Silo 1013

2630 HEGAL PLACE, #42
ALEXANDRIA, VA
NEAR MIDNIGHT

Fox Mulder dozed on his couch, letting the television blare out nonsense that kept him from sleeping too deeply, and having more nightmares. He wasn't even aware of the show that was on, some rerun of a talk show confirming paternity. Mulder did not care who was the "baby-daddy".

His phone rang, jostling him awake. Reaching for the receiver, he answered without thinking. "Mulder."

"Mr. Mulder, listen carefully, I'm only going to say this once." It was the man Mulder called Mr. X. He had given Mulder vitally important information in the past. He'd also obfuscated some important information as well. In the end, after saving Mulder's life, he was a man who could be trusted. "The information you're seeking from the DAT tape has been translated. There is key information regarding your sister on that tape. There is one person who knows what is on that tape. You will find him in the building on the corner of Jackson and Lincoln in Takoma Park a man who has the information you seek. You will know this man upon sight. It's in your best interest to keep him safe until the DAT tape information is verified. It may be quite a while until this information can be retrieved from the subject's memory, so do whatever you can to make sure the subject is healthy. Be careful, Mr. Mulder."

The loud click followed by the dial tone jolted Mulder to his feet. Someone he knew who had memorized the translation of the DAT tape? But...they had it, didn't they? Or was that a fake, and Krycek switched...Shit!

Without a thought more, Mulder pulled clothes on and ran out his front door to his car to speed to where the building was. He knew Takoma Park well, having driven in circles in that town when visiting the Gunmen. He barely maintained control of his car as he drove straight to Maryland. He knew the neighborhood well that MR. X had sent him to. It was the kind of neighborhood that he wasn't exactly scared to walk around in, but he was concerned that his car might get stripped before he made it out of the building with his new charge.

He pulled his flashlight from the glove compartment and made his way into the building, noting that the door had been pulled from its hinges. It lay against the wall in the vestibule. Mulder pulled his weapon out and proceeded cautiously into the dark building, shining his Xenon-gas flashlight around. The thin beam of light caught people hiding in the darkness, shielding their eyes. They sprawled on the filthy floor on heaps of blankets and old mattresses. He walked through the first apartment and back into the hall, looking at the narrow staircase. He did not relish the idea of dragging some whacked out junkie that may or may not know something about his DAT tape information down those narrow, winding stairs.

He entered the back apartment: there were holes in the walls big enough for him to see through, picking his way through the people laying there. One jumped up and ran out, but Mulder didn't pay attention to him. There was a closed door at the back, which looked odd to Mulder. All the other doors on the ground floor were off the hinges. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew the man he was looking for was behind the door. He tried the handle, but it didn't budge.

"Shit," Mulder muttered. He took a step back and calculated the size of the door. It looked flimsy, some light wood with chipped paint that was once white or beige. Taking a deep breath, Mulder raised his foot and kicked above the doorknob with all his strength. The sound of cracking wood momentarily drowned out the sounds of the chattering rats and moaning junkies around him.

The arc of light traveled around the room, taking in the difference than the other rooms. This room had an actual dresser, a low coffee table and the items on it shocked him beyond what he was expecting. The belt, needle and spoon next to the lighter, were almost surreal. His gaze followed the light, seeing the near crumbling furniture, which consisted of a table, a chair, a stove and a refrigerator. In the far corner, on a bare mattress with a small, flickering black and white television sitting on a milk crate, lay Mulder's former partner, Alex Krycek.

Those heavy green eyes were fixed on the television screen. Mulder walked over carefully, as silently as possible, but he didn't think Krycek would know he was there unless he physically touched the man, which he was reluctant to do. The room was as filthy as he'd ever see. Cockroaches and rats roamed as if they owned the place, allowing Krycek to crash at their pad. He wore ragged, dirty jeans and pulled his leather jacket tightly around him.

Incensed, Mulder grabbed Krycek by his jacket front and hauled him up off the mattress, pinning him against the wall. "Are you the person I'm supposed to find? I gotta keep you safe, you rat bastard, is that it?"

Krycek's eyes rolled up in his head and his head lolled to the side. Mulder, infuriated by the situation, shook Krycek trying to get him to focus. "Look at me, you traitorous bastard! Look at me!"

Krycek slowly raised his head and looked as closely into Mulder's eyes as he could manage. The dark circles under his eyes looked as if he'd been punched. The stench coming from his body was so foul, Mulder couldn't begin to individualize the odors. With another shake for good measure, Mulder pulled Krycek from the wall and began dragging the limp man from the room. Down the hallway and out the front door, bringing Krycek along with him, Mulder took one last chance to shake Krycek well.

"No..." Krycek moaned before pulling away, turning and letting his insides out all over the pavement. Mulder turned away in disgust. It wasn't the first time he'd seen someone be sick, but watching Krycek bent over a garbage can, arms hanging by his side like broken sticks, legs barely keeping him steady... What the hell had happened to the strong, young, healthy agent who followed him around like an eager puppy? Where was that shiny, rosy-cheeked boy who wanted to believe? What happened to Krycek after they left Hong Kong? He'd been acting strangely, yes. As a matter of fact, as soon as he had left the bathroom, he wasn't the same.

Mulder's eyes narrowed with understanding. He washed his face, took a piss and shot up whatever he was using at the time to straighten up and get back to the States with Mulder. Why didn't he see it before? That little bastard! Was he using while he was partnered with Mulder? Was he using in the academy?

"You little fuck! Get in my goddam car and you better not puke inside. Or you'll lick the upholstery clean!"

Grabbing Krycek by the leather covered shoulders, Mulder shoved him towards his Lexus and shoved Krycek into the passenger seat. He quickly made his way around to the driver's side and wrenched the door open. He didn't know how to let out all the anger he felt. He wanted to beat Krycek within an inch of his life for doing this to him.

"Why you? Why did you have to be the one to have figured out what was on that fucking tape, huh? You're not that fucking smart!" Mulder yelled, driving far too fast as he headed back to his apartment. "Sure, it would have to be you, right? Murderer, traitor, liar, thief, and now drug addict. How fucking perfect!"

Krycek didn't move, save for swaying with the car as Mulder took turns too hard. Mostly, his belt kept him securely against the back of the seat. Mulder saw how he squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his lips tight. If Mulder didn't know better, he would think that something was very wrong with Krycek.

"Hey, you're not going to puke again, are you?" Mulder demanded.

"Not if you slow down. Please..." Krycek rested his head against the back of the seat and took a deep breath. Mulder looked down to see he was going about 80 and decided slowing down would be beneficial. When he pulled up in front of his building, Mulder sat a moment.

"We're going up and into my apartment. Can I manage you without handcuffs?" After a moment, Krycek nodded and bit his upper lip. He eased out of the car, Mulder scrambling around the other side to make sure he didn't take off. To look at him, Mulder decided he couldn't take off anywhere. His high was wearing off, crashing fast. He needed to get the man upstairs fast before he vomited again.

Inside the apartment, Mulder turned on the desk lamp and a floor lamp. Krycek stood in the middle of the room, looking longingly at the couch. Mulder would not let Krycek on any of the furniture in his current state of unwash. "Get in the bathroom, get your clothes off and get a shower. Now. I have a spare toothbrush under the sink in the cabinet."

Krycek nodded, still buzzed enough not to care, and shuffled into the bathroom. Mulder went into the kitchen to get a garbage bag for the clothes. There was no way any of it was staying in his apartment. He took it to the bathroom, to find the clothes on the floor, all except the jacket, which hung on the doorknob. He began to stuff the clothes in the bag.

"What are you doing with my clothes, Mulder?" came the raspy drawl from the shower.

"Getting rid of them. They're filthy, probably full of bugs. This jacket too..."

"NO!" came the shout. A wet, dark head poked out of the curtain, looking a little better, if not just because his face was clean. "I don't have any bugs, Mulder. Just...the jacket...has my stuff, OK? I'll clean it up."

Krycek disappeared again behind the curtain. Mulder took the clothes out to the trash chute in the hall and hung the jacket on a hanger in his bedroom, to hang from the bare curtain rod. It needed to air out a lot. Mulder was considering ripping the filthy lining out, but he would leave it until the morning.

Krycek padded out of the bathroom just has Mulder had the boxes all stowed away on the floor and clean sheets, only one of 2 sets he owned, on the bed. Mulder hadn't slept there in years. He turned to Krycek and said, "There's sweats in the bottom drawer, you can sleep in those. In the morning, I'll get you some clean things at the mall. Prepare for a long stay. My source told me it may be a while before the info you know can be retrieved and I plan on keeping you safe until then. So, settle in and enjoy my...hospitality."

Krycek dropped his towel on the floor, revealing his body to Mulder. It wasn't the abundance of bruises, some black and huge. It wasn't his emaciated form, either. It was the way he moved slowly, as if he was afraid of moving too quickly and hurting himself. Or falling over. Or being sick again.

Having little experience with detoxifying heroin users, Mulder allowed Krycek to his own devices. "Just get some rest, Krycek. We have a long day ahead of us. Be thankful it's Sunday and I can watch you all day long. We have lots to talk about."

Mulder left the room, not completely closing the door. He wanted to listen to hear if Krycek was sleeping soundly or if he was having a nightmare. Even Mulder knew that people detoxing would have horrible nightmares. Probably worse than his own.

After a phone call, Frohike rang the doorbell, which was silly, since he could break in as easily as anyone else could. "Look, just get this on a piece of clothing, like his jacket. The GPS," Frohike handed Mulder what looked like an average GPS, "will track him anywhere. We're tapped into the Turner Network satellite. You know that man will never let his stations be without coverage."

"Thanks, Frohike. Here," Mulder said, handing Frohike a bottle of single malt scotch. "Compliments of Walter Skinner."

"Damn nice of him. Why'd he do that?"

"He didn't. I swiped it." Mulder smiled and showed his friend out, knowing they'd keep each other's secrets. Immediately, after closing the door, Mulder went to the bedroom to attach the tiny, sticky chip on the leather jacket. There was a rip in the lining and Mulder firmly squeezed the adhesive to the inner leather. He looked down at the sleeping man to see if Krycek was disturbed and he wasn't. He slept on, face completely in repose. The lines of his face had relaxed. He looked like the green agent he'd been two short years ago. Mulder smiled at that young man, all arms, legs and hair gel.

Those bright green eyes sparkled when he smiled. He was so handsome. Now, he was a shell, emaciated and bruised. He was addicted to heroin, and in his fuzzy head he held the secrets of the Consortium. Mulder would not let this pass, this chance, this attainable opportunity. If Krycek could elaborate on what he knew, Mulder would have his chance to finally uncover all the information he'd been searching for. He could finally find out what happened to his sister and why his father had to die for it.

Mulder ended up on his couch, drowsing again, television droning in the background. SciFi was running a Mystery Science Three Thousand marathon all night, and it helped him to stay dreamless. Thankfully, the bliss of uninterrupted sleep lasted through the night, up until five-thirty when his alarm went off. He started his morning routine when he remembered that he wasn't alone the apartment. Toweling his hair, he walked into his bedroom to get clean clothes, only to find the room empty. The window leading to the fire escape was wide open.

"Oh shit," he said, as he closed open drawers where a shirt, boxers, socks and jeans were removed. His favorite construction boots were also missing. And, of course, the leather jacket was gone. "Fuck!"

Mulder dressed hastily and grabbed the GPS on the way out the door. He almost expected his car to be gone, but he was lucky. Krycek left the Lexus right where Mulder did. He jumped in and turned on the GPS while he pulled out. Waiting at a red light, Mulder watched as the GPS found its target and blinked.

"Motherfucker! He's back in the same rat hole. What the hell is wrong with him?" Mulder drove insanely, almost as bad as Scully, to the same abandoned building he'd been to the night before. He couldn't tell if the same junkies were still there, and he didn't care. He made his way quickly to the back where he witnessed an even sadder sight than the day before. Lying on the floor, in the corner, propped against the filthy wall, was Krycek, needle in one hand, belt still around his arm, passed out. Mulder knew that when one shot up, it caused a temporary black out while the euphoric drug worked its way through every neuron and synapse in the user's brain.

What was also apparent was that the junkies were busy that night. Everything was gone; all the furniture, the appliances, the dirty mattress, everything. They most likely took Krycek's works as well. 'Where did he get the money?' Mulder considered. Mulder decided to wait until they left the building to check his wallet, which was probably empty.

Krycek wore Mulder's oldest jeans, which looked too tight for him. Even though they were the same height, Krycek was a little stockier than Mulder, with thicker legs and a fuller ass...why was Mulder thinking about his ass? This was getting out of hand. First thinking about his wide smile and shining eyes, then thinking about his ass.

Mulder couldn't help thinking about Krycek's body, when he lay there sprawled out, clothes far too tight for him. Shaking his head, Mulder suddenly felt sorry for him. He had a clean bed, a shower, a safe place to stay; he chose the drug, and all the danger that came with it.

Well, Mulder reasoned, he wasn't very polite about his invitation to stay. Maybe tough love wasn't what he needed...What the hell was he thinking?! Krycek killed his father! Krycek helped murder Melissa Scully! Why was he considering being nice to a junkie who killed two important people in his life?

Then again, maybe it was the drugs, he thought. Maybe it was the smoking man who first got Krycek involved with them to control him, and Krycek made these horrible choices and decisions based on when he was getting his next fix. It was sad. What kind of childhood did Krycek have that he'd sunk this low? Was he abused, raped by his father? Was he a street kid, turned tricks until he went to college? What had happened that led Krycek to where he landed, curled in a corner of an abandoned building, stoned out of his mind, hiding from the world?

Deciding he needed to find out the answers to his questions, Mulder gathered up Krycek and dragged him out of the building, a lot gentler than he had the night before and settled him again in the front seat of the car. He carefully drove back to his apartment, thankful that Krycek roused enough to walk almost under his own power to the apartment. He laid the man back on the bed and began undressing him down to his boxers, hoping Krycek would just sleep it off. When Krycek awoke, they would talk.

Leaving the door open this time, Mulder sat at his desk to read his email. The blinking light on his answering machine was soon appeased when he pressed the play button. One message.

"Mulder, it's me. Where are you? I have a question on the Hamming file and you're not there. Which is strange for a Sunday morning. And you didn't answer your cell phone. Call me back." He was dialing Scully's number before the message was over, and it was ringing while he deleted it. He saw his cell sitting on the coffee table and mentally cursed himself for forgetting it.

"Hello?"

"Scully, it's me. Sorry, I was out for a run." Fortunately, she bought the story and accepted his explanation on the Hamming case.

"Are you sure it's a not an X-File, Mulder?" she asked, which surprised him. "You only looked at the pictures once, according to your message."

