Retreat

The lighter flicked in the distance as Krycek came down the path. The cigarette flared to life and Krycek followed the red glow to the docks. He stopped this side of the docks. "You rang?" he asked.

The smoker didn't turn, didn't look at him. It wasn't the first time Krycek'd been ignored. He waited, patiently. That was his job. Eventually he was called forth with a snap of the fingers. That was Krycek's job, too.

The smoker looked different. Almost human. "You've been away a long time," the smoker said.

"You should know," Krycek said. It felt good to be clean, for once.

"Don't get too comfortable, you're going back."

Krycek narrowed his eyes. He waited, but the man wasn't going to provide him with any more information. "All this for a blow-job?"

The smoker looked at him cuttingly and Krycek looked away. He wasn't allowed to mention sex. There wasn't much the smoker could do to him that was worse than sending him back to the prison, but he'd trust the smoker to find something.

"Come here."

Most of the time, Krycek didn't even get that much. He took a step forward, and the smoker rested his hands on Krycek's jacket. Krycek didn't move. It was a new jacket; the old one had been cut off him when he was first arrested, and it squeaked under the weight of the smoker's hands.

He was on the verge of asking the smoker what the fuck game he was playing, but that wasn't his place. He felt rusty from the lack of practice, though; the smoker hadn't called for him like that in over a year. And Krycek had never been to the lakeside retreat. It looked almost too normal for the smoker. Too... too... homey. Nothing was said. Krycek could taste the man's cigarette on his breath.

"Turn around."

Krycek tensed his shoulders. "Have you forgotten your manners so quickly, Alex?"

A long silence. He didn't know what to say.

"Do you need a refresher course?"

"No."

"No, what, Alex?"

"No. I don't need a refresher course," Krycek said, and paused. One heartbeat. Seven. "Sir."

"I am glad to hear that, Alex."

Krycek dropped his head and then tried to drop to his knees, but the smoker stopped him. "Turn around."

Krycek paused. "What?"

"You heard me. Turn around. I don't want to see you."

Krycek turned around, slowly, expecting a bullet in the brain. It wasn't right. He shouldn't be seeing the calm lake turning orange in the still light of the sunset. There shouldn't be birds in the water, calmly paddling around. The gunshot would send them up flying when it went off. Prison had been hell. He had forgotten how painful it was to be backed into a corner and held down. He'd fought his way out and killed two of his rapists the next day. The third one had taken him over a month, but the man died slow enough to make the wait worthwhile. After that, no one had seen his lack of arm as a handicap.

Krycek narrowed his eyes and wondered if the smoker had known. He must have. He started to wonder if the smoker had set it up but then dismissed the thought quickly. Not all things cruel and painful came from the smoker. It just seemed liked it. The smoker pulled off Krycek's jacket and threw it to the planks. It wasn't cold out, but Krycek found himself shivering.

The smoker pushed him forward into one of the posts. It dug into his hip. Krycek braced himself with one hand but didn't help the smoker at all. Not that the man tried to get into his pants. The smoker held his hips, but didn't move against him. Krycek waited, but all the man did was press against him for a moment. Maybe two.

"Get off my dock. Wait for me in the bedroom. Don't be wearing anything."

Krycek turned back around and bent down to pick up his jacket, but swung it over his arm. That was better. He didn't like the ambiguity of the smoker's actions.

The cabin door was unlocked. Krycek moved into the darkened room not needing the light. He stripped naked, feeling the goosebumps rise over his shoulders and down his arm, but he could push the discomfort away. The bed was made military style and hardly creased at all as he lay down on it. He hadn't slept on a bed in months, and he found himself dozing.

The smoker kicked him awake. "Did I say you could sleep, Alex?"

"Did you say I couldn't?" Alex asked, blinking. He didn't mind being naked, he'd been cleaned and deloused before being shipped over and it was bliss not to itch.

"Remind me to cut your tongue out after I'm done with you, Alex. You won't be needing it where you are going back to. Get on your knees."

He dropped to his knees. His neck muscles twitched and he realized how tightly he'd been holding his jaw shut. He forced himself to relax; this was nothing. He'd done it a hundred times before. The smoker's hands were dry and scaly against his scalp.

"Look up," the smoker said.

Krycek bent his neck back. The man's scent, old man combined with cigarette and corruption,, reached him and he held his breath. There was something different, something new. Something not even the smoker could change.

The man's slacks were against his cheek, but the man's dick was unresponsive. The smoker held him there, on his knees with his cheek up against his groin for a while, longer than Krycek could count, and then the smoker slammed his hips against his cheek before letting him go.

Krycek pulled back. He didn't get off his knees, but he shifted his weight. "Problems?" he asked.

The smoker's face didn't change as he put his hands around Krycek's throat. He tried not to swallow; it wouldn't take long for the smoker to break his neck like that, and they both knew it. "When I want mouth from you, boy, I'll tell you where to put it."

Krycek blinked. He didn't move from his knees. Eventually the smoker turned around and prepared for bed. Krycek watched him, and when he wasn't told not to, stood up and left.

The wind picking up from the lake was colder than it had been. He stood, feeling nothing but the chill and his own raised flesh, but he didn't move. The prison had been too hot; he hadn't been able to get away from his own thoughts. The chill took everything away.

The smoker approached, but wasn't trying to sneak up. He put his hand on Krycek's shoulder, just above the amputation. "If you knew, would you do it again?"

"Yes," Krycek said.

"Why?"

Krycek pulled away and looked at him. Too much information had already passed.

"I'm dying," he said.

"I know. I smelled it on you"

"Stay. Here. With me."

Krycek let a hint of his disgust show. "You're joking."

"I need you."

"You don't need me."

"Stay here or be taken back in the morning."

Krycek looked back to the lake, the cabin, and the smoker. "What time does the helicopter arrive?" he asked.

"You'll die in there, Alex."

Krycek blinked. "But you'll be rotting out here alone," he said.

"What if Mulder came to you with a deal like this?" the smoker snapped.

Krycek didn't blink. "What makes you think he hasn't?" he asked, walking away. The men with the restraints and the chopper arrived an hour later. Krycek went back to the heat and the lice and the other things he could trust.