"What?" Krycek answered.
"Where the hell are you?" Mulder asked.
"Not there?" Krycek answered, his voice rising in pitch slightly, and
Mulder knew he was smirking.
"Get here," Mulder said.
"Can't do it without a site-to-site transporter beam, and Scotty is
not in dry-dock at the moment," Krycek answered.
"Why does everyone use Star Trek references when they talk to me?"
Mulder said.
"Get real," Krycek said, with a snort.
"I'm gonna be in Indiana for five days, starting Tuesday. All I have
is to do is appear at a parole hearing on Tuesday and meet with the
local parole board four days later, about an old case. Otherwise
nada. Time on my hands and all that," Mulder explained.
"What's the matter Mulder? No assorted ghosts and ghoulies to
investigate? No lights in the sky, or mists on the plains to poke
into?" Krycek said, in a pissy voice.
"I was rather hoping to poke into something more substantial and
investigate exactly what makes you scream, but, hey, if you're too
busy causing mayhem, wherever the hell you are, I can make other
plans," Mulder snarked.
"Wait a minute; wait a minute. God, you are such a bitch, Mulder. I
didn't say I wouldn't try or anything, it's just that transportation
is a bit tricky at the moment," Alex said, hastily.
"You're in jail, aren't you? Tell me you're not in another missile
silo," Mulder demanded.
The phone was silent for long seconds, "I am not currently
incarcerated. I am, however, currently without a viable means of
transport." Alex said.
"Steal some," Mulder said, shortly.
Krycek laughed, "Some Dudley-Do-Right Federal Agent you are."
"Trains, planes and automobiles are available almost everywhere. Buy
a ticket or something." Mulder said, impatiently.
"Fuck, Mulder, I would if I could. I'll try. Indiana on Tuesday, got
it, and, Mulder," Alex's voice dropped, and Mulder shivered, "if I
get there, you'd better be prepared to do some deep investigation.
Real deep, real hard and real, real thorough."
"As a trained professional, Krycek, I'm your man," Mulder answered,
promptly.
"You bet your sweet ass you are," Alex said and hung up.
Mulder sighed, adjusted his pants and crushed the cell phone under
his heel, picked up the pieces and threw them away. It was useless to
try and trace Krycek, and the phone was good for only one call; after
that it would just make rude noises and eventually go dead.
Indianapolis, Indiana—Wednesday afternoon, and Mulder was pissed.
Where was Krycek? Mulder paced He wondered where in the hell Krycek
had been when he'd called. "I don't care how you get here, just—get
here, if you can," Mulder thought fiercely. "I need you right here,
right now, right by my side."
Damn! When had Krycek become so important? Maybe it was when he had
found him, wild-eyed, thin and trying so hard to be cool on the dark
D.C. waterfront last May. He'd gone to a meet, thinking it might be a
contact sent by X and found Krycek huddled in the shadows by the
monument.
He'd gone into overdrive immediately and pushed Krycek further into
the shadows with a gut-punch. Krycek had gone down from the one
punch. Mulder had been surprised, Krycek didn't ever fight back, but
he had at least defended himself in the past. Mulder had kicked him,
before he could fully process Krycek's state of defenselessness.
Krycek had moaned, curled himself into a tight ball and covered his
head.
"Fuck, Mulder," Krycek gasped out, "just kill me already and have
done with it."
"Where's your gun? What the hell are you doing here?" Mulder snarled.
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Krycek panted.
"You think I believe you didn't know I was going to be here?"
"Believe it or not, Mulder, I do have more pressing concerns than
running into you all the time. Staying alive is a definite concern
and running into you always seems to contradict that effort." Krycek
struggled to his knees and slowly got to his feet. He kept his hands
in plain view and leaned against the base of the monument for support.
The street lamps provided Mulder with a view of Krycek's face, and he
was shocked. Krycek was thin to the point of emaciation, and his hair
was chopped off almost to a buzz cut. He was sickly white in the pale
light, and he looked haunted and hungry. The leather jacket was
missing.
"What happened to you?"
Krycek stared at him.
Grabbing Krycek by the front of his shirt, Mulder shook him, "What
happened to you after the car accident? Where did you go? I saw a
bright light, and then nothing, until I woke in the hospital. The
fucking tape was missing. Where is it?"
Krycek lunged suddenly, knocking Mulder's hands apart and off him;
his thin shirt tore. Kicking out, he toppled Mulder, threw himself on
top of him and pinned him down. "Where was I? You goddamn bastard, I
was there. Right there in the fucking silo, spewing out hell in hell.
You didn't figure that one out, wonder boy?"
Rolling off Mulder, Krycek lay panting on the cold asphalt. Mulder
could see the man's ribs through the torn shirt, and the heartbeat
pound at the base of his neck.
Ever watchful, Mulder lay on the cold floor, "I thought you might be
dead. The French diver and his wife died within two weeks of the
alien vacating their bodies."
Sitting up, Krycek hugged his knees with his arms, "It did not leave
me that way. It poured out and slithered back to the ship. While it
was inside me—it gave back the tape in exchange for the location of
the ship."
