The Triple Agent Who Came In From The Cold

Part One

"I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones."
~ Albert Einstein

From the cabin porch, he watched the dark clouds roll in from the west. An early snow, he thought, shivering slightly. When the storm passed, he would track a deer through the pristine white. A venison steak would make a welcome addition to his diet. Tonight, he would close off the two back rooms, and after supper, he would curl up in front of the fire and think over his plans. In the spring, he promised himself, he would find out what had happened to the rest of the world.

Some days, the promise of spring was the only thing that kept him going.

He has always considered himself a solitary soul, alone in the world. But in the two months since he'd been here, he learned what real aloneness meant. He longed for the sight of another human face, yearned to hear a voice other than his own. It was a startling realization for a man who had considered himself above the human emotions of need and want, emotions that could imprison a person who wasn't careful.

When he'd first arrived here, exhausted and hungry, his focus had been on regaining his strength and securing his mountain hideaway. But as the days turned into weeks, he began to wonder if being the last soul alive on planet earth was worth the effort he had put into surviving, into journeying here to this remote outpost deep in the Appalachian high country. When the utter and complete aloneness and the lack of hope that anything would ever change threatened to overwhelm him, he found himself hiking the steep paths around his little fortress, or turning to the low-roofed barn to commune with his animals. He had a tendency to brood, and melancholy was as much a part of his natural heritage as it was an intrinsic element of his temperament. Before the invasion and the plague, the day-to-day struggle to survive kept his demons at bay. But here in the solitude of these ancient mountains, dark thoughts and a multitude of regrets prayed on his peace of mind.

It was a dark and drizzly morning when he first made the promise to himself -- the promise to hold on till spring. He had awakened with a bruising hangover after spending the previous evening contemplating the taste of a 9mm bullet while downing several glasses of vodka. As the events of the night before came rushing back, he acknowledged how close he had come to ending it all, and felt real fear. So he had made an oath to himself. When the frost broke and the winter snows melted, he would hike out of these mountains, and find out how much, if anything, was left of the human race.

And then, if there were some spark of humanity left, he would find a way to help rebuild civilization. It was the least of what he owed.

The promise of spring was still months away as he took one last look at the threatening sky, then turned to enter the cabin, ready to hunker down and ride out the storm. But a movement across the valley caught his eye, and he froze, his gaze searching back and forth across the wooded hillside. There it was again, and this time he was able to focus on a purposeful movement between the trees. He mouth fell open in shock as he realized he was watching two people hiking down the side of the mountain. His absolute delight at discovering that he was not alone died a quick and necessary death as he understood that these two could be enemies.

In fact, it was more than likely that these two were exactly that; assassins come to hunt him down. He had no doubt that his continued survival would be a bitter defeat to some in spite all that had happened.

The impulse towards life that had been fading in his lonely solitude grew strong with renewed purpose as he studied the two intruders, one tall and solid, the other small and nimble. He quickly gathered what he needed to repel an assault, then settled into his lookout. As he watched, the figures stopped to consult a paper, probably a map. His eyes narrowed as he considered who else might know of the existence of this place. Suddenly one pointed directly at him. He crouched down instinctively, even though he knew there was no way the intruders could see him. The cabin and its out-buildings had been cleverly designed to blend into the surrounding environment. Early on, he had viewed this piece of ground from every angle, in every light. He knew it was well camouflaged. He himself had nearly stumbled past it when he first arrived here at the height of summer, despite the GPS readout that told him exactly where it was.

The man forced himself to relax, allowing years of training to take over. During the long afternoon, he watched as the intruders struggled through thick underbrush, forded icy mountains streams and stumbled across treacherous outcroppings of loose stone. Snow had begun to fall during the passing hours, but the man barely noticed. He had dressed in cold weather gear, he hands and feet cozy and warm, most of his face hidden behind a ski mask.

As the sun began to set, he started to fidget. It was long past the time he expected them to arrive in his little clearing. Finally he decided to take the offensive. Carefully, stealthily, he moved down the mountainside, pausing frequently to capture any sight or sound of his pray.

And there, at the edge of a highland meadow he saw them. The large intruder lay prone, the smaller one hovered next to him, shaking the fallen one's shoulders, talking to him. The man crouched down in the underbrush, trying to hear what was spoken. Suddenly, the kneeling intruder pulled his hood back, and the man gasped out loud. For this intruder had a head of auburn-colored hair. And when the intruder looked heavenward, as if beseeching God himself, that man could see intense blue eyes and porcelain skin.

The man dropped to his seat, too shocked to maintain his stance. Dana Scully was here, on his mountain. And she wasn't alone. The thought gave him pause for one moment, and then he was on his feet.

Damn the risk. It would be good to gaze upon the face of another.

She looked up at his approached, but didn't flinch. Her gaze was wide and unfocused, and she seemed unsurprised at his sudden appearance. He recognized the look of exhaustion she wore, he seen it in his own reflection more than once. He looked down at the man lying before him and swore softly. Of all the people she could have dragged to this mountain hideaway, she had to bring Walter Skinner. The thought that the two of them had somehow survived and were traveling together was both intriguing and disturbing. He pushed those thoughts aside for a time when he could peruse them at length. The AD was in bad shape and needed attention now. His lips were blue and he shook uncontrollably.

Scully snapped out of her stupor to speak. "He carried me across the river. He's going to die if we don't get him warm."

The man gazed at her intently, then nodded. "I'll be back," he said.

A half hour later he returned, leading a packhorse which pulled a travois. Between them, Scully and the man rolled Skinner onto the travois. Then the man turned and lifted Scully onto the horse's back. Behind the ski mask, the man's eyes widened in surprise. The red head was clearly pregnant. He pushed aside the questions that he wanted to ask, and concentrated shepherding his flock to the warmth and safety of the cabin.

In the small clearing in front of the cabin's porch, the man coaxed a shot of whiskey down Skinner's throat. It roused him enough so that Scully and the man could lead him into the cabin. He left the two of them in front the fire while he tended to his horse. He returned to find Scully, rosy from exertion, struggling to rid an unconscious Skinner of his sodden jeans. He quickly doffed his outerwear and joined her, looking up when heard her gasp.

"It's you." she accused, her laced with shock and anger.

The man smirked. Scully, it seemed, was quickly reviving from her fugue state. From beneath thick dark lashes, deep green eyes twinkled back at her. "Alex Krycek, ma'am. At your service."

Part Two

"Maybe this world is another planet's Hell."
~ Aldous Huxley

She didn't speak again as she turned her attention back to Skinner. He wanted to question her, ask her how they this hideaway, anything at all, just to hear the sound of her voice, but the sad and defeated look in her eyes alarmed him. He feared she was at the end of her endurance. So he swallowed his questions and helped her remove Skinner's clothing. Once the big man was naked, they turned him from side to side, drying his skin roughly with towels to bring warmth and blood flow to the cold and mottled flesh.

Alex chuckled under his breath. She looked at him sharply, and in response he raked his glance over Skinner's naked body and explained. "I guess I didn't realize that Skinner was such a stud." His grin was wry as he glanced pointedly at her belly and remarked, "But I guess you already knew that."

He ignored her cold and steady look and wrapped the big man in a thick and fluffy down comforter. Satisfied that Skinner was as warm and cozy as possible in the circumstances, he turned his attention back to Scully. She too needed to get warm and dry.

When he looked up to find her pointing a gun on him, he began to laugh. She narrowed her eyes, and this made him laugh even harder. Finally he sank to the hearth, his good arm holding his belly.

"You think you have something to laugh about, Krycek?"

He wiped his eyes as his laughter wore itself out. When he looked at her his gaze held humor and admiration. "Yeah Scully, I'm laughing at you. You know you won't kill me in cold blood. So what are you going to do?" He started to laugh again. "Arrest me?"

She closed her eyes, and let her arm fall. He was right, and she hated that. The world they had known was gone. Then she remembered all the reasons she hated this man, and it was all she could do to keep from throwing the gun at his arrogant head.

His look was gentle as he approached her and took the gun from her grasp. He laid it on the entry table, then turned to lead her towards the rear of the cabin. "Come on Scully," he coaxed. "You'll freeze in these wet clothes. You'll find something dry in the back bedroom. The sun earlier today heated the water in the solar collector. Should be enough for a warm shower or two."

She turned back to look at Skinner, clearly concerned for her boss and friend. Alex read her look and reassured her. "I'll keep an eye on him." When she hesitated he argued, "You'll be no good to him if you get sick." The gaze she leveled on him before leaving the room was full of warning. He returned it calmly, without rancor, and this somehow reassured her.

In the small kitchen area, he heated water for tea, keeping an eye on Skinner from across the breakfast bar. For Scully, he heated a more substantial meal of leftover stewed rabbit with wild onions.

When she returned, clean and warm, dressed in a sweats with thick fuzzy socks on her feet, she found him propping Skinner up, trying to get hot tea down his throat.

"Help me out here, will ya? This is hard to do with one hand." When she didn't move he looked up and found her staring at him. It wasn't hard to read her expression. She was trying to reconcile the Krycek she knew, who had beaten and killed her boss, with the Krycek who now was doing his best to keep that same man alive. "Scully? Don't try to figure it all out right now, Okay? Let's take care of Skinner first."

She joined him on the floor and if she wondered at the tenderness with which Krycek held the big man, she kept it to herself. She lifted the cup to Skinner's lips, and spoke to him gently, urging him to drink. The AD opened his eyes and stared at her blankly. But he was roused enough to swallow. Between them, they managed to empty half the mug, most of it down Skinner's throat.

Scully's open-mouthed yawn seemed to catch her by surprise. Alex urged her onto the sofa, where she curled up. He brought her a bowl of the stew and water to drink. Despite the cold, he knew how quickly one could become dehydrated. He watched over her as she picked suspiciously at the stew, and then was amazed at the speed with which she devoured it once she decided it was edible. Then he remembered - she's eating for two now. A dozen questions died stillborn on his tongue. Later, there would be time enough for explanations.

He found bedding for the two of them, and closed off the back of the cabin. He handed her a pillow and comforter, but didn't watch as she settled into the depths of the sofa. He pulled an armchair and ottoman next to the sofa, cocooned himself in a nest of blankets.

He should sleep. But he couldn't. He drank in the sight of Dana Scully and Walter Skinner. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter who was here, that any human being would trigger the same response. But the truth was, other than maybe Mulder himself; he couldn't have asked for anything more than these two.

A hundred thousand invisible threads bound them together. They should have been just another assignment he carried out - orders to be followed, like dozens of others before and since. But somehow, the three of them, Scully, Skinner, and yes, even Mulder, left an indelible impression on his life. It was more than the knowledge that they stood for everything he was fighting for. They were - unforgettable. He had found himself drawn to them time and again, even though it was dangerous. Each encounter, every word, every dream or nightmare, every single thought of them - spun another silken link amongst them.

She wasn't sure what woke her, but awareness returned quickly as she remembered where she was. She rose to check on Skinner, only to find their host was already with the man.

"Krycek! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Alex grinned at the agent unrepentantly. Scully had caught him in the act of disrobing. He was pleased to see the sharp look had returned to her eyes, and grinned impudently. "You're boyfriend here on the verge of checking out from hypothermia. Thought I'd try to save him, though I'll be damned if I know why."

She realized that the rattling noise that woke her was the appalling sound of Skinner's teeth chattering.

Alex continued to shed clothing until he stood naked and unashamed before her. He threw her a challenging glance, and then slipped under the blankets with Skinner, pressing his warm body to the man's chilled flesh. He looked up at Scully while he rubbed the man's chest and arms with his single hand. His voice was exasperated. "Are you going to join us? Or do you plan on letting him freeze to death." He realized that she was hesitant to strip in front of him. So he closed his eyes. After a long moment, he heard the rustle of falling clothes, and felt her slide under the blankets on Skinner's other side.

"Krycek." Her voice was a soft whisper, and he opened his eyes, to find Scully's head pillowed against Skinner other shoulder, their faces just inches apart. She had curved her swollen body against Skinner's bulk, and her hand hesitantly stroked the man's chest.

"What?" he asked.

"Why are you doing this?"

If she hoped for some kind of satisfaction, she bound for disappointment. His grin was wicked as he explained. "Maybe I've always had a secret wish to get naked with the two of you."

But Scully refused to bite at the red herring he tossed her. "You could have killed us both. You didn't even have to kill us. You could have just left us to die on the side of the mountain."

For long moments he was quiet, and when she finally looked over at him, he shrugged and with the movement, a flash of gold on his chest glittered in the firelight. Without thinking she reached out to touch it, lifting it up and leaning closer to examine it.

"It's a cross." She said, looking at Krycek, surprised and perplexed. "There's something odd about it."

"You only think it's odd because it's not your typical, boring Catholic cross." He rejoined. He shifted, pulling the chain over his head and handing it to her. "It's Byzantine. Russian Orthodox." He pointed out the various features as she held it up to the light. "The top bar represents the sign places over Christ's head. The middle bar, of course, is the one they nailed his arms to. And the bottom one is the footrest that supported his body."

Scully looked at him, wide-eyed. "My Grandmother gave it to me." He said defensively. "What's the matter Scully. Did you think I was hatched."

"No. No. I just didn't think..." She swallowed, the looked at him directly. "I didn't know you believed."

He grinned at her then, and she was startled to realize it didn't annoy her. "There aren't any atheists in foxholes Scully. Didn't your father teach you that?"

She handed it back to him, and he spoke, almost to himself. "I remember going to her house on feast days. The Nativity of the Theotokos in the fall. The Nativity of Our Lord - what you Westerners call "Christmas. We would eat until we were stuffed. She would pull down her icons, and tell us the Nativity story. One year she gave me this cross. To keep her Alexei safe, she said."

"Theotokos? God-bearer?"

"Yes. Theotokos is Mary, the Mother of God. We Russians reverie our Mothers, Scully. All mothers." He slanted a grin at her. "Maybe that's why I pulled you off the mountain and brought you here. Motherhood."

She pulled a face at him. "That might be believable if I didn't know how surprised you were when you lifted me on the horse."

He smiled then, and they were both quiet. At length, he asked the question she knew was coming. "So, what's the story then, behind..." he nodded toward her rounded abdomen.

She looked at him carefully, and replied. "I'm not ready to talk about it yet."

He nodded. This was something he understood. He had enough secrets of his own that would never see the light of day. He closed his eyes and settled into the warmth at Skinner's side.

Skinner's trembling had subsided, and his flesh began to feel warm against hers. Scully continued to stroke his chest, enjoying the rough fur and sculpted muscles. She felt uneasy with the thoughts that bubbled up; Krycek was right; Skinner had an remarkable physique. She remembered the first time she'd seen him in his shirt sleeves. The light from the window highlighted his broad shoulders and narrow waist, and her breath had caught in her throat. She was too smart to get caught up in an office infatuation, so she had diligently suppressed her attraction to the AD. But his appeal was hard to completely discount, and it had, over the years, caught her by surprise more than once. Sometimes all it took to set her pulse racing was the sight of him striding down the corridor, his physique and his confidence dwarfing every other man. Other times, it was the look of admiration in his eyes as he handed her back a report and told her the work was good. That single but compelling look could lift her spirits for the rest of the day.

She had come to expect from him a stability that she could never get from Mulder. And when it all came down, and it was clear that nothing they could do could halt the chain of events that was unfolding, he was there to pull her to safety. For the past several weeks, he'd kept her alive. Forcing her to go on when she wanted to fall to the ground. He was the only thing real in a world that no longer made sense. What if he died?

At her troubled murmur Alex opened his eyes to look at her, "He's going to be alright Scully." She didn't look comforted, so he tried another tact. "Hell Scully, if I couldn't kill him, a little cold water won't." He grabbed her hand and stilled it, cradling their fingers together in the hollow over Skinner's heart. His voice grumbled at her across Skinner's chest. "He's a Marine, damn it." After a long moment, his voice sleepy, he told her to go to sleep.

And she did.

He surfaced gradually, his brain foggy as he fought through layer upon layer of weariness. He slowly became aware that he was warm, almost too warm, and he wondered if this was what death was like. The effort to think was too costly, so he let himself float, experiencing sensations as they came to him, not pushing himself to comprehend.

He was on his side, and he twitched slightly, surprised to find that he was not alone. There was a small body next to his, and they were both naked. As his brain sluggishly processed information, he came to understand that the softness under his hand was a woman's breast. A perfect breast that arched into the palm of his hand. Surely he was dead, and he had somehow stumbled into heaven, in spite of everything. He suddenly ached to know who she was, this celestial being who had spooned herself into the curve of his body, but his stubborn eyelids were too heavy and refused to open.

Then he felt an arm tighten around him from behind. Two women at once? A foolish grin tumbled across his face. Maybe, just maybe, heaven was a place where fantasies were fulfilled. The body behind him shifted closer, and then he felt it, the length of a semi-erect penis along his backside. Thirty years fell away and he was back in 'Nam, about to be initiated into the enticing and seductive pleasure of anal sex. Only this time, he was no virgin. He knew the burning rush of pleasure that came from being filled, and longed to feel it again. He arched his back, pushing his ass against the man behind him, silently urging him on. A sleepy and tantalizingly familiar voice asked, "You awake?" He thought that he might have grunted in reply. A hand laid itself against his forehead, and the voice whispered across his ear, making him shiver. "No fever, thank god." The arm pull him close, and Skinner growled low in his throat as he realized *his* penis was hard and weeping and pressing against the pert, feminine bottom curled in front of him. This was a heaven his conscious mind would never allow him to envision, a heaven he never knew he wanted. He felt lips press along his neck. Whispered words rippled along his skin. "Go back to sleep. You need to rest." Clever fingertips slid along his arm, then long fingers twined with his own. He wanted to protest - he didn't want to sleep. He ached bury himself in the body before him, and yearned to be filled by the body behind him. But sleep pulled at him, dragging him under. He sighed mournfully and slipped softly in to slumber.

Part Three

"Melancholy men, of all others, are the most witty."
~ Aristotle

Krycek awoke first. He dressed hastily, and then stoked the fire. In the kitchen, he built another small fire in the wood stove, and filled a kettle of water to heat. He saw Scully stir, and turned his back, busying himself at the stove to give her ample time to dress. He heard the click of the bathroom door, and moved back to check Skinner. He laid his hand against the AD's forehead, frowning when he found the skin hot and dry to his touch.

He looked up as Scully returned with a freshly scrubbed face and neatly brushed hair. "He's burning up." Wordlessly, she helped Krycek gather tepid water and washrags, and bathed the AD in an attempt to lower his temperature. She watched as Krycek dissolved aspirin in water and helped him as he struggled to get it down the older man's throat. Then they bathed him again.

Finally, he seemed cooler. Alex told Scully he needed to see to the animals. She looked at him blankly, and then nodded her head.

The storm had blown itself out overnight, but he still had to wade through waist-high snowdrifts. He returned an hour later with a pail of warm milk. Dana still sat on the floor next to Skinner and Alex wondered if she had moved at all in the time he'd been gone. He checked Skinner and found him cool, his sleep restful. He bullied her into the kitchen and fed her oatmeal and tea, both liberally laced with fresh strained milk.