"Scully, look at the corner beside the bed. There's a hole in the wall. I'm sure if we looked outside, there would be a beehive in a tree or under an eave or something. The honey in the mattress is not a spiritual sign of the next coming. It's just the bees wanting a warm place for their larva. The mattress should be harvested, then discarded."

There was a silence over the line a moment. "Mulder, how can you assess all that with one look at the photos?"

"Don't you think I know a little something about bees after my excursion in Vancouver?"

"I guess you're right. I'll have an entomologist look these over and try to support your findings. I'll call you later."

Mulder hung up without saying goodbye and sat back to finish his email. After closing down the computer, he sat on the couch, half watching the television, half thinking. It helped that he'd seen "Godzilla vs. Mecha-Godzilla" thirty times, so he could think and not concentrate on the action on the screen.

If Krycek got out once, he would get out again. Mulder had to take him somewhere that would be safe, quiet and no where near a drug connection. The Gunmen lived in the heart of Takoma Park, where he found Krycek originally. That wasn't any good. Mulder closed his eyes, letting the whine of Godzilla and his mechanical doppelganger wash over him.

Quonochautaug! He'd take Krycek to Rhode Island, out in the middle of no where. The house was Mulder's mother's home now, but Mulder remembered it best as the vacation house they used to visit, where his father loved to water ski. His mother was recuperating in Providence, she wouldn't know, and what she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. After all, Mulder had grown up reading both Playboy and Biker Boy and she didn't know that.

Mulder considered that thought while he remembered looking at Krycek's body. He'd always liked looking at men and women equally. And if he recalled correctly, it didn't take much convincing from Phoebe for Mulder to sleep with several men while she watched, getting herself off. Mulder had to wonder which team Krycek batted for. Or could he switch hit?

The phone rang again, bringing him from his reverie. He grabbed it and just simply said, "What?"

"Mulder, it's me. Is something wrong?" Scully's voice immediately banished the hard on that had been growing at the memories of loving those young men. Especially when he substituted Krycek's face for one.

"No, what's up?"

"You were right about the photo. A large bee hive was found under an awning. They're clearing it out, and testing the bees for any virus strains that would cause the deaths of the children. But as it stands, my opinion is that they died of anaphylaxis. The Hammings are selling their home."

"I'm sorry the children died. But it wasn't an X-File. We never should have seen those photos..." Before Mulder could continue his thought, he heard the first rustlings of someone in the throes of a nightmare.

"No...shut up! Shut the fuck up! I don't want to know!" came the hysterical screaming from the bedroom. Mulder began to move towards it, forgetting he had the phone in his hand.

"Mulder! What's going on over there? Who's that yelling?" Scully asked.

"Oh, uh...the television, Scully. I'm watching a movie..."

"Mulder, you fuck, don't leave me here!" screamed Krycek.

"That isn't a movie, Mulder. I'm on my way over." Scully hung up the phone before Mulder could argue. 'Damn! he thought. 'Just what I need."

He hung up the phone and put it on the bureau as he walked to the bed where Krycek was sitting up, looking around him as if he was trying to figure out where he was. "Hey, Krycek, relax. It's OK. You're in my bedroom. You had a nightmare."

"No, Mulder, it wasn't..."

Krycek jumped from the bed and grabbed up his pants. Instantly, Mulder was beside him, pulling the material from his hands and pushing him back onto the bed.

"You are not escaping again. You have information vital to at least two open investigations, Krycek. Besides that, you're a fugitive. So, buckle up, it's gonna be a bumpy ride."

"No, please, you have to let me go back..." Krycek begged, grabbing Mulder's shirt by the hem that slipped from the waist of his jeans.

"Let you go back and buy more junk to get high? I don't think so, boy," Mulder said, slapping Krycek's hands away.

"Please! I can't...this...It hurts, Mulder. It hurts a lot. God, fuck this!" Krycek charged forward to try and pin Mulder to the wall and pummel him, but it was just another act of futility. Mulder grabbed Krycek's biceps and tossed him back onto the bed, using the opportunity to kneel astride Krycek's stomach.

"You aren't going anywhere! Scully is unfortunately on her way over. I will see if there is anything she can prescribe for you that will help...your pain." Mulder was shocked at how concerned he sounded. Did he honestly care how Krycek felt? By rights, the man didn't look at all well. He was sweating, shaking, pale and going an interesting shade of green. "Are you going to throw up?"

"Yes," was all the man could get out before Mulder hauled him up and dragged him to the bathroom. He shoved Krycek in and closed the door behind him. The sounds of the man retching behind him turned his own stomach, but he'd better get used to it. Krycek was going to be sick a lot in the next few weeks. And Mulder knew that he was the only one who could possibly draw the information out of the ailing man. At least, that's what he kept telling himself as he packed his duffle bag with as many cotton and wool warm clothes as he had. Rhode Island by the water would be cold this time of year.

Krycek staggered out of the bathroom, boxer shorts sagging off one hip and he leaned heavily in the doorway. "Where are you going?" he asked as he walked back toward the bed, dejectedly.

"*We* are going to my mother's summer home in Quonochautaug, Rhode Island. It's in the middle of nowhere; no connections, no junk, nothing but peace and quiet, and satellite TV. It's the perfect place to clean you up. I can make you swim laps in the ocean."

"I don't swim laps. Not for you, anyway. I just want to sleep."

"Get as much rest as you can in the next 20 minutes. Scully will be here with her little black bag. Then you're in for it. She knows you were there when her sister was murdered, even if you didn't pull the trigger. I'm not sure how good her bedside manner will be."

"Fucking hell. I didn't kill her sister, and I wouldn't have if I had the chance to stop Cardinal. You'll just have to trust me on that." Krycek slipped beneath the covers, trying to pull them into place.

"Trust you? Not a snowball's chance in hell, Krycek." Mulder sneered as he left the room.

If he'd laid money on it, Mulder would be a rich man, because just as he cleared the living room, he heard the footfalls of Krycek running at him, closing the short distance. Thankful he paid close attention in self-defense class, Mulder turned and caught Krycek easily, flipping the man on his back. Instead of jumping back up, as Krycek would have done the last time they met, he lay on the hardwood floor, moaning.

"Come on, get up. I didn't hurt you that much," Mulder said, reaching out to grab Krycek by the arm. Krycek pulled back and rolled over onto his side, becoming very still. "Are you OK, Krycek?" Mulder asked, becoming concerned.

"I hit my head...a little dizzy. I need a minute..." he whispered. Mulder let Krycek slump back and knelt beside him. He watched intensely as Krycek recomposed himself, watching as the usually honey golden skin went from pale and greenish to rosy and moist. In his absorption with Krycek's features, Mulder didn't hear Scully make her way into the room.

"Mulder, I have him covered. You can get up now," she said slowly, carefully. Mulder turned and saw her, dressed in her usual work attire with the armor of her raincoat, pointing her little SIG Sauer 220. If Mulder wasn't worried that Scully really would shoot Krycek, he would have laughed at how ridiculous the whole scenario was.

Here he was, the most undesirable agent in the entire FBI, who would have been tossed out on his ass if he wasn't one of the most effective agents in the FBI, harboring a known felon in his home, a suspected murderer no less, his partner covering him, and he was trying to think of ways to persuade her not to kill him.

"Scully, put your weapon away. He's near to harmless." Mulder looked at the still man pitifully. Once he was very dangerous, but in this state, he was a toothless, declawed tiger.

"Mulder, where Krycek is concerned, we can never be too careful. I have him covered, you can cuff him." She stepped forward, inching toward Krycek.

"No, I'm not going to cuff him. I'm going to take him back to my bedroom, where I'm considering tying him to the mattress. But no, I won't cuff him."

"Why not? What's going on? Is he blackmailing you? He was shouting before. What's going on, Mulder?" She gave him the look that she always did when he was going off doing things without speaking with her first.

"My contact called me and told me that the information from the DAT tape was memorized by someone. It turns out the 'someone' is Krycek. There's a problem. He's a junkie with a pretty good heroin habit. He's already escaped me once to get high. He's still coming down. He's puked once and I'm kinda stumped after that."

"Mulder, you cannot keep him here. You need to take him to a detoxification facility. He needs to be under a doctor's care."

Mulder smiled at her and said, "If you stayed here, he would be."

Rolling her eyes, Scully shook her head and said, "No, Mulder. We are not helping him to kick his little habit. If he wants to shoot up drugs and kill himself, or take his chances with local law enforcement, that's his business. He can do it, and I don't care."

"Scully, how can you keep your Hippocratic Oath and still say something like that? You know that getting the information from the DAT tape is everything we need to prove the X-Files are valid. I need your help right now. Why would I ask you for this if I didn't think it was absolutely necessary?"

Scully sighed and rolled her eyes heavenward. "All right, Mulder. We should get him a methadone prescription. I can write that. I'll get it filled and bring it back. Get him back into bed and get some water for him."

"No..." came a moan from the prone man on the floor. Mulder reached over and rolled Krycek onto his back. He was looking pale and sweaty again. "Hurts...need more now...goddamit. Let me go, you asshole!"

Not in the mood, Mulder hauled Krycek to his feet and dragged him back to bed. "Scully, go get what you need for him. I need to secure him in the house."

He heard her answer of affirmation before he heard the door close and lock behind him. Mulder pulled out his handcuffs and looked at the man laying on the bed, sweating, breath heaving, sweat glistening on the fine spray of hair on his chest.

In that moment, he finally felt sorry for Krycek. He wondered about what kind of childhood the man had. He wondered if he'd really gone to the FBI academy and graduated in the top one percent of his class as was printed in his jacket. He wondered if the young man had really grown up in New York City, in the Odessa section of Brooklyn, since there was no trace of an accent. He had a faintly Midwest Northern accent, something around the lakes or a little lower. Maybe Detroit or Michigan.

He sat watching Krycek sleep, the slow even breaths of a man who was comfortable, safe, relaxed. Somewhere in that twisted little head, he knew Mulder wouldn't hurt him, not really. There may be a scuffle or two, but Mulder wouldn't hit the man while he was secured.

Mulder was barely aware that Scully had returned. He was so concerned with making sure Krycek wouldn't get up, he focused all his attention there. Scully walked in and rested two bags on top of a pile of boxes. Mulder looked up at her.

"What did you bring?" he asked, watching as she took out two bottles amber medicine bottles.

"Mulder, these are methadone. I want you to start giving it to Krycek at 10 cc's twice a day. That will stave off the withdrawal. This isn't going to be easy, you know. He's going to need round the clock medical and emotional care. He needs to be in a group therapy situation. This is not going to help him, Mulder."

"My contact was pretty sure it would help," Mulder lied. Mr. X never said anything of the sort, but Mulder assumed it meant that. "Keep him healthy" was the instruction. Putting Krycek in a federal lock up infirmary would not be "keeping him healthy" at all. He would probably be drugged quiet and left to rot until his trial, then left to rot in another prison.

"Scully, we're going to take care of him until he can give me the information he memorized from the DAT tape. I'm not losing it again. This may be the only way I can find out what happened to my sister."

A breath of truth could be heard under his words. Mulder could not convey with more desperation how much he wanted to find the truth behind his sister's abduction. Being there that night, seeing her being taken and able to do nothing...he had never felt more impotent. It was his driving force, his reason to live. If he couldn't fine her, then...he didn't want to think about where she was. Or whether or not she was still alive. He would deal with it if he had to.

"All right, Mulder. I'll help you and him as much as I can. But I do it with serious medical, ethical and judicial reservations about him. Mulder...I...did he kill my sister?" Scully's lower lip began to tremble. Her left eye looked a bit wet to Mulder, as well.

"He said no. He swore that he didn't. He said that Luis Cardinal shot her before he could stop it."

"Would he have let Cardinal kill me?" she asked, starting to lose her facade of strength.

"I'll ask him later. Now, just go on home, Scully."

"What about you? How are you going to keep him from sneaking out again?" she asked, in a sudden moment of concern.

"I'm taking him to my mother's home in Rhode Island. It's away from the city life where he can't find any more heroin. I'll be able to keep a closer eye on him. We can get exercise there, running on the beach and things like that. And if he starts to throw fits of withdrawal, I can let him yell and not be concerned about the neighbors."

"It's pretty isolated out there. What if you need medical assistance?" she asked. Mulder looked at her carefully. Was she offering her services or warning him?

"I'll play it by ear, I guess. I promise not to take any unnecessary chances with him. Scout's honor, Dr. Dana," he said, holding his right hand up like a Boy Scout.

She smiled at the Dr. Dana remark. "Call me if things get bad."

He walked her out and locked the door behind her. Not like that did any good. Usually, anyone who wanted to break into Mulder's apartment could. He only wished they'd feed his fish for him. He did think to drop in a one-week feeder and changed the filter cartridge while he had it fresh in his head. He'd have Scully go over to check them in the week.

Then, the task of packing for them loomed over him. Rhode Island was unpredictable in the fall, and it was already the last week of October. He packed all of his sweatshirts and sweatpants, all of his jeans and warm socks, as much as he could fit into his suitcase and duffle bag. There was a new mall near the house, which made him shudder, yet he was thankful. If they needed anything, it was all only fifteen minutes away. Mulder could surely leave Krycek handcuffed for a couple of hours while he shopped.

As he was finishing, Krycek, wrapped in the comforter, walked out of the bedroom looking like they'd had a wrestling match and the comforter won. "Mulder, I gotta get out of here. I can't stay. I'm crashing, man, and I'm gonna start getting dope-sick. It's not fucking pretty. So, thanks for the fuckin'...shit, I gotta go..."

The comforter went flying and Krycek made his way into the bedroom. Mulder followed and pulled the jeans out of Krycek's hands. "You are not leaving. Scully gave me methadone for you. We can keep you from getting sick and wean you from the heroin. You're going to be fine, Krycek." Mulder tried to keep his voice firm, his tone steady and calm.

Krycek's face lost a lot of color all of a sudden and his eyes rolled a bit in their sockets. "Oh, shit!" Mulder said as he dragged Krycek into the bathroom, just as he began to vomit. Mulder held the man poised over the commode as he let his guts pour out. His lack of meals was apparent in the liquid discharge.

When Krycek relaxed, Mulder let him down to the floor and ran cool water on a wash cloth to smooth over Krycek's face. He poured a cup of cool water and held it to Krycek's mouth to sip, all the while uttering how he was going to take care of Krycek, as if talking to a child. He helped Krycek into the bedroom and put him into the bed, covering the shaking man with a comforter. He went to get the meds and orange juice Scully told him to pour it into. He asked why juice and her explanation was, "It masks the taste better."

