Towel III: Proof Undeniable

I spend a very sleepless night staring at the small digital tape laying on my coffee table. I finger the gun laying on the couch with me. Krycek's gun. Surrendered to me. Along with all the proof I've ever wanted...except the one bit of proof I need the most.

Proof that I can trust him.

I roll over, throwing my arm across my eyes, wanting to block out more than the light coming through the window. I'm tired of the aching need to have faith in someone. Someone besides Scully.

She's the only one who's never given me reason to distrust her. She's always, always there for me, even when I don't deserve it, even when it hurts her to be there. In a way, it hurts to have such blind devotion. It forces you to work harder to deserve it.

I mean, I'm not complaining, I'm just saying that it's also a bit of a breather to be who you are with someone and know that if you fuck up and hurt them, they kind of deserve it, so you don't have to add it to the millstone of guilt you carry in your gut.

Except I think I might have fucked up. And I know I sure as hell feel guilty.

He left here without his gun. I hope he carries a second one, like the one I now strap to my ankle, ready to grab when someone knocks me on my ass. Or maybe a wicked blade, although you have to get too close for that to be any real protection from the people we're dealing with.

We. Oh god. Did I just include him on my side of the equation? Well, he kinda did that when he gave me this tape. I mean, if it's legit, he's handed me the keys to the kingdom, hasn't he?

God, I want to trust him. And that's why I can't let myself. Because I know how badly I want to, and that affects my judgement around him. I have to be colder and more cautious than usual, to compensate for this intense longing. I'm so scared to trust him. Scared he'll betray me. And more than that, scared he'll hurt me. And even more than that, scared that one day he'll just disappear.

I think I almost died when he turned out all to be smoke and mirrors. Scully was already taken from me, the one person in the world who'd shown me I could trust and not have it destroy me. When I lost Krycek, I think something in me just broke.

Maybe...maybe I can't love. That scares me. It makes me feel like some freak of nature, like the boy born without a heart or something. I can't remember the last time I felt something that others would define as love. Wait. Yeah, I can. Sam.

I remember a love so sure and so whole that I never doubted it or even thought about it. I just loved her. And then she was gone. And everyone looked to me for answers. I knew then, that whether or not it was my fault as I believed for so long, that I was the one responsible for answering all the questions. It was why I was still alive. Why I wasn't taken. And it certainly was the only thing that made me feel...well, anything, really.

I didn't love my parents. I mean, I didn't hate them, but what I felt for my father was scared respect, admiration, and a kind of awe that comes from being close to something you can't understand. I don't know if he loved me or not. I know I never felt that from him. I didn't feel much of anything, really.

After they took Sam, it seemed like he was uncomfortable with the very thought of me. I tried to disappear as much as possible. I'd go days, sometimes weeks without hearing him speak a word to me, harsh or otherwise. It even made me miss the backhands I'd come to take for granted.

I wanted to love my mom. I really tried. And I think she loved me when I was small. She just seemed so...not there. Like what I saw was a carefully constructed mask, meant to placate the outside world. I saw other kids' moms use the same masks, but I also saw the masks come off when my friends were alone with their moms.

My mom's mask never came down.

Then after Sam was taken away, she just cracked. The mask shattered. It didn't come down. It just couldn't hold up. And she was an unpredictable fount of tears and rage, and it only calmed down when she drank or took her pills. I tried not to add to her worries. We spoke every day, but I didn't know if she realized we were.

I pulled away from my friends then, too, and immersed myself in my schoolwork, finding solace in finding answers. Luckily, I was intelligent and could find fulfillment in accomplishing academic goals. Something I was good at. Something I was actually praised for. Something I got attention for. Attention. I think I needed that more than food. And so I went to Oxford, accomplishing and accomplishing and accomplishing, thinking that someday that hole would feel like it had been filled.

I met Phoebe. And that was *not* love. It *was* attention. And flirtation, and manipulation, and eventually, total emotional destruction. She thought so highly of herself that I was convinced that her attention was worth all the pain. She seemed to want me so badly, even when she was cutting me to ribbons. The sex was good, if terrifying. She was the type of woman who didn't really get turned on until after she'd made you use your safe-word. After several harrowing months, I graduated and went into the Academy back in the states, and I got away from her.