When she finally looked up at him, he carefully set his spoon down, giving her his full attention. "What are you doing here Krycek? This is Mulder's place."

He snorted, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Is that what Mulder told you?"

"He left me directions on how to get here should something ever happen."

"Yeah? And he told you this was his place?"

"He didn't have to tell me. Of course this is Mulder's place."

"Correction, Scully. This is our place. Mulder's and mine. You don't really think Mulder would come up with something like this, do you? Hell, he wanted to go greet the aliens, chase the truth, meet it head on. Not hide from them."

She looked at him speculatively, weighing his words,. What he said made sense. But she could not, would not concede every point without demure.

She leaned forward into his space, and pronounced her words carefully. "Mulder hated you Krycek. Everyone knows that. And yet, here you are, trying to tell me the two of you, what? Own property together?"

He crossed his arms across his chest and spoke levelly. "Whether you believe it or not Scully, it's true."

"Mulder never told me that he owned land in these mountains."

He favored her with an incredulous look. "First of all, do you really believe that Mulder shared all his secrets with you?" He ignored her indignant huff. "And secondly, the land belonged to me, not Mulder."

She arched a delicate eyebrow. "You're not exactly the type to own a mountain retreat, Krycek."

He grinned cheekily "I took it as payment for a debt."

"Really?" Learning about what types of things Krycek was willing to do for money was a topic she did not want to explore further. So she challenged instead about his involvement with her partner. "Exactly when did you and Mulder plan this hide away?"

His smile was wicked as he answered her. "Now Scully. That would be kissing and telling. And frankly, I don't think you really want to know."

She flushed slightly at the innuendo, and pinned him with an incredulous gaze.

He stared back.

She tipped her head and raised a brow in one the patented Scully looks.

He suppressed the urge to cross himself.

Then he realized why he felt indignant and started to chuckle. He was mad Scully didn't believe him. What the hell had he expected? This was Scully. In order to maintain his cover within the Consortium, he had taught her to believe him capable of all manner of vice and deceit. Why would she believe him now?

He shook his head, smiled ruefully to himself, then settled back and began his story. "One night when we were together, we got talking about the invasion. Mulder." He shook his head. "Jesus. He treated it like it was some kind of lark. Something to look forward to, not something to fear." His expression grew grim. "I knew better. I knew their plans. I knew what they were capable of." He looked up at Scully then. "Then, of course, the incident on the bridge happened. You were there." He nodded at her. "You knew what it meant. That's when Mulder started to worry, seriously. Not for himself. But for those he cared about. So we started making serious plans."

"I told Mulder about this piece of land I owned. So far back in the hills of the Great Smokies - even the park rangers forgot that it was private property. We talked of the idea of building a safe house. A place to lay low while the dust settled - with everything needed to rebuild once the gray bastards were all dead or gone back to where they came from."

Scully had been listening carefully, ready to give him the benefit of the doubt, interrogated him as though he were a credible source of information. "How could you be sure that they'd all be dead or gone?"

"We knew the pathogen they planned to release when the rest of them landed actually contained a component deadly to gray reticulums." He grinned gleefully and reminded Scully of a boy pulling the wings of insects.

Scully shook her head. "This doesn't make sense. Mulder hated you. He never saw you that he didn't attack you."

Krycek snorted. "Please Scully, don't you think I'm well aware of the inconsistencies of Mulder's behavior? It was as if this part of our -- relationship, if that's what you'd call it -- was closed off from everything else that ever happened between us. When we met to talk about this place, he didn't hit first and ask questions later." He shook his head. "Mulder's ability to compartmentalize amazed even me. And I'm a pro at it."

He signed heavily. "The thing is, it's all screwed up. He didn't get it right."

"What do you mean?" Scully asked.

"He never finished the plans, even though he had plenty of time. There isn't anywhere near the food stuffs here that we decided on. And, there was supposed to be a hydro generator that we could hook up at the river. And a sawmill. Tons of stuff that was supposed to make this place completely self-sufficient. Yet, here I am in the dark every damn night." Krycek's mouth twisted with disgust. "But, of course, he remembers the freaking hoop."

At her puzzled expression, he nodded his head to the other side of the cabin. She turned, and then she saw it. And for the first time in weeks, a smile spread across her face. Because against the wall, away from the windows and above an empty aquarium, Mulder had installed a basketball hoop.

Over the next few days Skinner consumed their attention and energy. A cold had settled in his chest, and that, accompanied by exhaustion and poor nutrition left him gravely ill. They pulled the daybed in front of the fireplace and installed the AD there. It was no easy task for a pregnant woman and a one-armed man to lift a 230-pound man onto a bed without his help, but they managed.

Once they had settled Skinner, Krycek went out hiking with a knife and a basket. He returned with some small twigs and a collection of tiny stones. The twigs he placed in a kettle of water on the stove, and as the water warmed, the smell of camphor filled the cabin. Once the mixture was hot, the two of them made a blanket tent over Skinner's head and placed steaming pot beneath it. They were both relieved when the menthol-like steam helped break up the congestion in the big man's chest.

Scully determined a course of care, and Krycek helped her whenever possible. He helped bath Skinner when his fever soared and held him propped against his chest while Scully poured fluids down his throat. Krycek helped Scully turn the big man on his side, and pounded his back to help loosen the poisonous sputum that settled in his lungs. He did it without complaint; without being asked, expertly anticipating her wants and needs and wishes. And if he turned his head and looked ill while Skinner hacked up thick, green mucous, Scully said nothing.

In return for that kindness, Krycek made sure that Scully took nourishment, cajoled her into using the solar-heated shower, and bullied her into taking frequent naps. He fixed a bed for her on the sofa where she curled up while took his turn caring for Skinner.

For Krycek, this task was no chore; rather, it was a revelation. Because Skinner, in his feverish delirium, often spoke. For years, the man had been a mystery wrapped in a riddle. His honor and integrity were not unlike Mulder's, but Skinner had neither Mulder's hysterical edge nor his showboating tendencies. His stoicism made Krycek ache to peel away the layers and lay him bare. Despite Mulder's training and talent as a profiler, the truth was that Krycek had his own amazing gift for reading people. Yet Walter Skinner continued to elude him. And because he was such a challenge for Krycek to pigeonhole, he found himself intrigued by the man; fascinated in spite of himself. It had been that way since the first time he saw the man striding down a hall in the Hoover building all those years ago.

Skinner should have been nothing more than a notch on his gun barrel. But Krycek found himself studying the man. Surveilling him on his own time. And each piece that was revealed was a bit to be treasured.

Now, being this close to the man, and hearing his secrets spill forth without filter, Krycek was like a kid with the keys to a candy store.

He grinned when Skinner mentioned Agents Mulder or Scully, his voice by turns exasperated, pleading, and sometimes seductive.

He stared straight ahead, his jaw tight as Skinner relived his time in-country. His grief at losing friends, his horror at awakening in a body bag, lying amongst the dead. Krycek knew what it was like to be buried alive. And when Skinner spoke of the heat, the rain, and his fear, Krycek could taste and smell and feel it all.

But it wasn't until he heard his own name muttered from those lips that he actually became ill.

Skinner had been quiet for hours. "Krycek." The voice was a command he didn't refuse, and Krycek was next to him in an instant. At first Alex thought Skinner had regained consciousness, but as he hovered over him, he saw that the AD's eyes were glazed and unfocused. Alex reached out to soothe the man, running his hand from his shoulder down his arm.

"No damn it. I won't let you have him too. You stay away from him you black-lunged bastard."

Alex swallowed. Suddenly Skinner reached up and grabbed a shoulder with each hand. He was looking right into Krycek eyes when he muttered, "Don't worry, Agent Krycek. I won't let him get his claws into you." Then his eyes fluttered shut and his hands released their hold on Krycek.

For long moments he stared at the man he had once taken to the brink of death and pulled back. His breath came in short gasps and a strange and scary kind of pain had taken up residence in his gut.

He knew about Skinner. Knew how he had looked out for his fellow Marines in Viet Nam, even those who were senior to him in rank or age. And at the Bureau, he looked out for his agents, kept them safe, ran interference, and generally played the role of protective big brother.

He had never imagined that Skinner had placed him in that same category as Mulder or Scully. Skinner had cared about him, watched out for him, tried to protect him. As though he, Krycek, actually belonged.

In that moment, Alex Krycek knew that there was something he regretted even more than his lost arm.

In the next instant he was on his feet, pulling on his outerwear and shaking Scully awake. "Keep an eye on him, will you? I need some fresh air." And before she could rub the sleep from her eyes or formulate a response, he was gone.

He stumbled from the cabin, heedless in his flight and his desire to put as much space as possible between himself and his torment. He found himself on the rocky shore of the icy mountain stream that ran not far from the cabin. He followed its path along the mountainside, until he finally fell to his knees, panting, along the shore of a pool of water. He knew it was no use. He could travel to the far side of the world and not escape this one. This was one memory that he could not outrun, shoot dead, or fuck from his consciousness.

He curled into himself, resting his head on his knees, and slowly rocked - tears of grief and regret wetting his face.

Hours later, when the cold and hunger forced him back to the cabin, he found a happy Scully. Propped against a heap of pillows and sipping soup from a mug was a conscious Skinner.

She looked up at Alex, tears of joy brimming in her eyes, her face beaming. They had done it. Once again AD Skinner had cheated death.

His lips curved into an answering smile as he looked at Scully. He let his gaze travel to Skinner, and watched as the man turned to see who Scully was smiling at, and flinched as he saw that face freeze in an expression perfect and resolute denial.

"Son of a bitch!" Skinner tried to get up, and spilled the soup over Scully and himself. "I'll kill that bastard."

Scully was on her feet, pressing him back against the cushions. "Skinner! Stop it! Stop!"

Skinner tore his gaze from Krycek and stared up at Scully, his face hard, his eyes flashing. "What the hell is he doing here?"

"This is his cabin, his and Mulder's. He saved you, he saved us both. He could have left us to die, but he didn't." He growled angrily and Scully spoke to him earnestly. "Walter! Whatever happened in the past, you have to put it aside." She stroked a soft hand down the side of his face, cupping his cheek. She stared into his eyes, willing him to understand. "None of the old rules apply Walter. We have to forgive what we can't forget. And forget what we can't forgive."

His hand clutched at hers, then flung it away. "Can you honestly say that's what you've done Scully? Forgiven him? Forgotten everything he's done?"

She looked over her shoulder at where Alex stood. Although the expression on his face was carefully blank, she could tell from the stiff way he held himself that he didn't take his place here for granted. With sudden insight, she realized that he expected them to ask him to leave. And she knew that he would, without demure. Her face softened, and while she replied to Skinner, it was Krycek she looked at when she spoke. "Yes, Walter. That's exactly what I've done. The three of us - if we have any hope of surviving - need to find a way to live together."

Walter stared at Krycek, his face hard and unforgiving. Then he turned his gaze to stare into the fire.

Scully looked at Krycek and told him without words to be patient.

Krycek relaxed slightly and nodded his head. He could be patient. It was something at which he excelled.

In the days that followed, Skinner grew stronger. The little household revolved around the daybed in front of the fireplace. Scully grew more animated and Alex was grateful for that. Caring for the conscious and grumbling Skinner was obviously good for her - it brought her back from that dark place where she had spent so much of her time in those first weeks here on the mountain.

After his initial anger, Skinner dealt with Krycek by ignoring him whenever possible. At times, Krycek felt as though he had become invisible. He was surprised at how much Skinner's attitude stung.

Scully did her best to soften the big man. She told him more than once of their rescue from certain death on the side of the mountain. She shared how Krycek had cared for both of them, watching over Skinner while Scully slept. Forcing liquids down his throat. Hiking halfway down the mountain to gather the twigs of a camphor tree. And how Krycek had kept her fed and rested so she could care for Skinner.

She did not tell him, however, about that first night in the cabin when she and Krycek treated Skinner's hypothermia. There were some things, she reckoned, that were better left unsaid.

As he grew stronger, Skinner took more interest in their sanctuary. At first, Scully answered his questions as best she could. But then, she began to see his refusal to speak with Krycek directly as counter-productive, and declined to answer any further questions, telling him he could ask Krycek himself - if he wanted to know.

Skinner groused, then pouted, but neither method budged Scully. She could, he realized, be as stubborn and implacable as he was.

That night after supper, Skinner cleared his throat, and uncomfortably asked Krycek for a moment of his time.

There was a flash of surprise in those green eyes before he carefully smoothed his expression and answered Skinner politely.

And so the three of them gathered in front of the fire and reviewed their situation. Krycek shared the history of the cabin with Skinner, who frowned but did not voice his disbelief at the idea of Mulder collaborating with Krycek in such a way. Krycek also shared his concern over their supply of food and other necessities.

Skinner sat up, his brow knit as he recalled something. "We passed a farm that might be a good place to scavenge." His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "There were chickens there. We could see them when we skirted the place."

"Chickens?" Krycek exclaimed. He turned to Scully and grinned. "I've been dreaming of omelets. How far is it?"

"We passed it the day before you found us."

Krycek nodded. "I'll go then, and see what I can find. Take two of the horses and the travois. Scully, you stay here and keep an eye on Skinner."

To his surprise, the other two vehemently protested. Skinner first, because he resented the implication that he couldn't care for himself. And then Scully, who was determined to go with Krycek.

Then they both turned on Scully, filling the cabin with the sound of their arguments. It was too dangerous. She could get hurt. She could catch cold. She might fall. The list seemed endless. But Scully sat quiet and calm till they wore themselves out. And then explained her reasoning in such a way that both were silenced.

"I have to get ready for this baby. I'll have to jerry-rig and make do with what I can find. The best chance I have of getting what I might need is if I go myself and look things over." She paused for effect. "Unless, Krycek, among your hidden talents is an expertise in labor, delivery, and the care of infants?"

It was a rhetorical question, and she didn't expect a reply. Over her head the two men looked at each other. And for the first time since finding themselves sharing living quarters, their thoughts were in harmony. Without words they communicated their concern, their fear, and their surprise.

It was the first time Scully acknowledged that she was pregnant.

Part Four

When choosing between two evils, I always pick the one I never tried before.
~ Mae West

The day came when the fear over the deepening winter won out over concern for Skinner's health. Scully and Krycek would journey west to see what they could scavenge from the abandoned homestead.

Scully spent the evening before they left nagging Skinner about his health, his diet, and his need for rest. He took her instructions meekly, knowing it arose from her fear and concern for him, and the knowledge that he had nearly died.

Krycek spent the time familiarizing Skinner with the outbuildings and chores. The men were coolly polite with one another, although they studied one another intently when they thought the other was not looking.

Krycek's scrutiny was laced with guilt. His newfound knowledge of Skinner's effort to keep him safe from the smoking bastard, however futile, filled him with the desire to make amends to the other man -- to acknowledge the man's deeds and gallantry. And maybe, somehow, ask for forgiveness.

Skinner's examination of Krycek was more complex. Skinner's first impression of the naïve young Agent Krycek had been lost forever after the man had betrayed them all. To his mind, Krycek was all things despicable and loathsome, and every encounter with him since had only served to enforce his conviction. Until now.

It vexed him that he could no longer categorize the man into the neat box he had created for him. It bothered him that Scully felt so comfortable with Alex. Her defense of him was almost incomprehensible to him. He wondered what had happened to cause such a change in their relationship while he was recovering from pneumonia. The actions she ascribed to Krycek didn't jibe with the image he had of the man. Of course, the man who had beaten him in the stairwell or killed him with a sweep of a stylus didn't jive with the young and earnest agent who had been placed under his command.

The worst however, was his reaction to Krycek's delight at the thought of eggs being added to their diet. He turned to Scully and slanted that pirate smile of his and Skinner's breath had caught in his throat. In the years that he'd been so caught up with Krycek's shortcomings, he'd actually blocked out how appealing the man was. He was stunned by the sudden image of a warm and naked Krycek curled up behind him, his arm wrapped around him, his voice whispering something he couldn't make out. He tried to shake the picture from his mind and turned to look at Scully, and found himself floating in a vague and fleeting memory of her naked in his arms, her full breast cupped in his hand, his hard and dripping cock poised to enter her.

The image of having sex with Scully was more disturbing to his peace of mind than the thought of fucking Krycek. Scully was - irreproachable. She was everything that was good and honest in his world, and he refused to think of her in mere human terms. She was a goddess on a pedestal he carefully fashioned for her. Some small part of his heart that still believed in Santa Claus and the hereafter was convinced that her pregnancy was of divine origin. The logical part of his brain acknowledged that she was with child, but would not consider how she became pregnant. He certainly would not allow himself to speculate on the identity of the father. It was hard enough to acknowledge her pregnancy.

So instead, he brooded over the inconsistencies of Krycek's behavior. Skinner was a man who liked things neat and orderly. He didn't like this new information he had about Krycek. It made him hard to pin down; that, and his undeniable sexual appeal tested Skinner's self-control.

For his part, Krycek was happy to have a few days out of the other man's company. Skinner's dark looks and uneven temper were beginning to wear on him. He needed time and space to sort through his own feelings.

They left at first light, a tiny caravan made up of three horses, a pregnant woman, and a triple agent.

For Krycek, it was a novel experience. He was used to traveling alone -- traveling light, moving quickly. He was not used to having to watch out for someone else, and his solicitousness towards Scully's welfare troubled him. He wondered if he was growing soft. Then he grinned to himself. What the hell difference did it make anymore?

They broke often, sometimes when Scully's bladder called, other times when Krycek estimated their time on horseback had been long enough. Neither was used to riding, and he didn't want them so crippled by sore muscles when they reached the homestead that they couldn't retrieve what they were after.

Several times he'd caught Scully lost in her own world. He had hoped by now that she would have emerged from the cocoon she had wrapped around herself. But the further they traveled from the cabin and Skinner, the more reticent she became.

But despite his concerns for his traveling companion, his spirits rose as they journeyed west. He'd been stuck close to the cabin for so long, that this bit of freedom was a thing to be cherished. He loved these ancient mountains, worn down over eons of time. There was a comfort in knowing that they had survived the invaders and the plague. He thought that maybe, just maybe, humankind could also survive sheltered in its ancient embrace.

It was late afternoon when they crested a hill from the top if which they could see the homestead Scully and Skinner had passed on their journey upcountry. Alex determined that they should make camp here, and survey the surrounding landscape for any signs of unfriendly activity. Morning would be soon enough to explore their plunder.

A small gas burner yielded up hot water and both enjoyed a mug of tea while setting up camp. Scully was an automaton that did as she was bid without demure. Krycek frowned over her passiveness and hoped to hell Skinner was around when she finally broke.

He watched the homestead for three hours without spying any sign of activity. He was convinced that they were alone in this valley, not just from his surveillance, but his gut feeling that he and Scully were the only human beings in this lonely valley.

Scully had prepared their tent, where he had sent her an hour ago. He checked the horses one last time, and then joined Scully. He found an empty sleeping bag, neatly unfolded, and slid his long legs into its shelter. As he settled down into a comfortable position, he realized that Scully had curled up in a small bundle, shaking with cold.

