Mulder looked preoccupied, worried, stressed. Typical, in fact. Maybe
a little paler, a bit
more tired, than usual, but still there... still perfect for his needs.
He tracked his prey
across the street, through the park and over to the apartment building.
Waiting until enough
time had elapsed to be sure that Mulder was safely in, he passed as
silently as a shadow
through the side alley and into the back entry, making certain to remain
unseen. As he ran
lightly up the stairwell, he mentally calculated the odds. It was almost
eleven, there were
few people out on the streets this late. He should be able to pull
it off and get out unseen.
On the other hand, if there was a witness, his nine millimeter had
a silencer. And the trank
darts were strong enough to stop a mountain lion. One FBI agent, no
matter how paranoid,
shouldn't be a challenge.
He rested outside the anonymous door, regulating his breathing in a
manner that was
second nature by now, listening intently to the muffled television
noises, the rumble of the
answering machine, the muted gurgle of the fish tank. One shuffling
thunk, then another, as
the shoes were kicked off. A short click and tiny rush of air as the
tab was pulled on a
drink, then the silence of a tired man after a long day at a difficult
job. He counted down,
twenty, nineteen, taking his time, doing it right. No more messups.
He couldn't afford them.
No partners now to shoot the wrong person, whether his or Mulder's.
No witnesses. It was
too damned important. Wouldn't do to break the door in... not enough
time, and too many
ears along the corridor. At the end of his countdown, he scratched,
lightly as a cat, then
scratched again. The timbre of the silence changed, from relaxed to
alert, and the footfalls
toward the door were soft and wary. He was unaware of the smile playing
about his lips as
he ducked slightly, pushing the blank envelope he had brought along
against the bottom
edge of the door. A pause, then the slightest hint of rustling cloth,
as his target bent to peer
under the door, seeing the deliberately blocked light, misunderstanding
the reason, thinking
it was a clue in his never-ending quest, when in actuality it was—
The door opened a crack. A strong hand shoved quickly, forcefully, startling
Mulder.
Before he could raise his gun, the other man's gun spat once. He clutched
at the dart buried
in his stomach, fought the conflicting urges to faint and to attack,
and swayed as the room
began to tilt. His dark haired assailant pushed him none too gently
back into the living room
and shut the door.
It was bait in the trap. To trap the bait. Alex Krycek smiled gently
and leaned forward to
catch Mulder as the world went black.
His eyes were swimming. And his stomach hurt. And he couldn't move his
arms. Hell of a
way to wake up... he must've fallen asleep at a really weird angle
on the couch to have such
a neck ache... Gradually, the realization filtered through Fox Mulder's
mind that something
was—not quite right. The first thing that registered was the fact
that he was naked. And he
didn't usually sleep naked. One never knew when the MIBs would break
into the apartment
and take one for a 'little ride', and being nude when that happened
was just too humiliating
to even consider. Then there was the distinct sensation of carpet fibers
pressing against his
side and legs. Last time he'd checked, his couch had not been upholstered
with shag carpet.
Finally, there was the undeniable fact that his arms weren't asleep.
They were bound. By
metal. He was handcuffed to something, but his eyes weren't cooperating
and he couldn't
quite focus on his surroundings. And he was very much afraid that any
minute now he was
going to throw up. Not a good way to wake up.
Sunlight filtered through a tiny window set high into the wall, casting
swaying shadows on
the sparsely furnished room. A small table, a single chair, and two
wrought iron bars set
into the wall... he forced himself to assess his surroundings, trying
to remain professional,
and trying to think of anything other than the nearly overpowering
urge to vomit. Whatever
the hell had been in that dart had been strong enough to set his system
spinning. He pulled
himself painfully to a seated position and continued to scan the room.
The ridges on the wall
behind him, and the approximate six foot separation of the iron bars
made him think that at
one time they had been the endpieces of a bookcase built into the wall.
Now, they made a
very effective prison. He eyed the chain binding his wrists to one
bar and his left ankle to
the other, mentally trying to find a way out. Nothing was immediately
apparent.
A rat in a trap. Alex grinned nastily to himself at the description,
then let himself into the
room, making no effort at stealth. Mulder's head swung away from his
rapt contemplation
of his ankle chain, a little too quickly to judge by the suddenly green
hue of his face. As he
fought valiantly to control his stomach, Krycek settled into the lone
chair and regarded him
with mock sympathy.
"Poor Fox. Got his leg in a trap and his tummy doesn't feel too good,
either, now does it?"
