Treacherous Heart

Walter Skinner held his gun out in front of him warily, ears attuned to the tiniest scrape of noise. Spender was in the warehouse, his last remaining hideout in the city. The gun in his hand was an extension of his body-hard, unrelenting steel. He smiled grimly. //Krycek should be here. After all, this wouldn't be possible without him.//

Walter replayed in his mind all the thingsthe traitorous rat had done for them in bringing down what was left of the syndicate. He had delivered them into Walter's hands like a gift given as an after thought. He'd given them vaccines and weapons against the aliens casually, almost off-handedly, though Walter and Mulder knew how much it had cost to risk his neck for these things.

Walter remembered the midnight meetings, the shiny, innocuous tapes holding vital information passed to him surreptitiously, the sudden appearances of Krycek in the back of his carin the parking garage.

He recalled the musky scent of their former enemy as he leaned a little too close to whisper in Walter's ear a secret codeword that opened the world of information to him.

Walter smiled with pleasure as he thought of the deals made, the lives saved with the help of one rat bastard and a handful of rebels with one goal in mind-to save the world from alien colonization.

There was a scratching sound, little more than a scrape of shoe but it caught Walter's attention. He swung around, sensing a presence but not seeing anything in the gloom of the deserted warehouse except dirty high windows and litter. The sharp scent of gasoline and the cloying smell of oil assailed his nostrils.

His finger tightened imperceptibly on the trigger. His palms were sweating and the moisture made the gun slick in his hand. He quickly wiped his hand on his trousers and walked further into the gloomy interior.

There was the sound of scratching again but he chalked it up to rats in the walls. His soft-soled shoes were quiet on the floor. He could hear his racing heart beat. His breath was audible, nearly visible in the chill of the November air. In the distance he could hear the buzz of helicopters outside, the thrum of car engines, the mingled voices of a dozen agents searching for the man who had played puppet master with their lives for so long.

He was grateful that Mulder and Scully were out there. They deserved to see the son-of-a-bitch taken down.

He heard the soft padding of feet overhead. He looked up at the catwalk. The darkness was nearly complete. He thought he saw the shadow of a man detach from the rest of the black wall.

His attention was drawn to a scuffling sound to his right. He dodged and hid behind a pile of boxes. The sharp zing of the bullet slicing past him hit a metal filing cabinet with a sharp sound. He let out his breath in a harsh gasp. Another bullet tore a chunk out of one of the cardboard boxes he hid behind.

He snapped the gun around the corner and shot. He didn't hit anything other than the wall. He squeezed off another round. He heard several people entering the building, shouting. He rounded the stack of boxes in time to miss another bullet. Leaving the shelter of the hideout and into the open wasn't a smart move, he knew, but he didn't want to get cornered. He swiveled around, not seeing his assailant.

//What the hell? He couldn't be on the catwalk. Nah, angle's all wrong. Must be someone with Spender, maybe a bodyguard or two. Come on, Walter, think, where is he?//

He heard the sound of something striking metal. He swung left and right, ready to shoot, ready to jump behind the boxes again. A shot rang out, hitting its target, judging by the scream. He saw a figure in the darkened office fall to the floor. The window that had been in the door was only a jagged edge of glass framed in the cheap wooden door.

//Ah, that's where the bastard was. Who on earth had shot him? Mulder and Scully are outside with everyone else, checking the rest of the grounds.//

The soft moans inside the office stopped.

"Walter, look out!"

He heard Krycek's voice call out, saw Spender dressed all in black, step out from the stairwell. He couldn't shoot in time. Just looked into those cold blue eyes, saw the corpse-like half smile and knew he couldn't shift his hand in time.

Krycek pounced on him, pushing him down. His body was hard, the bulky leather jacket cushioning his fall onto Walter's body. Walter's breath whooshed out and he had a hard time drawing in more oxygen with Krycek's weight on his chest. There was another shot,one that would have taken out Walter. Instead it found Krycek's back for its target.

The scream was loud in his ear and he heldonto Krycek tightly. Another shot rang out and he prayed it wouldn't find either of them. He glanced up and saw Mulder standing over Spender's body. He eased the heavy weight of Krycek's body off his chest and onto the floor.

His hands were red and sticky with blood. He held his hand over the wound, cradling the injured man against him. Krycek gasped and moaned in pain, trying to catch his breath.

"Shh, don't talk Alex. Save your strength," Skinner cautioned.

He remembered how much it had hurt when Cardinale had shot him in the gut. He looked down at Alex in sympathy.

Alex's face was alarmingly pale, filmed with sweat. His scared green eyes looked up at Walter's.

"Hurts," he grunted.

"I know. Just take it easy. Help is on the way."

He looked at Mulder and nodded in satisfaction when the agent called for an ambulance. Scully felt for a pulse in Spender's neck and shook her head grimly at her boss. She made her way to Krycek's trembling body and tried to assess the damage without jostling him too much.

When Walter looked down again, Krycek's eyes were closed. His lips parted, trying to draw in breath.

Imperceptibly he curled himself closer to Skinner's body. He was so cold, even with the leather jacket with its heavy lining. Skinner's body was so big and warm, he just wanted to stay close to him and fall into painless sleep.

He felt the cloak of Skinner's trench coatbeing draped over him and he wanted to thank him but he was too tired to speak. He felt the damp trickle of blood flow down his back, most of it staunched by Skinner's hand.

The burning in his chest and back was unbearable but for the quiet presence of Walter. Alex closed his eyes and heard sirens in the distance.

Part Two

Notes: My medical information comes from sources like the t.v. show "er" so the medical scenes may not be one hundred percent accurate. In other words don't ask me any medical advice.

Walter looked for a moment at the third glass of Scotch he'd poured and tossed it back quickly before he changed his mind. He'd called the hospital from his home office, hoping for a change but receiving the same information he'd gotten the last six days in a row. No change in Krycek's condition. Walter had a definite sense of déjà vu.

At least he was stable. At least he wasn't in pain. Walter wasn't feeling any pain either, after that third drink . He'd drunk a toast to Spender's death, Mulder's bullet and lastly to Krycek for saving his ass.