"Damn it, Scully! Are you trying to freeze to death?" With a few deft moves, he had unearthed her from her sleeping bag, despite her protests, and deposited her gently near the entrance of the tent. He then unzipped both bags, and unfolded each, then zipped together into one large bag. He slid down in and lifted one edge so Scully could slide into next to him. She turned her back to him and held herself stiffly away. He sighed, exasperated, then rolled onto his side and pulled her back against him.

"Scully, you know I won't hurt you, right?"

She relaxed then, and nodded. "I know you won't hurt me."

"Then why?" he asked.

She shrugged, and murmured, "Conditioned response, I guess."

He chuckled at that, and tugged a strand of her hair.

"I'll guess I'll have to recondition you, won't I?"

She snorted, joining in his mood, and replied. "You can try."

He laughed outright at her indignant retort. He pulled her closer, curling his legs up beneath hers, happy that she seemed to be emerging from her funk.

For that reason, and that alone, he leaned up over her to plant a companionable kiss on her check, to let her know how pleased he was with her. But in the dark of the tent, instead of kissing the neutral territory of her cheek, his lips fell on the soft white curve of her neck, just below her ear.

From that, he might have recovered and pulled away, if it hadn't been for her reaction. She sighed, then tipped her head, exposing her neck, as though she were inviting further contact.

So he kissed her again, this time trailing his lips along her neck, and then nibbling the dainty lobe of one white ear. Her response was instantaneous. She arched against him further, and lifted one arm up and behind her to pull his head closer. The sound of her breathless response, the feel of her rounded bottom against his groin, the smell and thought of Dana Scully in his arms was too much for him to resist.

"Scully," he groaned. "We shouldn't..."

"Don't say anything," she breathed.

"Scully, are you sure..."

But she cut him off. "Don't talk, please. Just do."

And he did.

Propping himself on his stump, he let his mouth and lips explore her neck and shoulder and ear, while his hand learned the curve of her breasts and abdomen. He wanted to taste her breasts, knead them and burrow his face between them.

He urged her to turn onto her back, but she resisted, and in a flash he realized this was her way of abdicating responsibility for what was happening between them. As long as they weren't face to face, she could pretend she wasn't complicit. A brief arrow of anger rose in him, and he wanted to challenge her, but the hand she had twined in his hair slide down his body to cup his erection, and he surged forward into her palm, forgetting his anger, forgetting everything but his growing need.

He slid his hand under her layers of clothing and found the tip of one swollen breast. He teased the nipple back and forth, feeling it pearl against his fingertips. He worried it over and over till she writhed against him. Her breath came in short pants and she rocked her hips faster and faster till she suddenly arched, holding still for one long moment. The clever fingers at her breast stilled as she rode out the tiny climax he incited.

"God!" she sobbed. "That's never happened to me before."

He muttered into her neck, "We're not finished yet." He tugged at her sweat pants and long johns and she was helping him till her lower half was naked inside the sleeping bag. Pushing up her sweatshirt, his hand carefully explored the curve of her abdomen. The flesh over her pregnant belly was hard and firm. He'd never touched a pregnant woman before and his curious mind asked a dozen questions that his tongue refused to voice. Instead, he slid his hand lower till he found her curls. He longed to see them, to know their color, but contented himself with testing their spring and teasing the folds they hid. She pushed into his hand, groaning, "God it's been so long, so long since someone touched me there."

And in that instant he understood that the baby inside her was not the result of a natural conception. The consortium bastards had been using her, experimenting with her. A wave of rage and compassion rose up in him and he stilled his exploration, burying his face in her silky hair, rocking her gently. "Ah, Scully," he whispered, blinking back the moisture welling up in his eyes. As he held and comforted her, his erection began to fade. But Scully was unaware of his turmoil. She only knew she wanted to drown in the wave of sensation he stirred. She grew fretful at his inaction and writhed against him, whispering encouragement. She pulled his hand to the warmth between her legs and rocked her hips against him. His desire rose again and he promised himself that he would find a way to make up for all that she had lost.

His lips trailed along her neck and he felt her shudder. He slid one long finger deep inside her and groaned as he felt her heat and her dampness. He pulled back and tugged the rest of her clothing off, while she pulled at his. (still without turning to look at him? Clarify) When they were both naked he moved against her and shuddered as their flesh met. God she felt good. Soft and firm and ripe and sexy. He wanted to eat her up, feast on her bounty. Make her scream. Feel her come around his cock.

He urged her to roll and lay face down, then he reached around to pad the sleeping bag around the swell of her tummy. Scully melted, trembling with anticipation. The skin on her neck and back was exquisitely sensitive, and she wanted to feel his hand touch her there. She folded one arm into a pillow for her head, the other curved into a support for her belly, lifting her slightly towards Krycek.

With his fingers, he trailed a path along the length of her back. She shivered, then rocked her hips. With his lips, he learned the shape of her spine, from the back of her neck, to the curve of her bottom.

He wanted to try something with her, something he would bet money no one had done to her before.

He scrunched down beside her, kissing and licking the curves of her ass, flirting with the cleft between them. With his hand, he teased the lips of her cunt, then pushed one finger as far it would go into her. He fucked her with that finger, feeling her channel dampen and loosen. He added another finger and his own hips jerked as he heard her moan, smelled her arousal, and felt her tighten around him.

He then twisted his hand, curving his fingers so they pressed down toward her pubic bone. He then stroked the front of her vagina, feeling carefully for the hidden treasure of a woman's body. His fingers stroked her again and again while his lips and mouth teased her bottom. He felt it then, a small knot of muscle. He rubbed harder and felt it swell. She gasped then and tried to pull away. He leaned over her, kissed her spine and reassured her. "Shhhh. It's ok. I know it feels strange right now, but it'll feel so good. I promise."

The whole time he kept stroking the knot of muscle in the front wall of her vagina and kissed and licked the sensitive skin of her spine and bottom. She stayed with him and finally she relaxed, moaning. Then she tightened again and her hips began to rock. He sped up his stroking and used his thumb to circle her clitoris.

"Oh Alex. Please. I want to...Oh God."

He knew what she wanted and he wanted it for her. He wanted her to come. Hard. "Come for me, Dana. Come for me now."

And suddenly she was crying out, and the muscles of her vagina clamped down on his fingers and a gush of warm fluid coated his hand.

He rode out the wave with her and then slid up along her body and pulled her back into his arms. She seemed stunned, and he smiled to himself, liking the idea that he had taken Dana Katherine Scully to the stars and left her a speechless, boneless, trembling mess. He kissed her and stroked her and whispered nonsense in her ear.

At length, she took a deep breath, and tipped her head so she could see him. Her look was direct, and he wondered what she was thinking.

"You sure know your way around the female body, Krycek."

He grinned, relieved at her words. He pulled her closer and tugged on a lock of red hair while he explained. "Something I learned in my misspent youth. The wife of a visiting German gynecologist taught me everything I know. Mrs. Grafenberg. Helga was her first name, if I remember correctly. Said she was bored with her husband. Complained that he spent all his time yapping about vaginas and such, but never paid any attention to hers."

She giggled then and swatted at his chest. And although he laughed with her, Krycek thought his heart might stop. Dana Scully was giggling. At something he said. She was warm and naked and in his arms and laughing at something he said.

He wondered just when it was that his life started going right. Wondered how in the hell he had broken the curse that had hung over him since he the day he'd thrown his lot in with the smoking bastard and his band of thugs.

His laughter trailed off and when her gaze fell to his lips, he felt the breath catch in his throat. He leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers, and she opened for him, her tongue seeking his. She pushed back against him until his penis was trapped between her legs. As her hips undulated against him, he felt the tip of his cock pushing into her warmth.

"Dana." His voice was urgent. "I don't have anything. I don't have any protection."

"Oh, Alex, do you really think it matters anymore?" She grabbed his arm and pulled him so he was flush against her back, and settled his hand against her breast. "All I know is that right now I feel alive." She lifted one thigh and angled back against him, allowing him full access to her. "I don't want that feeling to end, Alex. Not just yet." She reached between them and guided his length to the mouth of her vagina. "I know you want this too."

He groaned, and pushed into her, feeling her warmth and wetness welcoming him. He held her hips while he pushed, till his entire length was snugly inside her. Carefully, he began to move, pulling back till just the head of his cock remained in her cunt. Then he pushed back, sheathing himself again. His lips fell to her neck and he nibbled and gnawed on the sensitive flesh there while he fell into a rhythm, rolling and snapping his hips, plunging into her and pulling back, fucking her slowing and deeply.

"Yessss..." She hissed the word out, relaxing back against him, loving the feeling of his smooth body against her back. She shuddered as the length of his penis stroked her sensitive vagina; whimpered as his cock rubbed the tiny knot of nerve ending his clever fingers had found earlier. A flush of warmth began there, fluttering pleasurably. It spread slowly out in concentric circles. She felt light and heady and flushed. Every cell in her body turned on its axis, spinning faster and faster, flares of sensation shooting down her legs and up her spine, till her flesh sang with pleasure. It was there, just out of her reach, and she cried out, begging him to fuck her harder, slamming her hips back into his, driving him, making him match her rhythm. And then she was there, hurtling over the edge, every cell in her body reaching its own climax.

Alex had wanted to take his time. He knew that he might never have this chance again. So he wanted to draw it out, make it last. But Scully's course language was as unexpected as it was salacious. He bit his lip, tying not to come. But she was pounding against him and he was matching her thrust for thrust. He felt his climax building from the base of his spine, then felt her tighten around him, her vagina milking his cock and he came hard, spurting into her again and again, feeling as though the top of his head had blown off. He heard his own voice crying out hoarsely and wondered for one brief second how she had managed to strip his every defense.

Alex Krycek sipped at his morning coffee and contemplated the singular pleasure of waking up with a woman in his arms, a woman he had spent the previous night making love to. In his past life, there were always plenty of bed partners to be had, both male and female. But they were all interchangeable-even that double-crossing bitch Marita.

It was odd enough for Krycek to light for long anywhere, let alone spend an entire night with one person. It was only fitting that the woman in question was Dana Scully. It lent the whole situation a chimerical feeling that began to feel oddly reassuring.

Krycek knew that making love with Scully again was far from a sure thing. He knew the price for last night was his silence on the matter this morning. He could live with that. He had studied Scully for a long time. Had a good idea of how she would feel this morning, what she would be thinking. His only hope was to take her by surprise. He chuckled to himself when he thought of how she had surprised him last night.

Turn about, he thought, was only fair.

She woke slowly, stretching luxuriously. She felt delicious, her body humming with satiation. She rolled over arching her back. She wondered at this sense of well-being, and then came fully awake with a start.

Memory came back, and she moaned, burying her face in her hands. What had she done? What had she done?

Slept with Krycek.

Alex Krycek.

The man she loathed and despised for years. The man who had taken so much from her. She let him touch her. Let him? Encouraged him. Begged him was more like it. Oh, God. How could she face him? Face Skinner? Thank God Mulder wasn't here. He would know instantly that she had...what? Gotten lucky?

She buried her face in the sleeping bag, smothering a nervous laugh.

This could never happen again. She would treat Krycek as always, and pretend it never happened. It was the only possible way to deal with it.

She dressed quickly, wincing at the ache between her legs, blushing at the dampness she felt there. The smell of coffee floated to her as she emerged from the tent. She smoothed her face into an expressionless mask, and lifted her gaze to where Krycek stood. To her surprise, he was intently watching the house, and didn't turn to face her as he shared that there was coffee and granola for her. She stared at him stunned, then filled a cup and joined him.

He turned to her finally and observed, "I think we'll leave camp as is. I'll go down first and make sure it's secure. You cover me from here." When he looked at her his statement as bland and disinterested. There was no signature smirk, no knowing leer, no snarky comment. With his green eyes and his aloof attitude he reminded her of a great dark cat and found herself both reassured and piqued by his distant behavior.

She agreed with his plan and watched has he gathered up a rifle for her, and his own cache of weapons.

And has she settled into a comfortable position with her rifle cradled in her arms, and watched him pick his way carefully down the embankment, sipped carefully at her mug of coffee, and wondered how it was that she thought she understood the man at all.

Part Five

Beta Thanks: Jessabelle - of the wonderful red pen who catches my many errors and strokes my ego at the same time. Peach - who helped me get over my FWS (frigid writer syndrome) and who gently shows me a different way to think about where I'm going when I get lost. And Judi - for the 'little ass' scene. My betas are excellent, kind and true. Any mistakes you find are due to my last minute fiddling and fixing, like a mother who can't let her child out the door without one last spit-cleaning.

The wonderful poem "There Will Come Soft Rains" quoted within this Chapter is by Sara Teasdale. No copyright infringement intended.

Finally - A big thank you to the wonderful men and women on the Skinner/Krycek list who always answer my obscure requests for information, and who have created an atmosphere of support, inspiration, and fun.

Krycek made a thorough reconnaissance of the house. In what he guessed was the master bedroom he found the remains of the previous inhabitants. He threw a blanket over them and closed the door.

As he expected, there were no signs of life.

He thought about walking back to camp and escorting Scully back to the homestead, but he suspected that she might resent the implication that she wasn't capable.

So he walked out onto the porch instead and gave the signal.

All clear.

Scully found him minutes later seated at the kitchen table. He had located some paper and was making an inventory of what he'd found, annotating what they should take now and what they might come back for on another foray. "I'm guessing that we can transport what we can stack a foot, a foot and a half high on this table."

He warned her of what he found in the closed room upstairs, and she nodded, not interested in gazing on any more dead bodies. He left her to do her own foraging, and she was pleased to find plenty of fabric and sewing supplies. A walk-in pantry off the kitchen contained dozens and dozens of canned goods. Scully was ecstatic at the well-stocked bathroom, tooth brushes and toothpaste and shampoo and conditioner and lotion. They agreed that whoever lived in this remote area must have learned to keep a stock of everything. The nearest store wasn't a five-minute car trip.

He did another thorough check of the house starting with the attic. He made notes of what he found and where he found it, marking those items that he wanted to transport this trip and items that could wait for another day. Among the boxes of old records and photos in the attic, Krycek found an old-fashioned, treadle operated sewing machine.

They worked independently all morning, meeting occasionally at the staging area in the kitchen. Sometimes short, succinct discussions ensued, rethinking what should be included. Other times they met in silence, but as the day aged, it was not uncomfortable. Scully's first instinct was to hide from what occurred the night before, but Alex's behavior became a pattern for her own. Matter of fact. Focused. Calm.

They ate a lunch of flat bread and cold venison, washed down with icy water from the farm's well.

The afternoon passed in much the same manner as the morning. An area in the dining room was set aside for supplies to be recovered on a future trip.

As the sun faded from the sky, Krycek built a fire in the front yard, heating water. He went in search of Scully and was surprised when he found her. "What the hell is that, Scully?"

"It's a dog. I found him hiding under the porch." Alex tipped his head and considered the bit of fluff cradled in Scully's arms.

"It looks like a hairball," he observed. "Actually, it looks likes Toto. And it's only got three legs," he realized, disconcerted.

Scully ignored his last comment. "We're not naming him Toto."

"We're not naming him anything, because he's not coming with us."

"Yes, he is."

"Scully, be reasonable. We can't afford to feed it. I'm not sure there will be enough food for us, let alone trying to feed a pet."

"Look at how small he is. How much can he eat?" she asked.

"Skinner will have a fit if you bring that back with you."

"You let me worry about Skinner. I can handle him."

"Damn it, Scully. Look at him scratch. He probably has fleas."

She held up a can of flea powder.

"Fine." he said, disgust evident in his voice. "Keep the damn beast. But you explain him to Skinner."

She had the grace not to smirk victoriously until he had stomped out of the room.

They hauled the warm water to the first floor bath and took turns bathing, luxuriating in hot water and soap. Scully bathed first, then Krycek. Then Scully washed the dog.

They made their way back to their camp, where they greedily ate fresh eggs scrambled with bits of venison. The smell of coffee hung in the evening air. The temperature dropped, but it was warm near the fire. They were clean, well fed, and pleasantly tired from their day's toils. It was the best either of them had felt in months.

They argued over where the dog would sleep, Scully insisting the dog should share their tent, Krycek equally insistent that he should not.

Krycek checked the horses one last time after dousing the fire, then joined Scully in the tent. He sighed loudly once he was settled. Scully, although laying flat on her back, had once again placed herself as far to the edge of the tent as the double sleeping bag would allow.

The dog, after sniffing out all four corners, hopping gracefully on three legs, finally curled into a ball next to Scully's head.

They lay like that in the darkness for several long moments. When Alex finally moved, Scully jumped. He leaned over her, searching her gaze in the shadows of the night. "Look, Scully, whatever happened last night...well, that was last night. I don't want you freezing to death because you think if you get close to me I'll jump you, okay?"

He stared down into her face, and relaxed as she slowly nodded.

"All right, then," he muttered, and lay back down. Moments later, she curled up next to him, her head resting on his shoulder and truncated arm, one hand curled on his chest. He turned slightly towards her, offering his warmth.

There was a quality to her stillness, as though she had something to say, so he waited, surprised when her hand crept up to the neck of his tee shirt, more surprised when she found his cross and pulled it out.

Tipping his head, he watched as she worried at the thing. He felt something on his neck and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek, amazed when she sobbed. He turned to pull her closer, murmuring nonsense words of comfort. She finally spoke, her voice thick with grief.

"There were pictures there," she said. "Family pictures. So many pictures of children and grandchildren. I hadn't allowed myself to think of my family. Of what happened to them since this all began. Even when I saw their pictures. I didn't let myself think about my mother, who has stacks of photo albums. Or my brothers, Charlie or Bill. Tara and their baby. But tonight, I remembered your cross, and the one my mother had given me so many years ago, and I know...I know they're all gone. That I'll never see them again. That mom will never see this baby, never rock it to sleep, never make a quilt for it."

She broke off, crying harder, and Alex whispered, "Ah, Scully" and pulled her closer, not knowing what to say, but wanting to comfort her.

He rocked her while she cried herself out, the sounds of her grief rousing the dog, who whimpered in sympathy, then climbed up on Alex's chest and licked the tears from Dana's face. She half-laughed, half-sobbed when she felt it's rough tongue, pulled the mongrel close and burrowed into Alex's warmth.

Her tears slowed, and she was left with that half-headachey, half-buzzed feeling that comes from a strong release of emotions. Alex found the shirt he'd shucked off earlier and offered it as a handkerchief to Scully who gratefully cleaned her face and blew her nose. She sighed, then ventured, "I'm not usually so emotional."

Krycek turned and looked at her, his expression relaying his admiration for her gift at understatement, then offered, "Babies will do that. Hormones and all."

Scully ignored the obvious rejoinder - that as a doctor she knew all about pregnancy and hormones, and instead silently blessed his tact.

Lying in the warmth of the sleeping bag, she let her mind drift, slowing drowsing off to sleep, when a thought occurred to her. "What about your family, Krycek?"

He whipped his head about to look at her. "My family? Christ, Scully." He looked at her, then shook his head and turned to stare at the top of the tent, as though he could see the stars above instead of canvas and shadows. He was quiet for so long, she wondered if he was going to answer at all. His voice, when it finally sounded, was low and rough in her ear.