I thought that ridding the world of the most heinous human monsters would fill the hole, since nothing else I'd tried had, so I accomplished and accomplished and accomplished some more, until I was solving cases that some veterans couldn't even stand to work on anymore.

But the hole continued to ache.

Then I met Diana. And that wasn't love, either. It was solace. Sanctuary! Sanctuary! She made me feel like a human being. She bored me stupid, truthfully, but she seemed to really love *me* and for that, I was willing to do anything. She was so focused on building me up, believing in me, making me feel like somebody.

Reminds me of Krycek.

But anyway, we found the X-files together, and she seemed to be able to understand my instant obsession and endless fascination with them when no one else could. And she jumped in with me, standing side by side, holding me up when I got tired, putting me to bed when I got exhausted, and celebrating when a piece of the puzzle slid into place. She started to talk about marriage as if it were a given, and I figured, 'Why not?' So I got down and did the whole one- knee, grandma's ring thing and of course, she said yes.

Life was pretty good for awhile, me immersed in the X-files and her being okay with that, keeping the home fires burning and all that. The sex was...okay. But sex wasn't really a safe haven for me anyway, after Phoebe. I kind of separated the two in my mind, so that great sex equaled pain. Things drifted along for a while, then she all of a sudden wanted to go on some huge, foreign mission. It hit me out of nowhere, but then, I was oblivious to everything in my life except the X- files, so maybe the signs were always there.

We parted on good terms, actually, and I was surprised at how little it really hurt. I went back to my files, becoming comfortable with being alone, and thoroughly used to everyone else's scorn and lack of understanding.

I think they got scared. Like, "What the hell is that little freak doing down in that basement?" I got word that I was getting a partner. I knew she was a spy, someone to let the higher- ups know what kind of nonsense was going on down there. I checked her out before she got there and I was already scared. This woman had the ability to bring me down. Not because my investigations weren't legitimate. I couldn't wait to show everyone they were. But because she was so brilliant that if she decided to sabotage me, I was dead in the water.

Long story short, she blew my fucking mind.

Her integrity radiated from the first moment she walked in. She glowed with it. I was afraid to get too close. I had to touch her to assure myself she was real. She trusted me quickly, and I trusted her right back. And I knew it was right. I just knew.

I think my opinion on humanity changed then. It was like discovering a new species, one that threw all the old theories into chaos. It felt *so* good to trust someone. Better than I ever thought it would. I should have known that would lead to more pain.

Did I want her? Well, she's beautiful and smart and talented and amazing, and I certainly love her, so sure I wanted her. But it wasn't a strong enough drive to actually act on it, and it always felt wrong, somehow, like that wasn't the role she was supposed to play in my life. I would fantasize about her in the dark hours and feel so guilty that most of the pleasure was overshadowed.

They took her away, reassigning her, and they took away the X-files. It was as if God himself was punishing me, having shown me what 'good' felt like just so it would hurt more when it was taken away.

Then they gave me Krycek.

I was so determined to hate his fucking guts. To keep myself safe by not even giving him the most basic human respect. But he tried so hard. He just smiled and fluttered his eyelashes and relentlessly ran to catch up with me as I continued to run away. He told me things I wanted to hear so badly that when I did, they immediately hurt because I knew they couldn't be true. He said he believed in me. Admired me. Even wanted to prove the same things I did. He never doubted me. Never. I felt like I couldn't go wrong with him. That whatever I did, he'd be there, smiling and batting his eyes, handing me coffee.

So I fell for it. I didn't let him know, of course, but I knew. I knew I started to think about him late at night, wanting to see just how much he was ready to give me to prove his undying devotion. He entered my fantasies, and then he dominated them, and then he *was* them. It felt totally natural to want him sexually. It felt right.

It wasn't the first time I'd had homosexual thoughts. I've never lived on one end of the continuum, really. I sort of skate in the middle. I don't see what the big deal is. Attraction is biological, chemical, maybe even spiritual, and certainly psychological. Why stress over the fact that the person you want has a certain set of genitalia? And as much as my wanting of Scully never seemed strong enough to be right, my growing desire for Krycek threatened to redefine my universe once again.