He took a long shower and went to bed but sleep was an elusive dream.

Walter sat down beside the bed and gazed at the unconscious man lying there. The dark hair was scruffy, a few spiky strands falling on his forehead. The thick lashes created a faint shadow on his pale cheeks. The lips were pale, silent. The pert nose was so adorable that Walter found to his horror that he had a hard time restraining his hand from pinching it teasingly. He took holdof his hand instead, careful not to dislodge the I.V. or the oxygen clip. He squeezed it, waiting for an echoing grasp.

At first the machines had been frightening harbingers of death; the pulses and beeping cold and inhuman, like something out of one of Mulder's sci-fi movies. Now it was a commonplace sight, Alex Krycek amid a maze of wires, tubes and monitors, measuring his heart beat, oxygen level, pulse; a discreet tube taking away waste products, an I.V. sending healing fluids and antibiotics into his body. A tube was down his throat to help him breathe, replaced a few days later by a nasal oxygen tube.

"Hey, Krycek, it's me, Walter. Skinner. You probably know that. I just wanted to check on you. They said you're the same. At least you're not worse. Uhh, it's all over the news, what you did. You saved my life. That's a big deal. They might even give you a medal. Mulder even said some nice stuff about you. Well, one or two, anyway. The bureau knows how you helped us. The shit has really hit the fan. It's unbelievable how far-reaching the conspiracy was. Thanks to your information and Mulder's tenacity it's all over."

Walter looked down at Krycek's chest with the monitors and bulky white bandages. He rearranged the sheets a little, glancing back guiltily at the door.

"Nice legs."

He quickly flipped the blanket over the man's feet, smoothing it over his legs and tucking it up to his chest.

"Gotta keep you warm."

He took hold of the hand again. A flicker of eyelid caught his attention.

"Hey, anybody in there?"

Walter knew it could have been a muscle spasm, as simple as that. He'd seen Krycek's fingers twitch the other day too, but it didn't necessarily mean he was waking up.

"Did you enjoy your sponge bath today? Was it the female nurse Brenda? If you were real lucky it was Brandon. He's a hottie, don't you think? Yeah, you smell nice. You must have had your bath and a shave."

He stroked the smooth cheek.

"Listen, Alex, you really have to wake up. We need to ask you questions. Like how you came to be in that warehouse. Did you follow me? Mulder shot Spender dead, so we can't ask him anything. There's really no one left to ask anymore, except you. You're the man with all the answers. Come on," Walter growled. "I'm getting tired of waiting."

There was no response, only the even breathing accompanied by the attendant beeps and pulses of the machines.

"Look I've gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow."

Walter went home and tried to work on the files taking over his desk and tried to forget the nagging ache in his chest. He knew it wasn't from the endless piles of paperwork and the countless phone calls following the ongoing internal investigation after the death of Spender and several other highly ranked government spooks. He also knew it wasn't caused by the long run in the gym after work. Nor was it attributable to the spicy lunch he'd eaten at his desk. No, this ache was caused by Alex Krycek.

It had taken been a week, a mere seven days of constant monitoring to raise his interest, pique his old curiosity about Krycek. He'd seesawed back and forth, between wanting to kill him and wanting to kiss the infuriating bastard. He was still thinking of those soft lips when he called it a day.

It was dusk, the sky was a twilight haze of blue and violet. Stars sparkled in the late evening sky. He turned the car towards the hospital.

"Hey, Krycek, still sleeping huh? Lucky bastard. You get to lie in bed all day while I work twelve hour days busting my ass trying to untangle the mess Spender made. Do you have any idea how ridiculous I sounded at those endless senate committees, talking about an international conspiracy between world governments and extra-terrestrials to colonize the earth? They looked at me like I was insane. If you hadn't given us the information sitting locked up tight at headquarters they'd never believe me, Mulder or Scully. They have to believe it now."

Walter took out the hand cream from the cheap beside table and began to smooth it over Krycek's arm and hand, mindful of the I.V. line. He flipped back the sheets and blankets and coated his feet with the rich cream.

"Dry in here isn't it? That's why I bought this thick stuff. Smells nice too. Kind of like roses, I guess."

Walter stroked Alex's legs, admiring the long, pale, highly arched feet. He smoothed the soft brown hair on his lower legs and flipped the sheets back. Next, he took out a pot of lip balm and applied it carefully to Krycek's lips. They parted softly, almost as if he was about to speak. His eyelids fluttered, shifted imperceptibly so that a flash of green was visible.

"Hey, you waking up?" Walter whispered. "That's it boy. It's Walter here. I'm getting pretty damn tired of waiting for you. my patience is wearing thin."

There was a flinch of a finger that caughthis tired eye. He leaned closer, smelling the rich, musky scent of the heavy cream and the cherry flavored balm. His mouth watered and he found himself unconsciously moving to Krycek's face.

"Come, on. Wake up and tell me all about your triple agent antics. I know you were KGB. We found out about that, ex-bureau boy, then, what? Who did you really work for? You really pissed me off, jerking my chain like that. All that time you were manipulating us with your geeky hair-dos and enough hair oil to rival the Exxon Valdez. All those ugly suits hid that gorgeousbody of yours so well. Yeah," Walter's voice grew husky, "I remember what you looked like in those tight jeans and that black leather jacket. You looked like such a bad boy. Was it an act or was it real? You know what I think? I think you were messing with Spender's head all that time. You were always your own man with your own agenda."

He took the hairbrush and gently ran it through the thick hair. He had bought some powder at the pharmacy that invalid patients used o dry up the oil on their hair. He sprinkled some on, then brushed Alex's hair again.

Walter found himself thinking about the day Alex would wake up and he could take his own baths and wash his own hair. Walter wondered what it would feel like to stroke his hands over his warm, soapy, naked skin.

He shook his head and put the brush away.

"Okay, let's make a deal. I'll come here every day and keep making you pretty and you wake up. All right? Let's try this again tomorrow. Okay?"