"I lost my family years ago, Scully." He sighed, closing his eyes. "How do you think I got mixed up with the Consortium in the first place?"

"They brought us over from the Soviet Union, my parents, my brother and I. My parents were scientists. Working on genetics, recombinant DNA. They seemed committed to the cause at first. But something happened to change that. I think it was when Dmitrii was taken."

At Scully's start, he turned to look at her. "Yeah, Scully. My little brother was taken. Just like Mulder's Samantha."

He sighed, fingering his cross, not wanting to remember. "Family is important to Russians. More important than 'the greater good' that Bill Mulder believed in. Instead of turning against each other, they turned against the Consortium. At least that's what I was told."

He paused, remembering. "Their lab burned down one night with them in it. The fire burned so hot that no trace of them was ever found. It was as though they had never existed."

"I was a boy. Just thirteen years old. My whole family was gone. Spender took me under his wing. Told me I owed the Consortium for all they had invested in my family. God, I hated him. But I knew if I was going to survive, to keep the family name alive, I needed to learn everything he and his thugs could teach me."

"Sometimes...sometimes I think I hated my parents for not turning on each other instead of the Consortium. Then they would have survived. Like the Mulders. I could have had a normal life."

That brought Scully's head up. "You think Mulder had a normal life?"

"Compared to mine? Hell, yes. He got to go to Oxford, study what he wanted. Join the FBI. He got to choose his path. Mine was chosen for me."

Scully began to speak, but Krycek interrupted her. "Scully, I completed my first kill at fifteen." He took a deep breath, willing calmness into his voice. "Yeah, Mulder lived with a couple of fucked-up parents, and the grief of losing his sister. But, at fifteen he was in prep school. Playing basketball. Worrying about pimples and grades and which girl was least likely to turn him down for prom."

He turned and looked at her then. "His life was a cake walk compared to mine." He sighed, then turned to contemplate the roof of the tent again, while Scully chewed over what she'd just learned.

At length, she spoke. "Mulder told me once, not long before he was taken..." her voice trailed off, unsure of how to finish.

"What? What did he say?"

"That the two of you - you and he - that you weren't so different after all. It was after he found out what happened to Samantha. At least what he thought happened to her. I dismissed it then. But now I wonder. Did he know about your brother?"

Krycek shrugged. "I'd heard he'd been snooping around. I was sure there wasn't anything for him to find. But you never know with Mulder."

For long moments they were both quiet. Then Scully spoke. "My parents worked hard to instill certain values in me. My mother, in particular, had certain rules for living. She was a real southern lady you know, although she grew up all over - a Navy brat like me."

"I keep trying to find a formula for living that will get me through each day. All I know is that nothing my mother taught me is of use now." She found the cross on Alex's neck, and rubbed it between her fingers. Then she leaned up on one elbow to peer at him. "Don't you see, Alex? Everything I'll need to know to live in this new world, I'll have to learn from you. Skinner, too, and anyone else who managed to survive. Whatever else your life has been, it's brought you to this place where you can help save what's left of the human race."

He'd gone deathly still, only moving slightly when she'd called him 'Alex,' but Scully knew he was listening carefully to every word she said.

"I think I've just realized how much I've been depending on you to lead us through this. It's unfair, I suppose. But there it is."

She settled herself back into the warmth of his side, and the dog climbed up on Krycek's chest, circled once, settled his head on his paws, and looked at the two of them with complete and utter adoration.

When he didn't respond, she continued. "And I can't help thinking that regardless of what your life has been the last twenty-odd years, that for thirteen years, you lived in the heart of a family. You know about love. About loyalty. About community, and tradition. You may have forgotten it, or tried to forget it. But it's still here." She tapped on his chest, then reached up and petted the dog, who sighed blissfully.

Neither spoke for long moments. Scully was satisfied that she'd adequately communicated her thoughts, but Krycek was awed and disbelieving. Scully, with all her tragedies, personified the classic Russian heroine. Her dignified grace and stoic courage infatuated him years ago, but in a detached and objective manner. He thought himself safe because he believed that at her core, she was without passion. He never knew, never suspected that she had such thoughts. It left him feeling vaguely disconcerted.

At length, Krycek looked down at the dog on his chest and sighed peevishly.

Scully ignored him. He finally offered, with only a slight resentment in his voice, that if she were going to keep the damned thing, she ought to name it.

"Oh, I already have," she remarked, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm calling him Little A."

He froze, then turned to stare at her. "You're naming a mangy, maimed, three-legged mutt after me?" He could scarcely keep the outrage from his voice, pissed that he gotten all soft and gooey over someone who was clearly a world class bitch.

Ignoring his frosty attitude, Scully continued. "Isn't that redundant?" she asked. "Anyway, why wouldn't I name him after you? He's a survivor, Alex. Just like you. If he only knew, he'd be proud to wear your name."

His anger drained as quickly as it flared. He lifted his hand and scratched the mutt behind the ears. "You make me tired, Scully," but the complaint was mild.

"I know, Alex. I had the same effect on Mulder." She smiled. "Go to sleep. You need the rest."

He smiled slightly and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, they broke camp and moved to the farmhouse yard. There, they steadily loaded the travois with the supplies they had chosen to salvage this trip. Krycek spent an hour jerry-rigging cages for the rooster and five hens that would join their small menagerie. To his disgust, Little A seemed determined to dog his footsteps, following Krycek everywhere, cocking his head comically when the man cursed the air blue in frustration.

Scully copied the dog's gesture when she got her first look at the squawking birds in their new homes, but only commented that he had done a nice McGyver job. Krycek didn't get the reference, so he ignored it. But he was happy to note that she looked at him directly, with none of the discomfort of skittishness of the previous morning.

They consumed a late brunch, and were on their way by noon.

With a full travois, the going was slow, and they stopped frequently. But the cold had broken and the day was mild. There hadn't been as much snow here in the lower elevations, and what little there was had begun to melt. Alex hoped this was the beginning of an Indian summer that would last at least few weeks.

Krycek often walked, leading the packhorse. The sun was still shining when they decided to stop for the night, setting up camp next to a rocky stream. They unhooked the travois, watered the horses and tethered them for the night. Krycek fed the chickens, gathered kindling, and built a fire while Scully pitched their small tent. They spread a thick blanket near the fire and next to the stream and picnicked on hot pork and beans and canned peaches.

Scully heated water for tea while Krycek found a place to cross the stream. He crouched on the opposite bank, scooping up handfuls of small pebbles, then spread them across a flat rock to sort. A few he kept, but most he flicked back into the stream.

"Alex." He looked up to find Scully watching him. "What are you doing?" she asked.

He shrugged.

"Every time we stop, you root around for rocks. Little rocks. You've got a whole jar full back at the cabin. What are they for?"

He looked at her through narrowed eyes, considering his answer. "It's just a little project I'm working on."

"A project?" she asked flatly. "Right."

"Just a harmless little hobby, that's all." He smiled at her.

"Getting information from you is like pulling teeth."

He grinned. "I will tell you one thing I know."

"What's that?"

"You, Miss Dana, are a natural redhead." He squinted at her, enjoying the way her mouth had fallen open. "I've always wondered."

"How could you possibly be sure of that?" she demanded indignantly. "You couldn't have seen anything in the dark.." She sputtered off as his look changed from teasing to questioning to amused as he realized what she was referring to.

"Well, Scully, with the sun hitting your hair like that, it's clear you don't have any dark roots. Why? What are you talking about?" He grinned at her, intrigued by the flush on her cheeks. He grabbed a few of the stones he'd chosen, slipped them in his pocket, and made his way back across the stream without taking his eyes off the flustered redhead. He made his way purposefully towards her, and she instinctively scooted back on the blanket. He finally crouched before her, slanting her a grin, his pirate eyes dancing. "Come on, Scully. Tell me what you meant. What was it that you didn't think I could see?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "That's not funny, Alex."

His grin widened and he leaned closer, invading her personal space. "What's not funny, Miss Dana?" He laughed then, and her lips twitched.

"Stop it," she ordered, trying not to smile.

He leaned closer and she moved further away, leaning back on her elbows. "I think you're a bad boy, Alex Krycek." Her voice was almost a whisper.

"Oh yeah," he breathed, following her down. "I'm the kind they warned you Catholic girls about."

She laughed then and let her shoulders fall back till she lay flat on the blanket. He leaned over her, balancing on his one hand, his smile fading as his lips moved within inches of her own. "Do you want me to stop, Dana?" he asked, his husky voice feathering across her skin.

Her own smile faded as she looked into those startling green eyes and read the hopeful intent there. Why did he have to ask? Why couldn't he just take? She wouldn't say no. "Damn it, Alex," she whispered, torn and frustrated. She couldn't hide this time, not here, out in the open.

She saw the hope begin to whither in his eyes, and felt his hurt echo in her own heart as she realized that he was becoming two different people to her. The Krycek she had known before, and the man she was getting to know now - the man who had held her last night, who seemed to know just what to say. A man she could say yes to.

Unexpectedly, she felt lighter, full of promise. A curl of heat rushed through her and she reached for him. He had started to pull away, his face falling with disappointment, when she opened her mouth to his, pressing their lips together, pulling him down on top of her and stealing his breath.

He groaned, partly in relief, partly with arousal, and pulled her over till she lay on top of him, laughing down into his face. Little A, ecstatic that they were playing, came bounding over, barking excitedly.

"Damned dog!" Krycek rolled Scully back, scooped up the mutt, and zipped him into the tent.

"Alex, we could go in the tent. You don't have to shut Little A up in there."

"He'll be fine Dana. He's a survivor."

She grinned at him, delighted at how he threw her words back at her.

"Besides," he said as he lay down over her, "I want to see you. I want to see us together." His voice dropped a notch, its rough-edged urgency exciting her as he continued. "I want to watch your face when you come."

She grabbed his face with both her hands, kissing him deeply, as she spread her thighs and wrapped her legs around his narrow hips.

Their groans and laughter and murmurings were the only sounds beyond the bubbling stream and the dog's occasional complaints, as they loved each other in the half-light of a mountain sunset.

They lay wrapped around each other in post-coital lethargy. Their clothing was askew, half on and half scattered. He stroked a hand through her hair while she toyed with the smooth flesh of his chest, her mind drifting.

Then she remembered something she had wanted to ask him about. "How did you do it?" At his questioning look, she elaborated. "After your family was gone. How did you get up every morning? How did you...go on?"

He thought carefully before he spoke. "At first it was hard. I felt guilty that I still lived when Dmitrii and my parents were gone. Oddly enough, it was the Brit who brought me around. You met him, I think, in Victor Klemper's greenhouse. He warned Mulder that his life was in danger."

"Yes, I remember him."

"He was probably the best of the lot, and that's not saying much. Still, he introduced me to a friend of his. A Dr. Matela. She treated patients with spinal cord injuries. She pioneered a number of treatments that prevented the development of secondary disabilities that previously led to early death - kidney failure, pneumonia, decubitus ulcers. It turned out that her family had been rounded up and sent to Treblinka when she was just a child."

He turned to look directly at Scully. "She was the only one to survive. She realized, she told me, that she had a choice. She could chose to the let the guilt eat at her and live out her days in anger and bitterness. Or she could make her life a legacy to the family she lost."

He paused, thinking. "That was when I started focusing my energy on defeating those who would betray the human race to ensure their own survival. Dr. Matela told me she came to view her survival when so many she loved had perished as a responsibility. A duty to not waste her life, but to do something good with it."

She leaned up on her elbow, staring at him, her voice intent. "And is that what you believe that you've done with your life? 'Something good'?"

He frowned. "You're missing my point, Scully. I'm trying to explain how I was able to - "

"I know exactly what your point is, Krycek." she interrupted. "But how can you seriously make such a claim? To me? After all the pain you've caused for those I care about?"

"What the hell do you know about what I've done, Scully? Hell, you only know about me what they want you to know about me. Haven't you figured that out by now? Are you still so fucking naive?" he snapped.

He stood, pulling his clothing together, then muttered, without looking at her, that he was going for a walk. She sat up slowly, wrapping her arms around her knees, and watched curiously as he stomped off, Little A following him adoringly. She was surprised by his anger. She'd seldom seen him lose control like this, and wondered if this was a glimpse of the 'real' Alex Krycek.

She washed up their dishes, then heated water for a sponge bath. As she settled the camp for the night, checking the animals one last time, her movements were rote, her mind elsewhere. She zipped herself into the tent and slid into the sleeping bag, deliberately taking the opposite side. She rolled onto her side, curled her arm under her head, and thought about all the things she knew about this green-eyed operative with his sharp humor and dashing smile, and all the things she thought she knew, hoping to find the truth somewhere in between.

By the time he'd made his way back to the encampment, Alex's temper had cooled, and he was chagrined by his behavior. He was starting to care what she thought of him, and that worried him. He saw that Scully had taken care of the camp for the night, and wondered if he should find his bed out here or risk entering the tent. Little A decided for him, worrying at the zipper, looking up at him as if asking him what he was waiting for. He sighed, then followed the dog into the tent.

He slipped off his boots, shucked his jeans and shirt. He slid into the sleeping bag, as far to the outer edge as possible. He heard Dana murmur in her sleep. She turned, reaching out to him, curling up next to his side. As the dog made himself at home on his chest, he felt better suddenly. With Dana on his left, he could curl his arm around her, pull her close, and whisper, "I'm sorry" into her ear.

The three of them slept deeply and without dreams.

He woke slowly, luxuriously. A small hand was stroking his cock. Sweet lips left a flurry of kisses along his jaw line. He moaned, turning instinctively towards the warmth of the woman lying next to him.

"Hey, sleeping beauty. I wondered how many kisses it would take to wake you up."

"Not fair," he rasped, his voice husky with sleep. "How many kisses did I miss?"

"I'll never tell," she teased. "See if you can stay awake for this." And she suddenly slid down in the sleeping bag, taking the tip of his cock into her mouth, tasting the pre-cum, before fisting the base and swallowing the rest.

He groaned deep in his throat and gave himself up to the pleasure of Dana Scully making love to his cock, gently, sweetly, and oh so completely. After he caught his breath, he turned around and returned the favor.

The day passed in peaceful companionship. They made their way higher into the Appalachian mountains, both wondering about Skinner, anxious to get home and see how he fared.

As they crossed the high meadow where Krycek first found them a month earlier, he sent Dana on ahead as he followed more slowly, leading the packhorse. A half-hour later, she returned on foot with a much healthier looking Skinner in tow.

Alex paused, his expression carefully blank as he waited for the older man to speak.

"Krycek, " he nodded in greeting.

"Skinner," he nodded back, then allowed his expression to soften. "You're looking well."

The other man grinned outright. "I'm feeling much better. Much, much better." Krycek wondered what was behind Skinner's good humor, but didn't want to do or say anything to deflate the other man's buoyant mood. Or Scully's for that matter, noticing how she beamed at both of them, Little A cuddled in her arms. Skinner moved forward. "Here, let me help." Krycek gratefully surrendered the reigns of the packhorse to the other man.

"So Skinner," he ventured, "you're not upset about the dog?" He nodded towards Scully.

The older man looked askance at the bit of fluff lying in the redhead's arms. "That's a dog?" he asked. The two men laughed out loud, sharing a moment of harmony at the indignant expression on Scully's face, before she laughed too.

Krycek's breath caught as he studied the other two. For a moment, he was part of their charmed circle. A little of the affection Skinner felt for Scully spilled over on to him, and Alex felt giddy. A thought popped into his head, as clear as though it had been spoken directly into his ear. "You could have had this." His eyes stung, as he wondered for the hundredth time, what would have happened if he had trusted Skinner, trusted what he knew instinctively about the man, instead of what Spender told him. At the time, Spender had convinced him that Skinner was as much a puppet has he was, even though Alex's instincts had told him differently.

A hundred thousand threads bound the three of them together. He felt them pulling at him, tearing at his heart, as he followed slowly behind. He wondered at the accord between he and Skinner. Wondered if it could be real, if it could last, or if it was a fleeting aberration.

Less than thirty minutes later, they were at the cabin. Skinner and Scully unpacked the travois while Krycek saw to the animals. Even the horses seemed to be happy to return home as they snuffled a greeting to the cow.

He helped the others finish unpacking, storing much of their loot on the porch until till they could sort it better in the morning. From the cabin, the smell of supper cooking drew them inside.

After they had eaten their fill of a savory fish stew, Skinner revealed a surprise. "I found it," he said.

"Found what?" Scully asked. Krycek just looked up at Skinner, not voicing his own question. "Mulder's stash," he answered. "You know. All the things Mulder was suppose to have here, but you couldn't find." He directed that last bit at Krycek. "I found it. Come on. I'll show you."

He was excited as a child at Christmas as he led the other two to the rear of the cabin, grabbing flashlights for each of them on the way. There, he pressed on the solid wood wall and revealed a door with no handle. It swung open on invisible hinges to reveal a cave in the side of the mountain. "It's all here," Skinner said. "All the things you told us that you planned on: food, clothing, a hydro generator. Even a wind generator. Grain mill. Saw blades. Everything needed to rebuild."

Scully and Krycek followed him; their mouths open, wearing identical expressions of awe and wonderment. In the side of the mountain a series of caves was filled to overflowing with packing crates of all sizes.

He moved to another part of the cave. "And books. Cases and cases of books. On everything from growing medicinal plants to animal husbandry to building passive solar housing, to making your own soap." He pulled out various books and handed them around. "And poetry. Lots of poetry books. Who knew Mulder was into poetry?" Neither Skinner nor Scully noticed the half smile on Alex's face as he remembered Mulder's secret love of metered rhyme and free verse.

Skinner frowned, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. "I found this tacked on one of the crates. It's from Mulder." Scully grabbed it, and Alex leaned over her shoulder to read. They both recognized Mulder's distinctive scrawl. There was no salutation; rather, the missive began with poem.

"There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,
If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn
Would scarcely know that we were gone."

If you're reading this, then I can only hope that at least one of you found your way here, and knew to look beyond the obvious. Circumstances have obviously kept me from being there to welcome you, but know that if it's at all possible, I will find a way to be with you. While it saddens me to think that we couldn't avoid the war, I want to believe that we can find a way to rebuild - a new world where the lies and deception of old men will be a distant memory.

FWM
February 2000

Part Six

Beta Thanks: Jessabelle - of the wonderful red pen who catches my many errors and strokes my ego at the same time. Peach - who helped me get over my FWS (frigid writer syndrome) and who gently shows me a different way to think about where I'm going when I get lost. And Josan, who asks all the right questions. My betas are excellent, kind and true. Any mistakes you find are due to my last minute fiddling and fixing, like a mother who can't let her child out the door without one last spit-cleaning.
Notes: The poem "Somewhere, there is a stream..." is by Paul Martyna. Used without permission. The verse Alex quotes is by Nathaniel Hawthorne.

They spent more than an hour digging through Mulder's crates, exclaiming over their findings, calling back and forth to each other in the echoing cavern. Scully yawned hugely and announced she was retiring for the evening.

It was then that Krycek found out just how precarious the accord was between Skinner and himself.

The other man cleared his throat, then shared that he had moved into the room that Alex had been using. "I need a king size bed. The double beds in the other room were too small," he explained.