He came back with the glass and a straw, also thanks to Scully thinking ahead. Krycek sucked the juice down greedily, as if it was the only sustenance he'd had in days. It probably was, floated in the back of Mulder's head. He took it back when Alex had drained it completely. He watched as Krycek lay back against the pillow, still sweating profusely, and shivering slightly.

"Mulder...I have to get out of here, I swear to God, it's only going to get worse," Krycek warned. Mulder could only try and hold back his smile as he watched Krycek slowly drift into a light sleep. He petted the dark head before leaving him in the room alone.

It was early afternoon and Mulder felt the rumble in his stomach. Looking at the time, Mulder decided that even though it was a little early, and he would shock his pizza delivery guy, it was time for food. Mulder even took a moment to see if it would have adverse affects on his guest. To his reckoning, you can't go wrong with pizza.

By the time the pie arrived, half plain, half pepperoni, Krycek had been resurrected as a rag, and dragged himself into the living room, boxers sagging even further, if that was possible.

"Hey, Krycek, how bad is it?" Mulder asked, knowing better than to ask how he was doing. He was doing lousy, period. He'd watched "Trainspotting", which was playing "On Demand" on cable, and had a better insight to what he would be dealing with. It wasn't pretty, but it could happen.

"Fuck you, Mulder. Let me out of here," he growled. It didn't hold much anger, since he looked as if he could barely stand. He plopped unceremoniously on the couch beside Mulder.

"No, Krycek. You're staying and that's that. So, get over it. I have some pizza coming. Are you hungry?"

Krycek looked thoughtful for a moment and then said, "I can eat. Anchovies?"

"Are you kidding?" Mulder asked.

"Yes, actually. I like nothing on my pizza."

"Good, I only got half pepperoni," Mulder said, going into the kitchen. He came back with a glass of water and handed it to Krycek. He sipped at it, trying not to shake. Mulder checked his watch and frowned. He wanted to give Krycek more methadone, but Scully was clear, every twelve hours, only.

Mulder flipped around through the channels until Krycek said, "Stop right there."

"Why?" Mulder concentrated on the screen. It was a nature show about the reproductive cycles of tree frogs.

"It'll stop you from flicking through everything. You're making me seasick."

Mulder laughed and said, "Can we at least find a movie or something?"

"Make it fast." Mulder opened the guide and found one of his favorites, "Lethal Weapon 2."

"This is a good film, Alex, trust me. Funny and fast action." Mulder looked at Krycek, who looked back at him strangely. He didn't even register calling him Alex, until the odd expression Krycek turned on him. They watched in silence until the pizza arrived. Mulder relished his pepperoni slices, plowing through them with gusto. Krycek barely nibbled at one slice and left most of it in the box.

"You're not hungry, Krycek?" he asked. He watched as Krycek dropped half of the slice into the box and wobbled to his feet. He made his way into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, Mulder fast on his heels. Krycek lay back on the bed, trembling.

Mulder pulled the blanket up on him and took the time to remove his sneakers before slipping into the bed with him. He wrapped his strong arms and legs around Krycek, hoping to stop the tremors that would wreak the man havoc while he detoxed...

That wasn't right. Krycek wasn't detoxing. He was weaning from heroin to methadone. Damnit! He was torturing the man. He jumped from the bed, muttering, "Sorry Alex, I'm sorry..." as he looked at the clock. The twelve hours that were supposed to go between Krycek's methadone doses became fourteen. Mulder quickly poured the dose into the glass of juice and took it back to Krycek, whose head he held while pouring the juice down his throat. Not too much dribbled out. He lay the man back down and got in again, holding him and soothing him until Krycek calmed down and drifted to sleep.

Mulder sat on his bed a while, with the sleeping man in his arms. He eased onto his back, pulling Krycek with him. He looked so young in his sleep. Mulder knew he wasn't all that young, the same age as Scully. He was such a mystery. Mulder needed more information about him, more background. Easing Krycek back onto the bed, he left the man alone, closing the door part way.

He went right to his phone and hit speed dial four. Three was the pizza place. Two was Scully. One...was costing him far too much money. Frohike picked up and said his gruff, "Yeah, what?"

"I need some information."

"Hey, man. Yeah, OK. Who and how much?"

"The runaway. All of it. How long?"

"Got it already, man. Go check and it'll be there." The line was cut. It was Mulder and Frohike's phone short hand. They called Krycek "the runaway", information was background. Mulder went to the kitchen to get a beer, then went to his computer and booted it up. His email was full of documents, all starting with the birth certificate of one Aleksandr Antov Andreichenko, youngest son of Yevgeny Antov Andreichenko and Noyabrina Maria Krasek, younger brother of Antov Gregor Andreichenko, deceased.

Photos from their church newsletters, St. Cyril in Oak Park, Illinois, show two strong, healthy, happy boys who joked around a lot. Both were always shown smiling and hugging each other. They grew up in Elmwood Park, Illinois, Antov four years older than Alex. Mulder searched through more documents and found a church newsletter with two full pages dedicated to the Andreichenko-Krasek family. It seemed that the brothers and sisters of both of Krycek's parents were very close.

The article talked about a whole family who went on a vacation from Russia to America, and just stayed. They kept their land in Russia, several dachas, one with a lake of its own. There was one picture of Krycek, his mother, father, and brother, all dressed well at a wedding. They looked happy, comfortable, their smiles genuine. Mulder skimmed through the articles until he came to the ones he was looking through.

The obituary for Antov "Tony" Gregor Andreichenko read like a Greek tragedy. The boy was driving a delivery from the local supermarket to a homebound neighbor, something he did frequently. He'd saved tips from deliveries and mowing lawns and other jobs of the like to buy the used 1982 Chevy Camaro, which he, his father, and brother were still working on. It was three weeks until graduation. Someone who had started the Memorial Day weekend celebrations a little early plowed into the car at a right angle into the driver's side. Antov was killed instantly.

The entire community was devastated, canceling the senior prom and opting to hold a candlelight memorial instead, filled with prayers and hymns. This was something that saddened Mulder, feeling sorry for Krycek. His beloved older brother was killed and he probably mourned the boy for a long, long time.

The paperwork didn't stop there. The next set of dated documents were from Krycek's school. Letters home that Alex wasn't working up to his potential. He wasn't anything like his brother and something must be wrong with him. They recommended counseling. Mulder didn't see any record of counseling. He did see high school and college records of a young man who tried to be everything his brother had been. He was on the soccer team, got a soccer scholarship, but lost it due to not maintaining his GPA. He defaulted on work-study due to missed days at his job, studying all night for finals.

It seemed to Mulder, when he tried, he did very well with his grades and his sports. His need to be perfect, as perfect as his older brother, would ruin him. He seemed to stabilize in the academy. And then it hit Mulder that he was probably approached in the academy by the smoking man. All the lights clicked on for Mulder. Krycek was plucked up just at the right time. He was vulnerable, eager and not very knowledgeable about sophisticated organizations such as the Consortium.

Not like Mulder. Mulder had grown up virtually in the middle of all the dealings his father had been a part of without catching on. It infuriated him that he had to deal with such painful memories, yet his enemy, this...man who was responsible for so much pain in his life, Krycek gets to have this idyllic life, with family and friends, and Mulder had to live through his sister's abduction, his mother's distance, his father's drinking. It wasn't fair!

Mulder closed down his computer and tried to get a few hours of sleep on the couch. He wanted to be as rested as possible for the drive to Rhode Island. His dreams were quiet that night, so that he could rest, for which he was thankful. When the sun rose, and the toilet flushed, Mulder sat up. He watched Krycek walk out of the bathroom, hand down his briefs scratching himself, yawning.

"Good morning, Alex," Mulder said. Krycek watched him go into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Mulder sat there, where he always tried not to think, and felt his brain racing a mile a minute. He had to finish packing, clean out the refrigerator, lock things up, pack his laptop, charger and his cell phone charger...he felt like Scully for a moment. It unnerved him.

Krycek walked out, clothing on, jacket in his arms and said, "Mulder, I appreciate your help, but it's not gonna work. I'm starting to get shaky and sick. That methadone shit doesn't do what I need. Just let me go, ok?"

"No, Alex, don't even start. We'll get some food on the way up to Rhode Island and you can have your dose then. Make sure you piss because I don't want to stop a lot, got it?"

Krycek sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, whatever."

Whatever? Mulder finished tossing the last of his items in his laptop bag and wondered where the fight was. Maybe it was easier to get some methadone from Mulder than it is to escape and try and get some on his own. He didn't get the high, but he didn't get sick either.

"So, how about you take the duffle out to my car and wait for me. And..." Mulder grabbed at Krycek's leather jacket and held it behind his back. "I'll hang onto this until I get down to the car." Krycek's face became a mask of animosity.

"Mulder, do not fuck with my jacket, OK? If anything happens to it, you will pay with your life," Alex rasped. He heaved the duffle onto his shoulder, professional as a sailor, and tottered under the weight. Mulder watched him walk the bag out and smiled after him. A streak ran through him and he donned the jacket, giving it a moment. What was he expecting?

Mulder knew what he was expecting. He thought that wearing the jacket, he'd learn all of Krycek's secrets, the reasons behind what he did and what he is. He would gain all the insight to why Krycek had taken the path he was on. He should have known better. Nothing happened. And the disappointment was palpable. He dipped his head and grabbed the suitcase. Scully would feed his fish for him.

He found Krycek standing beside the Lexus, and waited for the other man to become angered seeing him in the jacket. What happened was a dark head tilted to the side. "Not bad on you, Mulder," he said.

"Thanks, Krycek," was all he said back. He loaded the trunk and opened the doors for he and Krycek to get in the car. "We'll go get breakfast and I'll give you the meds. How's that?"

"Yeah, whatever," Krycek said, settling back in the seat. Mulder drove them to his favorite Denny's where they knew him well, how he liked his eggs and coffee...he liked strong coffee and hated runny yolks. Krycek ordered a Grand Slam breakfast, but barely ate any, only guzzling the juice doctored with methadone. He sat back, waiting, his eyes closed and head back on the booth. Mulder watched his considerable lashes flutter under the influence of the drug.

Those lashes, longest he'd ever seen on anyone. Not even a woman's lashes were that long. And with his face so wan and pale, they looked like black lace on his cheeks. Mulder looked so closely, he didn't even notice the waitress putting his food down. He looked away just before Krycek raised his head, trying to get himself together. Krycek picked at his food and barely drank any coffee.

"What's wrong with the food?" Mulder asked.

"I'm not hungry. I just wanna sleep. Makes it easier."

"Yeah, I guess so," Mulder said. He paid the check and followed Krycek to the car. As they were fastening their seatbelts, Mulder said, "OK, lets get going. It's gonna be about a six hour drive. Does anyone have to make peepee?"

"Drive, mothafucker," Krycek mumbled while settling down to sleep.

Five and a half hours later, Mulder pulled into his mother's long driveway in Quonochautaug. The house was the way he remembered it: large, white, cold and quiet. He leaned over and nudged Krycek, who'd yet again fallen asleep. "We're here."

Krycek looked at the facade and stretched. "Nice house. Where's the bed?"

"Alex, you can't sleep through this whole thing. We have a lot of work to do. The place is a mess since I was last here, and I know you're tidy person. Can't find any of the bodies you left behind..." Mulder smiled at the joke he made, but obviously, Krycek didn't find it as funny.

"I'm not a maid, Mulder," he drawled before yawning.

"No, but hard work never hurt anyone, so let's get moving!" Mulder got out of the car, popping the trunk open, still wearing Krycek's jacket. He darted up the steps and to the door, unlocking the ancient latch to enter the musty old house. It hadn't been used for years. But there was one thing he remembered clearly. In the basement, behind the coal bin for the stove that they never used anymore since getting the forced air system, was a narrow trunk. If you didn't know it was there, you would never find it. The coal bin looked as though it was completely flush with the wall. In that trunk, Mulder kept his magazines, memories and other strange things. He opened it, and the leather jacket fit just nicely into the space that was left.

He looked around and began turning things on, like the electricity, the boiler, the heating system. He needed an excuse to have been down there and that was it. He couldn't let Krycek know he'd hidden the jacket down there. He'd tell Krycek his mother had a wall safe. She did, but the jacket would never fit in it. He couldn't get it open anyway. It was rusted shut.

When he went back out, Mulder was happy to see Krycek out of the car, heaving the luggage out of the trunk.

"Nice to see you up, Alex," Mulder said. He was going to make it a point to call Krycek by his first name. It would make the situation more personal. And the more time he spent with Krycek, the more he learned about the man, the more personal this became.

"Fuck you, and stop saying my name. We are not friends. I'm here against my will and you won't let me go."

"I'm a federal agent who's detaining a potential witness that may be in grave danger if not secured in a safe house. Trust me, this is as legal as I can make it."

"Fucking shit! Mulder! What the fuck do you want from me? You dragged me out into East Bum-fucked Rhode Island, you hid my jacket..."

"No, that's in my mother's safe. I know the combination. So, don't bother trying to crack it. My mom spent quite a bit of money on it."

"Fuck all...I never learned how to crack a safe. Whatever, Mulder. Do whatever the fuck you want to me." Krycek grabbed the duffle and walked up the stairs to the house. Mulder shook his head, grabbed the suitcase and slammed it down before he followed Krycek up to the porch. He led the way in and looked around. Krycek walked into the living room and said, "Holy shit, what happened here?"

"I was looking for something. We'll need to clean the whole house, windows too. The work will do you good."

"I don't do windows, Mulder. I had a fucking maid in my apartment...when I had one."

"What happened to it?" Mulder asked, going into the kitchen. He pulled out a broom and dust pan and dragged the garbage can into the living room. "I'll sweep, you hold the dust pan, OK?"

And so Mulder began to clean the house with Krycek. They stopped at sunset to go get some food, and later stopped at a 7-11 to get Alex juice for his methadone. Again, Krycek didn't eat much, but Mulder figured it was just the sickness. He tried not to let his concern for Krycek's health show, but it was difficult to hide. The man looked like he was trying just to keep his composure in front of Mulder.

Mulder drove them to a supermarket and looked over at Krycek. "Can you cook?" he asked.

"Some, why?"

"Well, I can't cook. So, that'll be your job, all three meals. You can handle that?"

"So, I guess when I make my getaway, you'll starve?" Krycek didn't look up from his lap where his folded hands were.

"You're not going to leave, Krycek. Not until you tell me what I need to know. You know it as well as I do. So stop giving me this shit story about you leaving. OK?" Mulder was surprised at his tone. He wondered why he was so hateful to Krycek. The young man was going to be his savior, had all the answers he needed. Mulder just had to figure out how to get them.