I didn't dare act on it. If I did, I was sure I would lose him. Or he would hurt me or betray me or disappear. I didn't want to have him because I knew it would hurt more when I lost him. And I knew I would, eventually. I just didn't know how devastating the circumstances would be.

So Scully was abducted, and I had a new quest. A new obsession, and a new bleeding gash in my soul. I couldn't see past my need to *find her* and *save her*. I was vaguely aware of Krycek, hovering next to me, helping me eat, helping me sleep, reminding me to shower and change clothes, but my world was narrowed to one rushing tunnel vision.

*Find her.*

So I almost didn't catch it when the signs of betrayal started appearing. But, because I always expect it, I saw them. And I felt a new, vital, struggling part of myself just...give up and die.

I was afraid he would hurt me, and he did. I was scared he would betray me, and he did. And I was terrified he would disappear suddenly...and he did.

The next few months I can truly say I don't remember. I know I was on a self-destructive bent, taking every opportunity to put myself in mortal danger, and only feeling my heart beat when it was pounding in terror. I wanted to die, but didn't want to take the trouble to just do it myself. It seemed like more effort than I was worth.

Then she was returned...and with her came a little of my faith. God gave her back. I don't really believe in God, mind you, but that's the general idea. The message was I wasn't so bad after all. I did deserve to have good in my life.

I know that seems selfish, given that she had just lived through a hell I can't imagine in my worst nightmares, but I am used to being the only person in my world, so I define everything by how it affects me.

So, just as I'm feeling my world come into balance, Krycek kills my father. Yeah, we don't have any proof, but I know enough about my own instincts to trust them here. There's no doubt in my mind that he did it. And the pain is so deep, and so awful that at first I don't even know where it's all coming from. I think I have it figured out, now, actually. It's not about losing my father, although, with his death goes the possibility that someday he'll accept me. It's more...personal. It's still about Krycek, really. I mean, you don't just kill someone's dad unless you really don't give a fuck about them, right? So it's like confirmation of how incredibly stupid I was to let him get to me, I guess.

I got to hit him. It felt sooooo good. I wanted so badly to kill him. I may have been high on the drugs he put in my water, but I remember the rush I got, thinking I'd kill him and hopefully get rid of some of the pain that he's caused. Scully stopped me, of course, because I would have gone to prison for killing not only Krycek, but my father. She saved my life. I wasn't sure whether to be grateful or not, even after she explained. But that's Scully. She's my home base. She keeps me sane and keeps me from fucking up too badly.

So of course, she's the one I have to call.

"Mmmhello?"

"Scully, it's me. I'm sorry to wake you."

"Mulder?"

"Yeah. Listen, Scully, I need to talk to you. I need to show you something."

"Now?" She sounds a little irritated and a lot sleepy.

"Well, yeah. I think it's pretty important. You'll see when I get there."

"You're coming over here? Now?" Definitely sleepy and definitely irritated.

"Um, yeah, if that's okay." Contrite. That should work.

Deep, accepting sigh. "Okay, Mulder. I'll make some coffee."

My smile makes me feel a little crazy. "Thanks, Scully. See you soon."

It's funny how I didn't even consider opening these documents without her there. I think I know that what's inside is going to make my world tilt on its axis, and I know that I'm going to need Scully to keep me from being flung off.

I shift from foot to foot in front of her door, fingering the tape in the pocket of my leather jacket until the friction heats the plastic. She opens the door wearing a fuzzy white bathrobe and slippers, her hair mussy, no makeup. She looks like an angel. She is. She's my guardian angel.

"Hi Scully."

"Hi Mulder." She closes the door and plods into the kitchen, looking like she needs to drink a few more cups of coffee before she'll really notice I'm here. I think what I'm about to show her will wake her up, though. I decide not to waste any time. She sits down at her table, knowing I'll follow without being invited, and I do, taking the chair across from her. She pours me some coffee from her little French press and freshens her own cup. "Okay, Mulder. What is it?"

I have a flair for the dramatic. I can't help it. I slide my hand out of my pocket, tape in hand, and toss it casually on the table.

Her sleepy blue eyes open wide, her lips parting on a gasp. She reaches forward and picks up the tape hesitantly, then looks up me, mouth still open in shock.

"Is...is this...?"

"I dunno. I think...maybe it is."

"My god," she sighs softly, looking back at the tape. We both stare at it for a minute. "Have you looked at it?"