"What about Scully?" Alex began, but Skinner interrupted.

"Scully can share with me." At Alex's look of surprise, he continued. "She'll be perfectly safe with me, just like she was all the time it took us to get here." He shrugged. "I assumed that you'd want to have the other room to yourself."

Alex looked at Scully, who was staring at her feet. Finally, she shrugged and said, "That's fine," then turned and left.

Krycek looked at Skinner for a long moment, his face expressionless. He left the room without saying another word. In the kitchen, he listened to the sounds of Scully preparing for bed while he waited for water to heat. He struggled to identify how he felt about this turn of events. He wondered how Scully felt.

He heard a bark and looked down to see Little A scamper into the kitchen and hop around his feet. He looked up to find Scully watching him.

"Good night, Alex," she said. Her direct look was apologetic.

"Yeah. You too. Have a good sleep."

She looked down at the mutt, her expression softening. "Come on, A. Let's go." But the dog didn't budge. She shrugged, ready to give in, but Alex said, "He's not sleeping with me." She tipped her head, studying the dog, who was peeping at her from Alex's booted feet.

"I don't think he'll come with me. He likes to sleep on your chest. Remember?" Her smile was wistful. "Besides, he'll keep you company."

"Yeah. Right," he muttered, studying her intently. Her mask was back; smooth, remote Scully. For a moment, he wanted to rip it away, wanted to force her to acknowledge what happened between them.

He felt vaguely resentful that he now had a secret to keep from Skinner. He had promised himself that when the covert war against the aliens was over, he would shed all the protective disguises he had adopted in order to survive.

His last job, self-assigned and completed with relish, was to end the Smoker's miserable life. It was the last time he would kill in anything other than self-defense. That act was a turning point for him, clearly defining his life into before and after.

The rhythm of his days was now set by nature's clock and dedicated to sustaining life. Midnight rendezvous based on deceit and carried out in secret with a mission to destroy had no place in this world. But here he was, when it was no longer a matter of life and death, continuing to conceal the truth. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He watched Scully stifle a yawn as she turned to leave. She halted abruptly. Behind her, in the shadows of the hall way, stood Skinner. The sight of the other man gave him pause. Maybe keeping the truth of his changed relationship with Scully was a matter of life and death. He suppressed a self-mocking smile as he considered what the other man would do to him if he knew that he had dared touch his sainted Scully.

The bigger man stepped forward and looked down at the dog at Alex's feet.

"Little A?" he asked. He slanted a meaningful look at Alex and asked. "And you're okay with that?"

Alex shrugged. "Why should I care that she named her mutt after you, Skinner?"

Two heads gazed at him wearing identical expressions of surprise. Alex reached down and scratched the dog behind his ears. "Dana thought he was so cute and adorable, he reminded her of your butt, Skinner. So she christened him Little Ass - A for short." He grinned wickedly at both of them.

"Oh, Alex." Scully flashed him a dirty look and shook her head at him. "I'm going to bed."

"Good night, Scully," Skinner said as he watched her leave. When they were alone, he looked at the other man with narrowed eyes and remarked, "You're real cute, Krycek. You know that?"

Smirking, Alex reached for his mug. "Yeah, I am." As he walked past him he gazed pointedly at Skinner's denim-clad ass. "But not, apparently, as cute as your butt." He paused for effect. "Oh yeah. There's hot water if you want a drink."

He made his way to the living room, stopping at the fireplace to stir the embers and add some wood, before settling in his favorite armchair. He stretched his long legs out before him. Little A waited until the man had settled before jumping on his lap and making himself at home.

Skinner fixed himself a drink, brought it into the living room, and stretched out on the couch. When he finally spoke, it was not what was Alex was expecting. "Where's your arm, Krycek?"

The younger man looked at him over the top of his mug, surprise etched on his face.

Skinner continued, "Your prosthetic, I mean. Where is it?"

He shrugged. "It's around here somewhere."

Skinner, who knew exactly where the missing prosthetic was, persisted. "Why don't you wear it?"

"I was having problems with it. Had a little accident on the way here."

"Can't you fix it?"

"With one hand?"

Skinner shrugged as though the topic held no interest for him. He leaned forward, pinning the other man with his intense stare. "So, why don't you tell me what happened between you and Scully while you were gone."

Alex had been staring into the fire and didn't bother looking at the other man as he answered. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Like hell. She's completely changed," he stated. "I want to know why."

Alex did look at him then, his lips twisted. "You prefer her the way she was? Catatonic half the time?"

"That's not the point. I want to know what happened out there. Why is she so different?"

"Why don't you ask her?" Skinner's jaw clenched, but Krycek continued before he could respond. "Well no, you wouldn't want to do that. You'd have to have a real conversation with her."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" the older man growled.

"It means that you treat her like she's spun glass instead of a real woman." With that, Krycek got up, heading for his room.

"Fuck you," Skinner retorted.

Krycek scooped up the dog and looked at Skinner, raking his gaze up and down the length of the other's man's body. "Not tonight, Skinner. I'm dog tired." He flashed the other man a crooked smile. "But ask me again tomorrow night. Maybe we can get Scully to babysit Little A."

Skinner wasn't sure what stunned him more, Krycek's words, or the heat in the other man's gaze as it scorched over his body.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed, but by the time he was on his feet the other man was down the hall, shutting the door to his bedroom behind him. He raised a fist to pound on the door before realizing that he had no idea what he was going to say to the other man.

It frustrated him that Krycek, with a few cannily chosen words, could render him speechless and indecisive. He stood there in the hall, fuming at the other man's mind fucking and resentful that his self- governing cock twitched and grew at the images that Krycek's words evoked.

A memory surfaced, half-formed, of the other man behind him, warm and naked and whispering huskily in his ear. Where the hell had that come from? And why did it feel so real?

He walked away from the closed door and settled the cabin for the night, his movements jerky. In the bedroom, he could make out Scully's small form curled on the far side of the bed. The steady rise and fall of her chest told him that she was sleeping. Her peaceful slumber calmed him.

He slipped under the blankets and turned to look at Scully. He thought about Krycek, alone in the other room.

This bed was so big; the three of them could share it and not feel crowded.

If it got colder, that might make the most sense. They could close off the other bedroom and conserve their wood supply.

He wondered how the other two would react to such a suggestion.

He stared up at the ceiling and he realized he was wide-awake. He missed the way he and Scully had nestled together each night on their journey here, sharing their warmth. He almost resented that their improved circumstances put an end to that.

He shuddered, feeling alone and lost, bewildered at his sudden melancholy.

Sleep was a long time coming.

Skinner might have felt better had he only known that across the hall, Alex too was plagued with insomnia.

Krycek lay awake staring at the ceiling, Little A on his chest. His sleeplessness frustrated him.

It was more than missing Scully's small warm form curled up next to him, although he was surprised at how quickly he'd become used to having her beside him.

He suspected Little A felt the same way, since he stayed awake for a long time, sitting on Alex's chest and watching the door. "It's just you and me, kid, might as well get used to it." The dog turned a mournful gaze upon him, as though he understood.

Since his family had been taken from him, the closest he'd come to enjoying a normal life were the few short months he lived as an FBI agent. Before then, the Consortium had been careful not to tempt him with what he could not have. They created a world for him that was wholly unlike anything that had come before. They wanted him to forget not just his family but his memories of what it was like to live in a family.

But they weren't completely successful. The Jesuits have a saying, 'Give us a child for his first seven years, and he is ours for life.' Alexei Krycek spent thirteen years as part of a family. He'd never forgotten, no matter how well he sublimated his yearnings.

He'd left Skinner in the living room not because he wanted to avoid any further confrontation, but because he didn't want to watch Skinner close the door to the room he and Scully now shared.

He thought about the questions Skinner asked him tonight. How much could he share with the other man? He still had to dole out his words, as careful about what he didn't say as he was about what he did say.

He realized how much he hated that and the knowledge hit him like a sucker punch in the gut.

And what devil had prompted him to tease Skinner tonight? What had he been thinking? His bit his lip, his conscience prodding him that at least he should be honest with himself about this. He could no more resist teasing Skinner than he could resist checking out his body that very first night. He could clearly recall the muscled thighs, the length of his cock and his endless chest. And later, when Skinner briefly woke and turned towards the fire, he pressed up behind the other man, hugging him to his chest. He had felt those tight ass cheeks against his groin and grew half-hard.

He also remembered how he baited Scully that night, telling her it was his secret desire to get naked with the two of them. His cock, which had started to warm with his memories of Skinner, jumped at the thought of the three of them together.

He carefully lifted the sleeping A from his chest, and rolled onto his side, reaching inside his sweats to find his cock, shuddering as he touched himself.

He let himself fantasize about that night in front of the fire. This time, he pictured himself in the middle, burying himself into Scully's warmth while Skinner fucked him from behind. He groaned into his pillow and worked his cock harder.

The Consortium had taught him that sex was a weapon as lethal as any gun and that men and women were interchangeable. He learned to suck cock and did it well, more so as a means to end the task quickly rather than caring about the other's pleasure. And he certainly enjoyed having his cock sucked and wasn't fussy about the gender of the person kneeling before him. But he'd never taken a cock up his ass before - he would never allow himself to be exposed and made vulnerable that way.

But now, he thought about Skinner pulling his ass cheeks apart to finger his hole and felt himself grow flushed and hot. He dreamed of a gentle Skinner opening him slowly and thoroughly before pushing his cock inside him. Imaged him whispering hoarsely into his ear everything that he was doing as he was doing it, telling him what a sweet, tight ass he had.

He knew how it felt to be in Scully, how her cunt rippled around him and pulled at his cock. He imagined what it would feel like to take her and to be taken at the same time.

He thought about the sassy curve of Scully's ass and wondered if she would ever let him touch her there, ever let him fuck her that way. With a muffled cry he came, his hot come spurting over his hand as he spasmed over and over.

The Indian summer Alex wished for seemed content to linger. He did the morning chores and looked for eggs, disappointed to find only two. The chickens, he figured, were out of sorts due to their move. But there was fresh milk and the thought of griddlecakes, steaming hot and smothered in maple syrup, made his mouth water.

Back at the cabin, the smell of freshly brewed coffee made his nose twitch. The door to the cave was open. He stuck his head around the corner and saw Scully exploring a box of kitchen supplies.

"How about pancakes for breakfast?" he asked.

"Are you making them?"

"You bet." He stepped forward and peered into the crate. "Hey, just what I need." He pulled a pair of mini-muffin pans out of the crate. "Mind if I use these?"

"You gonna make us muffins too?"

"Nah, they're for something else. Where's Skinner?" he asked.

"I thought he was in the barn with you?"

"I haven't seen him this morning. I actually got the feeling he was happy to see me yesterday, if only because it got him out of chores."

She paused and looked up at him. "Give him time Alex. He'll come around."

He nodded and together they wandered into the kitchen where they found a note on the counter:

"Somewhere, there is a stream...
Where the riffles run clear and bright
And the water speaks with the crystal
Chatter of a promise."

"Geez, why didn't he just say he was going fishing?" Alex asked.

Scully bit her lip. "I think he's making a little joke."

Alex frowned. "You mean like Mulder's cryptic note-in-the-form-of-a-poem last night?"

She shrugged. "Maybe."

He thought for a moment, then smiled. "Well, what do ya know? Spooky Skinner. He's a regular X-File."

After lunch, they found a brand new lap top computer, with a box of software that had been packaged in a moisture proof container.

"This would make tracking and rationing the supplies a lot easier." Krycek remarked.

"We need electricity." Skinner commented. "Maybe that should be our first priority, now that we know we won't starve to death this winter.

While waiting for lunch to cook, they looked over the literature included with the windmill and the hydrogenerator.

"I think we have to go with the hydrogenerator," Scully remarked. "The windmill will be visible for miles. I'm not sure we want to advertise our presence."

"She's right," Alex agreed.

Skinner had been hoping to avoid dealing with the cold mountain stream. The memory of his last dip still left him feeling chilled, but he reluctantly concurred.

Over supper, they made plans to survey the stream tomorrow to look for the most likely setup for the generator. Scully and Krycek volunteered for cleanup duty since Skinner had cooked.

Skinner settled on the couch with a stack of books. The murmur of voices from the kitchen reached him. He heard Alex's deep baritone, then Scully's laughter, full and open. He forced himself to stay seated, even though every instinct urged him to investigate just what the former operative had said to make Scully laugh like that.

They wandered into the living area a little while later. Scully curled up on the other corner of Skinner's couch, while Alex settled in his favorite armchair and poured over a book on Russian icons. Scully was enthralled with a guide to making dairy products. Little A sat on her lap, his feet at the edge of the book as though he was reading along with her. "Listen to this," she said. "Thistle flowers, safflower seeds, or fig bark can be soaked in water to make extracts that will set a curd."

The other two looked at her, puzzled. "A what?" Krycek finally asked.

"A curd. To make cheese. With all that milk you bring us twice a day. We have more than we can use. We can make our own cheese and butter."

"Oh, 'curd'. I thought you said something else." Krycek grinned at her.

"I'm ignoring that," she replied smartly without looking up from her text. "And look! Directions for making yogurt. I'll make some yogurt tomorrow."

Alex looked at her askance. "On purpose?"

She flung a pillow in his general direction and remarked that if he didn't have something constructive to say, he could keep his thoughts to himself.

"Yes, Miss Dana. Whatever you say, ma'am."

Scully grinned at him and he smirked back at her. He looked over at the other end of the couch to find Skinner staring at him, eyes narrowed, over the top of his book. Krycek flattened his mouth, gazing back at the other man without expression for long moments before turning away.

Suddenly, the room seemed chilled. Alex laid his book aside and fussed with the fire before saying an abrupt good night to the other two. The dog jumped up from Scully's lap and padded after Alex.

Scully looked at Skinner, her expression questioning. Skinner shrugged, as though the other man's behavior was a thing beyond his understanding.

But the truth was, it was his own conduct that left him bewildered.

The next morning, Skinner sought out the other man and found him in the barn. "Krycek." Alex looked up from mucking out the horse stall, but didn't speak. "I want to know what happened while you were away with Scully."

Alex set the pitchfork aside. "You're still on that?" Exasperation was clear in his voice. "Ask her, why don't you? Better yet, just get over it."

Skinner grabbed a bunch of shirt in each hand and threw Krycek against the wall. He held him there, hanging onto his temper by a thin thread. "Damn it, answer me."

He couldn't resist baiting the other man. "What's the matter, Skinner? Jealous?"

Skinner backhanded him.

"Fuck this shit, Skinner. This is my home. You don't get to beat me up here!" He hooked a foot behind the other man's ankle and then pushed him, hitting him squarely in the solar plexus.

Skinner tumbled backwards, pulling Krycek down with him. They wrestled for dominance, like two school boys playing king of the hill. Skinner was still recovering from his bout with pneumonia and tired quickly. But his greater bulk and Krycek's missing arm gave him the advantage over the younger man.

He finally had Krycek beneath him, tightened his thighs around his hips to hold the younger man still while he caught his breath.

Alex pushed up against him and Skinner knew he could feel his cock standing at attention. The other man looked surprised for one long moment before he asked, "Just which one of us are you jealous of, Skinner?"

Skinner growled, then leaned down and kissed him.

At first, Krycek pulled back in surprise, then returned the kiss with fervor, his mouth opening to accept the other man's tongue. It had been years since Skinner had kissed another man, and he found himself enjoying the ability to kiss and touch and fondle as roughly as he wished. Alex's lips were surprisingly soft, his morning beard rough, and the contrast between the two was highly erotic. Alex's response was making him dizzy. He wrapped his single hand around Skinner's neck to anchor him and his kisses were long and deep and searching, one moving to the next, barely giving him time to breath or regroup.

Skinner rolled slightly to one side, so just his chest covered Alex. He pushed one powerful thigh between the other man's legs, tipping his hips so Alex rode his thigh. He rubbed against Alex's erection and when the younger man groaned deep in his throat he swallowed it with a kiss.

Skinner rocked his hips against the younger man with a growing sense of urgency. He grasped the button of Alex's jeans, quickly unzipped him and pulled his cock free. He pulled away and looked down at the other man's cock, stroking him. He flicked his thumb over the cockhead, smearing precome over the glans. He pushed at the jeans so he could pull the other man's balls free. With his fingers, he reached back and stroked him, back to front. Alex groaned. Skinner circled the head again with his thumb and brought it to Alex's mouth, smearing the moisture across his bottom lip before bending to kiss him again. Alex groaned once, then again when Skinner began to pump his cock.

He felt Alex pull away from him and struggle to open Skinner's pants with his single hand. Skinner reached down to help him.

"I can do it." He swatted at his hand and leaned down to catch the waist of Skinner's jeans with his teeth. He pulled it taut and yanked at the zipper.

Skinner helped push his jeans off his hips and this time Alex didn't protest, he was too busy staring at Skinner's freed cock. When he finally looked up his eyes were as round as one of Mulder's flying saucers. Skinner grinned at the implied compliment, then groaned when Alex nuzzled his balls before running his tongue up the underside of his cock.

Skinner watched Krycek move down to kneel between his thighs. The other man grasped the base of his cock and gazed at him without blinking as he explored his cock with his tongue and lips. Skinner resisted the urge to grab Krycek's head and fuck his mouth; he bit his lip and grabbed tufts of straw in his hands, but would not look away. The sight of Krycek's bedroom eyes gazing up at him while that soft mouth played with his cock was a wet dream made real. He wasn't ready to leave this world just yet.

But Alex had other plans. He began to mouth him, swallowing more of his cock each time he went down, till Skinner's eyes rolled back in his head. He felt Krycek pull away from him and he groaned in protest, until that wet, warm mouth was once again working him. Krycek's hand, which had been fisting the base of his cock, began to stroke behind his balls and Skinner lifted his hips in response. He felt a damp finger explore further, finding the cleft of his ass and his puckered hole. The fingertip teased at him, and Skinner cried out and braced his feet on the floor, lifting his ass. The finger at his hole pushed in, gently and steadily, stroking and exploring, until it found that spot that made him cry out. Then he felt himself coming, gushing into Krycek's mouth again and again.

He came back to earth slowly. He felt completely blissed out and too drained to even open his eyes. With his hands he reached down to pull the younger man to his chest. His kissed him, tasting his come on the other man's lips. "Give me a second. I'll return the favor," he mumbled. He felt a puff of air on his face and cracked open one eye to see Krycek grinning at him, as self-satisfied as the cat from Alice's wonderland.

The challenge was irresistible. He pushed Krycek back in the hay and went down on him. He was pleased at how quickly he could bring the younger man to completion. It had been more than a few years since he'd last had a cock in his mouth. He supposed that there were some skills that once learned, were never truly lost. He moaned as the other man came, writhing under him in the hay. His own cock twitched, excited at the younger man's response.

He moved up and kissed Alex. He pushed his tongue in the other man's mouth, enjoying their mingled flavors.

He pulled back and lay next to the other man as their breaths gradually slowed.

Skinner made a halfhearted move, as if to rise, and Alex turned and looked at him. "She cried," he said.

"What?" Skinner froze.