Walter put on his trench coat and smoothedKrycek's hair back. His eyes fluttered open, so quickly Walter almost missed it. His lips parted, his head shook and a soft sigh escaped his mouth.

"That's it boy," he whispered, smiling.

Walter remained true to his word. Hereturned to the hospital every day, after working twelve hour days and then some.

He watched as the nurses took care of the comatose Krycek, changing dressings, hanging up I.V. bags and taking vital signs. He caught glimpses of Krycek's naked torso. He turned his head at the nasty incision, but hungrily looked at the hard chest, perky pink nipples and firm stomach. He was hairless, with a light dusting ofdown on his belly. Walter couldn't see lower than his navel due to the nurses' modesty on behalf of their patient, yet they were so matter of fact about taking care of his bodily needs that he wondered if any of them lusted after Krycek.

Over the next week his vital signs improved. His movements increased and his eyes fluttered open, showing dazed green eyes for brief moments.

Walter went home every night exhausted, seeking the comfort of a hot shower, a late dinner, a glass or two of twelve year old Scotch to soothe his nerves before catching a few good hours of uninterrupted, dreamless sleep.

It had been two weeks, going on three and Krycek was nearly completely awake. His eyes were open but not totally aware. He hadn't spoken, as if he was measuring the situation before he would venture a question. He would drink small sips of water that the nurses allowed him, scratched his arm against the bed where the I.V. had bruised it. He began to watch the small television set in his roomwith interest but a dazed look still on his face. He looked at Walter warily each time he came in, the look lessening in fear each time until he cleared his throat and spoke.

"Walter? What happened?"

It took another several days of recovery before Krycek was discharged. In that time, his I.V. was removed, his oral fluids increased. Walter was alarmed by a howl of pain coming from his room but the nurse hastily explained that the catheter had been removed. He began to walk to the bathroom with help. Hesat up, did some walking, with assistance, and began to eat solid food.

Walter knew he was feeling like his old self when he began to complain about the hospital food.

The doctors wouldn't let Walter and Mulderquestion him for too long. He still tired easily but he answered their questions honestly and thoroughly.

He had trouble remembering the night of the shooting and could only put together bits and pieces. The doctorstold him he might never recover his memory of nearly dying and that suited him just fine. He had enough bad memories to last a lifetime.

Walter came to take him home when he was discharged. He had a change of clothes for him, sweat pants, sweat shirt, socks, underwear, a navy coat and a pair of canvas sneakers.

"Do you want some help?"

Alex slapped his hand away.

"Where's my arm?"

"Here."

Walter handed him the prosthesis. Alex glared up at him.

"Do you mind?"

"I've seen you without your gown. I know what your arm looks like. Believe me, I've seen worse."

"You're becoming a pervert just like Mulder."

"No one's like Mulder."

"How true. Can you go outside?"

"Sure."

Walter stood outside the door. Alex dressed himself slowly, starting with his prosthetic arm. The clothes weresoft comfortable fleece, much better than a drafty hospital gown. He zipped up the small overnight bag and checked to make sure all his toiletries were there. Skinner had brought him things from his apartment to make his stay more comfortable and homey; a robe, electric shaver, a couple of mystery books, even his CD player and a handful of CD's. Alex was grateful for Skinner's thoughtfulness but he was loathe to show it.

He grudgingly let Skinner push him out in a wheelchair.

The drive home was silent. The radiowas tuned to a light jazz station, mostly instrumental, that was soothing to Alex's frayed nerves and bad mood.

He'd seen Skinner's home before, a nice little brick and vinyl house in a quiet middle class neighborhood.

He was glad it wasn't the condo. It held bad memories, both of a gut-wrenching punch and a cold night spent handcuffed to the balcony railing. He would have preferred spending the night chained to Skinner's bed while the muscular A.D. subjected him to all sorts of indecent acts.

Walter pulled up the driveway and smoothlyinto the garage. It had a light scent of sawdust and motor oil but it was clean and neatly organized.

They shared that trait at least, neatness.

Alex tried to climb out of the car but Skinner stopped him with a glare and took his arm, tugging him inside the warm house.

"I'm not an invalid," Alex protested.

"I don't want you to trip on anything."

Alex looked down at the floor. It was spic and span, with not a drop of oil or abandoned tool in sight.

Alex was impressed and surprised by the surroundings. He caught glimpses of rooms as they passed through the long hallway. The spacious den had furniture you could sink into and drown in, a large screen television and stereo system. The kitchen was big and sunny. He could see a red kettle, white gauzy curtains with little yellow daisies and blue enamelware behind glass fronted cupboards.

They passed an office and Alex got an impression of a huge wooden desk with intricate scrollwork on the legs and a massive leather chair, behind which were hundreds of books on dark oak shelves.

There was a hall closet opposite the master bedroom which was dominated by a king size bed. The furnishings were simple, not fussy, in deep jewel colors of deep red, royal blue, purple and forest green.

Alex was not surprised to see a well-equipped home gym. That man must work out about ten hours a day to get those ripped abs and massive arms.

Alex felt faint. He knew he was still weak, the doctor had told him that he would need months to fully recover both from the trauma of the shooting as well as the surgery. No, this dizzy feeling was brought on by close proximity to Skinner. His body dwarfed Alex's. He felt like the original ninety eight pound weakling next to the man. His cologne was subtle just like the rest of him,but still a heady scent that made his knees tremble.

"In here," Skinner barked.

They stopped in front of a small room thatAlex guessed was a guest room. Although it was small, it was possibly the coziest little room Alex had ever stayed in. The bed was a double, covered with a handmade quilt of yellow roses and green ivy. There was a chair and roll-top desk, as well as a night stand and overstuffed chair. The closet was tiny but there was a dresser too.

Skinner showed him the bathroom, which was tastefully decorated with framed pictures of roses, seashell shaped fancy soaps and blue guest towels embossed with pink roses.

"Martha Stewart lives," Alex quipped.

Skinner didn't seem amused. He glared at Alex with those dark brown eyes the color of fudge and arched an imperious eyebrow.