Mulder suppressed a growl, keeping his teeth clenched against the nausea,
and he laughed
softly. "It'll pass pretty soon, Mulder. There wasn't anything toxic
in it," he reassured him
with touching, if utterly false, concern, "and the effects are relatively
fast to dissipate."
Mulder tried to ignore the fact that one, he hated this man more than
any other single
individual on the face of the earth with the possible exception of
Cancerman, and two, he
was unable to rip his throat out like he really wanted to because he
was chained naked to a
wall. He forced himself to face his nemesis, chanting "His day will
come" silently to himself
like a mantra against his own helplessness. Eventually, he calmed down
enough to be able
to watch his former partner with something close to his usual equanimity.
Alex stared back at him measuringly. When he was certain that Mulder
had calmed enough
to listen to him, he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees
and pinning Mulder
with an intensely serious gaze.
"I have a proposition."
"Fuck you!" So much for equanimity.
"Maybe later, if you're lucky." He enjoyed the dumbstruck look on Mulder's
face for a
split second before continuing with his proposal. "I have something
you want. You have
something I want. Or, actually, you and your friends have something
I want. Are you willing
to listen?"
Mulder stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "Whatever
you have,
Krycek, I'm not buying. You can go straight to hell."
"Probably," Alex returned with a wry half smile. "But I don't want to
go alone. And with
your help, I won't."
This time he couldn't restrain the growl. "I don't trust you and I sure
as hell am not going to
help you!"
Krycek gave him that same measuring look, then smiled. It was not a
reassuring sight.
"Yes. You will." He arose from the chair and walked to the door. Pausing
to shoot Mulder a
last glance, he smiled again. "You will."
Mulder narrowed his eyes at the closed door, then swept a searching
glance over the walls.
He didn't see any obvious monitoring devices, and he didn't want to
waste any time. He had
to get the hell out of there, before Alex came back and dragged him
further into his little
game.
Krycek had to admit, he hadn't expected Mulder to recover quite so fast.
Watching the
determined agent through the concealed camera in the table front, he
winced as he saw him
open yet another slice on his wrist with the edge of his cuff. Mulder
had managed to wedge
the side of his cuff under the edge of one of the iron posts, digging
into the plaster of the
wall in an attempt to loosen the bar and slip his chain free. Unfortunately,
this put the hard
edge of the cuff cutting directly into the soft skin on his wrists
and the blood was starting to
flow freely. Alex sighed, and gathered up a stocked medical kit. If
he was going to persuade
Skinner and Scully to help him, he had to make sure the bait was in
good shape. They
probably wouldn't be too cooperative if Mulder effectively slit his
own wrists and bled to
death before they could even figure out where he was being held captive.
Mulder froze as the door drew open again, and Krycek stalked into the
room. Dropping a
bulky box on the floor a few feet away, Krycek came to within striking
distance of Mulder
and glared at him.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"What does it look like I'm doing, you damned moron?" Mulder was feeling
a little light
headed with the remnants of the drug in his system, compounded by the
blood loss, and his
grip on his temper was nonexistent.
"And if you did manage to pry yourself loose?" Alex inquired, dropping
into a comfortable
seat on the carpet and regarding Mulder quizzically. "In case you haven't
noticed, you're
half stoned, your leg is still chained to the wall, and you're stark
naked."
Mulder glared woozily at him, then shook his head to clear the last
bits of fuzziness from his
brain. "I'd rather take my chances naked in a fucking snowstorm than
in here with you,
Krycek."
"I was afraid you'd say that," he sighed. "You know, if you'd just listen
to what I have to
say—"
Before he had the chance to finish the remark, Mulder pushed out with
all his strength,
succeeding in pulling the bar away from the weakened plaster. Before
Krycek could react,
he swung his fists together in a modified hammering blow, catching
the other man across
the face and opening up a gash in his cheek with the swinging chain.
Alex reacted
immediately, with an uppercut that slammed Mulder back against the
wall, stunning him.
With no wasted motion, Alex pulled Mulder's arms high above his head,
all the weight of his
body now on his shoulders, and clipped the chain to one of the curled
hooks in the design of
the wrought iron. Backing away and lifting a hand to his burning cheek,
he regarded the
writhing figure in front of him with mingled respect and hatred.
The things he had to do to stay alive.
Every time he tried to pull himself up, to take some of the strain from
his burning shoulders,
the cuffs would bite deeper into the cuts on his wrists, He tried to
use his hands on the
chains, but his fingers slipped on the links, slick with his blood.