They shopped for food for almost two hours, Mulder throwing anything he could think of that he may need into the cart. Krycek didn't say a word, just pushed the cart along. Mulder was convinced Krycek was just lying in wait, until the time he could escape. Mulder would have to be careful.

When they arrived back at the cabin, Mulder charged Krycek with putting the groceries away. During that time, Mulder made sure he hid the car keys well, inside the chimney flue, the one in the living room that no one ever used. The television was in the den, and that was the fire place that was used all the time. Krycek would never look in the chimney flue.

When Mulder got to the kitchen, he found most of the food still on the counter, with Krycek on his knees, scrubbing the refrigerator. "Your mother had some interesting science experiments going on in here. I won't eat food out of a dirty kitchen."

"Well, if you think this one was bad, you should see the one in the garage."

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding!" Krycek looked honestly shocked. "Christ, ours was..." He quickly clammed up and went back to scrubbing the bottom of the refrigerator.

"Where was yours? The basement? The back porch? The pantry? Where did Mama Andreichenko keep the extra food?"

Krycek looked up at him, hate bubbling up in his eyes and he stood, fluidly. "Don't ever mention my past to me. You got it, Mulder? You say one more thing about my family, and badge or not, I'll put you in the ground. You got it?"

Mulder knew truth when he heard it. He stepped back, hands up in a defensive gesture, shaking his head. "Don't get upset, Alex. It's OK, I won't ever say it again."

Krycek turned, without changing his blank expression, back to the refrigerator and continued his cleaning. Mulder left the room and went to the den, checking to see if the television still had it's satellite service. He was pleased to see all four hundred channels in crystal clear color. He sat down, flipping around, until he found the porn channels. Ah yes, there's nothing more relaxing than the sound of two bodies slapping together.

Mulder awoke to someone's scream of completion and looked around. He turned off the television and listened for any sounds in the house. Everything was silent. "Alex?" he called out, walking towards the kitchen. The kitchen was spotless. Krycek had put all the food away, and was surprisingly intuitive about where Mulder's mother put things. The refrigerator was sparkling and full of the fresh fruit and veggies they'd purchased that day. Mulder even went out to the garage refrigerator and saw that Krycek had gone ahead and cleaned that. The man was obsessive.

He was also gone. Mulder called out his name again, but there was no sound. Going back toward the kitchen, Mulder looked at the sand leading down to the beach. There were footprints. He went for a walk. Mulder followed his footprints. It wasn't long before he began to think back to the green agent who's hand shook as he held the gun on Augustus Cole, thinking Cole was going to shoot Mulder. Krycek looked for the gun, searching like a madman. Mulder knew Krycek wanted it to be a clean kill. And as far as Mulder was concerned, it was. It was what Cole had wanted, to finally sleep.

Mulder looked up and saw the younger man making his way down the beach towards him. He was barefoot, only wearing the sweatshirt Mulder had given him and the jeans that now looked like they were getting baggy on him. Krycek had little or no appetite.

"Alex, I was just looking for you," Mulder said, smiling into the wind that whipped around them.

"Thinking I was running?" Krycek asked. He didn't look up at Mulder, intently interested in the sand under his feet.

"Yeah, a little. But I think you have more integrity than that. And I think that you wouldn't leave your jacket behind, would you?"

Krycek shook his head. They turned and started walking towards the house again, both looking out at the beach ahead of them, not speaking.

They reached the house and Krycek went in, shivering visibly. "Hey, can you start a fire?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah, why? You can't?"

"No, I can. But I want you to make a fire in the den hearth. Make sure the flue..."

"Mulder, I know how to use a fireplace. Is there kindling in there? Or do I need to find some?" Krycek stood with his hands on his hips, to keep them from shaking. Mulder could see the sweat forming on his brow, despite how obviously cold he was, due to his bare feet in the cold sand.

"No, there are the makings for a fire still. Go on in and get warmed up. I gotta make a few calls and then I'll be in with you."

Mulder picked up the kitchen phone as soon as Krycek was gone and dialed Scully's number. He waited her two rings until she picked up. She always let the phone ring twice.

"Mulder! What took you so long to call me? Why didn't you turn on your cell phone? Where's Krycek now?"

"Sorry, Scully. We had things we had to do. Alex is in the den making a fire in the hearth."

"Alex again? Mulder...I know...I mean...you went to school in England. Is there something you're not telling me about Krycek? And you?"

Mulder stopped for a moment. Was she asking...

"Scully, I have not had sexual relations with that man. If that's what you're implying."

Scully laughed. Mulder was thankful she got his sense of humor. "Mulder, I just don't want you going out on a limb and having it crumble beneath you because your source told you to. You give him such blind faith, yet you trust no one else."

"I trust you, Scully. Don't ever forget that." Mulder shifted from foot to foot, hoping Scully would get off the line soon. Without the heat being on in the house, and the long walk on the beach without a coat had him pretty chilled.

"All right, Mulder. Let me know if you need me for anything, though..."

"Oh! Could you put in an emergency vacation request for me? Say I have a cousin who needs..."

"I'll take care of it, Mulder. If there are any problems, I'll call. Be careful with him, OK?"

"I'll be as careful as I always am."

"That's what I'm afraid of." They hung up and Mulder snickered all the way into the den, which had a toasty glow emanating from it. Mulder entered the room to find Krycek sitting on the floor, arms around his knees, rocking back and for.

"You got the fire going, nice job, Alex." Mulder sat in the easy chair and raised his feet.

"It's a gas fireplace. Mulder...can I have more of that stuff? Please?" Krycek's voice was shaky and he had stopped rocking.

"The methadone?" Mulder looked at his watch. "No, sorry. We have a few hours until you need a dose. Why don't we make some dinner?"

"No, come on, Mulder. Please? It's starting to hurt. My stomach is cramping. I'm gonna throw up soon. Please? Just a little?"

"Two more hours, Alex." Mulder stood from the chair and knelt beside Krycek, putting a hand on his shoulder. Krycek sprang from his curled position and grabbed Mulder's sweater, knocking the man backwards. He straddled Mulder's torso, holding him down.

"Mulder, please, I'm begging you. I can't take this..."

Thinking fast, Mulder rolled Krycek onto his back and wrapped his arms around the man lying beneath him. "Relax, Alex. It's OK. I'm here, and I'm not leaving you. We can make it through for two hours. Come on. We can do it. I swear, I'm right here along side you."

"No...please, shit, you don't get it...I can't take them. Please, Mulder..."

Krycek began shaking. Mulder pulled him up into a sitting position and dragged him closer to the fire. "It's OK, Alex. Calm down. I've got you." Mulder rubbed Krycek's back and looked into the hazy green eyes that focused on nothing. "Alex, who are 'they'?"

Krycek pulled away. "Huh? What 'they'? What the fuck are you talking about?"

Mulder sat back on his heels. "You said you couldn't take 'them' anymore. I want to know who 'they' are? Are you hearing things?"

Krycek got to his feet. "Fuck you, Mulder! I'm not crazy! I just like to be high, OK? Is that so hard to believe? I'm not fucking crazy!" Krycek stomped out of the room and up the stairs. He slammed a door and Mulder heard the telltale snick of the lock on his mother's bedroom door. It would be fine for Krycek to stay in there. It had its own en suite bathroom. If he felt sick, he could do it in private.

Mulder went back to the chair and turned the television on. He watched a mindless Godzilla movie for a while until he heard a toilet flush. Krycek was sick. The water started running in the bathroom, and Mulder figured Krycek was taking a shower. Mulder looked at his watch and saw it was getting late in the afternoon, and the sun was setting. Time for pizza.

When the pie was finally delivered, after Mulder explained over the phone why he was still at the summer house after the season was over, and explaining it to the delivery man the same thing, he called out, "Alex! Soup's on!"

There was no movement from upstairs. Mulder sighed and put the pizza on the counter to go upstairs and find Krycek. He went as quietly as he could up the steps and waited, waited to hear anything. Nothing from his mother's room. Thankfully, his mother didn't believe in locks, which sucked when he was fourteen and wanted to jerk off, but was great at this moment.

Krycek was sprawled across his mother's bed, asleep, completely naked. Mulder saw the man's entire rib cage with pale skin stretched across. This wasn't the way he was supposed to look. Yet, to Mulder's voracious eyes, he looked just fine. He will look better after food and work, Mulder thought.

"Hey, Alex, wake up," Mulder said, walking to the bed. He reached out and gently and shook Alex's shoulder. "Come, Lexi, wakey wakey," he crooned.

Two crystal green eyes opened and then closed again. "I thought it was all a dream. Fuck, Mulder, this sucks! Gimme my fucking meds, man. Can you handle that?"

Can he handle that? Mulder grabbed Krycek by the biceps and hauled him to his feet, giving him a shake. "You little fucker, don't you ever talk to me like that again! When I say jump, you fucking jump, you got me!"

Krycek's head rolled on his shoulders. He shook it a bit and turned his head back to Mulder. "You like holding me when I'm naked, Mulder?" he asked, moving closer to the older man.

Mulder pulled him up tight and said, "Little boy, you could not handle me, if you tried..."

And he shoved Krycek back on the bed, noting how his body bounced on the bed, especially his cock. He watched as Krycek got up and took a deep breath, grabbing a bed post for stability.

"Get dressed and come down to the kitchen for pizza. I'm not reheating it for you."

Mulder turned and left the room, glad that he didn't show how his breathing and heartbeat had picked up. He descended the stairs to make his way to the kitchen. He dished himself some pizza and left a plate and the box for Krycek, who followed him quickly. They sat silently, yet again, and ate. Of course, Krycek nibbled one slice and decided against eating.

Mulder finally felt pity. Regardless of finding Krycek asleep, the bags and circles under his eyes resembled bruises more and more every time he saw the man. Something was keeping him from truly resting. Mulder knew that methadone filled the need in the body for the opiate, but there was no high. Maybe that was the problem. Mulder got up to get another slice and said, "You want a beer?" Mulder had gotten a case of Heineken and it was chilling in the fridge. Krycek had heeded Mulder's warning not to touch it.

"I thought I wasn't allowed to have any of 'your' beer, Mulder," he said.

"Well, charity begins at home, right? So, have a beer. Maybe when you get to sleep, it'll help you rest some more. You're still looking tired."

"Yeah, well, if I had some dope, I'd be fine. It'd be fucking quiet and I'd be happy, asshole."

"Firstly, watch who you're talking to. Second, it can't get quieter than here. So...what are you talking about?"

Krycek looked away and smirked. "You gonna gimme that beer? And my meds?"

Mulder stood and went to the fridge. He poured a glass of juice and the methadone liquid into it. He didn't realize Krycek watched where he put it back, into the refrigerator. He handed Krycek the glass and then a beer.

Krycek did seem to relax after a couple of beers. They retired to the den to watch the Knicks game as they played the Wizards. Mulder half watched the game and half rolled the idea in his head the clues Krycek was letting out. He'd mentioned "them" and he said he needed the drugs for quiet. Was Krycek hearing voices? He hadn't seen any history of schizophrenia in his family. It would have to be a grandparent or a parent. But there was nothing to be found.

So the question still remained, what the hell was Krycek talking about? Mulder began racing his mind through the various ways of therapy that he'd studied. He learned how to be a psychologist, he just actually wasn't one.

The key to therapy for those who don't want to talk, is to get them into a situation where they are caught off guard and talk out of compulsion or boredom. He'd make his way around and find out what Krycek was really thinking. Why had he gone down the road of illegal drugs when he'd had such a straight and narrow past, and a bright future ahead, before turning to the Consortium.

When Mulder looked over at Krycek, he was asleep. Great, right where Mulder was planning on sleeping. This guy slept *a lot*! Was there something wrong with him? We're detoxing folks supposed to be jumpy and antsy? It was probably easier to deal with if he just concentrated on sleep.

Mulder waited to see if Krycek would wake up and go to bed. Mulder liked that couch. He was in luck. Krycek began thrashing, gripped in a nightmare. He mumbled in his sleep, but soon it became yelling. He was telling someone to shut up. Then he was screaming at them to shut up, pressing his hands on his ears. He sat up straight, and screamed, "Mulder!"

Mulder jumped out of the chair and went to him, sitting beside him and shaking his shoulders. "Wake up, Alex, I'm here. I'm right here. Look at me!" Mulder held his face and turned it to look in the wild green eyes.

"Mulder, shut them the fuck up!" he yelled.

"Who, Alex? Who is talking to you? Tell me and we'll make them stop."

Krycek recoiled, and pushed Mulder away. He was fully awake and remembered where he was. "Keep your fucking hands off me, Mulder! You got it?"

"You were screaming for me, you asshole! I'm supposed to just let you freak out and not doing anything? You know, Alex, I was going to be a psychologist before I began profiling. I did learn empathy for people. I'm sorry if that doesn't usually translate well. But when someone is calling out for me in a nightmare, I like to listen!"

"If you ever touch me again, Mulder, I'll fucking kill you. You got it?"

Mulder stood and walked back to the recliner, to sit back again. "If you do, you know Scully will hunt you down and take revenge. And you've seen her cutting a body. You know how methodical, accurate and ruthless she can be. And that's on a dead body."

Krycek stood and walked out of the room, not answering Mulder's threat. Mulder heard the footsteps up to the bedroom and the door slam shut. Mulder chuckled to himself. Teena Mulder didn't allow doors slammed in her home. Mulder was brought up to express his anger in other ways. This was probably the most slammed doors in this home ever.

Mulder curled up on the couch, television droning in the background. Something woke him. He looked up and saw a light outside the den. The kitchen, maybe? He got up and walked out, confirming yes, the light in the kitchen was on. Krycek probably wanted a midnight snack. He was not prepared for the sight that greeted him.

Krycek was sprawled on the floor, asleep, he hoped. There was an empty medicine bottle that had fallen from his hand. It was the remaining three doses of methadone. Shit! Mulder dove for the phone, dialing Scully's number, cursing her neurotic need to let the phone ring twice. She sounded as if she'd been sound asleep.

"Mulder, what's wrong?" A yawn punctuated his assumption.

"Krycek took the last of the methadone. It was about three doses."

"Oh, no. Did you give him tonight's dose as well?"

"Yes, but that was about five hours ago. Is it bad?"

"Well, I don't think so. I mean, do you know how much heroin he was using? From what I remember, he's lost about twenty or thirty pounds since I last saw him, after he left the bureau. Considering I only prescribed 10 mils, I think he should be OK. He'll just sleep a lot."

"Tell me something new. That's all he's done."

"Well, would you rather he be agitated all over the house?" Scully sighed. "Just put him in bed and let him sleep it off. Check on him every few hours. Make sure his breathing is deep and even, not shallow and fast."