"This is your room. Everything is stocked from the bathroom to the kitchen. If there's something you need let me know. I have your prescriptions here. You can pay me back later. Get some rest and I'll make you some tea and toast. If you don't like my cooking there's plenty of places to call for take-out."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I owe you."

"Okay. I'll think I'll just get a little cleaned up and lie down."

"Good, here are your prescriptions. I'll be back in a few minutes."

Alex made himself at home. His bag was unpacked quickly. He didn't have much with him. He carefullyhung up his clothes and placed his socks and shorts in the dresser. He put his toiletries neatly on the bathroom counter and gave himself a quick sponge-bath in the sink. He didn't look at his chest or mutilated arm. One or the other would be bad enough but he couldn't handle both at once.

He ran a hand over his sharp ribs before he tugged on his sweat shirt again. He was too thin. Even the bones inhis face stood out in sharp relief. His eyes were dull as was his skin. Living in a hospital didn't do much for the complexion.

//Shit, Alex, you look like crap. Not such a pretty boy anymore huh?//

Alex looked away, disgusted with his smalldisplay of self-pity. Although he was prone to mild depressions, he didn't usually indulge in self-pity or guilt or any other useless emotions. When he had a mission to take care of the only emotion he would let himself feel was rage. It spurred him on, and blinded him to any weaker feelings that might make him vulnerable. Emotions such as love and compassion. He concentrated solely on the problems hehad to solve and became a thinking, non-feeling fighting machine. He did what had to be done even if it was dirty. It seemed the sort of thing he specialized in. Not playing by the rules like Skinner or skirtingthe moral mud pond like Mulder.

The time spent weak and helpless in the hospital had made him vulnerable. How else to explain the feelings of gratitude to Walter that made his chest feel as if it was about to explode and turn him into a soggy, crying mess?

He was at a loss now for work. He was weak physically and mentally he wasn't the sharpest tack in the box. Emotionally he was drained. He'd spent his time out of the coma doing little but taking their damn tests, being poked and drained of blood. He wasn't in any shape for rigorous physical training, only the light walking they allowed him and some physio for his neglected muscles. He was lucky to have some puzzle books and newspapers delivered to him by the cute candy stripers. Other than that he had to content himself with visits by only medical staff and questioning by Mulder, Scully and Skinner.

He was in bed by the time Skinner came back to the room. He was carrying a tray loaded with a plate of toast smothered in peanut butter and grape jelly, a china cup full of steaming hot tea, milk, sugar bowl and utensils. He set everything down and let Alexfix his own tea.

A streak of black zipped past the bed, pounced up and looked curiously at Alex. It was a black cat, well-fed but muscular. Its luminous green eyes stared at him.

"Who's that?"

Alex shoved a piece of toast into his mouth.

"That's Shadow."

Alex swallowed a mouthful of the tea.

"He's beautiful. I always figured you for a dog person."

"I had dogs when I was a kid. When Ibought this house he came around the back door crying. He looked so pathetic that I fed him. Never could get rid of him. He just followed me around outside all the time, so I kept him."

"That's a good name. Thanks for the toast. It's good."

"You're welcome. When you're done with the tray just leave it on the floor and I'll come and get it. You should get some rest."

"I will."

Walter left the room and Alex finished hissnack. It took only a few minutes for him to fall asleep.

Walter opened the door as quietly as he could half an hour later. He picked up the tray at the side of the bed and gazed down at the sleeping man. Alex was on his back, his right hand curled up and lying on his stomach. He was pale, his cheeks lightly flushed as if from a fever. Walter brushed his hand gently over his forehead. He was warm but Walter decided it was probably only sleep warm. There was no cause for concern.

He detected a scent of soap, something clean and wholesome. He didn't want the room to smell like a sick room. That would hinder Alex's recovery. It would be just as bad as the hospital. He sprayed some vanilla room spray, delighting in its rich scent.

He looked back once at the sleeping figure. Alex didn't stir. The sound of his deep breathing was the only sound in the room. He gave a satisfied nod. It was the only solution. He owed him.

Part Three

Notes: No animals were harmed in the writing of this story. You may experience a sugar rush while reading of Christmas desserts and schmoopy sex. The effect is temporary.

Two weeks later Skinner wasn't so sure about his generous offer. The man annoyed him to no end. True, he wasn't a lot of trouble. He didn't complain much about the few dishes Walter could cook. He didn't make a lot of noise. In fact he was very quiet, even when he sang along in his husky voice to his personal CD player. He beat Skinner at cards but he didn't cheat much. He was neat, hanging uphis wet towels and helping with the dishes and a little light housekeeping. The cat adored him but Walter knew he wasn't jealous of the cat. What a preposterous idea. It was the unbeatable smirk, the attitude, the glint in the man's eye, like he knew a secret and wasn't telling Walter.

He baited Walter, arguing with him about everything, like he was looking for a sock in the jaw. He had cravings for weird foods and if Walter wasn't willing to go to the market for him, he would pout like a little boy. He would play with the cat, driving it into a crazed frenzy just when Walter was trying to relax and read the paper or watch television. When Walter tried to take a nap on the couch Alex would flip the channel to some fishing show or documentary about marine life that would have the cat smashing against the screen in a futile attempt to capture the fish. One harsh glare from Walter would send Alex fumbling for the remote, a choir boy look on his face.

The days when he worked were tolerable. He could keep busy so he thought about Alex only once every 5 seconds. His days were busy with meetings and phone calls and paperwork that didn't hold his interest as much as the annoying pain in the butt living in his home.

Nights were much worse. Alex was starting to cook for him. He was good too. It was just simple stuff like roast chicken and garlic mashed potatoes, stew and rice, pork chops and veggies. He even fixed desserts for them and he discovered that Alex had a real sweet tooth. He liked just about anything as long as it had sugar. It could be cherry pie or pancakes, as long as it was sweetand contained whipped cream, sugar, fruit, chocolate or honey. Of course with Alex he was real picky. He only ate European chocolate, not the milk chocolate Americans consumed. Honey had to be unprocessed and maple syrup had to be the real thing too. Walter wouldn't have been surprised if Alex asked that the maple syrup be hand-delivered by a French-Canadian man wearing a lumber jacket and toque.