When he thought that his
hands were completely numb and he really would have to start screaming
very soon, the
damnable door opened again.
Krycek had taken the time to clean his own cut cheek, small butterfly
bandages holding it
closed. He watched Mulder's face as he approached, readily admitting
to himself that the
undoubted agony on the face of the troublesome bastard made him feel
much better.
Stopping to pick up the medkit on his way, he yanked roughly at the
chain, dislodging it
from the hook. Mulder was unable to muffle his cry of pain as his deadened
arms clattered
against his midsection, instinctively curling up to protect his groin
from the swinging chain.
Krycek knelt beside him, waiting for him to catch his breath.
"You really are a pain in the ass, you know." His matter-of-fact tone
cut through the haze
of pain in Mulder's head, and the agent opened his eyes to see Krycek
calmly preparing a
syringe full of clear liquid. As he shot a drop from the end of the
needle, clearing any air
bubbles, he regarded Mulder thoughtfully. "Guess you'll just have to
hear my proposition
when the others do. Until then, this should make you a little more
... manageable."
Before he could formulate the question, Mulder felt the tiny sting of
the needle biting into
his bicep, then things went a little strange. Alex watched the normally
intense hazel eyes
lose focus, the harsh, angry features soften, and reached for the kit.
Applying salve to the
cuts on Mulder's wrists, he watched his captive thoughtfully. While
this particular
combination of drugs wouldn't put him out, it would render him pliable
and open to
suggestion. As he gently worked the medicated cream into the soft skin,
cleaning up the
lacerations, he let his mind wander. Now might be the best time to
plant some ideas. The
others should be getting his messages soon, and when they did, he had
to be ready.
Krycek's fingers gradually slowed as the warmth of his skin was transferred
via the
medicated cream into Mulder's cold wrists. The pins and needles must
have hurt, but
thanks to the concoction he'd injected into his captive, Mulder didn't
appear to be in any
pain. As the feeling returned in his hands, Mulder made an abortive
attempt to pull them
from Alex's grasp, but his muscles refused to cooperate. There was
a delicious lassitude
creeping through him, muting the frantic voice in his mind that was
screaming for him to
escape, to run, to resist. Other sensations were also permeating his
body, and he was
unable to mask them in his current state of undress. The warning voice
fell mute, horrified
by his body's response, and dreading the moment when Krycek would realize
what the slow
movements of hands on bare skin were doing to his nervous system.
Alex rotated his fingers gently on the bruised and raw flesh of Mulder's
wrists and arms,
trying to frame his proposition in the most persuasive manner he could
while still making it
simple enough for Mulder to grasp the essentials, as drugged up as
he was. His distracted
gaze drifted down to his hands, satisfied with the effects of his ministrations,
and he
carefully unlocked the chains from Mulder's arms. There was no way
the agent would be
able to escape. While he was conscious, he was far from capable. As
the chains fell away,
he gathered them into a small pile to the side of Mulder's hips, bending
over the other
man's torso to push them against the wall. As he straightened, he noticed
what the chain
had been camouflaging. One of the drugs in his own particular devil's
brew was a stimulant,
to keep vital signs strong, and sometimes it acted as an aphrodisiac.
From the look of
Mulder's erection, this was one of those times.
"I had no idea you were so sensitive to drugs, Fox." Alex almost laughed,
especially
when he saw the mixture of embarrassment, rage and arousal in Mulder's
glare. "Looks
like later may be now, hm?"
With a wicked smile, keeping his eyes locked to Mulder's all the while,
he slowly reached
out and began to trace his fingertips along the semi- rigid flesh.
Mulder reacted with an
involuntary moan, his eyes shutting from either humiliation or denial,
Alex wasn't sure
which. Maybe both. As his own breath began to quicken, he shelved plans
for trying to
persuade the recalcitrant agent to join him in his proposition. There
would be time for that,
later. Right now, under his hands, was the only chance he'd ever get
at fucking Fox Mulder.
And he planned to make the most of it.