"You asked me what happened. With Scully." Skinner turned to stare at him. "At the homestead she found some family pictures." He shrugged. "I guess they reminded her of her own family - of everything she's lost and . . . she cried. God, did she cry," he trailed off and looked up at the ceiling, focusing on nothing. "The next day.she was sad and quiet but not as lost. She seemed almost, well, at peace."

Skinner was silent for a long time. Alex looked over at him. Skinner lay with his arm covering his eyes. A muscle twitched in his jaw. It never occurred to him until just then that Skinner had also lost a family in the aftermath of the invasion.

He bit his lip and considered his options. Finally, he rolled over and cautiously laid his head against Skinner's shoulder, slowly stretching his arm across the other man's chest. He scarcely dared breath as he waited for his offer of comfort to be accepted or rejected.

After a long moment, Skinner's arm came down and wrapped around Krycek's shoulder. He found Krycek's hand with his own and twined their fingers together.

Without turning he spoke. "Thank you for telling me."

Alex nodded. He ignored the single tear that rolled down Skinner's cheek.

Neither of them seemed interested in moving. They were quiet for a long time, until Krycek finally offered. "I think the dog has helped too. Gives her something to look after, worry about."

Skinner turned to look at him. "That's not a dog."

Krycek began to laugh, slowly at first, then with growing hilarity. Skinner joined him, till they were both roaring.

Skinner struggled to his feet first and held out a hand to Krycek. They straightened their own clothing, once again separate, but not like before.

At the door, he turned to Krycek. "Hey," he said.

"Yeah?"

"I'll make breakfast, then we'll go take that hike, check out the creek. Find a place to hook up the generator. I'm tired of creeping about in the dark every night."

The younger man nodded. "Yeah. Okay."

They looked at each for a few moments longer, a space of time in which a tacit agreement of peace was drawn up between the old enemies.

The rules of engagement had changed.

After lunch the three of them went exploring. They found the perfect spot for the generator not far from the cabin. A sudden drop in the stream's path created a waterfall that would turn the turbine at enough rpm's to generate a moderate amount of electricity. The reserve battery would charge over night when their usage was low, and could be drawn down during the day and evening.

Balancing carefully, Scully stepped from rock to rock until she was in the middle of the stream. Crouching down, she dug around the cold water for a handful of pebbles. Sorting through them, she offered a small bunch to Krycek. Alex looked from her small hand to her face, puzzled. "For your project," she explained.

"Oh." The woman knew how to surprise him. "Well, these won't do at all," he said. Crouching down, he scooped another handful from the icy stream, spread them out on a rock, and flicked off the ones he didn't want. "See. They need to be flat. Disk-like. And no wider than your baby fingernail, Dana. Even a little smaller. And they don't need to be circular. I'll need irregular shaped ones to fill in the edges."

"The edges of what?" Skinner stood looking down at them. The expression on his face hinted at his suspicions that the other two might be replicants.

Scully squinted up at him. "For Alex's project."

"What project?"

She looked at Krycek slyly and said, "I don't know, he won't tell me. Maybe you'll have better luck getting information from him, Walter."

Alex flushed, thinking of their tête-à-tête in the barn this morning and how, just after he came, Skinner could have asked him anything and he would have sang like a canary.

He gazed at Skinner through spiky lashes, feeling abashed. "It's nothing really. Just a little project I started before you and Scully got here. Something to keep me busy. And to." he trailed off.

"And to what?" Skinner urged him to continue.

"To replace something I lost years ago."

Scully piped in, "Haven't you seen his collection? He has a large jar full on the desk in the corner."

Alex changed the subject by asking Skinner some questions about the site. The other man took the hint and Alex was grateful. They chatted some more while Scully fished for pebbles. Alex noticed Skinner shiver, and suggested they return to the cabin. He took a step towards Scully, offering a hand. She reached for him, wrapping her arms about his neck while he swung her to the bank. She smiled her appreciation and held out a palm full of pebbles, which he pocketed with a quick thanks. "These look perfect," he said.

As she walked away Alex frowned, counting back in his head. It had been just over a month since he had found the other two in the highland meadow. A month since he had lifted Scully onto the pack horse and led the two of them to the warmth of the cabin. He realized that after all those weeks, her belly hadn't changed in size. Her baby wasn't growing.

He'd seen this pattern before, and the implications of what it meant for Scully and her baby left him feeling sick with foreboding. He remembered the night they first made love and his suspicions then about the conception of the child she carried.

He hoped he was wrong. He prayed he was wrong.

The shiver that ran through him had nothing to do with the falling temperature.

Their days fell into a pattern. They took turns cooking and cleaning. Other chores fell to each as their interests dictated. Scully experimented with various dairy products; her background in bacteriology useful in a way she could have never anticipated. She spent her mornings in the kitchen and often napped in the afternoon.

The animals were Alex's domain and they kept him busy early mornings and before supper.

Skinner took up residence in a side room off the barn that had been built, it seemed, as potential workshop space. Solar panels on the slanted roof kept the building cozy. Before the generator could be installed, or power lines strung to the cabin, the battery would need a small housing unit to protect it from the elements. So Skinner spent his afternoons in the workshop crafting the generator housing with Little A for company.

It amused Scully and Krycek that Little A seemed to deem that time as Skinner's. The dog appeared determined to share his company equally among his human companions. His mornings with Scully in the kitchen, which had become a laboratory for her experiments. And his nights of course were spent on Krycek's chest.

Krycek brought Scully his endless pails of milk and often joined her in the kitchen after breakfast. He was fascinated by Scully's meticulous attention to detail. Skinner, who had little interest in microbiology, spent most mornings fishing.

One morning a week after returning from their trip, Scully watched from the kitchen window as Skinner's figure disappear down the side of the mountain.

She called over her shoulder to Krycek. "Skinner's gone fishing."

Alex nodded without looking up. "He does that."

She continued. "From this window, I can see when he returns."

Alex looked at her and found her gazing at him from over her shoulder, her gaze sleepy and full of promise. Alex swallowed, scarcely daring to believe the invitation she seemed to be offering.

He walked slowly towards her, until he was just behind where she stood facing the windows, his length brushing her back. He rested his hand on the counter, leaning over her. "Right here?" he asked. "You can see him from here?" He leaned his head down next to hers, but instead of gazing out the window to where the stream slipped down the mountain side, he studied the redhead's face, intrigued when a small pink tongue licked the corner of her mouth.

"Yes," she breathed. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. He felt her body melt back against his own.

"How long was he gone yesterday?"

"Two hours," she muttered between kisses.

"As long as that, Miss Dana?" he asked as he nibbled on her lower lip. She smiled at the nickname, then gasped as his hand lifted to cup her breast. He found her nipple and closed his fingers around it.

"Oh." she whispered, rubbing her ass back against his growing erection. "Maybe he'll have better luck today. Come home earlier." she said.

"Oh, that would be bad. He should take his time. He enjoys it so much."

She lifted and arm and twined it around his neck. "God, I want you."

He growled in her ear, "I've missed this. Missed sleeping next to you."

He pulled at her pants, and she untangled her arms and pushed them off, till she was naked from the waist down. He opened his fly and fished his cock from his shorts.

He slipped his hand over the curve of Scully's ass, pushing his fingers between her thighs to find her warm slickness. She bit her lip when he pushed a finger into her, closed her eyes and leaned over the counter, resting her hands on the edge, and pushing her ass back towards him.

He pushed another finger inside her, feeling the tight opening blossom. He fucked her hard and slow with his fingers. He leaned forward to watch her face as he opened her. Her mouth fell open, her breath coming in shallow, open mouthed puffs. Her fingers tightened on the edge of the sink and she arched her back and pushed back onto his fingers. He brought his thumb up to circle her clit, then flicked at it over and over as she began to whimper, "Please, please, please."

"You ready for me?" His voice was low and hoarse.

"Yes, yes," she mewled.

He slid behind her, took his cock in his hand and smoothed pre-come over the glans. He fisted the base and pushed forward, finding her opening. He paused for a second, then pushed into her with one long, steady movement. She cried out, the friction of his cock stroking her so sweet, she had to vocalize her pleasure.

He rested his hand on her shoulder, pulling her back into him as he snapped his hips, bucking into her. She pushed back against him, angling her hips to find the best angle. Her opened mouth cries told him he was touching her just right.

He found one of her hands and pushed it down, rasping into her ear, "Touch yourself, Scully."

She balanced on one hand, stroking herself with the other. He steadied himself by grasping one slim hip as his thrusts sped up. Her cries grew louder and suddenly she was tightening around him as he hurtled toward climax, spurting into her.

Their respiration slowed and he slipped out of her, fastening his clothing before reaching to help her re-dress. He leaned against the counter, legs slightly spread, and pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around his back. He felt pleasantly buzzed and satiated as he occasionally pressed kisses to her forehead as they cuddled together.

At length, he pulled back to look at her. He smoothed the hair from her face, enjoying the vision of flushed cheeks and swollen lips. "Scully."

"Hmm," she breathed.

"I wasn't sure this would happen again." His words were half declaration, half inquiry.

She looked at him, hesitating, then pressed her lips to his. He held back for a moment before returning her kiss, exploring her lips and mouth, not needing to do anything more than enjoy this connection.

He pulled away slowly. "I think we should tell Skinner."

Scully jerked away from him, her eyes wide. "Tell him what?" she asked.

"That we...that we're lovers."

"Oh no. No. We can't." Her denial was emphatic.

"Are you ashamed?" he asked guardedly.

"No, of course not."

"Good. Cause I love what we do together in bed." He grinned at her crookedly. "And out of bed. And I want to do it more often." He paused, his expression growing serious. "I don't like sneaking around."

She flinched at that. Honestly was important to her. But telling Skinner about the two of them?

"Are you afraid of how he'll react?" Krycek asked.

"Of course I am."

"Because he wants you, too." It was a statement, not a question.

The look she gave him was incredulous. "That's ridiculous. He's always been a perfect gentleman around me."

"Well, after all, that is what he is, an officer and a gentleman." He smiled at her wistfully. "He would never make the first move, especially since he considers you Mulder's and would never poach. But I've seen the way he looks at you." He shrugged. "And I've always seen the way he treats you. I don't think even he realizes how much he wants you. But he does."

She looked down, eyebrows knotted while she pondered what he said.

Krycek didn't want to upset her, so he backed off, content to let her think for while. "I've got some stuff to do." He smoothed her brow with his hand, the brushed a soft kiss against her lips. "Don't worry, Dana. It'll work out."

But she did worry, or at least wonder.

She looked at Skinner differently. For the rest of the day she studied the way he reacted to her and noticed how intently he watched her move about the cabin.

At first, just at first, it made her self-conscious. Then it made her feel altogether different.

She caught Alex watching her watch Skinner. His steady gaze was both knowing and accepting. The implications made her flush with longing.

That night she lay stiffly, waiting for sleep to come while she considered Skinner, the wide empty space in the center of their bed, and the man across the hall. And when she fell asleep her dreams opened to her a taboo world that left her panties damp and made her blush red when she remembered them the next morning.

A few nights later, just before he set out for the barn, Alex left a note on the kitchen counter:

//
"I heard a neigh,
Oh, such a brisk and
melodious neigh it was.
My very heart
leaped with the sound."
//

Skinner found it first and grinning, handed it to Scully, who wondered aloud if it was possible for two men to breath the same air without becoming competitive.

But Scully, who was hard-wired with her own need to over-achieve, spent the evening pouring through Mulder's poetry and reference books.

In the morning, Alex found her offering tucked into the frame of the bathroom mirror. His shout of laughter roused Skinner from bed.

//
"The poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.
Gilbert K. Chesterton "
//

Scully smiled at the sound of the two men laughing together, before rolling over on her side and drifting back to sleep. Her plan was taking shape.

Alex also smiled as he made his way to the barn in the pre-dawn shadows.

The peace between him and Skinner seemed real. The other man now looked him in the eye, asked him direct questions, and included him in conversations.

Sometimes, he thought about their encounter in the barn, and his cheeks flushed with heat. He suspected that their quick and enormously satisfying romp in the hay would never be repeated; Skinner never alluded to it, never hinted by word or deed that he wouldn't mind a rematch. So Alex swallowed that disappointment. It was enough, he told himself, that he was now part of Skinner's charmed circle. He could almost feel the man enfolding him in the same protective embrace that he used to shelter Scully.

He was no longer just tolerated. He was now one of Skinner's people. He belonged.

Part Seven

Notes: Lyrics quoted from "Keeping the Faith" by Billy Joel. Used without permission. Poem "Stars" by Sara Teasdale used without permission.

Walter Skinner was a man who knew the value of setting goals. In the first aimless days after making the long journey from Saigon to SeaTac to home, he felt as though he would suffocate from feelings of hopelessness. When he realized that deciding on one or two tasks each day and successfully completing them kept the despair as bay, he systematically developed a list of chores to structure his days and give him the feeling of having some control. In the beginning, it had been as simple as getting up at the same time each day and taking a shower. Over time, he was able to add to his list till he found a workable solution for his life, until finally, he was able to return to school and apply to the academy.

He used those lessons he learned upon returning as an unwelcome veteran of an unpopular war to find balance and give purpose to his existence. They aided him throughout the rest of his life, especially during the particularly stressful stretches.

In this new world where he lived with Dana Scully and Alexander Krycek, he found dealing with life one day at a time was the only way to get up each morning. If he allowed himself to think about the bigger picture - that life as he knew it was utterly gone - he would lose his mind. So he learned, as a coping mechanism, to focus on the minutiae of small details needed to support their life. He couldn't control what happened to the rest of the world. But he could bring order, structure and a sense of ownership to his small mountain-top world.

So to the growing list of tasks he kept in his head, he added one more: sex with Alex Krycek.

For Walter, it had been too so long since sexual gratification included another person. It had been too long since he'd felt sexual, period. In the first months after the invasion and the plague, all his energy was focused on getting Dana Scully to safety and keeping himself alive to watch over her. When they finally found the cabin, that bout with pneumonia further undermined his energy. Even morning erections were rare and fleeting.

Until...

Until his fight with Alex in the barn. When he realized he was hard, he wondered what kind of a sick fuck he'd become, popping a boner while beating on someone. Then he felt Alex's erection and he stopped thinking.

He remembered the feeling of coming in Alex's mouth. The memories would surface at the most inconvenient times and he'd have to tip his head to hide a flush of desire or stay seated until his erection softened.

In the first days after their encounter in the barn, he'd carried the feeling of immense satisfaction from having the raven-haired spy figuratively on his knees. Then he began to realize how gratifying it had been to make Alex whimper with need, then come apart as he brought him to completion. A couple of lines from a song ran through his head: "I thought I was the Duke of Earl when I made it with a red-haired girl in the Chevrolet." The details were different, but the feeling Billy Joel described was exactly what Walter experienced. He caught himself humming the tune under his breath while he toiled in his workshop.

Soon, the memories weren't enough. He wanted that feeling again. He needed that feeling again. He went to bed each night and woke each morning with a yearning in his belly for another taste of what he and Alex shared in the barn.

Right after their encounter, he avoided of the younger man. He timed his trips to his workshop at times when Alex was finished with the animals. He told himself it could never happen again. Once before, he ignored an overwhelming attraction for Alex Krycek because he knew it was bad for him. He could ignore the itch again, Or be satisfied with scratching it himself. But lust whispered in his ear - why not? Why not indulge? He had no career to protect. And he'd given up on the idea of feeling guilty over sex with a man in Vietnam. So why deny himself?

Only two things really stood in his way. One was his concern over how Dana would react if she found out. Would she feel betrayed? Alone and unneeded? A third wheel? Or would she be disgusted by the idea of two men together?

His gut told him that Dana Scully was one of the most just and tolerant people he knew. But she was the daughter of a career military man. The military had a long history of intolerance toward homosexual relationships. Who knew what Captain Scully's prejudices were and what he might have instilled in his young daughter's psyche?

The second was the question of Alex himself. Did Alex feel the same hunger for an encore that he did? Although their encounter had been rather vanilla, it was still undeniably gratifying. But he longed to explore further territory and wondered if maybe, Alex did too.

On the surface, the triple-agent seemed unaffected by their encounter; almost as though it never happened. His indifference was nearly enough to convince Walter to give up. But he was very much aware that Alex Krycek was a trained operative, as wily at maintaining a poker-face as any high-stakes roller.

And Walter Skinner had undergone training of his own. His skills at reading people, though rusty, were formidable. Alex was an enigma but with the right information, even his fathomless code could be broken and read.

With this in mind, Walter began his reconnaissance.

He included Alex in his discussions with Dana. Sought him out during chores just to shoot the breeze. He asked his opinion and looked him in the eye. Smiled at him.

He invaded the younger man's personal space and observed his reaction, cataloging every twitch, facial expression, even the rate and quality of his respirations.

Sometimes he allowed himself to brush against the other man in the kitchen. He might lay a hand on Alex's shoulder as he walked past him in the living room. Once, when they were out hiking, he offered a hand to Alex and pulled him up to stand next to him on a small ledge. He held his hand longer than necessary and was elated to see how it flustered the former spy.

During his time alone, he analyzed Alex's reactions. All in all, he was pleased with the intelligence he was gathering. Alex was clearly not indifferent. He might even go as far to say that the other man was susceptible, but trying to combat it. It was time to change his mission and tactics from information gathering to an all out assault - beguilement and capture. Alex's palisades were towering and fortified. But someone with the right weaponry could breach his defenses.

It was while he was working on the housing for the hydrogenerator battery that it occurred to him that what he was trying to do was more than just trying to get in someone's pants. It was more than just cajoling a fuck-buddy. What he was doing was full-scale seduction. The seduction of Alex Krycek.

The thought flashed into his consciousness during the upswing of a hammer stroke and so confounded him that he flinched. The head of the hammer missed its mark and instead crushed his thumb and index finger.

It was Alex who found him, cursing and trying to staunch the flow of blood with the tail of his shirt. Alex had paled when he pulled away Walter's other hand and saw the gory appendages. He quickly dragged a protesting Walter to cabin where Dana could ply her skills.

Although the wound wasn't serious, it did keep Skinner out of the shop for several days. At first he was frustrated at the delay this caused in getting the hydrogenerator up and running. He wanted a reliable source of power before winter.

Then, he noticed the change in Alex's manner.

For his part, Alex had reacted to Walter's curious behavior with a skepticism bordering on distrust, which settled into a wary and tentative response. But after seeing his wounded and bleeding hand, something seemed to give in his attitude. He relaxed his guard; alert caution was replaced by concern.

Over the next few days Walter found, to his great surprise, that his efforts at seduction paid off in a manner he could not have imagined. Because Alex was someone he was beginning to truly like. He enjoyed his company, his sly wit, and tart observations.

In attempting to seduce a lover, he had found an intriguing companion.

The mellowed atmosphere between Walter and Alex affected Dana too. She allowed herself to be playful. Here, there was no male hierarchy she needed to impress; no double standard to she had to fight. Just two men that she liked.

Although Walter enjoyed spending time in the cabin watching Dana experiment with milk products and studying Alex, he chaffed at enforced delay that derailed his rigid time table.

So Alex and Dana prowled through Mulder's books to find him something to keep Walter busy.

"You know, things will only get worse as it gets colder," Alex commented.

