex was lying half on his side, half on his stomach, face against the floor. He was wearing his leather jacket and what looked like expensive dress slacks and a silk shirt, all black. The black hid the blood from Mulder for a few moments until he began to run his hands over the body, feeling for a pulse at the neck. By the time his fingers got to the pale flesh there, they were smeared with blood and left a smudge against the slight ridge of the carotid artery. Which, to Mulder's utter relief, thrummed with sluggish life. He frowned at the red on his hands and gently grabbed Alex's shoulders, turning him onto his back.

The prosthetic was gone, the sleeve flopping uselessly. One eye was blackened and the lips a bit torn and bloody, but it wasn't nearly as bad as Mulder would have expected, given the copious amounts of blood in the fabric of Alex's shirt. That much blood could not have come from Alex's battered mouth. Mulder braced himself and pushed the halves of the jacket to the side, reaching with trembling fingers for the buttons of his shirt. It was wet and sticking to the skin of Alex's chest. Mulder's eyes narrowed. Was it even Alex's blood? His slippery fingers worked at the buttons, trying to determine that.

Oh, dear God, Alex.

The cuts still seeped blood, though it was hard to tell through the thick film of it that covered his chest. It was impossible to tell how many cuts there were. It was obvious they'd not been made impulsively, though, lying neatly parallel all down one side and then the other. The top cuts looked to be self- sealed with dried blood, the bottom ones still pouring it fresh down his abdomen to pool against the waistband of his slacks before soaking in.

Mulder got to his feet quickly and went to the bathroom, snatching up an armload of towels. He carried them back to the foyer and dumped them on the floor, then picked one up and shook it out, laying it over Alex's chest and trying to wrap it tightly. He couldn't get enough tension in the fabric. He swore and rose again to get his first aid kit.

It was very well-stocked, both because Mulder was always in need of some quick doctoring, and because his own personal physician, Dr. Scully, kept it stocked herself. It wasn't a small white plastic box under the sink. It was an oversized duffle bag with a Nike swoosh down one side. He hauled it into his foyer and began digging through it.

He found some self-sealing elastic bandanging and set it on the floor. He reached for the top of Alex's jacket and carefully began to remove it from his mutilated torso, wincing. He worked quickly but carefully, finally pulling the jacket and shirt off in one final move. He saw the aborted remains of Alex's arm. It seemed so naked and sad and frightening with its thin layer of drying blood. He was sorry for having this complete access to Alex's body, sure that Alex would be embarassed to show himself to Mulder. He turned away from the arm and back to his task.

He began running the bandage around the lower half of Alex's torso, grimacing as he had to shift the slack body side to side to push the tape underneath. There were small, round wounds on Alex's back. Fresh ones. Burns. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw immediately ached. He wrapped and wrapped and wrapped, sweat tickling down his brow and dripping off the tip of his nose, until he could see only tiny patches of red seeping through his work. He knelt back and wiped the perspiration from his forehead, shuddering. Alex had not made one sound, one move the entire time Mulder had been working over him. He checked the pulse at his throat again and sighed when it beat gently beneath his fingers. He needed to check the rest of Alex's body. But first he had to call Scully.

He got his phone from the desk and walked back over to Alex, standing at his side as he dialed. Three rings later, Scully's yawning voice answered the phone.

"'Lo?"

"Scully, it's me. I need your help."

"Mulder?"

"Yeah. I need you come over to my apartment. I have someone here who needs medical attention right away." Mulder's heart pounded, the fear of telling Scully who it was almost outweighing the fear of not getting Alex medical attention quickly enough.

"Who is it, Mulder?"

"Just bring everything you'd need for a torture victim, Scully," he rasped and hung up.

He felt bad about keeping Scully guessing like that, but he didn't have time to do any explaining. He figured once she'd seen the state Alex was in, that his explanations about why he might have shown up here were more liable to fall on sympathetic ears. Scully didn't like to see anyone hurt. Not even Alex Krycek.

Mulder knelt beside Alex again, putting his phone on the floor. He reached up to the waistband of the fashionable black slacks and carefully unbuckled the slim leather belt. His hands were dry from having handled the bandages, but they were still shaking slightly and quickly becoming sweaty again. He felt his stomach roll at the thought of what he might see beneath the fabric of the slacks. He could already tell the thin, fine fabric was sticking to Alex's legs in places and could see where darkness had seeped through the black pantlegs. He took a deep breath and unbuttoned and zipped the pants.

Black silk boxers underneath, which, despite the deplorable conditions under which he was finding them, caused his eyebrows to arch and his lips to part in surprise. Alex had certainly been dressed to the nines for something. He soothed himself with the faint rising and falling of Alex's bared abdomen as he worked the pants down his hips and thighs.