Mulder leaned over and looked down into Krycek's face. His breaths made his bare chest rise and fall in the most enticing way. If the guy was going to be asleep for a while, surely one touch.... "Well, Mulder?" he heard on the phone. "What's his breathing like?"

Shaken from almost molesting an unconscious person, Mulder shook his head slightly. "His breathing is deep and even. I'll keep my eye on him."

"I'm going to call in a prescription for methadone tablets to the local pharmacy and have them deliver it in the morning. You dissolve these in juice, like the other, but they don't need refrigeration. So you can hide them better. Make sure he doesn't OD again."

"Will do, Doctor Dana." Mulder hung up to her giggling. He manhandled Krycek up off the floor and back up to the bedroom. He rolled the man over onto his side, so that if he vomited, he wouldn't aspirate it. Mulder left Krycek in bed, snoring lightly, and suppressed the urge to place a kiss on his forehead.

Mulder settled before his laptop to work for a while, trying to do more in-depth research on methadone treatment. Specifically, he wanted to know more about the aural hallucinations Krycek was having. If the man believed he was hearing things, it could get very messy.

When sunrise rolled around, Mulder yawned in acknowledgement. He didn't intend to break the night, but it was all too common when he was on the trail of something, research, a criminal, just the right photo of a transvestite in red leather. He went about all of it with the same intensity.

Realizing he couldn't go to sleep, he went to the kitchen and began breakfast, one of the few meals he could cook. He'd learned early how to make simple meals, as his mother was wont to sit around and stare into the backyard for hours at a time. He tossed the empty bottle into the trash and continued until his eggs were scrambled fluffy, his toast golden brown, matching the bacon and the coffee was brewed to perfection. Contrary to popular belief, Mulder made an excellent cup of coffee.

After he ate and cleaned up, he checked on Krycek, as he'd done several times during the night, and the man hadn't so much as rolled over. He would probably sleep throughout the day, which was fine by Mulder. When he awoke, there were plans in place.

Mulder enjoyed seeing Krycek drag himself into the kitchen the next day. "You look like you got slapped around by the boogie man, Alex," Mulder said, chuckling.

"That's how I fucking feel. You made food?" he asked.

"Yes, eggs, waffles and bacon. And coffee."

Krycek tilted his head at Mulder. "You can cook?"

"Breakfast. And simple things, grilling and stuff. I learned to fend for myself early. You?"

"I'm a mess in the kitchen. My m..." Krycek abruptly stopped speaking and poured himself a cup of coffee.

"You mother wouldn't let you in the kitchen? Makes sense. She was probably very traditional."

"Don't talk about her." The warning sound rumbling deep in Krycek's throat was very threatening, but there was a waver.

"What's with that? I know you're entire history. I know about your parents, your brother, your college years. There's no secrets there, OK? I know why you agreed to the Smoking Man's terms. You thought you were being a good son and a good American. You wanted to make your parents and grandparents so proud of you, that they'd stop mourning your brother. I know, Alex. I know."

Mulder spoke so gently, so quietly, and honestly, he wasn't surprised when unguarded green eyes showed him how much pain the man was really feeling. Krycek looked away quickly and hid behind a sip of his coffee mug. Mulder decided to change the subject. He needed to take baby steps with Krycek.

"So, we have a big day ahead of us. We have a new way of dispensing your methadone, in a dissolvable tablet that Scully had sent over. So, no more ODing, OK? In punishment of breaking the rules, you are going to clean up my mother's garden this morning. So get moving."

Without a word, Krycek put his dishes in the sink and went up the stairs to the bedroom. Mulder had left a bag of clothes there for him, things he would need to work around the house like jeans, t-shirts, a pair of work boots, socks and briefs. Mulder smirked at his attention to detail, knowing Krycek wore 501s and Hanes.

When Krycek came downstairs, he was freshly showered and shaven, which Mulder rather liked. He looked like the green agent again. Granted his hair was a little too long on top, but at least it wasn't gelled the way he'd had it when he first started at the Hoover. Maybe he'd treat the man to a day at a salon.

Where the hell had that come from? Mulder admitted openly, to himself at least, that he was bisexual, and loved to be pampered when he had his hair cut, and the occasional manicure. But the thought of Krycek being happily spoiled at a salon was a little fey for him. Yet, Mulder tried to be honest with himself, at least in his head, that the idea made him smile a bit.

In the sun, all day, they pulled weeds, raked old leaves, tried to salvage flowers that were just dying. Krycek was silent the entire time, taking directions from Mulder, who was trying to remember what to do. It had been years since he'd tended a garden, since he'd gone off to college. It was nice to smell the cool, moist earth again.

Krycek worked hard, shaking a bit, but he was sweating, regardless of the cool breezes blowing off the ocean. When they'd finished, some time around lunch, Mulder was very proud of the work that they'd done. He called out for Chinese food for lunch for them, making sure he got extra of everything, since he was starving. He thought that Krycek might be hungry, but the man just picked at his food.

"Alex, you have to eat," Mulder said. "The last time I saw you, you had twice the amount of ass. You can't get clean if you can't stay healthy. Now, I'm being nice, giving you the methadone and not following procedure to get you to detox. I don't think detoxing you right now would be beneficial. But I want you to eat."

"I'm just not hungry. All I want to do is sleep, Mulder." Krycek's voice didn't have an ounce of fight left.

"I know, Alex. But no more sleeping. You're supposed to give me information, and I'm doing a piss-poor job of getting it from you."

"Well, I don't know what stuff I'm supposed to tell you, but I've had a migraine for weeks now."

Mulder cocked his head to the side, confused. "Alex, methadone is usually a heavy duty pain reliever. You shouldn't be feeling any pain. You just won't get the heroin high."

Krycek looked around a bit, sighed, then settled his gaze on Mulder. "I know."

Mulder almost wanted to feel sorry for Krycek at that moment, but he didn't. He did realize he had to take a different tack. Being an agent wasn't working. Thinking quickly back to the conversation he'd had with Scully, Mulder decided that maybe Krycek really needed group therapy.

"Give the hamsters a rest, would you, Mulder?" Krycek said.

"What?" Mulder asked, turning to him.

"The hamster on the wheel in your head, he's off on a marathon. Let him sleep and stop thinking so much."

Mulder giggled. "Yeah, I was considering what we're going to do next. Usually, in a rehab center, you'd get group therapy. I think that's exactly what you need."

"What? No fucking way, not a chance. I'm not letting you in my head, Mulder. Who knows what you'll do once you're in there..."

"Alex, you have information stored in your memory that I need. Do you understand me?" he asked, as if he was speaking with a child. "I will let you go when I have the information I need. It's that simple. So when you're ready to tell me what you remember from the DAT tape, I'll let you go. How's that sound?"

"I don't fucking remember anything, Mulder! That's what I'm trying to tell you! I read it once, and it was in Navajo. I don't know how to read Navajo. Didn't Skinner get that guy from New Mexico to memorize it?"

Mulder turned his head away. "That was a bluff, to call off the old man from our backs. Skinner went out on a limb over that. They would have killed him."

Krycek threw his fork down. "Spender is an asshole."

"Spender? Is that the Smoking Man?" Mulder hunched up in his chair, eager to listen.

"Yes. Sit back down, Mulder. I don't know where he lives or how to reach him. If I did, he wouldn't be a problem for anyone anymore."

"You'd kill him? Like you killed my father?" Mulder stood and pushed the chair back.

"Get a new line, would you, Mulder? Are you going to chant that at me for the rest of my life?" Krycek asked, standing to meet him. Mulder looked Krycek up and down. He didn't look like he could fight off a cold, but looks were always deceiving when it came to Krycek.

"Sit down, and calm yourself," Mulder said, sitting back in his chair and taking a spoonful of egg drop soup. He watched as Krycek warily sat and went about eating, clearing most of his plate. He seemed to like the lo mein, the shrimp in lobster sauce, and the spare rib tips. He didn't like the rice or the egg roll.

"You should have told me what you like, Alex. I could have gotten more for you."

"Well, it all sucks compared to the food in Hong Kong. All the food there is better."

"You liked it?" Mulder asked. "Tell me what you liked most about Hong Kong."

"I didn't like running into you and having my nose almost broken with a phone receiver. That's for fucking sure."

"OK, but what did you like? Besides the food."

"I liked that people left me alone. I was just another white devil foreigner. Oh, the hookers loved to make fun of me..." Krycek turned back to his meal and began eating again.

"What about the hookers? Talk to me, Alex. Come on, doctor-patient privilege. I promise."

"You're not a doctor..."

"But I play one on TV..."

"You're not funny." Krycek sat back

Mulder pushed the bok choy around his plate a little longer. "Alex, we should really begin to discuss the items that are on the DAT tape. I don't want to hold you any longer than I need to. You are obviously unhappy here, and I don't want to be here any longer than I have to. So...talk."

"How many fucking times are we going to go through this? I DON'T FUCKING KNOW!"

Krycek jumped to his feet and slammed out the back door. Another long walk on the beach later, and a chilled Krycek joined Mulder in the toasty den. He sat on the couch for a moment, looking at the basketball game on the television.

"Don't you ever watch anything else, Mulder?" he asked.

Mulder turned to Krycek and smiled. "What do you want to watch?" He tossed the remote to Krycek who fiddled with it a little. Then the channels began flowing by. Soon enough, they were watching a hockey game, Krycek on the edge of his seat. To Mulder's dismay, Krycek went running out of the room, and he heard the downstairs toilet flush. Mulder looked at the clock. It was well past his evening dose. Shit, he forgot again. This rehab crap wasn't his bag. He wasn't any good at it. He went to the kitchen and made Krycek's dose for him. Krycek took the glass gratefully and guzzled the juice. "Go on, have a beer. It'll make you feel better."

"It helps, Mulder. Thank you. Can I have two?" The sound of Krycek asking politely evoked a range of emotions in Mulder's heart. Finally, he felt empathy for the other man.

"Of course. One at a time. Then we can get back to the Hartford game." Mulder nodded and walked back to the den. Krycek followed and sat on the couch, swinging his feet up. They watched in silence until the break for the third period. Mulder stood and stretched. He looked over at Krycek, who was studying his beer bottle.

"This is an exciting game, Alex. Thanks for putting it on." Mulder was going to try anything. He was not going to let a reluctant Krycek force his hand and let him go through sheer frustration. No, Mulder would win this battle of wills, any way he could.

"Yeah, the Devils are always a good match up. They're going to revolutionize the game with the zone coverage plays."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean," Mulder said, genuinely confused.

"Oh, the Devils are going to revolutionize the game as we know it." Krycek went into a detailed analysis of the New Jersey Devils and what their latest revolution in strategy would mean to the game of hockey for years to come.

Mulder listened and asked intelligent questions as they went along. The entire third period was spent as a lesson to Mulder on good hockey. Utterly fascinated, Mulder listened intently and allowed Krycek to be the authority. It was incredible. Finally, the same animated, intelligent green agent who had impressed Mulder back when they were partners had resurfaced. His voice went up an octave as he spoke. It wasn't that deep, gravely voice he used when he wanted to scare you.

Mulder and Krycek settled toward the end of the game, when the score was tied and the Devils were on a power play, both men were on the edge of their seats. The rose slightly, as the clock ticked down, and the Devils were tied with the Whalers. Just before the buzzer, a wide shot flew right past the Hartford goal tender and both men jumped up to cheer, hugging and jumping around.

Krycek looked up and pulled away first, slow realization covering his features. He looked down between then, then stepped back. "Sorry, Mulder. I...um...I gotta piss."

He left the room, wobbly and smelling of Heineken, but he made his way up the stairs. Mulder snickered and checked the time. It was after six, time for dinner. There was still a Thai place in town that would deliver he knew. His mother loved them. He would get a good dinner for them, help Krycek sweat the dope out of his system.

Mulder called for Pad Thai with huge shrimps, chicken curry, spicy budoo and black sticky rice for dessert. He hoped the smells would entice Krycek when the food arrived. It was something Mulder was almost counting on. As Mulder got out the serving dishes, Krycek hovered in the door to the kitchen.

"Is that Thai food?" Krycek asked.

Mulder nodded, smiling. There was a connection. "Yeah, you hungry?"

"Starving. Cleaning up makes me ravenous."

Mulder let that comment go for just a second, then, as he set a beer before Krycek, he said, "How many times have you tried to clean up?"

Through a mouth full of noodles, Krycek shrugged and said, "This is three."

"What went wrong the last time?" Another mouthful of rice and vegetables for Mulder.

It took a few moments, but Krycek sipped his beer and said, "I could deal. It's not easy kicking dope, Mulder. I...uh...I'm glad I'm not alone this time. But I don't think it'll work."

"Alex, you need to help me. You say half things, then you clam up. If you don't tell me everything, I can't help you. I don't know what else to do for you. And this is as much for you as it is for me. Using heroin is illegal at best and deadly at worst. Jim Morrison, Jimi Hendrix..."

"Janis Joplin, Shannon Hoon, I know, I know...it's the only thing that..."

"That what? Quiets the voices?" Krycek looked up at Mulder as if he had been slapped.

"What does that mean?" Krycek asked.

"You've hinted a time or two. Remember, psychology was my major. I didn't take the therapy route, but I'm not bad at listening. It's what I do for a living, remember? Listen to the clues, the victims, the witnesses, and put it all together. You'd be surprised at what I can come up with, Alex. Try me."

It took the man a bit, a few more forkfuls of food, and a plaintive moan about not having chopsticks, before he sighed heavily.

"I...this is crazy. You hate me. You think I killed your father. Why do you care to help me? I wanna know that."

"Alex, it's the same reason I'm calling you by your first name. It's beyond our fights. Ballistics proved that you didn't shoot Melissa Scully. Did Cardinal kill my father as well? Tell me, Alex. Please."

Krycek took a deep breath, then a deep draught of his beer before looking up at Mulder. "You have to promise me that if I tell you what happened, you won't hurt me."

Mulder took his own breath. A million things zinged through his mind at once. "If you can trust me not to hurt you when you tell me this, can you trust me with other things?"

"So long as you won't try and kick the shit out of me, Mulder." There was a gleam in Krycek's eye, one that Mulder knew well. It was a look that once would have meant death to the person who crossed Krycek. But in his current state, malnourished and still cleaning up from heroin, Mulder wasn't sure Krycek could hold up his end of the fight. Both men were waiting for the other to give in and say they wouldn't double-cross the other. One had to admit they would trust the other.

"I will not hurt you so long as you tell me the truth. I'll trust you if you trust me. And that goes against my beliefs."

"Yeah, I know. That 'trust no one' shit. Well, trust me, OK?"

A last deep breath. "I trust you, Alex."