It seemed any time spent with him jeopardized Walter's tenuous control. Watching Alex eat was a sensual act in itself. His tongue had to dip into the corners of his waffle, lapping up the sweet syrup before he folded the piece dangling from his fork and shoving it into his mouth. He just had to stick his adorable nose into a steaming plate before he ate. He had to lick the fork of whatever meal he was finishing to get the last taste remaining on it, his pink tongue swirling over the metal tines suggestively.

When he curled up on the sofa with the catcradled in his arms murmuring nonsense, Walter wished he could trade places with the animal. Those times he caught Alex coming out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his slim hips, his eyes watched in envy at the drops of water slowly sliding down his damp skin. When he looked at Alex there was always a hand over his chest to hide the scar and he turned his body so Walter couldn't see his arm. How Walter longed to take down that defensive hand and see only love reflected in those wary eyes.

Along with his morning shower, Walter found himself jerking off to thoughts of graceful, sinuous Alex. He had to go tothe men's room at work before his erection was too noticeable and spend himself in his fist. It was hardly gratifying. He spent the first few minutes in bed jerking off again before he could manage to sleep.

He was more irritable than usual, his temper on a short leash at work. Everyone complained about it but didn't dare mention it to him.

Walter wasn't the only one who was irritated.

Alex tried everything he could think of toget Walter's attention, short of bashing him on the head. The idea didn't seem so bad, sometimes. He tried to be flirtatious, annoying, innocent, even domestic. He played with Walter's cat, proving he was an animal lover. He helped him out around the house. He pushed himself to recover from his physical trauma by punishing himself in Walter's home gym, carving out muscles that had grown soft with inactivity.

It didn't matter what he did, he couldn't break through Walter's surly, cool veneer. He got glares or barking commands instead. No looks of the merest hint of lust were directed his way.

//Damn, after everything I've done for you, the least you could do is pay attention to me. I even saved you from getting shot. How much more do I have to do? Get canonized by the pope? You pay more attention to the cat's tail than youdo mine.//

Walter wasn't the only one who was horny all the time either. Alex found himself getting off in the shower, hoping that each tiny sound he heard was Skinner parting the shower curtains to join him. He would gladly make love with Skinner any way he could as long as he could hide the ugly scar on his body and the man could ignore his arm altogether.

When Walter was away at work, he found himself in front of the television set with a porno video playing, imagining himself and Walter in the roles of the actors, his swollen cock in hand.

//Christ I'm getting worse than Mulder! At least I beat off when I watch the movies.//

The more Walter ignored him, the more surly Alex got. He snapped when the A.D. was late for dinner. He got pissed when Skinner didn't buy the right kind of pickles. He grew irritated when Walter petted his cat adoringly, pinching his little moist nose and scratching behind his ears, but barely giving Alex a glance.

//Can't the guy read a label? I wrote down dill pickles, not gherkins and certainly not those sweet kind. Why won't Walter love me? Am I really so bad? Uh, yeah you are Alex. He could never love a one-armed ex-assassin, ex-syndicate player like you.//

Alex's depression worsened. He was in a funk about his physical limitations and Walter's non-existent attention. His boredom and depression were lightened only by the occasional outing with Walter on errands or the antics of Walter's cat.

The depression must have been contagious for Walter was no longer just irritable, he found himself wondering where the yearshad gone, wondered where he had failed in his marriage, pondered his place in the world.

They each settled into complacency. Life was dealt with day by day, with little thought. Alex's resolve returned little by little until he had developed a schedule that kept the boredomand blues at bay. He worked out, showered, ate a solitary late breakfast when Walter was at work. His ordeal had sapped his strength so he always had a nap in the afternoon. He worked at something in the afternoon to keep his mind sharp, browsed the internet, read books, played with the cat and worked on the report Mulder had requested from him. Soon enough it was time to prepare dinner and hope that Walter would get home before it got cold. Evenings were spent watching the news, playing cards or a game of chess, watching television or reading quietly.

Walter's routine was work and more work. He made time for lunch, sometimes even going out with his colleagues. He tried to get home at a reasonable hour to spent it with Krycek. He didn't want to have Alex make a scene when he was late for their evening meal. He read the paper, watched the news, lost himself in television for a while, worked out a few times a week and began to enjoy their evening rituals of cards or chess.

It was as though they were each walking onland mines, careful of where they stepped. They talked but it was mindless chatter that filled the silence. They spoke of the gloomy weather, the commercialization of the Christmas holidays fast approaching, the situation in the Middle East that neither one of them could understand.

They filled the evenings with quiet games,the mindless droning of the television, sometimes a jazz record that Walter was hopeful Alex would enjoy, solitary reading, anything that would distract both of them.

Walter let Alex accompany him and Shadow to the vet for the cat's check-up in early December. To calm his cat down, Walter stroked his fur before he could go AWOL and Alex unconsciously echoed his actions. Their hands touched, pulled apart and slowly made their way back to each other so that they fingers brushed against each other over the cat's sleek black fur.

Alex was blushing when the vet interruptedthem and Walter cleared his throat, running a hand over his head.

It wasn't the holiday season with its silver-tinged excitement and cheery music that lifted Walter's spirits. He didn't much care for the holidays any more now that he had no one to share it with except some relatives living out of town. His war buddies had families. The ones who had lost themselves in the bad memories spent it soaking up booze to blot out remembrance.

It wasn't the day that Mulder and Scully came in under budget on a difficult case.

It may have been the week that Kersh was booted out of his office and the fact that he was under serious investigation delighted Walter to no end, but Walter didn't think it was that either.

He believed his own turnabout came from Alex.

One day he'd come home early, laden with Christmas gifts, wrapping paper and Christmas cards he was already dreading writing when he looked up the stairs and saw Alex lying down at the very top.

Alex grinned and made a motion to halt Walter. He held a slinky in his hand, the metal springs bouncing from fake hand to real and back.

"Watch this," Alex commanded.

Shadow was pacing back and forth in front of Alex, anxious as a first-time father.