Welts. Open, crusted ones criss-crossing the pale flesh to the point there was more welt than unmarred flesh. Mulder felt a sharp pain in his lip and realized he was biting it hard enough to draw blood. The welts didn't all wrap completely around Alex's legs, and Mulder gently stroked against the unmarked patches of skin, murmuring, "No, no, no." He had hit Alex, sure, but he'd never hurt him. Not really. He hadn't given him any more than he'd ever given one of his buddies when they'd get drunk and end up squaring off over something stupid. That someone would do this to his...that someone would do *this* just clouded his mind with red rage.

The welts weren't bleeding, being shallow and swollen, but the silky slacks were stuck to them in several places all the way down. As Mulder continued pulling the pants off, breathing harshly, he saw that the welts extended all the way down Alex's shins and under his socks. He pulled off the black dress shoes and socks and saw that his feet were thoroughly marked as well, even the soles covered with swollen pink-red ridges that had to be agony to even touch, let alone walk on. He felt the tears well for the first time.

Alex lay before him on the floor naked now except for his boxers. Mulder sat back and brought his hands to his mouth, rocking just slightly, unsure what to do next. He didn't want to think about why he wasn't removing the boxers. Alex could be hurt *there*, too, and his mind marshaled up more than one reason to be more horrified about that than he had been over the other wounds.

It was, after all, a man's most vulnerable area of the body. Just the thought of pain inflicted there could make a grown man blanch. He'd seen the victims of sex crimes and those cases always left him with an empty stomach. Now pair that with the fact that he had touched this body...held it...made love to it, and he didn't think he'd be able to keep from sobbing if they'd done anything there. He could already see where the welts licked their way up under the legs of the boxers, marking the soft, white skin of Alex's inner thighs up as high as Mulder could see. He shook his head, his hands clawing uselessly at the wood of the floor.

He heard the light tap at the door right beside him and jumped slightly. Then he let his breath out in a rush of relief, realizing Scully was here. She would know what to do. She would take care of Alex. She would make him better again.

He scrambled to his feet and opened the door without checking the viewhole, only realizing his stupidity as his little partner stepped in past him, carrying a bag smaller than his own medical kit. She knew he was well-supplied here, after all, and had only brought the things she wouldn't leave with him, such as surgical implements, syringes, and various prescription meds.

He closed the door quietly behind her and turned to find her standing stock- still, staring down.

"Alex Krycek?"

He could hear the pity, revulsion, confusion, and irritation all blending together in her voice, making the one question weigh as much as anything Mulder'd ever borne.

"Yes," he said simply.

Scully raised her brows sky-high, waiting for an explanation, but when none was immediately forthcoming, she lowered herself beside the body and got to work. Mulder stood and fidgeted, watching her nervously as her delicate, efficient fingers took inventory of Alex's injuries.

"What's beneath the bandages?"

"Cuts. Dozens of them. Shallow, long cuts placed evenly down both sides of his torso, about an inch apart."

"My god," Scully said softly. "Mulder, go get me something I can use as a washbasin and some wash cloths. We need to get him cleaned up and see if any of those cuts require stitches."

Mulder nodded, his brows drawn up almost in an inverted 'V'. He brought in a dishpan full of warm water along with several clean, white wash cloths. He laid them beside his partner, who was shining a penlight into Alex's eyes.

"He doesn't appear to have a concussion," she murmured, putting her gloved fingers on his battered lower lip and pulling it down. She shown the light in there as well. "A lot of blood...looks like a tooth was knocked out." She reached over and dipped the corner of one of the cloths in the water and swabbed out the inside of Alex's mouth gently. "The tooth doesn't appear to be in here anymore," she stated, placing the red-tinged rag to the side. "He either spit it out or swallowed it."

Mulder nodded, running his tongue along his own teeth unconsciously.

"Was he unconscious when he arrived?"

Mulder nodded. "He just kind of...fell into my apartment. I don't know if someone dropped him off against my door or if he got here himself."

Scully nodded. "Well, as good a job as you've done wrapping him up, Mulder, we need to take these bandages off and clean him up. Can you help me?"

Mulder nodded and got to his knees once again at Alex's side. Scully began unwrapping the elastic bandaging, handing the end to Mulder under the small of Alex's back to make the task go more quickly. Mulder watched Scully's eyes narrow, her lips pursed, as Alex's lacerated chest was revealed. "Animals," she murmured, peeling away the last layer, which was sticking to the blood and edges of cut flesh. She placed the bandages to the side and picked up a wash cloth, dipping it into the warm water. She began to pat the wet cloth over Alex's chest, removing the blood as best she could so she could estimate the extent of the damage.

Mulder pushed towels up against either side of Alex's torso to catch the bloody water before it pooled on his wooden floor. Scully switched cloths twice before very gently blotting Alex's chest dry. Some of the cuts were still sluggishly oozing blood, and she placed a dry washcloth over the lower half of Alex's torso.