Krycek scooped his chopsticks through the sticky rice and took a mouthful. "OK, then, this is the truth. Your father called the smoking man that night. He said he was tired of hiding his secrets from you and he was going to spill everything to you. The smoking man sent me there...to..."

"To kill me, didn't he? He wanted you to kill me after my father told me everything. And you killed my father, so that...I...could live. Didn't you?"

With a stiff line of his mouth, almost a pout, Krycek nodded. "Sorry. I didn't want to. It took me so long to pull the trigger. It felt like hours...until finally...BANG!"

Mulder shot out of his chair, slamming his hands down on the table. Krycek slid his chair back, waiting. Mulder could see he was ready to run, out of the house, down the beach, anywhere. The heat of anger seethed inside Mulder. Krycek got the courage to kill his father so easily, it seemed.

In his head, Mulder took a step back. He looked at how he stood opposite Krycek, as if outside his own body. He was back to his old tricks, even after he told Krycek he wouldn't. Mulder never noticed that the wrinkle between Krycek's eyes was wiggling as he considered what he would do, attack or retreat. Mulder let out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and uncurled his fingers from the fists he was digging into the polished maple table top.

With a questing foot, Mulder searched behind him for his chair and pulled it back underneath him. He sat there a moment, head down, and suddenly it clicked. Krycek wasn't a murderer. He began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then a guffaw sneaked out, until it became a full out belly laugh. Leaning back in the chair, Mulder wiped the tears from his eyes and held his stomach. Nothing was as funny as that thought.

"What's so goddam funny, Mulder?" Krycek asked, relaxing in his chair.

"I just...I just realized. You didn't murder my dad. You saved my life." Mulder coughed a bit and finally calmed, putting the napkin back on the table after dabbing his eyes. "Thank you, Alex."

Krycek looked as if he was stunned. He didn't say anything. He only scooted back to the table and continued to eat. After a few more bites, he looked up at Mulder and said, "You're welcome. And...I...I'm sorry. If I could do it any other way..."

"I know," Mulder said, quickly. "Either one of them died, or both of us. I know."

Krycek nodded. He drained his beer and put it down. Mulder looked into his eyes and saw the pupils slightly dilated. He knew if he was going to get any information from Krycek, that was the time.

"Alex, tell me about your family." Mulder said it so gently, so quietly, he almost thought Krycek didn't hear him. There was a long pause.

Finally, Krycek stood and said, "How about we do the dishes and talk? It'll help me to have a task."

Mulder nodded and led Krycek into the kitchen. Standing at the sink, Mulder washed the dishes and handed them to Krycek to dry.

"When I was a boy, Anton was my whole world. He was older, but he was OK with having me around. His friends liked me, too. We hung out all the time. When he bought the Crammer, that's what he called the Camaro, we worked on it for the whole year. It was like, the man time, you know?"

Mulder just nodded as he wiped his hands dry with the proffered dish towel after all the dishes were finished. He handed Krycek another beer as they went into the den to continue their conversation.

"You know, the best part, and like, the worst part, is that my parents never compared us. Not until he died. It was always, the boys are wonderful. My mom always said, 'Lexi, you and your brother are the best boys in the world.' He taught me to throw a curve ball, two fingers on top, like turning off a light." Krycek smiled, tears in his eyes. He curled his legs under himself as he sat on the couch, cradling the green glass bottle like it was his life's blood.

"Losing Anton was the hardest moment of my life. Everything since then has been equally difficult. I think to myself, with every decision, what should I do, Tony? What would you do? Why did I let myself get so deep into the shit? I can't tell my mom, my dad, any of my aunts or uncles or cousins about it. I just have to live with my fuck ups and...try and survive..."

At that point, Krycek was in tears, crying openly. Mulder took his beer from his hand and sat beside him, holding Krycek in his arms. He rocked Krycek back and forth, whispering that it would be alright. "Alex, Anton would be proud of you for getting help. He would tell you it was a good thing for you to help me figure out what was on that tape."

"Mulder, please, I don't know..." Krycek's chin shivered through his tears. "If I knew, I'd tell you, Mulder. I swear to God! I would!"

"I know, Alex, I know. I believe you. I'm sorry you're going through this, I really am." Mulder was sincere, and wasn't surprised at all by his reactions to Krycek. The younger man pulled away and sat back on the couch.

"I'm tired, Mulder. I'm gonna...go get some sleep, OK?" Krycek wiped his eyes and left the room quickly.

Mulder sat back on the couch, flipping through the channels while his brain sifted through how he would finally get Krycek to connect the dots. There had to be some connection between the voices in Krycek's head and the information on the DAT tape. Were the voices memories? Was all the information just jumbled up and swirling around, encroaching on his consciousness?

Mulder hadn't realized he fell asleep, but the dream he was having was really nice. A young thing, on her knees before him. A hand in her hair...and Mulder found the she was a he...short-cropped hair. Just the kind of boy he liked when he was in Oxford, cruising the clubs, Phoebe forcing him to play while she watched, hand down the front of her jeans.

Mulder hadn't had a good blowjob in years, literally. He'd never asked for it from the woman who thought she was a vampire; that was just straight sex, letting off tension. Oh, he was really enjoying it, not even close to coming. He loved dreaming like this, so he could let the blowjobs last and last...and there was a slurp and cough.

Slurp and cough? Dreams don't slurp and cough. Mulder opened his eyes and found a sight he'd never expected in a million years. Krycek was on his knees, head bobbing in his lap, hands massaging Mulder's thighs. First shame, then rage flowed through Mulder as he shoved Krycek back onto the floor and quickly dragged up his jeans. How Krycek pulled them down without him knowing was a new mystery.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Alex? Why did you do that?" Mulder could barely get his zipper up past his erection. He looked down at his guest, who was also panting, lips red and swollen, glossy with saliva.

"Mulder, fuck, please, I'll do anything you want. Blowjob, you can fuck my ass, anything. Please, let me go...I just...it hurts. Everything hurts, I need a hit and I need it bad. That fucking meth isn't doing a goddam thing for me. Please, Mulder...if you care at all, let me go."

"I can't do that. I can give you another...dose. We can talk, we can cry, but I can't...I will not let you go and buy drugs. You are going to have to deal with the methadone. It's the same thing..."

"IT IS NOT! Dope is the only thing that makes them shut the fuck up! I need to get some sleep, please! I can dig with the methadone for the pain, and the beer helps...but they won't shut up..." Krycek broke down again, collapsing on the rug before the fire. Mulder got down next to him and wrapped his arms around the sobbing man.

Petting his hair and rocking him back and forth, Mulder whispered to Krycek to calm down. He was almost inconsolable. "Alex...calm down. Tell me about the voices. Tell me what they're saying."

"Fuck you, Mulder," he said, pushing away. "Don't talk to me like you think I'm crazy."

"Alex, I'm the last one to throw crazy around like it was just another label. One of these days, Skinner's going to have me in 5-point restraints. Just...tell me, Alex. I haven't laughed at you, yet."

"Yeah, you're reserving it, to have a good guffaw at the faggot traitor, right? Say it!"

Mulder looked into Krycek's watery eyes, noting how the tears magnified the green. "I slept with men when I was in college. I've only had one lover since I left school and joined the bureau. She was a vampire and wanted to exsanguinate me. I don't care who you have sex with."

Mulder waited, seconds that seemed like hours. Krycek took a deep breath and said, "When you found me in Hong Kong, in the airport, and I went in the bathroom..."

"After I hit you, yeah. You went to clean up."

"I was...taken by the oil."

"What?" Mulder asked. He knew the black oil was sentient, a living being, but he didn't know it had been in Krycek. He felt stupid, he should have known his travel companion was possessed. He probably didn't even look Krycek in the eyes. Some investigator he was.

"There was a woman, the one who followed you Jerri's office. She...shit, she threw me against the wall, I pissed on my shoes. Then...she kissed me. And that's all I remember until I was on the ship..."

"What ship? A boat? You were inside?"

Krycek smiled. Mulder could taste it. Krycek knew everything.

"It was a space ship, Mulder, but I wasn't in it, I was on it. Well, on the roof. It was triangular, had all this writing on it. Some of it looked like...I don't even know. But I remember being on top of it, on my hands and knees, and all the oil went pouring out of me. I felt like I was vomiting out of every hole in my head. But it didn't hurt..."

"No pain? None at all?"

"No, not at all. I kinda passed out after that. I woke up alone, still in the silo, ship gone and I was locked in."

"What? You couldn't get out? Not at all?" Mulder was shocked. He thought it suspicious when the smoking man met he and Scully outside the silo and wouldn't let them get inside. Now, he knew why.

"I'm sorry, Alex. It must have looked like we left you there." Mulder's face held genuine regret.

"No, I knew it was the smoking man. He left me there to die. Wasn't the first time he tried to kill me."

"How many times has he tried?" Mulder was shocked that Krycek was so cool about being left to die. Maybe he wasn't so cool. Maybe he was just medicated beyond being so upset. Things began to click in his head.

"A couple, let's just say." Mulder understood and left it at that.

"So, after the oil left your body, you started hearing the voices. Is that correct?" Mulder asked quietly. Krycek had relented and laid his head on Mulder's shoulder. It was always easier to unload when you didn't have to look in the other person's eyes. Mulder wanted Krycek as comfortable as possible when he gave the rest of his information.

"Yeah. It started like a dizzy feeling, like I was just hearing static in my head. Then I heard a clear voice. And another and another. They're all mixed up. I hear words but they just...talk over each other. Alcohol just quieted them. Coke made them louder."

"Cocaine? How many drugs did you try?" Mulder tried not to sound shocked, but he was.

"Well, pot just relaxed me and I wanted to listen, but they kinda annoyed me. Heroin was the only thing that made them quiet." Krycek's breath was warm on Mulder's neck. Mulder felt relaxed. He hoped he could help Krycek feel the same way, hopefully to find out what these voices were saying.

"Have you tried to listen to them?" Mulder asked, when Krycek paused.

"The voices? No. Then I'd be full on crazy, wouldn't I?" Krycek laughed and pulled back to look at Mulder. The face he met was serious.

"No, Alex, I mean it. The voices are residual essence from the black oil. You didn't hear them before you were possessed. So, you can't think insanity is just setting in. It's highly unlikely."

"Yeah, right. You're just saying that." Krycek snorted a laugh.

"Well, voices would indicate, to me, a schizoid break from reality. I don't think that type of situation is at work. It could possibly be the black oil being left you with information that manifests itself as a voice, considering you and the oil being are two different...beings." Mulder laughed to himself. It seemed so simple.

"You think? But the voices are all jumbled up. I can't hear anything they say, just individual words, not anything that makes sense."

Mulder nodded. His head raced, trying to come up with a solution to the problem. What could help Krycek relax and concentrate to listen. Maybe it wasn't admissible in court, but...

"Have you ever been hypnotized, Alex?" Mulder asked.

The laughter, while demeaning, was honest. It was good to hear Alex laugh. "No, Mulder, never. Why?"

"I think it would help. I could guide you through to relax and concentrate to listen to the voices one at a time and hear what they're saying."

Krycek looked like a caged animal for a moment. He pulled away from Mulder, shaking his head. "Nononono, Mulder, no. I am not letting you in my head. No fucking way."

"Alex! Think for a minute. If I really wanted to get in your head, I could have done it by now. You've told me your secrets. If not in words...then in actions. I know...I know, Alex."

"You know what? I want you to come down my throat? That I want you balls-deep in my ass? Fuck you, Mulder! Don't make fun of me!"

"I'm not!" Mulder shouted. "I don't care about that right now. We can worry about it later. Right now, you're being driven insane by an alien being inside your head. And that alien has information that I need. So let's start with that. And then we can worry about my balls and your ass later. OK?"

Raising his squared chin in defiance, Krycek nodded slightly. "Where do you want to do this?" he asked, still wary and not afraid to show it.

"Right here. Just lie back on the floor. Or on the couch. Whatever you want."

Krycek nodded a moment. He lay back against the carpet, his boxer shorts still wrinkled from being curled around Mulder. Mulder didn't even look. He just wanted to get on with everything. He put a pillow under Krycek's head and brushed the hair from his forehead. Krycek gave him a dubious look.

"Just relax, Alex. Listen to the sound of..." Mulder groped for a sound and looked out the low window in the den. "The waves hitting the beach outside. That's right. Hear them hitting, rolling up the beach, and then sliding back down. Hear that?" Krycek nodded gently, eyes closed, hands loosely folded on his chest. Mulder reached over and took his hands and pulled them apart, putting them at Krycek's sides.

He droned on a few moments longer, careful to keep his tone and cadence slow and even. His voice didn't sound as if he was excited and interested. Make no mistake, Mulder was excited and interested.

After about 15 minutes, Mulder noticed the slow, even breaths coming from deep in Krycek's chest. He was as relaxed as he was going to get.

"Alex, do you hear me?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Do you hear the voices?" he tried.

"Yes."

"Do they make any sense?"

"Sort of. It's one voices doubling over itself. Layers of parts of a conversation. The top layer is the beginning of the conversation."

"Start at the beginning and tell me what it's saying."

And so it went, as Krycek began the long recitation of the voices that had plagued him for weeks since he was released from the silo. That was what started it all. He'd been lying in the empty silo, waiting to die, with the fuzzy static in his head. He was lying against the door and every once in a while, he banged on the door, even if it was in vain.

To his surprise, the door came open and he fell backward onto the threshold. Two young people looked down at him, confused and trepidacious. He lay back, fluttering his eyes at them. "Thank you." That was all he could manage. Later, the two squatters, Lilly and Tony, whose arrival seemed to a rare instance of divine providence in his life, told him that his simple kindness of saying thank you, instead of asking for help, prompted them to help him anyway. They thought it was very polite of him. They were displaced Canadians and were hiding in the silo. They saw Krycek enter, saw him vomit up the black oil, and saw Mulder and Scully get captured by the smoking man and his henchmen.

They dragged him to their makeshift apartment that they'd built from the control center. It still had electricity, running water in the lavatory, even a stainless steel shower. They let Krycek wash, gave him clean clothes, and fed him. He'd felt that fuzzy dizziness in the back of his head, but ignored it as just dehydration and starvation.

But after sharing a few joints with his hosts, and a bedroll with Tony while Lilly was on a food run, the fuzziness took shape as voices. He thought it was just the good food, since Lilly was a decent cook with a hot plate and microwave, the good pot and Tony's tight ass. He left them one night, while they slept. He didn't want to, and it killed him to, but he left them a note, telling them not to look for him. He disappeared into the brush of North Dakota, until he hooked up with a group of jug-headed militants who thought he could secure weapons for them. It was too much fun taking their cash and taking off back to DC.