Walter frowned, wondering what mischief the two of them were up to. He watched as Alex set the toy down on the top steps and set the springs bouncing down the stairs. The cat skittered and hopped, following the slinky as it bounced its way down to the bottom. He meowed loudly as the springs hit bottom. He looked up at Alex as though asking him to play the game again.

Walter looked up at Alex's giggling. He'd never heard the man laugh much, never mind giggle.

"He could do that all day."

Walter shook his head, smiling and broughtthe slinky back up to Alex.

"Did you start dinner yet?"

"No, too busy playing."

"How about some take-out? Italian okay?"

"Yeah great. Order some garlic bread, all right?"

"Just don't breathe on me."

"Don't worry about that."

They had enjoyed a late meal and afterwards Alex had helped him wrap several gifts. He had small gifts for his relatives and a few for colleagues and of course Mulder and Scully.

Alex even patiently wrote out addresses onthe envelopes for the Christmas cards and licked the stamps enticingly.

A few days later Walter accompanied Alex on a check-up at the hospital where he was given a clean bill of health. Alex wouldn't let him into the exam room with him. Walter knew Alex was still skittish about him seeing his scar and arm, so Walter sat patiently in the waiting room.

Half an hour later, Alex had emerged, shaking hands with the doctor and beaming.

"How did it go?" Walter asked.

"Great. The doctor says there's no complications, that I'm healing well and I can keep increasing my exercise."

"That's great."

Walter threw on his trench coat, swung hisscarf around his neck and pulled his woolen hat over his bald head.

"Thank you Walter."

"For what?"

Alex shrugged into his leather jacket. He let Walter help him.

"For taking care of me."

"You're welcome. Come on let's go home. I don't you want exposed to all the bugs lurking in the hospital. God knows what you could catch in here."

Alex flushed but it wasn't from the well-insulated wool coat or the tee-shirt underneath the heavy wool sweater that Walter had insisted he wear.

Walter was solicitous, acting every bit the gentleman. It made Alex warm right down to his toes.

Ever since that day something entered into Walter's heart to melt its cold exterior so that he gave the bum on the corner a little extra money and he wished him a merry Christmas. He volunteered to shovel the neighbor's driveway and he didn't stop until he'd cleared the sidewalks. He made it home on time for dinner and even helped set the table, evoking a sweet smile from Alex.

He let Alex come with him to pick out a Christmas tree. They found the perfect small specimen. Walter hauled the tree off in the direction of the car, waving off Alex's attempts to help. He knew the cold air wouldn't do Alex's lungs any good and so he shooed him into the warm shelter where they helped themselves to the complimentary hot cocoa. He grabbed extra marshmallows for Alex, almost missing Alex's dazzling smile of gratitude.

Walter wouldn't let Alex into the attic either, to search for the dusty box of ornaments. Alex relented but he did help Walter decorate the tree. They drank eggnog and listened to Christmas music.

He couldn't help but see the sadness in Alex's eyes. He didn't want to pry but wondered if Alex had any family orif he spent every Christmas alone, drinking eggnog in a scummy motel room.

"You okay?" Walter asked gently.

"Yeah, it's just such a nice tree. Ihaven't had one in years."

"Me either."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"I was wondering about the packages you wanted me to mail."

"I bought a couple of things for relativesback home."

"That's nice. Do you have a lot of family?"

"No, just a few," he said vaguely.

"When did you go shopping?"

"A few weeks ago. Ordered off the internet."

"Is that why you're upset? Because you won't be spending the holidays with your family?"

"No, I was just thinking that I'll be leaving here soon. I'm getting better and Mulder's report is almost finished. There's no reason for me to stay."

"You're still healing. You can stay as long as you need," Walter said gruffly, hiding the swelling emotions in his chest.

"Thanks," Alex said softly.

They had a quiet meal, already digging into the Christmas meal they had prepared together, even though it was only Christmas Eve. They weren't entertaining on the big day and didn't see any need to leave the feasting until then.

They had the requisite turkey and cranberry sauce along with potatoes, and salads. Alex couldn't help but put the pickled onions and cucumbers on the table. They finished with a variety of desserts. Alex had a helping of each one. There was cherry cheesecake, plum pudding, fruit cake, pumpkin pie smothered in whipped cream, and apple pie with a melting scoop of ice cream. There was also some kind of Russian dessert that Walter couldn't recall the name of. It was rich with fruit and heavy on the brandy.

When they were finished Alex rubbed his belly and groaned. Walter chuckled.

"Hey dough boy. You finished there?"

"Are you implying I'm fat?"

"No. It's good to see you have your appetite back."

"It's back in spades."

"Let's clear the table."

"Okay."

They quickly cleaned up and collapsed on the sofa, sitting a little closer than they usually did. The Christmas music still played. Walter had switched the lights on the tree and turned off the reading lamps. They were bathed in the glow of the tiny lights, flickering red, yellow, green, blue, and orange, their faces reflected in the shiny ornaments. The gifts, wrapped carefully and tied with gaily colored ribbons were arranged at the base of the tree.

They drank eggnog, sitting in comfortable silence.

"Hey, you know, it was always a tradition in my house to open a gift or two on Christmas Eve. It's not much but I got you a couple of things. Would you like to open one?"

Alex gaped at Walter.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Walter smirked. Alex looked down at Shadow who was busy grooming himself at their feet, oblivious to the bad joke.

"Very funny. Sure I'd love to. I got you something too."

"When did you go shopping?"

"A few weeks ago. You can buy virtually anything off the net."

Alex went to his room and brought out a few boxes.

"Here. I hope you like it."

He handed Walter a gift, hesitating slightly.

Walter carefully unwrapped it and Alex putthe remaining gifts under the tree.

Inside the jewelry box was a pair of cufflinks. They were gold with amber stones.

"I remember that you lost a cufflink a while back and since you need two..."

"Thank you. They're beautiful."

Alex ducked his head, blushing. "It's no big deal. I thought they would look nice with a lot of your suits and they suit your coloring."

"I'll definitely use them. The one Ilost was from my favorite pair. Why don't you open one of yours now?"

"Sure."