"Hold that there. The cuts don't look deep enough for stitches. I'm just going to tape them."

Mulder wordlessly placed his hands on Alex's chest, holding the cloth in place while Scully gathered what she'd need from Mulder's medical kit. She sprayed Alex's chest with antibiotic, then quickly and efficiently taped all of his cuts closed. She then washed down his legs with Mulder's help, sprayed those, and the both of them carefully covered the fronts of Alex's legs with ointment.

"Let's turn him over," Scully said. "These welts continue on the backs of his legs as well."

Mulder nodded again, feeling somewhat sick as he remembered the cigarette burns he'd caught glimpses of as he'd wrapped Alex earlier. Scully formed a bit of a hammock with the towels, and with Mulder's help, gently flipped Alex onto his front, careful to keep his head positioned safely. As Alex's broad, pale back came into sight, they both gasped.

There were no welts. Those had been confined to his legs, and, upon Scully's further inspection as Mulder sat back and blushed, to his buttocks. No, whomever had done this to Alex had chosen to confine his treatment of Alex's back to multiple cigarette burns, again, in a carefully symmetrical arrangement. Mulder couldn't help but count them.

"Twenty-six," said Scully after a moment, in a voice so soft it was more of an exhalation than anything else. She sighed and picked up the last of the wash cloths, dipping into the now-cooled water. She carefully blotted Alex's back, then dried it, then sprayed it, finally handing Mulder a tube of ointment, wordlessly requesting his assistance in applying it to each of the twenty-six burn marks.

Mulder couldn't help but flinch as they covered the wounds with the gel. When every burn was gleaming with ointment, Scully prepared a small, square bandage for each and taped them on precisely. She then sat back on her heels, wiping the perspiration from her brow.

"I don't think even the two of us together can move him," she said with a frown, brushing an errant lock of hair out of her eyes. "But he really needs to be lying on something softer than your floor." She said this with a bit of a frown, which to Mulder made it seem as though she was only very begrudgingly thinking of Alex's higher comfort level.

Mulder nodded, getting to his feet, knees popping in the silence of the early morning. "I'll bring in a mattress. We can get him onto that, at least, then drag it into the living room."

"Good idea," said Scully, placing her medical supplies neatly back into hers and Mulder's bags.

Once they had Alex on Mulder's mattress and lying in the middle of Mulder's living room, Scully sank into a chair with a heavy sigh. Mulder got them both coffee, and as they sat and sipped it, looking down at their patient, Mulder's anxiety level rose higher and higher, awaiting the confrontation.

"What's he doing *here*, Mulder?" Scully looked up at him over the rim of her mug, hands curled around it in a self-comforting gesture.

Mulder sighed heavily. "I...told him that if he ever really needed help to come to me," he answered quietly.

"When?" Scully's brows arched as high as her voice.

Mulder sighed again. "I saw him, Scully. Several weeks ago. In Alaska."

Scully's lips parted in surprise. "Alaska? When were you in Alaska?"

"When I took my sick leave," said Mulder, tired of the secret.

She looked down at the man on the floor, and Mulder followed her gaze.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I didn't...it really wasn't..." Mulder trailed off as Scully's ice-blue eyes pinned him. He sighed deeply. "I was going after an alien incubated in a dead body," he finally said somewhat embarassedly.

Scully's brow arched.

Mulder tried to put off answering her unasked questions for a few more minutes, then decided he wanted it all out in the open. He breathed a few times, unconsciously matching his rhythm to that of the man on his mattress, somehow soothed by the quiet respirations.

"I got an email about it Thursday morning. I left Friday morning. But when I got up there, someone had been there before me."

"Krycek," said Scully, already piecing the story together.

Mulder nodded. "But I didn't know that at the time. I tracked him to this cave...but I couldn't tell who it was, yet. I waited outside until I thought he was asleep, then snuck in and put a gun in his face." Mulder stopped and swallowed, feeling a slight flush creep up his neck. He really didn't like having to share this humiliation. But Scully was leaning forward, anxious to hear what Mulder had to say. He cleared his throat.

"I was...sick, I guess, and really tired. I sort of...he got the jump on me and knocked me down. I woke up in his sleeping bag." Mulder's voice had gotten very, very quiet at the end of that explanation.

Scully gaped at him openly. "Sleeping...bag?"

Mulder's sigh filled the silent apartment. "He took care of me, Scully. I was very sick, and he gave me his food, his...vitamin stuff...his medicine...and his sleeping bag."

"Mulder, didn't you have a sleeping bag?" Scully's disapproval was very apparent. Mulder grimaced inwardly.

"I did, but...it was really cold, Scully, and...he didn't know I had my own bag and...Jesus, Scully. He saved my life. Twice. I saved his once. Then we went down the mountain and parted ways."