"Damn," said Mulder, got to his feet and put out a hand to help
Krycek to his feet.
The other man looked at Mulder's extended hand, shrugged and put his
hand in it, standing up.
"Your shirt is torn," Mulder said, for lack of anything else.
Krycek pulled the rent pieces back together, shrugged again, and
looked out over the river.
"You going to arrest me or something?" He asked Mulder.
"Nah, you'd just slither away somehow, like the tape and the alien
and that would piss off Skinner. I missed dinner coming here, and I'm
hungry. Want to get something to eat?" Mulder replied.
Krycek looked away from the water and into Mulder's eyes, "What are
you doing, Mulder? I not a charity case, and I don't remember much
about the alien."
Eyes sliding away from Krycek's direct gaze, Mulder said, "Let's just
eat, Krycek. It's late and cold, and I'm hungry and alone. You've got
something better to do?"
"No."
"Okay then, let's get some of the fried fish at the wharf," Mulder
took off his coat and shoved it in Krycek's hands.
Krycek held the coat closely for a moment then put it on, "We used to
eat lunch there."
"Yes."
Mulder stopped pacing the motel room floor. It had started that
night, whatever "it" was. All he knew was Krycek———Alex, had
become something that filled a longstanding, empty gap in his life.
Nothing much had ever been explained or examined. Alex had returned
his jacket the next day and brought subs with him for dinner. The
following week Mulder followed a message he found in a bag of
sunflower seeds to a diner and they'd eaten together again.
Alex gave him a phone number. He'd called, and they went to see a
movie. It was so normal, he'd wondered if it was an X File.
When Alex had not answered his phone for three days straight, Mulder
had Langley find the address, and he'd gone to Alex's apartment. Alex
had been injured. There were rough rope burns across his neck, and
his voice croaked and rasped.
Mulder went out and bought soup and some aloe cream then insisted on
applying it. Alex had not protested. Mulder hadn't stopped at Alex's
bruised neck, and by the time he was through, the soup had long since
gone cold, and they slept.
They only referred to their liaison long distance on the phone,
otherwise they met, when they could, did normal things like eat and
occasionally went out to normal places then fucked like mink.
When they were apart, Mulder thought the whole arrangement was
insane. What the hell was he doing having an intimate relationship
with Krycek? He tore every aspect of it apart over and over again,
but came to no good conclusions. "It" was what it was, and he didn't
want to be without it. He promised himself he would make Krycek
explain what he thought the "it" was, but he always saw Krycek's
heartbeat pound in his throat when they met again and forgot why he
needed to have it explained in words.
"Get here already, damn you," Mulder said to the mirror. "Reach me by
railway, reach me by trailway, just get the fuck here."
Mulder flung himself into the uncomfortable motel room chair and
waited. The scratching on the door finally alerted him as Alex opened
the door. Mulder could see he was sweating beneath his leather
jacket; his long wavy hair was damp, and his tight as second-skin
jeans were damply molded to his thighs; he looked hot as hell.
Alex paused, posed and grinned, "Been waiting long, love?" he asked,
in a sugary sweet falsetto.
Mulder grinned back, casually crossed his long legs ankle over
ankle, "Who, me?" He pointed to his chest and ran his hand down his
belly to cup his sex, "Do I look like I was waiting?"
Alex grinned wider, let the jacket slip off his arms and licked the
sweat from his upper lip, "Well, yeah. Actually, you do. You wouldn't
believe how I got here. Maybe if you're very, very good and welcome
me properly, I'll tell you later."
"Maybe if you're very, very good, I'll listen," Mulder replied, got
up, walked to Alex and pushed him forcefully against the wall. He
followed up on the push and plastered his own steaming hot body
against Alex in full cover. Leaning in closer, he licked the sweat
from the pulse point on Alex's throat.
"That's good," Alex whispered.
"It gets better," Mulder answered.
"I know," said Alex. "It just gets better and better."
"Yeah," said Mulder, "It does".
Fini
Get Here
by Flutesong
Mulder dialed the cell phone Krycek had left for him seven weeks ago
and listened to the seemingly endless series of beeps, tones and
rings.
Oleta Adams
You can reach me by railway, you can reach me by trailway
You can reach me by airplane, you can reach me with your mind
You can reach me by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man
I don't care how you get here, just- get here if you can
You can reach me by sailboat, climb a tree and swing rope to rope
Take a sled and slide down slow, into these arms of mine
You can jump on a speedy colt, cross the border in a blaze of hope
I don't care how you get here, just- get here if you can
There are hills and mountains between us
Always something to get over
If I had my way, then surely you would be closer
I need you closer
(interlude, then repeat bridge)
You can windsurf into my life, take me up on a carpet ride
You can make it in a big balloon, but you better make it soon
You can reach me by caravan, cross the desert like an Arab man
I don't care how you get here, just- get here if you can
I don't care, I don't care, I need you right here right now
I need you right here, right now, right by my side
(yeah,yeah, yeah,
yeah)
I don't care how you get here, just—get here if you can