Alex knelt down by the tree and looked at the tags. He picked the biggest one labeled with his name.

He tore the paper carefully and folded it up beside him. The gift was layered in tissue paper. He tore through transparent layers and stared open-mouthed.

"It's a leather jacket."

"Yeah. If it doesn't fit or you don't like the style the store clerk said you could exchange it. I have the receipt."

"Walter, you shouldn't have. This istoo much."

"It's the least I could do. Besides you ruined your jacket when you saved my life. It has a big hole in it, and then the hospital staff had to go and cut it off of you in the emergency room."

His tone may have been mockingly angry buthe still recalled the panic he'd felt as the hours went by before the surgeon came out and informed him of Krycek's condition. He had stood there awkwardly, holding all of Krycek's possessions stuffed in a bag, including the bloody jacket.

Alex pulled it out completely from the box.

"Here, let me help you put it on."

Alex stood and allowed Walter to lead his arms through the sleeves. It was a snug fit with just the right number of inner compartments and pockets. The lining was warm, with a generous collar to pull up against the elements.

Alex smiled and fingered the leather softly. He inhaled the scent of the enticing leather deeply and thanked Walter again.

Walter smiled back, pleased to make Alex happy with such a small token of his gratitude. He ran his own hand down the leather jacket. The scent of Alex, freshly bathed yet slightly musky, the earthy smell of the jacket and Alex's sugar-sweet breath spiced with rum was an intoxicating mixture.

Walter bent closer without thought, staring into Alex's deep green eyes. He saw Alex's tongue dart out and lick his lips. He hesitated momentarily until he saw Alex nod his head in approval.

Walter kissed lips that were sweet with clinging crystals of sugar and the strong taste of the eggnog. Alex parted his lips and let Walter inside.

There was a sudden sound between a whimperand a sigh, a sound Walter thought he would never hear coming from Alex's throat.

The inside of Alex's mouth was sweeter than his lips, hot and silky. With a groan, Walter pulled away, thinking ofwhat those lips and darting tongue could do him.

Alex looked momentarily confused, disappointment in his eyes.

"You don't want me, do you?"

Tears pooled in his green eyes. Despair etched lines in his face. Hope was a pinpoint of light in his translucent eyes.

"Why wouldn't I?" Walter asked hoarsely.

"For everything I've done. Besides, I'm damaged goods. Look at me." Alex looked down at himself, shrugging his prosthetic arm. "My arm looks like shit. The scar onmy chest isn't exactly sexy."

"I have scars too Alex, inside and out. I'm not exactly a saint, either," he said gently.

The tears flowed over and ran down Alex's cheeks. Walter licked them away, savoring the salty taste. Alex didn't move, only snifled a little.

"Come upstairs with me. Let me show you how much I want you, how much I love you. There are so many things to love about you. I love talking to you. I love the weird games you make up for the cat. I love your strength and your vulnerability. Iwant to figure out how your mind works. I want to discover what makes you happy. Come upstairs with me." It was half-question, half- command.

More tears spilled down Alex's smiling face.

"Oh, Walter."

"Oh, Alex."

"One request."

"Anything."

"Let's do this slow. I'm used to hard and fast. I'm used to back alleys and back rooms. I want to touch you."

"I'm going to go so slow you'll scream in frustration."

As they walked upstairs together, Walter realized that Alex was not an acquiescent, silent, marble statue laid out for him. He was a man of flesh and blood, who could be stubborn, sweet, vulnerable, hurt, strong, dangerous, seductive; sometimes innocent, often living in a darkness not many could fathom.

He knew that the man following him was trying hard to trust and he appreciated that beyond words.

Walter reached the top of the stairs and held out his hand to Alex. Alex took it hesitantly, his green eyes questioning. Walter smiled, the effect softening his stern face. Alex smiled back. The green eyes blazed with desire. It was the green of the dangerous jungle where Walter had fought for his life; the tranquil green of a sun-dappled creek where he fished; the blazing green of the sky when it stormed; the color Walter wanted to cultivate in his garden.

They undressed each other slowly and silently. Alex turned so that Walter wouldn't see the scar on his body and the ruin of his arm.

Walter turned him, running his finger downthe scar gently. It was well-healed, on its way to becoming a thin streak of tissue that barely marred the beautiful skin. Walter tilted Alex'shead up so Alex would see the love and care on his face as he stroked his arm. The defensive right hand relaxed, stuttering movements betraying his uncertainty.

"You're still beautiful, Alex" Walter whispered.

Walter's hands roamed over the body standing before him. He ran his fingers over the pale skin, marred by random scars from past fights-a bullet wound on the shoulder, a thin streak of tissue on his thigh from a knife, all soothed by gentle hands. He cupped Alex's face gently in his hands and kissed away tear tracks.

Alex in turn touched Walter's scars gently, reverently. There was shrapnel from the war and surgical scars where a bullet had torn through his abdomen.

Alex's touch was a whisper, hardly arousing, yet Walter's breath was erratic, his erection ached for attention. Alex swept over Walter's broad shoulders to the well-muscled chest and stomach, marveling that his size didn't intimidate anymore. Instead he felt protected by the body that dwarfed his. He did not regret saving Walter's life.

His hand took firm possession of the hard cock jutting out from massive thighs. Alex smiled wickedly.

"Mmmm. Everything in proportion, as they say."

Walter chuckled and slipped his arms around the younger man in a fierce hug.

Walter turned down the quilt on the bed and motioned for Alex to sit down.

Alex sat down gracefully and gazed up at Walter so adoringly that Walter found it hard to keep his emotions in check. He decided that he didn't want to control himself around Alex. Before him was the man that he wanted to tell all his secrets to. He wasn't ashamed of his feelings but he felt as though words were inadequate to convey them. He decided that he could tell Alex more through his actions. After all, his father had always said that actions spoke louder than words.

Tonight he would worship Alex's body in word and deed.

Walter knelt in front of Alex and urged his lover up. Alex stood uncertainly. Walter noticed the little frown above his nose, that adorable crinkle that formed on top of the cutest nose he'd ever seen. He was going to kiss away that frown but he decided to start from the bottom and work his way up.