Scully stared at him. Mulder shifted, not really wanting to get into anything more. Especially all the things they'd talked about. Or dear God what they'd done. He wasn't sure of the accuracy of his own perceptions or memory of that time, anyway. He decided that for now, their conversations, imagined, embellished, or true, would stay in his own head. As for the rest of it...there was no way he'd even let himself *think* of divulging what had happened between them. He wasn't even sure himself now that he was warm and dry and safe.

"And you told him you owed him, and he could come to you if he needed help," she finished, gesturing to their patient with a quick flick of her head.

Mulder nodded.

"Mulder," Scully began, using that sanctimonious doctor-voice. God, Mulder hated that voice. He felt his nerves grate in anticipation. She continued. "He's manipulating you. You know that. He's most likely under *orders* not to kill you, and he figured he could use your time in Alaska to manipulate you and gain your trust. Who knows what he has planned?"

Mulder's eyes narrowed slightly in irritation at the way she gave him no credit at all for being a passable judge of character.

"Whatever it was, I don't think it involved cutting, whipping, and burning himself twenty-six times with a cigarette," he said quietly, looking back down at Alex.

"Be that as it may," replied Scully coolly, "his plan seems to have worked. You took him in, Mulder. And it sure sounds to me like you're at least considering trusting him."

"I never said that," replied Mulder defensively. "But...look at him, Scully! He's a mess! You're the one who patched him up. You must have some pity for him, too."

"I'm here because you asked me to be," said Scully with a quiet sigh. "You wanted me to help him, so I did."

"You wouldn't have helped him if he'd come to you like this?"

"He wouldn't have come to me, Mulder."

"That's not the point."

"I would have helped him, yes. I'm a doctor. I took an oath. Then I would have called the police and had him taken in. Is that your next course of action, Mulder?" Her voice let him know she already knew the answer to that.

"You wouldn't have called me?" asked Mulder, evading the question.

"Sure, after I had the police on the way," answered Scully, not meeting his eyes.

"Scully...he wouldn't live a day in custody. Remember Cardinale."

"Oh I do, Mulder. I do, believe me. It was *my* sister he killed, in case *you* don't remember."

"Scully, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. I just meant...well, do you really want him dead?"

He watched as Scully chewed on her full lips, uncharacteristically barren of lipstick at this early hour. He waited, letting her make her own decision. He had already made his.

"No, I suppose not," Scully said dejectedly. "That's not enough justice for him."

Whatever, thought Mulder. At least she doesn't want to kill him. It's a start. "Then we'll have to take care of him ourselves," he said quietly, leaning forward and giving her his full attention. "Will you help me?"

Scully stared at the man on the floor, eyes taking in her taping with a slow sweep down his chest. She sighed. "Yes. I'll help you."

Mulder smiled and Scully smiled back, looking surprised that her acquiescence would make him so happy.

"C'mon, Scully. I'll make you breakfast."

Scully was the one to call him in sick this time, then she dozed on his couch while he watched television. As 'Good Morning America' started in with its overly-cheerful, white-bread, enameled-hair version of current events, Mulder walked over and gently stroked Scully's cheek.

"Mm?"

"You told me to wake you in time for work."

"Oh, yes, thanks, Mulder," said Scully, sitting up and rubbing her eyes before yawning hugely. "Any movement from our patient yet?"

Mulder found himself smiling gently at Scully's use of such a non- hostile label for Alex Krycek. "I thought I saw him shift a little, but he never woke up."

Scully nodded, scratching her head and combing through her hair with her fingers. "I guess I'll check him over before I leave, then, and you can call me if you need me. I'll come back by after work."

"Thanks, Scully."

Scully frowned. "I don't understand why it's so important to you that we take care of him," she said, but before Mulder could open his mouth to respond, she cut him off. "but I'm going to be late and we can talk about it later."

Mulder felt a small weight nestle into the pit of his gut and he nodded. Scully gave him a tight smile and rose up off the couch, making one quick trip to the bathroom and one to the kitchen before hurrying her way out the door.

Mulder couldn't help but let out a quiet sigh after she left. He loved her and he needed her help, but the tension rose ten levels the whole time she was here with him and Alex.

Him and Alex. Using terms that connected them as a unit was vaguely unsettling to Mulder, but he shook it off, telling himself it was just semantics. He was here and Alex was here, that's all. He grabbed himself a bowl of Wheat Chex and settled in on his couch, inhaling the faint scent of Scully that was already fading in the advancing morning.

She always smelled so clean, and Mulder always felt so dirty. And now he was forcing her to break the law. He sighed and set his bowl down on the coffee table, no longer hungry. How could he ask her to do this? My God...what had he been thinking? That was just it. He hadn't been thinking. He'd only known that Alex needed help and Scully was the only one he could think of to provide it. He closed his eyes and swallowed down the guilt. Maybe if Alex wasn't too bad off, he could take care of him by himself from now on and let Scully free of this mess.