Mulder's hips were pushing lazily up toward Krycek's stroking hand,
the lethargic
movements gradually gaining strength as Krycek began stroking his chest
with his free
hand. His mouth fell slightly open, breathing coming in irregular gasps,
as he tried to fight
his arousal. Krycek leaned closer, caught up in the unwillingly wanton
responses of the man
under his curious hands. By now, Mulder's erection was straining against
his palm, as Alex
feathered delicate caresses over the slick skin of his chest. Stopping
to scratch lightly over
a nipple, he was delighted by the moan the caress evoked, and repeated
it several times,
alternating from one tight bud to the other. As he was continuing this
delicious torture, his
other hand roamed freely, circling the sensitive head of Mulder's penis,
thumbing the
crease along the top then tracing the veins along the shaft until he
could roll his balls in the
soft sac, eliciting one moan after another until Mulder was almost
whimpering continuously.
The beleaguered agent finally managed to get his arms to cooperate,
after a fashion,
drawing them up and placing them against Krycek's chest, fully intending
to push him away.
The heat of his skin through the thin cotton shirt seemed to give his
hands other ideas,
however, and Krycek felt another pulse of arousal when Mulder's hands
slid slowly up his
chest to rest heavily at the sides of his neck. Taking it as encouragement,
whether it had
been or not, he quickly shrugged out of his shirt, careful not to dislodge
Mulder's unsteady
grip. As he backed away to unfasten his jeans, Mulder's hands slipped,
the friction as his
fingertips grazed lightly through his chest hair sending shivers up
his spine. Sacrificing
gentle exploration for the sake of speed and his own straining erection,
he stripped off the
rest of his clothing in near record time and moved back over Mulder's
supine form.
As Alex began firmly caressing every inch of silky skin that he could
reach, some part of
Mulder's mind was watching in an odd mix of revulsion and unadulterated
lust. He wanted
to pull away, or at least protest, but his mind was awash with the
drugs and the unusual
sensations running over his body. With a mental shrug, he gave up the
fight, his natural
curiosity getting the better of him. The small part of his mind that
was still relatively
coherent sat in the corner and screamed with rage, while the rest of
his being concentrated
on the incredible sensation of Alex Krycek going down on him.
Krycek followed the path his hands had taken with his lips, teeth, tongue.
Mulder tasted
sweet and salty, tiny drops of pre-cum wetting his penis and sparkling
in the soft dark curls
scattered across his groin. Mixing with Krycek's saliva, it caused
an almost unbearably
erotic sensation as Alex slid his mouth over and around Mulder, stopping
to nibble the
tender flesh at the crown, nipping and soothing to the root, rolling
first one testicle then the
other into his hungry mouth, massaging the tender skin with the side
of his tongue,
engulfing as much of his cock as he could take and then humming deep
in his throat. The
pressure built until Mulder's head was swimming, and with an inarticulate
cry his hips
bucked, once, twice, three times. Alex drew back with one final pull,
containing Mulder's
climax the best he could, gathering the semen into his hands.
Before Mulder could catch his breath, the effects of his climax multiplied
in his mind by the
lingering effects of the drug, Alex abruptly rolled him over onto his
stomach. He spread
Mulder's cum thickly along the damp crease of the agent's ass, probing
with first one, then
two slender fingers at the small ring of muscle. Mulder tried to tense,
the outraged corner
of his mind protesting a little more loudly, when Krycek angled his
fingertips to scrape
lightly across Mulder's prostate. His scream caught them both by surprise,
and after one
instinctive clench, he released his hold on Alex's fingers. As he was
trying to catch his
breath from that unexpected jolt, he felt the blunt tip of Krycek's
penis begin to work it's
way deeply into his ass.
Krycek caught his breath as he carefully pushed his way in, pausing
to allow Mulder a
chance to adjust and to catch his own breath. The sensation was incredible,
so hot, and so
tight, like a velvet fist squeezing his cock. When he finally worked
his entire length in, he
paused, resting his sweaty chest against Mulder's broad back. Mulder
whimpered slightly,
but made no other move, and Krycek slid one hand slowly around Mulder's
hip, searching
for his penis. Mulder was already erect again, and Alex commenced a
gentle rocking
rhythm, stroking Mulder's length in concert with his own thrusts. The
combined sensations
overpowered Mulder, and with another scream that sounded suspiciously
like a sob, he
came again. The rippling effect of his climax worked his internal muscles
and he milked
Krycek until, with a scream of his own, the other man came explosively,
clutching Mulder's
twitching penis and biting and sucking at the side of his neck. Mulder's
hands worked
convulsively on the carpet, whether trying to grab hold or push away,
he couldn't have said.