At Dana's puzzled look he continued. "We need to find things to keep us busy this winter or we'll go stir crazy." That notion led them to the books they choose to carry to the living room to peruse further. How-to books on basket weaving and willow furniture were interspersed with field guides to North Carolina medicinal and edible plants.

While Skinner's hand healed, they planned a trip down the mountain to harvest what they could in the milder valley climate. For her part, Dana was thrilled. Weeks earlier, as she had grown more interested in her surroundings, she had cast a critical eye over their home and found it wanting. She began to explore the mountain, bringing back bits and pieces to add interest to the cabin. But much of the plant life she wanted had died in the early winter storm.

So on the next fine day, their regular schedule was ignored. Early that morning, after the cows were milked and other livestock fed and watered, Alex, Dana and Walter mounted saddled horses and headed for the base of the mountain.

Alex, who knew the mountain best, led the others down a deer path he had found during the summer months. It was a perfect autumn day; the kind that makes one pity those who live in the tropics and never experience the change of seasons. The air was crisp and clear, the mountain foliage so brilliantly colored in reds and oranges and yellows it made them catch their breath.

Their progress was slow and careful. They had to dismount several times to lead the horses by hand through steep terrain. After a couple of hours they stopped by a stream to allow the horses to slake their thirst.

Dana lay back on the hillside, enjoying the scenery. She turned to Walter and remarked, in a dreamy voice, "I wonder why the sky seems to different here on Krycek's mountain."

Skinner's eyebrows rose, but it was Alex who answered her. "Krycek's mountain? It's Mulder's mountain too."

"Yes, but Mulder never wanted this." Her voice was wistful as she gestured around her. "He wanted the truth. No matter the cost. He would not have been content here."

"Maybe he could have been content. If he'd found his sister."

Dane sat up and looked at Alex. "But he couldn't have found her. She died years ago."

He lifted an eyebrow at her. "Do you believe everything they want you to believe?"

"They?" She questioned.

He pulled a face at her.

"What are you saying, Alex? Samantha is dead. Mulder finally found out the truth about what happened to her."

When he didn't answer, she continued. "Are you trying to say she's alive?"

Alex shrugged, and she snapped at him. "Don't you dare do that. Exactly what do you know about Samantha?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything 'exactly'. But I know about Mulder's supposed revelation. I know about the 'walk-ins' and Harold Piller and Samantha's diary. It's exactly the kind of scam the consortium would set up. The whole story is suspect, especially the part about Samantha living as Spender's daughter."

"How do you know about all that?"

"How do you think?"

"Mulder?"

"Of course, Mulder. Who else?"

She frowned and Alex thought she looked hurt. "But why? Why did he tell you so much when he acted like he hated you and keep so much from me when we were so close? I thought I was his friend. His best friend."

"Hell, Dana. Mulder and I weren't friends. Not even close."

"But you were something to each other."

"We shared a history. We were both son's of the consortium. We became...comrades. Out of necessity. We both hated Spender and the rest of the old men. Hated how they were selling out the human race to save themselves. Hated their cowardice. The way they were willing to roll over instead of standing and fighting."

Skinner finally spoke. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

"Exactly. And we both lost a sibling to the cause. When Mulder came to understand that we were on the same side, we called a truce. And Dana, if he told me things he didn't tell you it's because he knew I wouldn't doubt him. I knew the things he said were true, no matter how fantastic they sounded. I knew what he said and believed were true because I had seen it all with my own eyes."

She still looked troubled, so he tried again. "Scully, you were the one who kept him grounded. I was just there when he needed to vent to someone who wouldn't think he was crazy."

She was quiet for a while, then asked, "If you knew Samantha was alive, why didn't you tell him?"

"Because I knew I could never produce her for him. I knew if I tried to tell him but couldn't back it up with facts - with a living and breathing Samantha - he'd never believe me again."

"So you let him suffer."

Walter interjected. "Dana, that's unfair. Alex didn't take Samantha."

"I know. It just seems, somehow, if he knew, he could have found a way."

"God Scully. Don't you think I tried? And not just for him? I lost a brother too. Why do you think I continued to work for those bastards once I was old enough to get away? Mulder thought he could find his sister - his truth - working from the outside. I was already in, Spender took care of that when he killed my parents. But I stayed in because I knew it was the best way to find Dmitrii. And maybe, just maybe, I'd find Samantha too."

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry Alex. I just...feel so angry sometimes.

"And you take it out on me." His voice was flat.

"No. I didn't mean..." She began.

"That's okay, Scully. I'm used to being a Mulder's whipping boy. Why not yours too?"

"Alex, it's not..."

He interrupted her. "Forget it, Scully. It doesn't matter." He turned and walked toward the horses, calling over his shoulder. "We need to get a move on. Let's go."

It was a quiet group that mounted up and continued down the mountain.

Dana, for all her cool self-possession, had a warm heart. She didn't like to cause anyone pain. She knew she'd hurt Alex, but was unsure of how to make it right. At one point, Walter leaned over and murmured that she should give him a little time to cool off. Alex might have a quick temper, but he regained his composure quickly.

For his part, Walter pondered over what he just learned. It never occurred to him that Alex had lost a brother in the same way that Mulder had lost Samantha. He wondered what he would do for the sake of love. To find or protect someone he loved. It made him view Alex's actions with a different perspective.

At eleven, it was decided that they had gone as far as they should. They needed to forage and gather, then pack the travois and return to the cabin by sundown. And the return trip would take longer with two full loads. So after a quick lunch along the banks of a small pond, they set to work.

Dana had a list of items she wanted to gather for the house, and set off towards a small glen west of the pond.

Her first priority was to gather items for a terrarium. The sight of Mulder's empty aquarium left a hollow spot in the pit of her stomach. So she decided to create a terrarium like her grandmother had when she and Melissa were young girls. The two had spent hours with their noses pressed to the glass of the miniature world, imaging a place populated with tiny fairies and other wee folk.

She collected club moss, ground and running pine, three kinds of ferns whose names she did not know, lichen and seedling yews and hemlock. Interesting rocks in a variety of colors and Spanish moss would landscape the tiny plants.

She also collected items to decorate their home. Pine cones and fallen branches twisted in interesting driftwood patterns were gathered along with dried grasses and ornamental flowers that could be hung upside down to dry. Yarrow and Gypsophila, straw flowers, heather and lavender were carefully cut and wrapped and would be arranged with pampas grass and miscanthus. There was astilbe and statice to fashion into wreaths and swags. In Mulder's loot she had found colorful fabric - turkey red and rich Federal blue. Over the long winter she would stitch table runners and curtains and throw pillows to add interest and warmth to their mountain home.

While Dana was in the glade, Skinner and Krycek moved the far end of the pond. Alex was calling out a direction to Walter when he looked up to find the other man staring at him intently.

"What?" he asked.

"She didn't mean it you know." Walter's voice was steady, his gaze direct.

"Of course she didn't mean it. Just like she won't mean it the next time she remembers who I am. Just like you won't mean it the next time you freeze me out or take a swing at me."

"Now who's being unfair?"

Alex shrugged. "I call them as I see them."

"Don't take it so personally. You're not the only one she's turned on. It's not like you're being singled out."

Alex looked at him quizzically.

"I've felt the sharp edge of her tongue. Hell, she even pulled a gun on me once."

"She what?"

"She pulled a gun on me. One time, a while ago, when she thought I was a threat to Mulder."

"Holy shit." His voice was full of wonder.

"Yeah. Protecting Mulder can bring out the mama lion in Scully." Walter smiled. "It wasn't you, Alex. It was the thought that someone, anyone, not helping Mulder."

"She pulled a gun on you?" He repeated it, as though he couldn't believe it, a small smile playing about his mouth."

Walter smiled too, happy that his words were affective. Then his smile faded and he looked away. He finally looked back and the expression in his eyes was bleak. "Do you know what's wrong with Dana's baby?"

It took Alex a moment to adjust to the sudden change of topic. He responded in a careful voice. "Why do you think something's wrong?"

"I lifted her on and off the horse several times this morning. On the way here, I had to lift her more than once. That was six weeks ago, and her belly doesn't feel any larger. I had been wondering, looking at her...it didn't seem as though the baby was growing. But I convinced myself that it was just the baggy clothing. But today?" He shook his head. "Her baby isn't growing. I'm sure of it."

Alex looked away.

"What?" Skinner demanded. "What do you know?"

"Specifically? Nothing. In general?" He shrugged. "I know those bastards weren't afraid to play God with people's lives. I know they had several projects that included using human women as incubators. Trying to develop hybrids." He paused. "I've seen this pattern before. Everything is fine the first four, five months, then the - products of conception - that was the term they used - the products of conception would stop developing."

"Do you think that's happening here?" Walter looked ill. "Do you think the baby is...?"

Alex shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe, maybe not. I just thought..."

"What?"

"I didn't think she was fertile."

"No, she wasn't. She was trying some new fertility treatment. There was an egg donor. Mulder told me he was acting as the sperm donor." Now Walter paused. "But according to Mulder, it hadn't worked. She didn't get pregnant with the treatment." Walter frowned, remembering. "It was right after he was taken that we found out she was, in fact, pregnant."

"So what happened? How did she get pregnant?"

"Christ, I don't know! You tell me. You were part of that mess."

Alex scowled at him. "Not me Skinner. I was just a peon. Do you think I would have allowed that to happen to her, had I known anything at all?"

"You allowed them to kidnap her."

"First of all, someone like me doesn't 'allow' them to do anything. They do what they want and you try your hardest to throw a monkey wrench in their plans and hope to hell they don't trace it back to you. Secondly, their first plan for Scully was to kill her outright! Would you have preferred that?"

"It made her sterile."

"It kept her alive."

Their voices had risen. They were breathing hard, staring at each other. Finally, Walter exhaled a long breath, then spoke. "I'm sorry. I just..." He ran a hand over his head. "I don't understand why you did some of the things you did."

Alex looked away from him for long moments, his mouth tight. He turned back to the other man and spoke. "Let me ask you something, Skinner. When you were in Vietnam, did you ever do something that you would never have dreamed of doing before the war? Something you'd never want your mother, or your wife, or even your friends to know about?"

Walter slowly nodded. "Yeah, maybe. So?"

"For the last ten years, I've been at war. It was a covert war, run a clandestine government. Despite that fact the Mulder has been trying to tell about it for the last five years, you just woke up to the fact a few months ago. Your obliviousness didn't make it any less real for those of us in the middle of the fight. It didn't make the things we had to do any easier."

Alex paused. "Mulder knew, he understood. That's why, despite everything, the two of us were able to find a way to build this place. You did things in Viet Nam, things you'll carry to your grave. I've done the same. As much as you want to hate and despise me for the things I've done, or what you think I've done, you don't hold the moral high ground here."

Walter started to speak, but Alex raised a hand to stay his words. "I'm not judging you Skinner. I'm just asking you to cut me some slack. Try to judge me with the same standard you wanted people to judge you with when you came back from Viet Nam. People called you guys baby-killers then. Didn't you want to tell them that it wasn't like that? Didn't you want to scream that they couldn't know what it was like unless they'd been there?"

He gave Skinner another long look before adding, "After all, when it comes right down to it, there really only one big difference between us."

At Skinner's questioning glance, he continued. "You volunteered for your war when you were eighteen, old enough to make your own choices. I was conscripted against my will when I was little more than a child."

There was nothing Walter could say in response to that. But his head was spinning.

His mind drifted back three decades, to the heat of a Southeast Asian jungle, and the war he fought there, both the undeclared conflict and his own personal battles. He wasn't proud of many of the things he'd done there, but it was war. The old rules, the ethic for living his parents indoctrinated in him - none of that mattered in the jungle. He had always said that Alex had played by his own rules. In that instant, he realized why. And he could finally see that Alex had risked himself over and over to keep Mulder safe, to keep Scully safe.

He wondered about the nanocytes. For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe, just maybe, the plan had been for him to die by nanocytes poisoning. Had Alex some how changed those plans? And at what price?

For years, there had been a small corner of his mind cordoned off for Alex Krycek. He kept a tight lid on it, knowing that he could barely control his thoughts or actions when it came to the other man, particularly when he remembered the nanocytes and a palm pilot held in a leather-gloved hand.

But now he wondered if his self-imposed prohibition against thinking about Krycek and their interactions kept him from developing any kind of perspective. Perhaps there was another side to the story. A side that could open him to the idea of forgiveness.

They worked quietly and efficiently. Dozens of willow branches were harvested and cut to precise lengths. Walter planned on making a variety of furniture, including a rocker for Dana and Adirondack chairs for the front porch.

One end of the pond where they had picnicked was wetland. From there they gathered bundles of reeds and bull rushes, which, along with smaller willow branches could be woven into baskets.

Skinner cut branches from basswood, red cedar, and sugar and white pine trees. It was good wood for whittling and he looked forward to hours of enjoyment, as well hoping to create useful implements.

A small pine was dug, it's root ball carefully wrapped. Ferns and other foliage plants were uprooted with the hope they would grow once planted into clay pots in the cabin. They found several nut trees and gleaned pecans, walnuts and almond. Ramps and wild ginseng were identified from a field book on native Appalachian species. A book on wild crafting taught them about wintergreen, witch hazel, and wild yams. Blackberries, buckeyes, sassafras and pleurisy root were harvested and carefully packed.

Alex's self-appointed job was to organize and pack the travois. He laid out the branches and bundles and bags. And found time to collect more tiny pebbles for his own collection. By three, he had arranged their plunder and convinced the other two that they had collected *enough*.

They made their way slowly up the mountain as the light faded from the western sky. Several times, Alex found Scully's worried gaze resting on him. And when they stopped to rest, she was particularly solicitous of him, offering him water and snack of nuts. He realized that she was anxious to make amends and the thought astonished him. As he helped her to her feet, he slipped off his glove and ran a knuckle down her cheek. He smiled down at her, trying to let her know without words that he wasn't angry. She gazed up at him, blinking rapidly, then grabbed his hand and pressed it against her face, before turning into it and kissing his palm.

Walter held back, watching the small drama from a distance. When Dana stepped away from Alex, he moved forward to help her onto her horse, and as he passed by a bemused Alex, he whispered, in a soft voice. "I told you so."

Despite the sharp words and tense discussions, Alex enjoyed their field trip to an extent that made him a little nervous. Spending the day with the other two had been pure joy. The three of them worked well together. He enjoyed watching Walter's mind work as he sorted through various issues. And Dana's thoroughness was fascinating to observe. He envied Mulder his years with her.

He wanted to believe that their relationship would continue to grow and improve. But experience had taught him to be wary. Each time he thought that life might throw him a bone, it seemed to delight in snatching it away. He knew better than to be complacent about his place in their small community.

He often pondered this and his precarious situation as he did chores. He had just finished grooming the horses, when he realized he wasn't alone in the barn. He looked up to find Walter watching him with a serious expression on his face and he felt his stomach drop.

"Krycek. You almost done here?" Walter's words and tone were brusque and they put the younger man on guard.

Alex leaned against the horse, taking a moment to collect his poise and smooth his expression.

Finally he looked up, not quite meeting other man's gaze. "Yeah. Just need to clean up." He said.

"I've got something back at the..." Walter began. He seemed to struggle for words. "I'm not sure how to say this."

Alex focused on a spot just beyond Walter's head. "Just say it." His voice was flat.

"Well, I don't want to presume. If I've overstepped my bounds, just tell me to back off. But," he took a deep breath, "I found your arm - your prosthetic, and I ah, I did some work on it. I'd like you to come in and try it on. See if it works for you."

Krycek blinked at him. "What?"

"Your arm. I found some epoxy in Mulder's loot. I built a curved clamp to hold the broken edges so I could glue them back together. Then I smoothed the edges. I don't think it will chaff your skin, but I want to be sure."

Alex frowned. "You fixed my arm?"

"Yeah." Walter smiled at him. "I want you to come try it on."

When Alex didn't move, Walter gazed at him searchingly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm just surprised, I guess."

"Okay, then. Come in the house when you're done here."

"Yeah. I'll be right in."

After the older man left, he leaned against the wall and shook his head.

They were waiting for him in the kitchen. A grinning Dana, Little A curled in her arms and Walter, who looked cautiously pleased with himself.

"You're in on this too, Dana?"

"No. Walter just showed me what he did. It's looks pretty good too." She grinned wickedly and added, "And he didn't even use duct tape."

Alex, still feeling surprised and uncomfortable with the idea of Walter and Dana examining what was left of his butchered arm, grinned weakly.

"Come on, Alex, up here on the table. I need you where I can see." He was startled by Walter's closeness; he looked up into a pair of warm, chocolate brown eyes focusing intently on him. He felt himself flush.

"I need you to take your shirt off." Alex nodded jerkily, and pulled it off, refusing to look at either of them. He didn't want to see the look on their faces when they saw what was left of his arm. Walter leaned forward and asked. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just do it."

"Okay." He seemed to understand that this wasn't easy for Alex, and he didn't want to prolong his discomfort. He picked up the plastic arm and then leaned over Alex, one hand resting on his shoulder, the other lifting the prosthetic onto the stump.

As Walter leaned closer, and Alex found himself inches from his chest. Its breadth seemed endless from this perspective, and he inhaled deeply, trying to control his rapid pulse. He could smell the lingering trace of soap from Walter's morning shower, muted by the man's own masculine scent. He remembered smelling it before, when they had rolled against each other in the hay, and he felt light-headed with desire. He bit his lip, trying to refrain from leaning against Walter's chest, from pressing his lips to the pulse point he could see in the other man's neck.

The hand resting on his shoulder dropped to cradle the top of the prosthetic as Walter twisted it gently, trying to fit it just right. His knuckles grazed Alex's chest, and the younger man caught his breath. Walter looked at him then, surprised to see his dilated pupils and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He saw that Alex's nipples were pebbled, and looked lower to see the tight pull of fabric over his crotch.

Walter stepped back, swallowing convulsively. "Try this for a half an hour. Then we'll check your skin for red marks. See if we have to adjust it further." He left the room quickly.

Alex slowly let his gaze refocus and realized that he'd been staring at Dana. And that she had been staring back at him. Could she know what he was thinking? He flushed and reached for his shirt.

She looked at him and then in the direction Walter had gone. Her expression thoughtful as she walked away.

Alex paced in his room, flexing his prosthetic, trying to get used to way it changed his balance and willing his cock to behave. Finally, he fled to the barn and was dismayed to find Walter already there. He could hear the other man, back in his workroom, puttering around, humming under his breath.

Walter heard him and came forward, offering that he was just coming to find him to check the prosthetic.

"I can do it," Alex protested.

"Really? And how are you going to see the back of your arm?"

Giving the other man a peevish look, he studied his boots as he slipped out of his flannel work shirt, pulled off his t-shirt and loosened the straps to the prosthesis. He slipped it off and laid it carefully aside. Walter examined the front of the stump, moving around Alex's side to view the back and underneath. There was a reddened area that concerned him. "I think we need to adjust it a little." he commented.

Walter had found some udder balm earlier, and rubbed it over the stump, starting at the back and working his way around to the front. He braced one hand on Alex's shoulder, as the other hand massaged the balm into the skin in long, smooth strokes. Facing Alex, he noted that the other man stood braced, his mouth open slightly, his eyes downcast. He suspected the other man hated this, hated having his scars exposed so openly.