Mulder got up from the couch and walked over to the mattress on the floor. Scully had covered Alex with a light sheet, and Mulder watched the rise and fall of Alex's breathing beneath it. He got to his knees at Alex's bedside and sat back on his heels, studying the pale face.

One eye was ringed with purple, green, and yellow, and Alex's lips were swollen and cracked, but other than that, he just appeared to be sleeping. Mulder leaned forward and very, very gently brushed the pad of his finger over the bruising. He'd never, ever touched Alex this way before. It felt...exhilarating. Like he was taking guilty pleasures. Somehow it seemed even more illicit than the sex they'd had. Maybe because he knew Alex was unaware of his touch. Maybe for other reasons as well.

Mulder sighed and brushed some of the spiky dark hair back from Alex's forehead. It was really too short to be getting in his eyes, but Mulder couldn't resist the urge to touch it, remembering his frantic grasping in the dark. He hadn't noticed, then, how soft it was, or how thick. It had a strong natural wave, Mulder could see, and he smiled faintly at how much gel it must have taken to slick it straight when Alex had been playing Junior Fibbie. Now it was wild and untamed. Tousled and natural. The way it was meant to be.

Mulder sighed, carding his fingers softly through Alex's bangs. He jumped half a foot and pulled his hand back as if burned when Alex grunted and moved his head slightly. He swallowed the panic in his throat and leaned in.

"Alex?"

Alex's face twitched slightly but he didn't wake or make another sound.

"Alex...it's me, Mulder. You're safe."

Alex's head turned slightly toward the sound of Mulder's voice, lashes fluttering just slightly. Mulder found himself reaching forward again, and before he could think better of it, placed his fingertips against Alex's jaw, stroking it softly.

Alex grunted and opened his eyes, blinking. As they focused in on Mulder, who'd pulled his hand away again and was sitting back on his heels, they widened.

"I'm sorry," said Alex immediately, his voice a hushed and strained whisper.

"What for?" said Mulder, leaning in to compensate for the quietness of Alex's voice.

"There...was...I couldn't go anywhere else. I won't stay." Alex's eyes closed again, and though Mulder wanted him awake, he was also somewhat pleased with the trust Alex showed in relaxing enough to close his eyes around him.

"I told you to come here," he said, his own voice only a decibel above Alex's.

Alex's eyes opened again, focusing in on Mulder with laser intensity. "I never meant to," he said, shifting his body slightly beneath the sheet and trying not to wince.

Mulder frowned, his brows drawing back into the inverted 'V' unknowingly. He wanted to ask why, but he already knew the answer. Alex didn't really trust him. Didn't trust him not to hurt him physically, to some extent, and didn't trust him not to hurt him emotionally, to a much greater extent. He didn't trust himself that far, so how could he fault Alex?

"What happened?"

Alex chuffed out a tortured 'ha' and hissed. "You'll laugh."

Mulder just looked at Alex, forehead still furrowed. He didn't know how scared and young that made him look, but he did notice Alex's face sobering as he looked at him.

Alex swallowed, trying to move his body beneath the sheet. "Well, you know it's all going to hell, right?"

Mulder nodded.

"Most of the old guard are dead...barbecued. Either at the hangar or in their offices, hunted down after the fact."

Mulder grimaced but said nothing.

"All but four," continued Alex. "Five, if you count me." He laughed again, derisively, then began coughing, his face screwing up with the pain. Mulder leaned forward, placing his hands on Alex's shoulders where he knew there were no wounds, to hold him down and lessen the aggravation of his injuries. Alex stopped coughing and stared up at Mulder with undisguised shock in his eyes. Mulder leaned back slowly, wanting Alex to know that touching him was not a mistake.

"Let me get you some water," said Mulder, pushing himself to rise. "Then you can tell me the rest."

Alex nodded slowly, eyes narrowed.

Mulder got a glass of water, for some unwelcome reason flashing on the time when he'd not been able to trust his own tap water. He dug through his drawers searching for a straw but came up empty. Finally, he found a sports bottle and transferred the water to that. He took it into the living room, going to his knees beside Alex again.

Alex watched him and licked his lips and Mulder could tell he was very thirsty. As Mulder leaned over him, Alex lifted his arm and the sheet fell down to his waist. His many taped cuts were visible, as well as his truncated arm, and Mulder frowned. Alex struggled to sit up, hissing as the cuts on his abdomen made it difficult.

"Here," said Mulder, placing his hand carefully on the back of Alex's neck and helping leverage him to a sitting position. He felt the shiver work its way through Alex's body in the overly warm room. He didn't take his hand away as Alex slowly raised the bottle to his lips and drank.