Krycek wasn't aware of the words spewing from his mouth. He just let them flow out, not listening to himself. He was listening to the voice. It had plagued him for what seemed like ages. At that moment, it was his guide. He heard bits and fragments of the words, merchandise, inoculation, scar, implant, ova, abduction. He didn't care. It wasn't his problem any more. He knew Mulder had an eidetic memory, so he was sucking up all the information like a sponge.

One thing Krycek did notice, with every paragraph, sentence and word he repeated, a voice disappeared. Overjoyed wasn't barely close to how he felt. Tears streamed from his eyes, and giggles dribbled between words as the last few sentences ended. He lay back, spent. He felt as if he'd had the most intense orgasm of his life. He lay there, breathing, listening to the waves on the beach.

A hand touched his shoulder. "Alex, are you still with me?"

"Mulder? Is that your voice?" he asked.

There was a smile in Mulder's voice. "Yes, Alex. That's my voice. Just mine."

The silent tears turned into sobs of joy. He just let loose and cried like a baby. Hands pulled him up and arms wound around him, Krycek found himself pulled against a hard chest. His face was shoved into a warm, soft neck, while a hand stroked his hair. Mulder's voice was soft and clear, and most importantly, alone.

Krycek raised his head to look up into Mulder's eyes. He didn't remember them being so green. He thought they were more hazel, but they were an honest green-gray. He looked down to Mulder's mouth, that plump lower lip just waiting. They looked back into each other's eyes, and it was something out of a movie. The moved towards each other and Mulder pressed a kiss to Krycek's mouth. It was his dream come true.

Krycek couldn't deny his feelings for Mulder any longer. He'd tried to do his best and hide it. It's started as soon as he had the file on his new perspective partner. Sometimes, though, it got the better of him. Especially the day he stood before the FBI pool, watching a wet and nearly naked Mulder emerge from the pool. It was all he could do not to come on the spot.

Mulder pulled back slowly. His eyes searched Mulder's face for anger or regret, but none was there. Mulder leaned down to him and kissed him again, moving them to lay on the floor. Krycek pulled back this time, licked his lips and took a deep breath. "Mulder, you don't have to do this. I don't want to be a gratitude fuck."

"No, Alex. I want to. I've wanted to a long time. But I didn't trust you enough."

Krycek took that for what it was, the truth. "What's changed?" he asked.

"You trusted me. I know how hard that was, to let me lead you to reciting what the voices were saying. It took guts. I respect that. And...I've watched you for the last few days. I...I like you."

To say that Krycek was pleased was akin to saying the tower of Pisa was slightly askew. Yet, he didn't move. He wanted Mulder to run the show. He was the one who would have regrets. There had to be no pressure from Krycek. All the decisions had to be made by Mulder. And that was fine by Krycek.

Mulder sniffed at him. "You smell like fear. And gasoline, for some reason. You want a shower?"

"Yeah, uh...yeah," Krycek said, thrown for a moment. "That would be cool." He felt sticky and greasy, like he'd spent several days in the sun and hadn't washed. He stood, carefully, and tried to start walking. His legs, however, had another idea and he began to sink back down. He felt foolish.

Mulder came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Krycek's waist. "Whoa there. Shouldn't have had that last beer, huh?" he said with a laugh.

"Guess not. Help me..."

"That's what I'm here for." Mulder led Krycek up the stairs, one arm around his waist. He led Krycek, who was almost as dizzy as he appeared, into the bathroom.

"I got it from here, Mulder, thanks." He went into the bathroom and closed the door. It felt good to stand in the shower stall, letting the hot water sluice over his sweat-covered form. He looked down at himself, really looked down, and saw how thin he was. He'd lost so much damned weight trying to score instead of eating.

He felt clear-headed. He felt hungry. He felt alive. He felt horny, too. It had been a long time since he'd made love properly. Not really, but it seemed that way. Tony had given him his nice tight ass and Krycek had been gentle and tender with him. It made Krycek sad to leave, but not so sad that he considered staying. Krycek wasn't stupid. He knew what was at stake at all times. Mostly it was someone's life.

The draft on his back startled him. He turned in time to see Mulder closing the shower door and stepping closer to him under the shower spray.

"I thought you could use some company," Mulder said. "You didn't seem like you could stay upright on your own for long."

Krycek didn't bear to turn toward Mulder. He continued to look at the tile wall before him. If he turned, Mulder would wash down the drain. He'd fade away like an acid trip. This wasn't really happening. This was all a dream.

When Mulder's hands came about his waist, rubbing suds from the bar of soap into his skin, he didn't care to ever wake up. When those sudsy hands slid down his body, cupping his balls and stroking his cock, his cock shot up and he almost came. Lips ghosted over the back of his neck. He felt like he would break his neck twisting around to see Mulder, to get the lips he's been dreaming about.

The kiss went on and on and on. Krycek didn't dare turn toward Mulder, lest the questing hands stop their searching of his body. And that would be the worst thing that could happen. He loved being touched. Especially by Mulder. It was where he was meant to be.

Mulder's hand steadily stroked his cock, bringing him closer and closer to the end, but he slowed. Those plump, luscious lips surrounded Mulder's ear. "You want to go the full Monty? Or should we take this to bed?"

Krycek just moaned. He hoped for Mulder to have pity on him, which happened. Mulder quickened his motion, stroking Krycek harder while rolling Krycek's balls in his other hand. Krycek's breath came faster, being ripped from him in the hot shower spray. Mulder behind him, jerking him off, playing with his balls...it was almost too much. When Mulder licked his shoulder, then bit the tender flesh, that was all Krycek needed to spray the shower tiles with his come.

His head rolled back onto Mulder's shoulder, letting the water cascade down his chest. The hands that teased and tortured him into orgasm began a slow ascent to smooth over Krycek's chest. Lips met Krycek's neck and he rolled his head to expose more skin to Mulder. His eyes opened a bit, and he noticed something odd about the semen dripping into the drain. It was tinted. A hand came up to wipe green eyes clear. The last of his come flowed away, a few drops of black oil going with it. He was finally free.

Sharp teeth nipping the smooth skin of the back of his neck brought him back around. "Let's get out of here before the water gets cold," Mulder murmured in his ear. Krycek nodded and turned off the water as Mulder stepped out and grabbed two towels. Mulder handed one to Krycek, who thought it was a better idea to run it over his hair, enticing Mulder with his body.

"Fuck, Alex, I could fuck you right here," Mulder said, reaching out with the towel to rub over Krycek's chest. Krycek took the hint and slung his towel around Mulder's back, pulling him in closer. Mouths met frantically again, and Krycek started moving them toward the bedroom. He loved the feeling of Mulder's cock bumping with his.

The bed came up behind Krycek and they tumbled onto the sheets, rolling into the middle. "This is where I've wanted you for a long time, Mulder."

"No. No Mulder tonight. Fox and Alex. Please." Krycek knew his pleasure lit his eyes as the prospect of using Mulder's first name. No one called him by that name, except his parents. He kissed Mulder with more need, more excitement. He tasted all of Mulder's mouth, warring tongues spurring Krycek on to straddle Mulder's waist. "There's Vaseline in the bathroom. But...I don't have any condoms. I uh..."

"You didn't hear a word you said, did you? The oil alien in your system destroyed all the potential viruses in your body. You're practically a virgin, Alex."

"What about you, Fox?" The name tasted sweet on his lips. "I mean, if I'm all healthy now..."

"I was tested by the bureau. I'm clean. Now, get that Vaseline and get that sweet ass back here."

The dirty talk made Krycek's head spin. He ran as fast as he could to the bathroom and pulled the old jar of Vaseline from the cabinet and made it back to the bed just as Mulder propped up pillows against the headboard and leaned back on them. He patted his lap. "I liked you on my thighs, Alex. Get back there."

Mulder was so commanding and Krycek liked it. He didn't have to think. He just had to listen and do. He had to obey. That was all. Krycek again threw his leg over Mulder's and sat back, opening the small jar and scooping a bit of jelly out with his finger. Lazily, he let it glide over the purple head. Krycek laughed as Mulder almost bucked him off his lap, groaning from the contact.

"Alex, just grease me. We can play later, I promise."

"OK," Krycek rasped. He reached down, smearing Mulder's cock with the lube, making sure it was thick by the tip. He raised himself up and positioned his body over Mulder's shaft. It was the moment he'd waited for since first seeing Mulder's photo in the academy files. "You ready?"

"Get that ass around my cock, Alex." Krycek smiled down. He descended slowly, feeling the press and heat of the cock head. It was delightful to him. In just the short while that he'd been free of the black oil's influence, he felt everything. The large head pressing into his body, stretching him wide,

"Yes, oh fuck, Fox, you cock is huge," he moaned. Slowly, inch by torturous inch, Krycek took all of Mulder inside him. A haze of pure pleasure washed over Krycek as he fit his ass against Mulder's thighs, taking the entire length. Mulder grasped his hips and held him in place.

"Don't move yet, Alex. God, so good, so tight..." he said, stroking Krycek's firm thighs.

Krycek gasped for breath as he began the slow ascent to move up off Mulder's lap. He reached out and grabbed Mulder's shoulders to steady himself as he began to move above the other man, slowly opening himself up. The hands on his hips knead his flesh, burning his flesh with each touch. Krycek would remember each hand print fondly.

Over and over, Krycek raised himself up and dropped his body, Sweet torture was all he could think of to describe the desperation in him to feel all of Mulder in him. Quickening his movements created the friction he wanted, the rub and burn that would make him remember this encounter for a long time to come.

Then it happened. The fear, the uncertainty, the panic started to creep in from the sides. Krycek wasn't even sure where it started, but he began to think it was too perfect. He wasn't supposed to be there, to be feeling so good with his "mortal enemy."

As if reading his mind, Mulder took Krycek's face in both hands and forced them to lock gazes. "Stop thinking, Alex. Just move with me. Let me fuck you," he whispered, reaching up to kiss Krycek again.

He melded into the kiss, letting Mulder's mouth take the fear away. He must have given the signal to change positions as Mulder rolled Krycek onto his back and began thrusting harder. Mulder leaned down and kissed Krycek, taking his mouth in a searing kiss, possessing his mouth, heart and soul. Krycek banished the thoughts from his head, the fears, the distrust and just let physical pleasure occupy his mind.

He wasn't aware when he began jerking himself until he was coming on his belly, surprised when the waves of ecstasy crashed over his head. He felt his whole body seize, and knew he was squeezing Mulder's cock as tight as a vice.

"Yes, Alex, that's right, come for me," Mulder coaxed him along. Krycek's whole body jerked in his arms. Krycek could feel his orgasm spiraling down as Mulder's cock pulsed in his ass. He pulled at Mulder's shoulders, to bring the other man down and lay on his own body. One hundred and seventy pounds of Mulder flesh he could handle.

Krycek ran his hands up and down Mulder's sweaty back, kneading the slack muscles. "God, thank you, Mulder. That was..."

"I know. It was great." Mulder leaned up on his elbows and kissed Krycek deeply, tongue touring through his mouth. Krycek easily opened to him, enjoying every touch of Mulder's lips on his. Mulder kissed him again, and again and again. This was fine by Krycek, loving the way Mulder kissed. Their mouths came together, slowly, gently, but it heated quickly, Krycek reaching for Mulder's ass.

"Whoa, time out, Alex," Mulder said. "I think we need a breather." Krycek smiled and lay back on the bed.

"Yeah, you're right. You tired?" he asked. He was close to exhausted for the end of a long day.

"Yes, quite. Let's get a little rest before we...re-explore this territory tomorrow. How does that sound to you, Alex?" he asked, brushing another kiss on Krycek's lips.

"It's a wonderful idea, Fox," he said, pressing his own kiss on Mulder's mouth. They slipped under the covers to ward off the chill of the autumn night, curling up on his side. Mulder lay beside him, on his back. He rested a hand on Krycek's thigh, then curled behind him. Krycek noted how cool Mulder's skin was. He made it a point to nestle his behind in Mulder's lap.

"Keep that up and I'll be up long before morning," Mulder said. Krycek grumble a laugh before settling down and sliding into sleep.

In the morning, Krycek awoke alone. He wasn't surprised. Mulder never slept much in a bed. Krycek was surprised he slept at all. He rose and ran through his morning ritual, again clear to him after having been so long altered by chemicals. He stepped into the shower, and the thoughts of what had happened last night made his half hard again. He chuckled to himself and washed his hair, feeling fresh and clean for the first time in a long time.

When he stepped out, he saw Mulder had been very busy. There was a gift box on the sink vanity. Thankfully, it had been wrapped so that Krycek could just open the top. He wasn't in the mood to play with wrapping paper. He wrapped the fluffy beige towel around his waist and pulled open the top. In the box was a fresh pair of Levi's 501s, in Krycek's size, 32 waist-34 length. There were new boxer briefs, a new white t-shirt, new wool socks, and a new cobalt blue cable knit wool sweater. Sitting on the floor was a brand new pair of Doc Martin boots. He was thankful for them, since his others were almost falling apart.

He dressed, and then found the smaller gift bag of toiletries. He had a new razor, toothbrush, shaving gel, toothpaste and deodorant. He smiled at Mulder's thoughtfulness. Dressed and clean, he went to the kitchen, following the fabulous smell of coffee and bacon. He found Mulder fussing around the stove, making eggs and bacon. There was bread in the toaster and the table was set for breakfast.

Mulder turned around and smiled as Krycek walked in the room. "You look good. I was right about the blue making your eyes look greener."

Krycek blushed and looked down. He didn't expect Mulder to comment on his eyes. "There's coffee if you want it, Alex." Krycek nodded and went to the counter to get his coffee. He took it with milk, no sugar. Mulder's mug, with his black coffee, sat on the counter where he was working. As Krycek walked back to the table, he saw his jacket slung across the back of the chair he'd been using.

"Mulder...that's my jacket. Why...where..." Krycek put his mug down and grabbed the garment. He slipped it on and sighed. "Thank you, Mulder. Thanks a lot."

Krycek took it off again and sat in the chair. He laid the jacket gently in the chair beside him, opposite where Mulder had set a place. It seemed that this morning, instead of sitting across the table from Krycek, Mulder wanted to sit beside him.

When he'd finished everything, Mulder set Krycek's plate before him and kissed his cheek. Krycek beamed at the attention. He surprised himself. He thought he was tougher than melting like a school girl at a little affection and attention. It didn't matter, though. In Rhode Island, on that beach, in that house, it was different. It was a whole different Krycek and a whole different Mulder. It was Fox and Alex. They were friends. They were lovers.