With one final convulsion, Krycek wrung one last jolt of semen from
him, and he felt
consciousness slip away. Alex felt the tense body underneath his own
relax, and slowly
withdrew, gasping from the release of pressure. He rolled Mulder over
and checked his
pulse, then leaned close to him. Ascertaining that he was indeed unconscious,
he opened his
mouth over Mulder's in a deep, wet kiss, plundering that full lower
lip and taking the
liberties he couldn't when the other man was awake and aware. Finally
satiated, he drew
clean towels from the kit at their feet and cleaned up the evidence
of their activities. There
was nothing he could do about the bite marks, true, but perhaps by
the time Skinner and
Scully arrived, they would have faded.
Of course, if they hadn't, that was just too damned bad.
She didn't like this. Didn't like it at all. The surprisingly light
step of Director Skinner
behind her should have reassured her, but it didn't. The fact that
Alex Krycek had called
him directly should have made her a little more confident. It didn't.
All she could see was
Melissa's still face, her mother's devastated eyes. Mulder, numb, and
his mother,
shattered. The desperate plea in her partner's face as he begged her
to let him kill the rat
bastard. Why hadn't she? Yeah. To keep Mulder from a murder charge.
But maybe they
could have beaten it. And maybe, just maybe, Missy would still be alive.
On the other hand, maybe not. That black lunged son of a bitch probably
had a whole
damned army of killers. Krycek was just her own personal nightmare.
And Mulder's.
Mustn't forget that... and had to pray that he was still alive.
The light came on suddenly, blinding them both, They froze in identical
crouches, and Alex
Krycek's voice came at them from the whiteness, seeming by auditory
illusion to be coming
from every direction at once.
"Drop your weapons."
She risked a glance back at Skinner, hating the feeling of being pinned.
He nodded almost
imperceptibly, and she gingerly lowered her gun to the floor. If nothing
else, she did still
have the leg holster under her trousers. Like Mulder, she also got
tired of losing her gun.
"I don't want to hurt you," the disembodied voice continued, "and I
don't want you to hurt
me."
"What do you want, Krycek?" Walter Skinner's voice sounded unusually
loud, and
incredibly cold. While he wouldn't admit it, except perhaps under torture,
he had an almost
paternal interest in Agents Mulder and Scully, and these mind games
put them in jeopardy.
They also pissed him off no end. He gradually straightened, and Scully
followed his cue,
squinting against the light.
"I want... a truce."
Scully and Skinner exchanged incredulous glances.
"And we're supposed to trust you?" Dana was trying very hard to maintain
her composure.
"You kidnapped my partner. You beat up my boss." She didn't notice
Skinner's involuntary
wince. "You killed Mulder's father, you helped someone abduct me for
God only knows
what kind of heinous experiments, and you killed my sister!!" Her voice
rose slightly with
each word. Skinner reached out a restraining hand, and she took a deep
gulp of air, trying
to stop her body from shaking. Swallowing dryly, she tried again. "Why
in Heaven's name
should we trust you?"
There was a short silence, then a soft reply. "You have no choice."
Skinner felt his gorge rise, but managed to keep his anger from showing
in his expression.
Scully wasn't quite as adept. Her skin flushed until her features nearly
matched her hair,
and the two men could almost see sparks flying from her hair. Krycek
finally stepped from
the side of the building into the light. She narrowed her eyes at him,
and he inclined his
head.
"You don't have to trust me. I have something you want, and you have
something I want.
Straight trade. I want to cut a deal." He didn't smile, but his expression
lightened. "And, for
once, we both want the same thing."
"What's that, Krycek?" Scully was glad Skinner had asked the question.
She didn't trust
her own voice.
"Well, as to what we have... I have Mulder. He's the bargaining chip,
the bait to get you to
come out here and listen to me." He put out a hand in a stopping motion
at Scully's
involuntary movement toward him. "He's all right." He paused, and she
tried to decipher
his expression, but couldn't. What the hell had he done with Mulder,
she thought somewhat
frantically. She couldn't lose him, too. He continued smoothly, "All
I need is breathing
space."
"For what?" That was her boss. Direct and to the point. Alex seemed
to appreciate it as
well.
"I'm working on payback here, trying to save my own ass. Cancerman screwed
me, made
the mistake of double-crossing me. He's on my ass now, and I need to
know that when I
take out the bastards that come after me, I'm only taking out his men.
They'll be enough to
handle. I don't want to have to deal with another fucking vendetta
with your people."