Alex drained half the bottle, using his thumb to wipe away a bit of excess, eyeing Mulder warily. Mulder took the bottle from Alex's hand wordlessly and lowered him back down to the mattress. As he leaned over Alex, pulling his hand from underneath the strong, firm neck, he looked down and found Alex's eyes wide, dark, gleaming. Mulder looked down into them for a moment, breathing deeply, then slowly leaned back, sitting on his heels. "Tell me what happened."

Alex blinked a few times and licked his lips. "Like I said, there are five of us left, at least of all the ones here in the states. I'm sure there are others around the world, but I haven't really had a chance to check everything out." His eyes went angry and flat. "'Been busy."

Mulder just nodded, waiting for Alex to continue.

"CGB, Jeffrey, Marita, Diana, and me."

Mulder's mouth dropped open. "She's alive?"

"Yes, Mulder. She's right by his side, as always," said Alex with a sneer in his voice.

"Isn't that the pot calling the kettle...?"

Alex snorted. "Whatever. Anyway, here's the funny part, Mulder. The part that's gonna make you laugh."

Mulder looked down at the multiple pieces of tape stuck to Alex's chest and doubted it.

"He thought I'd thrown in with you. After the big bake-off. He was just sure of it."

Mulder gaped, eyes blinking. "What??"

Alex nodded. "He thinks I've convinced you to work with me to bring him down. He's always had it in his head that *you* would take over for him when he could no longer run the Project."

"What Project?"

"Oh come on, Mulder. You saw it. The ship. Full of alien fetuses. Like the one in Alaska?"

Mulder felt himself blush unaccountably at the mention of their time on the glacier. "That's the Project?"

"It's the race to find a cure," continued Alex, sounding tired. "A cure for the black oil. That facility in Russia is only one like so many all over the world. They just happened to be the most successful one."

"So...why does he think I'm going to take over his barbaric experiments?"

"He thinks you'll be turned once you realize the ends...you know, that you'll realize they justify the means. I know differently, of course."

Mulder just looked at him.

"He knows all about that night I gave you the location of the alien rebel," he went on, his lip curling up. "He assumed that we'd been working together ever since, operating behind the scenes to ally with the alien rebels and take over the production of the vaccine."

"So there *is* a successful vaccine," said Mulder leaning forward with undisguised excitement.

Alex laughed. "You received it, Mulder. And they used your antibodies to make more. That's what happened to you in the gulag."

"So...I'm..."

"Immune, yeah. Well, as far as we know. The oil certainly didn't stick around when they gave it to you, did it?"

Mulder stared at Alex's face.

"So, yeah, the oil won't have a foothold in you. Now...it's not a cure, as of yet, just a vaccination. We're still working on the cure."

Mulder breathed steadily for a few moments. "The experiments?"

"Yeah," confirmed Alex. "Those ones and ones like them. We're close, though, Mulder," he said with an edge of excitement to his usually cool, hushed voice. "We can cure them if we catch it within a few days. You saw that when you used it on Scully."

Mulder's mouth dropped open again. "I...I suppose I knew that..." Mulder went silent, thinking of what Alex had said about the ends justifying the means. Had he condoned their methods of experimentation when he'd used their results to save his partner's life?

Alex interrupted his guilt-trip. "I told him he was crazy and tried to convince him I was on his side," continued Alex, his voice sounding slightly choked. "Tried to convince him that I had nothing but disdain for you and that you hated me."

Mulder looked deeply into Alex's eyes, brow furrowed.

"But after that alien rebel was rescued," said Alex, looking up to find Mulder staring at him. "Yeah, he was rescued. You held off the bounty hunter just long enough for the retrieval operation to succeed," said Alex quietly.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Mulder said quietly. "On the mountain?"

"I still thought I could keep...I didn't think it was necessary," finished Alex, firming his lips.

Keep me out of it? Keep it a secret? Mulder wondered what Alex had been about to say, but he knew it was useless to try to find out. Mulder frowned and nodded, encouraging Alex to continue with his story.

"Anyway, he knew about that, so when I came to him offering allegiance, he took me for a traitor and decided to...rehabilitate me a little."

"Torture."

Alex smiled sickly.

"So...how did you...why are you here?"

Alex sighed. "I told you, I'm sorry about that. I won't stay long."

"No," said Mulder tersely. "I mean how the hell did you get away? Did he actually let you go?"

Alex snorted. "Yeah, after I used my powers of persuasion."

Mulder arched an eyebrow.

"I was there for three days," said Alex, licking his lips and looking down at his hand, clutching at the sheet. "They kept me awake and wired on amphetamines the whole time. They'd put a band around this wrist," he said, holding up his only wrist.