He kissed Alex's feet, drawing giggles, then licked supple ankles, eliciting a squeal. He found the back of Alex's knees were quite sensitive. He drew circles on the pale skin with his tongue until Alex was in serious danger of needing an oxygen tank.

Nipping and licking his way upward, he massaged his lover's strong legs and sucked at his inner thighs, making his hips jerk. The juncture between thigh and groin was feverish and Walter used his tongue to try and cool the skin but it seemed the more he sucked at the area, the hotter Alex got.

Alex was squirming as he bypassed his cockand balls for his flat belly. Walter dipped his tongue into his navel. He found the perfect little dispenser for eggnog. Hejust hoped he could lick all the sugar out from the tiny belly button.

By the time he reached Alex's chest his lover was moaning and grabbing at him with his hand. He smiled against Alex's nipples. Walter couldn't remember a pair of nipples that were so sweet They were flat and pebbled with tiny little points, made sharper with his caresses. They were pinkish brown in color, made rosier with his tongue.

He found other points on Alex's body that made his lover squirm and squeal, moan and sigh. There was his collarbone, his ribs, which were quite ticklish, his throat, which he arched enticingly, shamelessly begging for more attention.

He held Alex's head gently while he kissedhis eyelids shut; his nose, which he still wanted to pinch and finally did, his cheekbones; the frown line above his nose smoothed away by loving caresses and tender kisses.

When Walter bent down again to take his neck in a sucking kiss, Alex gave a rat-like squeal and jumped up into his arms, holding ontoWalter with his arm and two legs made of steel.

//Ah-ha. That's the spot.// The voice in Walter's head was smirking proudly.

"Oh God, please Walter. I need you inside me. Please," Alex begged.

His voice was hoarse with desire, his breath panting in Walter's ear.

Walter didn't want to tease any more. He needed Alex badly, wanted to give Alex what he needed. With a groan he pulled himself away. Alex's whole body was on fire. Walter felt as though his own flesh was burned.

He pushed Alex onto the bed and grabbed condoms and lube from the bedside table. Kneeling between Alex's legs, he heldjust the head of his cock between his lips. The pre-cum on the purplish crown was salty and musky, tasting of Alex's spicy flavor. Alex moaned loudly and pushed Walter away.

"Walter I won't be able to hold out if youdo that."

"All right baby. I just wanted to taste all of you."

"I know. I want that too but we haveall night."

"We have all our lives," Walter whispered huskily.

He was rewarded with a dazzling smile.

He quickly prepared both of them, using plenty of lube and twisting his fingers inside of Alex until he was completely lubricated and ready.

Alex was on the edge of orgasm, squirming on the bed, legs thrusting apart, practically mewing, begging with his eyes. Walter looked down at him, enjoying the sight of a lust-crazed Alex.

He settled between his legs and eased himself inside Alex's hot, tight ass. Alex groaned and tried to thrust hiships up. Walter held him down gently and slid inside a little at a time, careful careful not to hurt him. He was hot as a furnace, wet and slick.

When Walter was completely inside, Alex arched his hips, drawing Walter deeper. His legs clamped on to his waist, scissoring them tightly. Walter just let his cock fill his lover'shot channel, enjoying the tight muscle trying to milk his shaft. He let Alex get used to the pentration.

Alex opened his eyes and looked at Walter deeply and openly, with none of the customary wariness. They were instead filled with pure love and desire.

"Make love to me," he pleaded.

Alex caressed Walter's face, gently tracing his cheek down to his mouth, to whisper over his lips. He squirmed as Walter's thick chest hair tickled his skin.

Walter groaned.

That husky voice, those whispered words, the sweet caress, the dazzling joy in those deep green eyes, all made Walter come undone.

He kissed Alex deeply and began a slow, careful thrust with his powerful hips.

He swallowed Alex's whimpers and moans with his mouth. He relinquished the ravishing mouth only long enough to latch onto his neck, which proved to be Alex's undoing.

Alex moaned and thrashed beneath Walter who could barely hold him down as he continued to unmercifully suckle at his neck and pound into his ass.

Walter's plunging cock was sparking fire in his prostate. Alex felt as though he might simply incinerate with the heat that coursed through his veins.

Sweat ran between their bodies, gluing them together, legs, bellies and chests slick and sticky.

Alex's harsh cries were matched by Walter's guttural groans and growls. The only other sound was the creakingof the sturdy bed as it rocked underneath their thrusting bodies.

Goosebumps sprang up all over Alex's skin and he arched his throat, baring his neck for Walter's ravenous mouth. He cried out Walter's name as Walter licked and nibbled at the soft skin beneath his ear. He held Walter's head greedily to his neck, caressing the hair circling his bald crown.

//Jesus he's killing me. But oh what a lovely way to die.//

Walter felt his control weakening. His balls drew up tight, his aching cock eager for release deep inside Alex.

He increased the friction of his hand on Alex's cock and tickled his neck with his tongue until his cries were the sounds of pure animal rutting.

Alex screamed in his ear, his legs tightening their vise-like grip. His fingers dug into Walter's muscular back as he pumpedhis hot semen against Walter's hand, belly and chest.

It was too much for Walter. With a loud shout he rammed his cock even further inside of Alex and came harder than he ever had.

Walter collapsed on Alex's exhausted body,sucking in air that his lungs desperately needed.

Walter eased off of Alex's cramped legs and disposed of the condom. He ran a washcloth over both of their sweat-soaked bodies and wiped away the semen drying on their skin.

When he returned to bed he spooned up behind Alex, settling his groin against the round little ass. Alex tugged Walter's arms around him and sighed. They cuddled for several minutes, enjoying the quiet aftermath of their love making.

Alex was flushed, eyes closed, a smile worthy of the Cheshire cat on his lips.

"I love you Alex."

"Love you too. How soon can we do that again?"

Walter groaned.

Alex chuckled.

"Just kidding. Let's get some sleep."

Walter nodded wearily. Alex settled deeper into his arms. Within minutes they fell asleep and dreamed of Christmas morning.