I bite my lip. "No. I...I wanted you here with me." I don't have to tell her why. She gives me that sweet Scully smile and reaches across the table for my hand. I give it to her. Then she pulls back and stands up, and I follow her wordlessly to her computer.

She sits down and I pull up a chair next to her, and I can tell her breath is held with mine. She boots up her computer, then inserts the disk, tapping keys, using the codes neither one of us has ever forgotten. And they work. Just like they did before.

"Oh my god..." she says again, the computer screen infusing her face with otherworldly glow, making her look like she's lit from within. "Mulder...this...I think these are the original files!"

I feel elation, fear, and guilt all hit me at once. I breathe hard and stare at the screen as she scrolls through the Navajo text.

"Where did you *get* this?"

I look down at my hands, then up into her wide, curious, amazed eyes.

"Krycek."

She looks excited. "You found him? Is he in custody?"

"Well, I didn't exactly find him..." I say, embarassed. "He kind of came to me. And no, to my knowledge, he's not in custody."

"Came to you? And what do you mean, to your knowledge? What did you do to him, Mulder?" She looks worried now and I imagine she thinks I've beaten him senseless or even killed him. I smile. I decide not to tell her what I *did* do to him. Not yet, anyway. One shock a night.

"I mean he left after he gave me this."

"Left."

"Yeah, left."

She nods, and I know it means she doesn't understand. "Mulder, what the hell is going on here?"

I sigh deeply, closing my eyes. When I open them, hers are focused on me, brows arched.

"He showed up at my apartment. He...he told me that Cancer Man tried to kill him, and that he...well, he said he wants to come over to our side now." Scully's mouth dropped open again.

"And you said...?"

"I said I didn't know. So he gave me the tape to prove his allegiance." He gave me his body, too, but that'll be our little secret for now.

"Wow." Scully considers this for a minute and I can tell she doesn't know what to think. Welcome to my world, Scully.

"So...where is he now? Why isn't he here?"

Ah. Well, see....

"He left."

"You said that, Mulder. Why did he leave?"

"Well, I told him I wasn't sure I could trust him, so he gave me his gun and...left."

"He gave you his gun?" There go the eyebrows again.

"Yeah, but he probably has another one..." Uh oh. The disapproving Scully frown. I really hate that one.

"That's not really the point, Mulder."

I look at her as if I don't understand.

"He gave you the MJ files, then he handed you his gun? Mulder, he basically put his life in your hands!"

"He killed my father, Scully!" I protest, sounding whiny even to myself.

"Well, first of all, we don't know that, Mulder, and second of all, he *was* working for 'them', after all. You can't expect him to be squeaky clean."

My mouth gets its turn to drop open as I hear Scully defending Alex Krycek.

"I'm sorry, Mulder. I don't mean to minimize your father's death," She puts her hand on my shoulder, but I'm not really listening, since that's so not the point. "But I'm sure he had to do a lot of things we aren't going to like."

"But..." I say weakly. "How do we know he isn't going to go to the Smoker behind our backs, Scully?"

She frowns, chewing pensively on the inside of her cheek. "Why would he give us this? Unless it's a fake..."

Of course it is. I feel my heart sink.

"I guess we need to get it checked out and see if it's the real thing. If it is, Mulder, he *can't* go back to them. He just gave everything to you! They'll kill him! Everyone will be out to get him, just like they were out to get us! We'll be the only hope he has."

I feel how true that is, and my stomach does a sick turn.

"How can we verify this, Scully?" I breathe deeply, trying to hide the tremble in my voice.

"We'll have to go back to Albert Hosteen."

"Call him."

"Now, Mulder? It's four o'clock in the morning!"

"One o'clock in Arizona. Scully, if this tape is legitimate, then so is Krycek. And he's out there, in mortal danger, defenselesss." I slip my hand into my pocket and stroke it along steel, giving little thought to why I chose to bring his gun instead of mine.

"Somehow, I don't see Alex Krycek as defenseless, but I suppose you're right." She calls up a database on her computer and picks up the phone. I try not to think about where Krycek might have gone after he left my apartment. And I hope he keeps a second pistol strapped to his ankle. If he doesn't, he's going to from now on.

As soon as we find him.