Mulder could see the deep ligature marks around it now. He'd missed those in his examination of the rest of Alex's injuries. He saw ointment shining on them and surmised that Scully had not.

"...and hoisted me about a foot off the floor on a hook. Then they put bands around my ankles and tethered me to the floor. I couldn't move, except for my head."

"You were naked," said Mulder, feeling immediately embarassed for having said what was in his mind.

"Yeah," said Alex shortly. "Anyway, sometime during the third day, the guy came in to give me water. They weren't letting me have any food, but a couple of times a day some guy would come in with some bitter-tasting water. I don't know what was in it, but it made me dizzy. I had to drink it, though. It was that or go without."

Mulder nodded, lips pursed.

"Well, he brought the bottle to my lips and started pouring it in, and at first everything seemed fine, then my stomach decided it didn't want anymore of that drug, I guess. I started vomiting violently. All over the guy. He was *pissed.*"

Mulder frowned, eyes squinting. His hands clutched unconsciously on his denim-clad thighs.

"He started yelling at me...I dunno...I couldn't really concentrate while my intestines were being forced up by my stomach. But I sure noticed it when he dealt me a roundhouse punch to the bottom of the chin."

Mulder looked closely, noticing the bruising around Alex's jaw and chin.

"Lifted me up about a foot," continued Alex. "I was damned lucky he was a great big guy."

"Lucky?" Mulder's brows arched.

Alex smiled dangerously. "Yeah. If he hadn't hit me hard enough to send me a foot in the air, my wrist-tether wouldn't have slipped off the hook."

Mulder closed his eyes a moment with a brief nod, almost smiling, and opened them again to Alex, looking smug.

"Well, here I was wired on amphetamines and out of my head with pain, and my arm was freed. I'm grateful for the damned speed, too, because without it my arm wouldn't have been as useful. I just grabbed him around the neck and fell down on him, bashing my forehead into him and squeezing his throat until he stopped hitting me."

"You killed him." Mulder's voice was without inflection.

"Deader'n a fuckin' doornail," confirmed Alex with some amount of satisfaction. "I found my clothes in the corner...I'd dressed up all nice to offer myself as CGB's lackey. I was lucky, once more, that they'd put my clothes in with me in that warehouse. And lucky it *was* a warehouse and not one of the interrogation rooms at headquarters. I suppose they were all in hiding now, and it was too dangerous to use any of the old facilities."

Mulder sighed.

"So I got dressed and scouted quickly for weapons, knowing someone would miss that son of a bitch pretty damned soon. When two guys came in, I went on pure amphetamines and adrenaline and just bashed their brains out with a metal pipe I'd found in a corner. I didn't know where the fuck I was, so I snuck around in the shadows until I could hitch a ride on a departing truck. The only thing keeping me moving any longer was the pain," he continued quietly. "The drugs were wearing off and I was crashing. I realized I was still in D.C. and jumped off the truck several blocks away."

Mulder flashed on watching Krycek...Alex, now, but Krycek, then...roll out of the back of the Russian delivery truck just before it had run headlong off a cliff. He didn't say anything.

"I don't really remember getting here," finished Alex almost too quietly for Mulder to hear. "I don't remember making the decision to come here. I just...did."

"Part of you remembered what I'd said at least," said Mulder, sounding a little accusing.

"I remembered, Mulder," said Alex softly. "I just didn't...it's not safe for me to be here."

"It's sure as hell not safe for you leave, either," said Mulder, leaning up off his heels.

"I mean for you, asshole," said Alex.

"Oh, afraid they're going to think we're in cahoots, Krycek?" said Mulder, with more than a trace of sarcasm in his voice.

He wasn't completely shocked by Alex's laughter but he did jump a bit as it rang out. This wasn't the derisive snorting or the dismissive chuff of disinterest. This was out and out laughter.

"Good...fuckin'...point, Mulder," gasped Krycek, wiping the tears out of his long, dark lashes with his thumb and finger. "What the fuck do we have to lose?"

Mulder stared at him wide-eyed. Alex sounded more than a little hysterical and Mulder was getting slightly worried. He knew he'd seen Scully inject Alex with something and he'd assumed it was antibiotics or maybe some painkiller. But this was an Alex Krycek he'd never seen before, almost giggling in his exhaustion and continuing to wipe tears away. What had Scully given him?

"Uh...Alex...you're scaring me," said Mulder, smiling slightly. However foreign and therefore frightening Alex's laughter was, it also made something close to joy bubble up in Mulder's chest, unbidden.

Alex smiled up at him without guise, the tight, sarcastic smirk gone...replaced by an open, relaxed grin. "Don't you get it, Mulder? They already think we're together! And I wasn't able to convince them otherwise! Whether we actually do this or not, we're both gonna be hunted as if we are!"