As he stared down at the other man's face, his movements slowed, and Alex raised his gaze, looking up at him through thick, spiky lashes. A pink tongue slipped out to moisten his lower lip, his eyelids heavy. The hand on Alex's stump stilled, as Walter's breath caught. The hand on Alex's shoulder moved, fingers trailing across his chest, raising gooseflesh in their wake. He felt Alex shiver and saw him sway on his feet.

Walter swallowed and stepped away. Keeping his gaze locked on Alex's, he moved to the workshop, gesturing for the younger man to follow him. Alex grabbed his flannel shirt and slipped it on, then followed Walter, pausing at the door. From there he could see what Walter had been doing, and surprise stopped him dead in his tracks. In the far corner, several bales of hay had been arranged to form a platform. On top of it, a thick sleeping bag was unzipped and opened flat. On top of that were two pillows and some blankets.

Alex's eyes grew wide as he pondered the various interpretations of Walter's actions. If he didn't know better, he might think he was he being thrown out of the cabin, consigned to sleep here alone. But he suspected that Walter was thinking of something else. He felt his cock twitch. He moved further into the room, firmly shutting the door behind him, never taking his gaze from the other man's face.

Finally, Walter spoke. "The other morning, when we ah..." He gestured to the other part of the building and Alex nodded. He took a deep breath before continuing. "At first, I thought it was just, I don't know." He shrugged, struggling to find the words. "Sometimes there's a fine line between hate and ..." He trailed off, then found his voice again. "Other emotions. I've wondered about you. About what you thought about what happened. If you ever thought of it at all." He searched Alex's face intently. "Then earlier, while we were working on your prosthetic, I thought maybe...maybe there was something more." He drew a deep breath and looked directly into the other man's eyes. "If you're not interested, if I've made a mistake, I'll take this stuff," he nodded towards the make- shift bed, "back to the house and we never have to mention it again." He shrugged before continuing. "Maybe I misread what happened just now."

Alex moved closer to him. "No, you didn't misread me. I'm..." he swallowed. "Interested." Alex moved again, until he was within a meter of the other man. He gazed intently at Walter before speaking. "Will you meet me half-way?" His voice was low and breathy, and they both knew his question was about more than this encounter.

"Yeah." Walter rasped, feeling the tension of the last few hours leave his body. Then he nodded a yes to the other man and closed the distance between them, framing the other man's face with his hands. Leaning forward, he kissed him, gently at first, then with growing urgency, as Alex responded. He pulled away and looked at Alex's mouth, then into his eyes. "Your mouth should be registered as a lethal weapon."

Alex's eyes widened, then he smiled. "Yours too," he told Walter.

"Yeah?" the other man breathed.

"Christ, yes. I haven't come like that since I was a teenager."

Walter chuckled. "Same here." He tugged at Alex's hand and implored. "Come lie down with me."

Alex shuddered, and whispered "Oh, yeah." He moved to lie on the makeshift bed, urging Walter to follow him. He curled his hand behind Walter's neck and lifted his mouth. "Kiss me again."

Walter growled deep in his throat before slanting his lips against Alex's. He pulled at the other man's shirt, pushing it out of the way, then lowering his mouth to nip at the younger man's nipples. "God, I've been wanting to play with these." He licked and pulled at first one, then the other. Once they were hard and aching, he wrapped his lips around one and sucked hard, pulling the flesh into his mouth, working it with his tongue. Alex almost shot off the bed.

"Good?"

"Christ, yes. Don't stop."

"Shhh. Just for a minute. Gotta get these clothes off." He stood and undressed quickly as Alex watched him.

"God, you're beautiful." Alex said without thinking.

Walter arched an eyebrow at him. "Are you crazy?"

"Trust me, Walter. I've been trained to recognize quality."

"Shut up and get up here. If you're not going to take those clothes off, I'll do it for you."

He was on his feet and pulling his shirt off before Walter could take another breath. The other man pulled him close, rubbing his furry chest against the younger man's smooth skin. One hand slipped down tracing the cleft of his ass. "I want to be in you," he rasped. With one finger he pushed firmly against the seam of Alex's jeans. "Right here."

"Wait." Alex pulled back, his expression anxious. "Won't Dana hear us?"

Walter leaned down to nibble on Alex's neck. "Not a chance. Remember last week, when I crushed my thumb. I screamed and cursed and neither one of you heard a thing."

Alex moaned as Walter found the lobe of his ear and tugged it with his teeth. "What if she can tell we've been..."

"What? Fucking like bunnies?" Skinner grinned. "We'll just make sure we destroy the evidence before she sees us. We can wash up out here. I'll wash you."

Alex shuddered and groaned, his lips seeking and finding Walter's nipples, nibbling at them with his lips before sucking one into his mouth. Walter fisted his hands in Alex's hair, throwing his head back, feeling the tension build in his balls.

He reluctantly pulled Alex away. He lifted his thumb and stroked it along Alex's pink lips, watched as they opened and captured the tip, sucking it into his mouth, playing his tongue over it before sucking on it strongly. "You're playing with fire, Alex," he warned in a hoarse voice.

Alex smiled around the thumb in his mouth, his lids falling further over bedroom eyes. He looked, Walter thought, like a fallen angel. Pulling away, he stared into to the other man's face as he lowered the dampened thumb to Alex's nipple, circled it, then pinched it. Alex groaned, tipping his head back and Walter leaned down to capture a small, elfin ear with his mouth and worry it between his teeth.

He finally pulled away from him and with trembling hands, stripped the rest of Alex's clothing, before pulling him down. Under one of the pillows, he pulled a tube of lubricant. Alex grinned at him. "More of Mulder's stash?"

Walter smiled back, coating his fingers with a generous amount of the clear gel. "Roll over for me."

Alex swallowed, a fiery bolt of sensation curling down to his toes. He felt hot and flushed as he turned onto his stomach. His breath came in short little pants and he wondered if he would embarrass himself by hyperventilating. In his head, this act had been forbidden for so long, the thought of finally yielding made him feel giddy and lightheaded with lust. Just the thought of what they were going to do made his balls lift and tingle.

Walter traced a hand down his flank and felt the other man tremble. "Are you cold?" Alex shook his head, unable to speak. "Spread you legs for me, Alex. I need to open you up."

He did as Walter asked and felt exposed and wanton. He lifted his ass, seeking the other man's touch.

"Easy, Alex. I want to take my time with you." Walter traced down the cleft of Alex's ass with one finger, pausing at the tiny knot of muscle, before moving further to stroke the sensitive skin between his balls and asshole. Alex groaned, trembling harder.

Walter leaned down to rain kisses over his neck and shoulders, whispering in his ear. He continued to explore Alex's cleft, pausing a little longer each time he reached his hole, holding the blunt tip of one finger against it, feeling it warm and blossom under the gentle pressure. He assumed that it had been a while since Alex had taken anyone up his ass. He didn't want to cause him any pain by rushing him. Besides, he loved the little noises Alex was trying to suppress and hoped this drawn-out ass play would increase their volume and frequency.

He focused now on just Alex's hole, circling around it, then dipping just inside it. Finally, he pushed gently, and felt his finger tip breach the opening. Alex cried out in surprise. "Did I hurt you?" Walter asked anxiously.

"No. It just feels..." his voice trailed as he struggled to describe this new sensation. "Strange, but good." Walter had frozen, and Alex lifted his hips, trying to push the finger further inside him. "Don't stop," he pleaded.

But Walter pulled away and rolled the man over to face him. "Haven't you ever done this before?"

Alex shook his head no.

"You've never been with a man before?"

"No, I mean yes. Yes. Just not like this. Only blow jobs."

"So you're a virgin."

"Well yeah, when it comes to anal sex." He pulled back, frowning. "Is that a problem?"

"Are you sure you want to do this? There are other things we can do with each other."

He pulled Walter down to kiss him. "I want to do all of those things. But right now, I want this."

Walter pulled him close and kissed him fiercely.

Finally Walter pulled back, looking at the other man in wonder. "Why me?" he asked.

Alex felt his throat tighten, remembering all the years he had kept the other man under his own private surveillance, realized that this is what it had all been leading to. Honesty was one thing, but he wasn't sure he was ready to expose himself so completely yet. Without thinking, he spoke lightheartedly, "Cause you're the last man on earth?"

Walter's eyes widened, then he threw his head back, laughing uproariously, hugging Alex to his chest. Grinning foolishly, Alex tucked himself against the other man, enjoying the sound of his mirth rumbling through his chest. Walter finally pushed away, looking down at his former agent. "Christ Alex, you're one surprise after another."

"But in a good way this time, right?" Alex almost cringed as he heard how needy he sounded, but Walter's response reassured him.

"Oh yeah," Walter breathed. He ran a hand down Alex's body, raking his naked length with his gaze. "When you're good, you're very good. But when you're bad..." his leaned down to kiss the other man, "you're even better..."

Alex laughed at Walter's Mae West imitation. "Don't quit your day job."

Walter leaned over and nipped his lip, then pulled back to look at him intently. "No, I mean, why did you wait so long?"

The younger man shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I never wanted it before."

Walter looked at him thoughtfully, measuring what Alex said, and what he didn't say, before deciding to let it go for the moment.

Alex pulled him close and kissed him hard before pulling back to gaze at him. "So, we gonna do this?"

Walter nodded, his smile full of promise.

"Have you ever done it before?" Alex asked.

"What? Let some guy fuck me?"

Alex nodded.

"Yeah, but it's been a while. Not since 'Nam."

"Did you like it?"

"God yes. Some people think men were built for anal sex. They have a spot inside, and when a cock strokes it just right, it's like nothing you've ever felt before."

Alex swallowed, feeling his balls tighten and his ass clench. He wanted to feel Walter's cock stroke him just like that. He smiled at the other man then kissed him quickly before turning over and wiggling his ass. "If you don't want to get a reputation as a cock tease, Skinner, you'll finish what you started."

Walter grinned at him before pulling out the lube and coating his fingers again. He had found a place on Alex's neck that seemed particularly sensitive. He bent to nibble on it as he once again began the process of relaxing Alex. He played with the sensitive flesh in Alex's crack for long moments, before pulling back so he could watch the other man's face for signs of discomfort. He pushed his finger against Alex's hole and breached the opening. The other man's face grew slack, his mouth falling open and the tiny knot of muscle twitched around his finger. He felt Alex work his muscles, twitching around the tip of his finger, and groaned. He imaged those same muscles twitching around his cock and pushed forward until his digit was buried to the first knuckle.

"God yes, Walter. Gimme more."

He pushed forward and felt Alex's muscles gripping him, pulling him in. He pushed till he could go no further. He pulled back, then pushed in again, fucking Alex slowly with his finger. Alex groaned into his pillow, moving his hips. Walter pulled out then added more lube to his fingers. "I'm going to give you a second finger now. I need you to relax," he coached. "You okay?"

Alex nodded, panting carefully as he adjusted to two fingers in his ass. "I'm going to go deeper now," Walter warned.

"Do it," Alex grunted, then cried out as Walter turned his hand and stroked him deep. "Dear god, what was that? Do it again."

Walter grinned. "That's your prostate, Alex. When I get my cock in you and start thrusting, you'll need to help me make sure I'm angling just right. And when you come, I promise it will be unlike anything you've ever experienced before."

"Oh god. Hurry, damn it. I want you in me now."

"Just wait, I don't want to hurt you." He pushed in again, finding Alex's prostate, then pulled back before pushing in once more. For long moments, he fucked him that way, till Alex was writhing, begging for his cock. He pulled away and urged Alex to roll on his side so they lay ass to cock. With unsteady hands, he coated himself liberally with lubricant. He fisted the base of his cock with one hand and wrapped his other arm under Alex's chest, pulling him close. "That's it, Alex, relax and let yourself open to me."

Alex's eyes widened as he felt something nudge his asshole. Oh god, that was a hell of a lot bigger than Walter's fingers.

Walter felt him tense up. "Take a deep breath, that's it. Try to relax while I push into you. It might burn a little, but once the head pops in, the rest will slid in smooth as silk. I promise."

Alex did as he was told, and felt himself stretched impossibly. He wondered why the hell he ever thought he wanted this. He gasped, feeling incredibly uncomfortable. But Walter stayed with him, hugging him to his chest, whispering words of encouragement in his ear. He took a deep breath and pushed back, crying out as he felt Walter's plum shaped cock- head press through his opening and push inside. Suddenly the burning subsided, and he felt unbelievably full. It wasn't painful, just different. He could feel Walter behind him, his body hot and sweaty, breathing harshly in his ear. He twitched his ass muscles experimentally.

"Christ don't do that or I'll shoot right now." Walter warned. "Just give me a sec, okay?"

Alex lifted Walter's hand to his mouth and kissed it, closed his eyes and basked in the feeling of being held by this big gentle man he had dreamed about for so long. He stroked Walter's arm and caught his breath. He felt his hole warm and loosen around Walter's cock. He pushed back against the other man who asked him, "You ready for more?"

"Yeah, I want it all."

He felt Walter push into him, amazed at the riot of sensations he was feeling as Walter's cock entered him fully, crying out as it brushed his prostate. "God!"

"Right there, Alex?" He pulled back and pushed into him again.

"God yes, do that again." And Walter did, fucking him slowly, allowing his cock head to drag against Alex's sweet spot, loving the way the younger man cried out and writhed in his arms.

He felt the tension build at the base of his spine, and he began to push faster, snapping and rolling his hips. Alex was crying out, "Ah, ah, ah," and without having his cocked touched, he came, spurting ropes of come over his chest and Walter's arm. Walter felt Alex tighten around him, squeezing his cock rhythmically as he came and he drove into the younger man madly, bellowing out as he reached his own orgasm, spurting over and over into that hot, tight channel.

They returned to the cabin separately. Walter had heated water and washed them both. The sight of Walter soaping his own cock would fuel Alex's fantasies for months to come.

That night after supper, he waited until Dana had left the room before lowering himself carefully into his favorite chair. He winced slightly as his ass settled into the upholstery. He looked up to find Walter watching him, his expression concerned. He smiled at the other man, who smiled back at him, before he dropped his gaze to the book in his lap. Alex picked up his own book, and stared at the pages without seeing.

Although he was a little sore, he was satiated too. His mind ran over the images and sounds and sensations of the afternoon. He'd never imagined sex with another man could be like that. He shuddered as he recalled the force of his orgasm. And as much as he loved the act itself, and wanted to do it again and again, he came to the conclusion that the best part was what came after. Walter had pulled out of him carefully, then turned him over and pulled him to his chest. He pulled a comforter up over them wrapped his arms around him, occasionally running a hand through his hair or pressing a kiss to his nose or lips. They lay together, sweat cooling, as their pulses slowed and their respirations evened out.

Walter found the cross at his neck. He leaned over Alex to study it, then asked him about it. Alex told him a little about his Grandmother. It felt good to share with a man who looked at him with chocolate brown eyes as smooth and deep as velvet. And when Walter asked Alex what they should do about Dana and her baby, Alex answered "be prepared for the worst." Then Walter pulled him close and Alex realized that whatever happened, they were in it together.

Two nights later, Walter was awakened by someone insistently shaking his arm. He looked up to see Alex bent over him.

"Walter, wake up."

"What time is it?"

"Late, or early, depending on how you look at it. Come on, get dressed. Then grab your pillow and come outside."

He lifted himself up to peer at Alex through sleepy eyes. He saw the grin tugging at the other man's mouth, the air of mischief about him and felt a twinge that ran straight to his groin.

"Alex, what are you up to?"

But Alex was moving around the bed to Dana and was urging her awake with the same words, "Get dressed, grab your pillow and come outside." And then he was gone.

Dana looked at Walter, her expression confused. Walter shrugged in response and the two slipped out of bed to pull sweats on over their sleep wear. Walter snagged two pillows and joined Dana in the mud room where they pulled on coats and gloves and hats.

The stepped outside where Little A greeted them with excited barking, dancing around their ankles and urging them off the porch to the front lawn where Alex lay on a mounds of sleeping bags. Alex jumped up when he heard the door shut and came forward to take the pillows from Walter's hand. "Dana, you get in the middle. Walter, you take that side. Lay down, flat on your back." Alex got them settled, then pulled a comforter over the three of them."

Walter was fusing with it, making sure it covering them all when he heard Dana's gasp. He looked up to finding her pointing toward the sky above. "A shooting star. Look! Another one." she cried. "It must be the Leonids. I'd forgotten about them. Alex, how did you know?"

"Little A woke me up. Had to go out. For some darn reason I decided to admire the sky. Looked up and saw three stars fall in row and realized it was mid-November. Decided you two would enjoy the show too."

Without looking away from the display above her head, Dana breathed a heartfelt thank-you.

"Yes, Alex. Thank you.'" Walter echoed. "I don't think I've seen a sky like this since Vietnam."

Alex turned to look at Walter, who was watching him, instead of the sky, a warm smile lighting up his face. "You're welcome." he said. The stared at each other for a long moment, before turning to stare at the wonder above them.

For the next hour, the three lay together watching the night sky, keeping each other warm. Mostly silent, but once in a great while exclaiming over a particularly intense display.

Finally, they rose and went back to the house, Dana yawning hugely with Little A cuddled in her arms. They shucked their outer wear, and stumbled to the back of the cabin, where Dana turned to hand the dog to Alex.

"Naw, he can stay with you. I'm getting up in a bit to milk anyway." He turned abruptly and went into his room."

Once in bed, Dana lay on her back looking up at the ceiling, unable to fall off to sleep. Walter, she knew, lay awake on the other side of the mattress. With a sign, she rolled over to look at him, rearranging Little A so he lay next to her.

"Walter."

"Yes, Dana?"

"It's not right that Alex should sleep alone."

"What?"

"Alex. It's not right that he should sleep alone. Besides, it's silly to heat that bedroom when the three of us could share this one. This bed is plenty big."

Walter, who had been wondering how to bring this idea up with Dana, was almost speechless. "Well, won't his getting up early to chore disturb you?"

"I'll sleep in the middle. He can slip out of bed and I probably won't even hear him"

"What if he doesn't want to share a room? Maybe he likes his privacy at night?"

"Then that will be his choice. But I want him to have a choice." Her voice was firm.

"He's a proud man. What if he sees it as a pity thing?"

"So, we'll wait till the weather breaks. Make it sound like it's the smart thing to do. Close off a room. Save fire wood. Share warmth. What do you think?"

"I think you should be the one to bring it up. When the weather breaks." Walter agreed.

With that settled she curled up into her pillow, pulled the dog close, and drifted off to sleep. Walter stared at her for a while, bemused, before he too, fell back to sleep.

Neither of them could imagine that what finally brought Alex Krycek to their bed would nothing as benign as a cold snap.

When they finally rose long after dawn had streaked across the eastern sky, Alex was still in the barn, but left behind a note for them to enjoy:

Alone in the night on a dark hill
With pines around me spicy and still,

And a heaven full of stars over my head,
White and topaz and misty red;

Myriads with beating hearts of fire
That aeons cannot vex or tire;