Breakfast went quietly, until Mulder asked a question that sounded as if he'd been contemplating it all morning long. "Alex, what...what's in your jacket? And where have you hidden it?"

Krycek took a deep breath. "Everything I can't afford to lose. Since I left the apartment I was living in when I betrayed you and Scully, I've been on the run, and I've carried everything with me. I just need a few things. My drivers' license, my passport, my knife, my Gerber tool, some...essentials for currency and a couple of pictures. That's it."

"Essentials for currency?" Mulder asked. "That you'll have to explain to me, Alex."

"Why don't we clean up in here and we can go into the den and I'll show you, OK?" They stood and cleaned up the kitchen, Mulder taking a few moments to taste Krycek's mouth. Krycek smiled and it felt good. He was happy. And he hadn't smiled this much in a very long time.

They moved into the den where Mulder started the fireplace and Krycek put on some music. He didn't really like slow jazz, since that was cliche for romantic scenes. So he just found a classical station, something Tchaikovsky playing, and he left that on the small stereo. Mulder sat in the middle of the rug and patted the place beside him.

Krycek smiled again. He put the jacket down and sat square before Mulder. He opened a hidden seam and unzipped the left side of the lining. He pulled out a drivers' license that had seen better days, a passport that looked used and a small velvet bag that tinkled. He opened the bag and poured about a dozen small stones into his hand. They were dark rubies and emeralds.

"I stole these from Gerri, the woman you followed to Hong Kong. I use them in extreme emergencies. Just a little insurance. I have more hidden."

"Really? You...learned a lot in the years you've been out of the FBI." Mulder poked a finger through the stones, and Krycek didn't flinch when he picked one up to check it. He held it up into the light, a perfect round ruby. "This is the darkest ruby I've ever seen."

"I have no idea where she got them from, but they're mine, now. And she's..."

"I know. I'm sorry." And Mulder was sorry, Krycek could tell. Krycek just nodded.

"This is my most prized possession," Krycek said, pulling an old photo from the lining. It was a bit ragged at the corners, but still in good shape overall. He looked at it a moment longer before handing it to Mulder. "That was taken at my cousin's wedding in May a month before Anton was killed. That wedding is the last clear memory I have of being happy. After that, it's blurry until we got the call."

"Alex, don't...I mean, you don't have to bring all this up now. I understand. Of all people, I completely understand."

Krycek nodded, and was surprised to feel a tear slide down his cheek. "There's one difference between you and me. You may still find your sister alive. I'll always know that Anton is in the ground. It's one of the reasons I readily agreed to take this assignment. I wanted to help you find one clue to where Samantha is. Just to get a little back."

Krycek loved the way the easy smile appeared on Mulder's face. He wasn't surprised to see that face coming closer to him to press a kiss on his mouth. "Thank you, Alex." Mulder kissed him again. This kiss held a little more feeling. It was as if Mulder was trying to learn more about Krycek through the kisses. It was working. With each kiss, Krycek melted more and more into Mulder's arms, letting Mulder lay him back on the floor.

Krycek luxuriated in the Persian rug underneath them. It was thick and fluffy. His parents had a rug in front of their fire place, but it was a rag rug that Baba had made back in Zushta. This rug was like lying on a cloud. Mulder's lips traveled from Krycek's lips across his cheek to his neck. Krycek reached up, stroking Mulder's shoulders and back.

"Is it too girlie to say that I really like what you're doing to my neck?" Krycek asked. He loved the feeling of Mulder's mouth enjoying his throat.

"Not at all. Anything I can do to make you feel better." Mulder wiggled the tip of his tongue up to Krycek's ear, teasing the lobe. Krycek couldn't help but giggle. He pulled Mulder's mouth back to his, nipping and sucking at Mulder's full lower lip. Krycek's hands slipped under Mulder's shirt, inching it upwards. It was a "Black Dog" t-shirt, from the pub on Martha's Vineyard. Mulder pulled away long enough to let Krycek yank it off over his head. It went flying across the room. Mulder pulled Krycek's shirt off and threw it towards his own.

Mulder stopped for a moment, just looking down at Krycek's chest. His mouth started at Krycek's chin, mapping the soft skin there down his throat, briefly flicking a tongue across his Adam's apple before traveling down Krycek's throat, to his collar bones. That soft, gentle tongue explored the hollow of both sides briefly, then traveled down to Krycek's waiting nipples. Lips tongue and teeth worried the little nubs into stiff, reddened peaks, causing Krycek to writhe under the attention.

Krycek was surprised to hear the moans and groans coming from his throat. He had never responded so expressively to a lover. Then again, most of his encounters were fast, furious and anonymous. One must keep one's alternate lifestyle a secret in the academy and the bureau. A hand slid down Krycek's flank, igniting a fire along behind it. Krycek fastened his mouth on the junction between Mulder's neck and shoulder, nibbling, licking and sucking. He didn't care if he left a mark. And if Mulder cared, he didn't say.

Mulder's mouth wound its way down his body, Krycek tried to be still, holding his breath and pressing his back into the rug. Mulder unbuttoned his jeans and started pulling them down. He tried for romantic, but they were still new to each other. And Krycek's jeans had shrunk in the dryer and were almost glued to his ass.

"Alex, you have the sweetest ass. Even your fucking pants don't want to let go."

"Guess I wasn't as skinny as I thought, huh?" Krycek rasped.

Mulder placed a kiss on Krycek's hip. "You're perfect. Do you trust me?" Mulder asked, stroking Krycek's thigh.

Krycek swallowed a breath and let that sink in. "Yes, Mulder. I do trust you. I always have."

"You would let me do what I want to you?" Mulder asked, deadly serious.

"Yes. I know you won't hurt me. You've proven you care about me. Do what you want." Krycek lay his head back and closed his eyes. He truly did trust Mulder. The man would have hurt him by that point. All he could do is make Krycek feel better.

One leg went up, in Mulder's gentle hands. He rested it on his shoulder, looking up and smiling at Krycek. Krycek didn't see, still laying back with his eyes closed, but he knew what was going to happen. When the tongue first touched his ass, skirting his hole, he almost shrieked in pleasure. Mulder tickled and licked, giving him the best rim job of his life. It sent shockwaves up his spine shooting up through his head and back down through his body to make his cock jerk hard. He pulled back, dislodging Mulder's tongue from his ass.

"What's wrong, Alex?" Mulder asked, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

"I can't...I was gonna come. I'm sorry..."

Mulder crawled up Krycek's body and kissed his lips gently. "Don't be sorry. I'm flattered. Wait here, I'm gonna get the lube."

Mulder stood and walked out to go up to the bathroom. Krycek smiled and called out, "You mean, you didn't stash it all over the house?"

"Not yet, but I'm considering it," came echoing down the stairs.

When Mulder came down, he'd shed his jeans and walked back in, cock bobbing before him. Krycek sat up and stared. Krycek began crawling toward Mulder. He knelt up in front of Mulder and reached out to run just the fingertips of one hand down the shaft of Mulder's impressive erection.

"Christ, Alex. Just suck it."

Following Mulder's advice, he covered the head with his mouth, rubbing the thick vein underneath with his tongue. Mulder let out a deep moan that vibrated down Krycek's spine. He took Mulder's cock deep, letting the head slip down his throat. The hiss Mulder made was answered by Krycek's moan, which made Mulder shiver. Krycek smiled around his cock and began moving back and forth, sucking as hard as he could, hands digging into Mulder's ass. One thing Krycek had to say for Mulder was his full, lush ass. Brushing his fingers down Mulder's crack, Krycek reached with his other hand to cup Mulder's balls.

Mulder pulled away abruptly. "Whoa, Alex, stop. I'm gonna come. Hold on." Mulder took a step back and reached out to steady himself on the desk. "OK, go lay back on the floor. I wanna pound you so hard."

Krycek smiled. He liked this Mulder, take charge and talk dirty. He was just like his porn movies. He lay back on the rug and watched as Mulder had the lube in his hand. Two fingers were coated and reached out for Krycek's ass, while the questing mouth sought his neck again. A finger circled his anus, massaging and coaxing Krycek to accept it. Mulder slipped in and started moving it gently in and out. Krycek groaned and sighed. He wanted this so badly. The night before was not enough.

"More, Fox, more, right now," he said, pushing his ass onto Mulder's hand. He was greeted by another finger that opened him more.

"Yeah, that's good, I want you really open for me," Mulder said, just before pulling his hand out and laying between Krycek's legs. Krycek wrapped his legs around Mulder's waist, hooking his ankles and pulling Mulder down. Mulder growled, which jolted Krycek with pleasure. The head slipped inside him, stretching Krycek much more than Mulder's fingers could.

"Goddamnit, Mulder. You're so fucking big." He didn't want it to sound so needy. He wanted to sound in control, no matter how fast his life spun out of control. And having Mulder thrusting into his ass was as out of control as things could get.

Mulder pulled Krycek's legs up, holding his ass off the rug while he pounded as hard as he could. Both men's moans and cries were loud in the room as they each climbed higher and higher to orgasm. Mulder reached down and took Krycek's cock in his hand, which seared Krycek's flesh with his fingerprints. He angled inside Krycek to make sure he got his prostate on each stroke, which brought out a strangled cry with each stroke. It only took a few pulls and Krycek shot his come all over Mulder's chest. The constrictions in Krycek's ass brought Mulder over the edge as well, and he collapsed on Krycek's chest when the last shiver has finally slowed in his body.

Krycek lay there a moment, catching his breath, stroking Mulder's back. "Thank you, Fox," he said. Mulder chuckled a bit and pressed a kiss to Krycek's temple.

"You're very welcome, Alex. Come on, let's lay on the couch a while." It was a tight squeeze, but the men lay together on the couch to doze a bit. It was how they spent their day, making love on the couch, the floor, the easy chair, stopping to eat and then back to making love. Krycek didn't talk about his family any more that day. He couldn't. He'd never told anyone about Anton, not his college roommates, not his academy buddies, no one. But he trusted Mulder.

When the sun set, and they settled into the big bed to sleep, after one last bout of lovemaking, where Krycek finally learned what Mulder's ass felt like, Krycek just waited. And waited. And when the time was right, he acted.

Krycek slipped out of the bed when he knew Mulder was exhausted. He grabbed some clothes and took them with him down to the living room. He'd left his jacket and treasures there. He dressed hastily, put his jacket back together and left the house. He looked back up at the window, and a pain shot through his chest. He just left Mulder there, no kiss goodbye, no note, nothing. But one thing he knew deep in his heart, Mulder would understand.

6 MONTHS LATER

Mulder sat in his new office, down the hall from Skinner's. He loved being Assistant Director. And he was very happy that he didn't have any agents like himself. Although, he still answered to Skinner, who had been promoted to Deputy Director.

All the information that Krycek had given Mulder had led to files that were hidden in the FBI databases. Other information unlocked keys to arrests and take downs of labs that were deep in the heart of the Consortium. Finding the smoking man dead of a self inflicted gunshot wound was vindication for Krycek, who had all charges dropped against him. Mulder was happy to make the call to his parents that he was instrumental in the largest conspiracy in the history of the United States being destroyed. He wasn't happy that he hadn't seen Krycek since the day they spent making love in the den.

He did know that Krycek was doing his own reconnaissance work for the bureau, deep undercover, which was something he worked out with the Director himself. He risked his life, knowing that every assassin, human and not, that the Consortium had at their fingertips would be gunning for him. Mulder only heard sketchy accounts, but Krycek would not be coming out of this unharmed.

Mulder didn't know what extent his injuries were physically, or mentally, but the man came out publicly smelling like a rose. He was the savior, he was the new messiah, he was the connection to Mulder, who was the master of destroying the Consortium once and for all. And he was missing in action. After the last raid on a compound in Siberia, he disappeared.

Each night that Mulder went home, he thought about the time he'd spent there with Krycek. He sat on the bed and looked at the rumpled pillow some nights. He'd never made the bed since they'd left. It was sad. He knew he was letting Scully down, who still entertained hopes that he'd put Krycek out of his mind. The only person he was sure was still unaware of the whole situation was Skinner. And if he did know, the Deputy Director wasn't saying.

Mulder entered his office one innocuous morning, the same as every other day and he looked around. Something had moved. Something was different and he couldn't really tell. His office was like his apartment, a controlled mess. He walked around the desk to see, sitting on the cushion of his chair, a small, sparkling emerald. Mulder picked it up and looked at it. It was perfectly cut for a round setting, something one would wear as an earring. The color reminded Mulder of Krycek's clear green eyes, so deep and rich. The color would darken with desire when Krycek let his guard down. Mulder sat in his chair, staring out his window, rolling the stone between his fingers.

He hadn't realized how much time had passed until the setting sun slipped below the horizon. His assistant had gone home for the day. He was alone. Until at the door came a knock. Mulder sat up quickly and called out, "Come in!"

It wasn't who he expected. It wasn't even close. But Scully was always welcome in his office, and his life.

"So, Mulder, you ready to take me to dinner?" she asked, smiling.

Slipping his hand into his pocket discreetly to deposit his treasure, he said, "Of course, my lady. I live but to serve..."

EARLY OCTOBER
OAK PARK, ILLINOIS

Krycek sat in the Explorer, staring at the house on the corner of Pleasant Street and Home Avenue. He'd always thought that was ironic, the names of the roads where his parents chose to have their idyllic existence. He looked around and it was exactly the same as the last time he visited, over five years before. He'd stopped calling, writing and coming home shortly after being ensnared by the Consortium. The tire swing that Anton and he played on as a child still hung from the oak tree in the front yard.

His mother replanted her tulips that year. She planted them every year. And every year, he sat in a similar vehicle to see them. This year, the sitting and hiding was over.

Krycek opened the door and stepped out of the truck. He was dressed similarly to how he used to dress before going underground, wearing khaki pants, a light blue Henley shirt and brown loafers. He'd traded his leather jacket for a tan sport coat in the early fall weather. Then again, it was Illinois. It could snow any moment after Labor Day.

He walked up the steps and stood on the porch a moment. Should he ring the bell? Should he just go in? What would his mother want? Was it far too long to go home? Did they know what he had been doing? Did they even care? He'd been hiding out with family friends in Zushta and wasn't up on the news in America. He'd landed that morning and rented the car and drove straight from the airport to Oak Park.

Hell, he didn't even have a key anymore, lost years ago when he scrambled to leave his apartment after his cover was blown. Fuck it, he thought. This was it. There was no going back. He grabbed the handle and turned it, and just as he knew in the back of his head, the door opened and his great grandmother's bell jingled as it always had. It brought tears to his eyes.

"Who's there?" called a voice he thought he'd never hear again.

Krycek swallowed the lump in his throat that threatened to choke him. "Mama, it's me."