Mulder considered Alex's words and found that, despite the disturbing glitter in Alex's wet-lashed eyes, they made sense. "Together how?" he asked tentatively, feeling his heart speed up for no damned good reason.

Alex's smile faded, being replaced by something like fear. "Oh. Well, that's the interesting part, Mulder," he said, and Mulder noticed Alex's breathing was even more labored than his. "They uh...they know about the kiss, too," he said in a husky whisper. "And...they assumed things about *that*, too."

Mulder was quiet a long time, and Alex looked at everything in the room but him, finally closing his eyes, a handful of sheet clenched in one sweaty fist.

"What things?" asked Mulder in a low voice.

Alex actually winced, but opened his eyes and faced Mulder. "That we're lovers," he said, blushing as he choked out the words.

Mulder was quiet again but didn't look away. The intensity of his gaze didn't give Alex leave to look anywhere else, either. The two men stared at one another, both respirations becoming louder and more labored the longer they looked at each other.

"They're not really wrong," said Mulder very, very quietly. "Are they?"

He watched Alex's mouth drop open, the spikes of his wet lashes fluttering madly. He leaned in slowly. Alex stared at him, licking his lips and breathing loudly and harshly.

"Are they?" repeated Mulder, leaning down, now about a foot from Alex's face and staring at him intently. Alex's brows furrowed in a deep frown, eyes wide. "You have to tell me," Mulder breathed, a scant inch from putting his palm on Alex's jaw.

"N-no," exhaled Alex. He never got the chance to recover that breath as Mulder leaned in and pressed his lips softly but firmly against those still parted on the life-changing word.

Mulder kissed him gently, not pushing his way in, just enjoying the feeling of his mouth on Alex's, his hand on Alex's jaw and sliding back through the soft, thick, naturally wavy hair. He felt Alex's arm coming up around him and leaned back, breaking the kiss. Alex immediately dropped his hand to the bed, and through his fog, Mulder saw the pain flash across his face.

"No," he breathed, picking Alex's hand up in his own and placing against his own jaw. "I want you to touch me. I do." He closed his eyes and sighed into the touch to prove his point. He heard the relieved sigh below him and opened his eyes. "I just don't think you're in any condition," he continued. "And once I had your hand on me I'm not sure I would have been able to stop myself from wanting a lot more."

"I want a lot more," breathed Alex, still panting, his fingers stroking into Mulder's hair.

Mulder shivered. "I do, too," he said, pulling Alex's hand away from his face and kissing the inside of the wrist before laying it back down on the bed. "But first let's get you healed up."

Alex grinned up at him. "You know, my wounds are all very superficial," he said. "He didn't want to leave any permanent damage, lest he impede my usefulness."

"All the better for me," said Mulder with a smirk. "They won't impede your usefulness to me, either, then." He felt his heart speed up, nervous at making such a confident assumption, speaking aloud his own desire to have Alex for himself.

"You have no idea how useful I can be," said Alex, weighting the words with multiple layers of meaning.

Mulder stared at him, smirk fading. Was Alex throwing in with him? Or implying that he thought Mulder had thrown in with *him*? Somehow, the first just didn't seem realistic, and Mulder knew he could never agree to the second. Where did that leave them?

"I...I can't just join you," said Mulder, feeling sick.

"I know that," replied Alex quietly. "We don't have to decide this now, do we? Let's just...take things slowly. Okay, Mulder?"

Mulder felt weak at the pleading underneath Alex's request. He feared for himself at the vulnerability he felt around this man. At how much he desperately wanted to believe what Alex was doing was right. And how much he really did want to work on the same team.

"Okay," he finally answered with a brief nod. "Slowly." He sat back on his heels, rolling his shoulders. "Are you hungry?" he asked. Then, "What the hell am I saying? Of course you're hungry. They starved you."

"Yeah, I'm hungry," said Alex with a ghost of his former smile.

"I'll make you some...uh...whaddya want?"

"Got any dried apricots?" said Alex, definitely smirking now.

Mulder smirked back. "Fresh out. But I've got some plants in my fishtank I could stick in the blender for you."

Alex's smile widened. "Better not. Might make my sister jealous."

Mulder noticed that Alex's eyes sparkled...actually sparkled when he was amused by something Mulder had said. Mulder felt proud. "How about Cup-a-soup?" he asked, grinning and feeling a little silly and soppy.

"Sounds great," said Alex with a similarly embarassed grin.

Mulder stood up and went into the kitchen, still smiling. He didn't know where they were, but he knew they weren't where they had been. And he knew Alex was there. Alex was there, waiting for him to come back with soup. And that alone was worth smiling about.

Feedback greatly appreciated right..... HERE! Oh, and if you're gonna ask for more, and please feel free if that is your true inclination, please tell me exactly what else you'd like to see explored, because my muse has hit the end-marker on this one. :-)