In other words, Scully mused dully, no vengeance for Missy. For Bill
Mulder. For me. For
an instant, she allowed all of the hatred she felt for this man to
shine from her eyes, and he
took a small step backward, as if her enmity had actually slapped him.
She smiled coldly at
the cut on his face, evidence that Mulder had not gone quietly, then
turned to face Director
Skinner. He looked back at her calmly. This was her call. Her partner,
her family, her life ...
her choice. She nodded, once, sharply, before she could dwell on all
the ramifications of her
agreement.
"But not forever, you bastard," she hissed across the room at the still
dark figure of
Krycek. "When you've dealt with him, then you will deal with me."
He nodded his agreement, understanding everything she didn't say, then
tossed something
shiny at her feet. She knelt slowly and picked it up, her eyes never
leaving him. He stepped
back in to the shadows and the lights abruptly went out, leaving an
afterimage of whiteness
that resolved itself slowly into the shadows of the dimly lit warehouse.
She scooped up her
weapon and took the object over to a nearby window, turning it over
in her hand, trying to
read the writing on the small tag attached to a new, clean cut key.
Finally deciphering the
writing, she glanced over to Skinner.
"It's a storage unit in the Parkway. I know where it's at."
He nodded and followed her to her car.
As they sped toward the unit, she prayed that Krycek would actually
keep his word, and not
harm her partner. Skinner didn't say a word, letting her concentrate
on her driving, forming
and rejecting possibilities if this rescue started to blow up in their
faces. As they drew near
the storage units, she cut the lights and they silently exited the
car.
He came around the corner high, and she came in low, but there was no
one to ambush them
there. With one quick look, Skinner nodded her on, and covered her
back as she deftly
flicked the lock. He pulled back on the heavy door and she bolted around
the corner,
keeping herself low to the ground to offer the smallest possible target.
For no reason,
because the small room contained no threat, just Mulder. Unconscious,
Hands tied behind
him. Dressed in soaked sweatpants and a ragged tee shirt. Skinner kept
lookout while
Scully quickly checked his vital signs and heaved a sigh of relief.
"Whatever Krycek gave him, it doesn't appear to be affecting his vitals.
We'll have to get
him to a hospital and get him checked out, though." Skinner nodded
agreement and helped
her wrestle her ungainly burden out to the car.
It was almost twelve hours before Mulder regained consciousness. The
combination of
drugs Krycek had used on him did no permanent damage, but did leave
his memory hazy.
"Do you remember anything about where he held you, Agent Mulder?" There
was no
impatience in Director Skinner's tone, but since it was the fifth time
he'd asked the
question, there was some irritation in Mulder's reply.
"No, sir. I don't. He hit me with some sort of tranquilizer dart, then
when I came to, he shot
me up with a nice little mixture of his own. After that," his voice
faded uncertainly, and
Dana was convinced there was something he was not telling them. "...
it all gets really
fuzzy."
Skinner nodded acceptance, then sighed. "Well, he did keep his part
of the bargain. I
suppose."
"And we'll keep ours," Scully's voice was hard. "Until Cancerman is
... taken care of."
Skinner looked at her for a long moment, then turned to Mulder. "Get
some rest, Agent
Mulder." Turning on his heel, he started for the door.
"Sir?" Mulder's raspy question stopped him. "Thank you."
Skinner tightened his lips, then nodded once, and left the room. Dana
watched him leave,
then turned to her partner.
"What didn't you tell him, Mulder?"
He studied his hands for an endless moment, absently tracing the healing
lacerations from
the cuffs he'd been chained in. Finally he met her concerned gaze.
"Just... a nightmare, Scully. Nothing unusual."
She accepted his quiet answer, determined not to pry if he wasn't ready.
She reached
across the hospital bed and laid a hand lightly on his bruised wrist.
He rested his eyes on
the small hand covering the marks of his abduction, and gave her a
half smile. One day,
though, she would know. One more mark against Alex Krycek, one more
debt for him to
pay. Once this truce was over, then all the markers would come due.
And when their deal
with the devil was over, she would make sure he paid.
(at least until Dana catches Alex in a dark alley with no witnesses...)
Part II: Runes
The Deal
by Brenda Antrim
He couldn't believe his luck. Maybe, for once, something was going to
turn out right. Ever
since the double crossing son of a bitch had tried to blow him to kingdom
come he'd been
running, reacting, twitching at every sound. But now he had a plan.
And the bait to set it all
in motion had just walked in to his sights.
Alternate Part II: The Bait (M/K/Sc)
bantrim@earthlink.net
