The victim of their drunken cruelty appeared to be in his late twenties,
early thirties. Attractive in his own way, taller than the men abusing him,
a prominent nose, and from what Krycek could see above the rag being used as
covering, a very fine looking ass.
"Christian men," two of the men chanted, laughing drunkenly, each taking
large swallows from a jug of liquor one man held.
"I get him first!" One of the cowboys demanded, staggering back to his
friends and grabbing the jug from the laughing man's hand.
"Why should you be first? I want him first," another demanded, shoving the
first man to the side.
"Please. Don't do this," the frightened man pleaded.
Krycek pulled his gun and fired a warning shot at the cowboy reaching for
the defenseless man. "Get moving on out of here!"
"This stud here can handle another rider. Come on down, we got some good
whiskey we're willing to share as well." The cowboy held up the jug in
offering.
Krycek shot him, and one of the others before they even had a chance to draw
their guns.
The last one grabbed the captive and used him as a shield. "Now what are
ya gonna do, huh? You can't do nothin'! Don't want to kill this here pretty
boy, can't do nothin' can ya!" he taunted, backing away. He pulled his
captive along with him.
Krycek sat behind the rock and lit a cigar. He took a long drag and then
pulled out a stick of dynamite and touched it to the tip of his cigar. Once
it was lit, he threw it over and behind him.
The cowboy whimpered in fear and released the half naked man to run. Krycek
shot him three times in the back. He then slid down the ravine and grabbed
the stick of still lit dynamite and stepped on the fuse, breaking it off
from the dynamite.
The newly freed man stood there staring at him in fearful awe. He appeared
to be unsure what to do. Krycek realized the man must be thinking he was
going to use him as the cowboys planned to. "Keep standing around like that
and the sun's going to burn the hell out of you." He began walking to one of
the dead men.
The man continued to stare and began to stutter, "They said they were going
to kill me, they said..."
Krycek interrupted him to say, "They ain't telling you much now, so get
dressed." He bent over one of the corpses and began rifling through his
vest.
He glanced over to see the other man tilt his head, a thoughtful expression
on his face before moving off to retrieve his clothing.
Krycek was unbuckling the gun holster from the last corpse when he heard the
stranger approach. He stood up and turned around, staring in surprise.
The man stood next to a cactus, dressed as a monk. "You're a good man. All
my life I will pray that you have all you want," he promised, holding a
cross in his hands.
"What the hell?" Krycek muttered, feeling quite let down. "You're a monk?"
The man nodded. "I am called Brother Mulder. I could have passed these
men, but instead stopped to ask for food."
"Alex Krycek. So, did they give you any food?" Krycek asked, walking to the
campfire.
"No." Brother Mulder shook his head.
Krycek picked up a skillet of beans and took a bite. "Have some then."
Brother Mulder backed away. "Oh no, I couldn't eat just now." He looked a
bit queasy.
"You look like you could use some whiskey." Krycek offered the bottle.
Brother Mulder's eyes widened, and in a shocked voice he repeated, "Whiskey?
Uh, no, thank you." He walked to the dead cowboys' horses and grabbed a
canteen of water from the pack.
"That your mule over there?"
Brother Mulder nodded, taking a long draft from the canteen.
"No provisions, no canteen. Exactly how did you expect on existing?" Krycek
wanted to know.
Solemnly Mulder replied, "I was confident the Lord would provide."
"Three men like them?" Krycek nodded at the dead men.
"He also provided you," Brother Mulder replied, looking over from beneath
lowered lashes.
Dark green eyes widened in surprise. Had Brother Mulder just flirted with
him? Hmm... "You're a monk?"
Mulder gave him a curious look and nodded.
"Why do you have all your hair? I thought all monks had that little bald
spot on the top of their heads."
Mulder lifted a hand and ran a hand over his full head of hair. "I haven't
taken my final vows yet," he replied, looking mournful.
Krycek nodded as if he understood. He started packing up the supplies left
by the now dead men. "What way you headed?"
"North."
"I'm going south," Krycek started leading his horse away.
Brother Mulder looked back at the corpses. "First we must give them a
Christian burial."
"After what they were going to do to you, you want to give them a burial?"
Krycek couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"They are God's children." Brother Mulder seemed to think this only
natural.
Krycek pointed to the sky, at the buzzards flying up above. "Are they, or
are they not, God's creatures?"
"Of course." The monk tilted his head, seeming unsure of where he was going
with his question.
"So why deprive them of all this good nourishment?"
Sounding exasperated, Mulder asked, "Have you a shovel?"
"On my pack."
"Then would you please help me bury them? If not for your soul, then for my
own."
"Look Brother, I don't mind killing them for you, but I'll be damned if I'm
going to sweat over them for you."
"You're more stubborn than my mule, you know?" Mulder went to get the
shovel.
While watching the monk sweat over the makeshift graves, Krycek sat against
a large rock, eating again.
"How are the blisters?" Krycek queried, letting his disgust show in his
voice.
"Other things in life have hurt more," Brother Mulder assured him, striding
past the three piles of stones and staggering up the hill to reach Krycek.
"Sure you don't want some food? One of the men made some pretty good
beans." Krycek offered some to the man.
"I couldn't eat, but I'll have some water."
Krycek handed over the canteen. He watched as Mulder took some deep
swallows from the canteen before jogging down the hill to the graves. He
watched without interest until he realized what the monk was doing. Mulder
started sprinkling the precious water over the stones.
He ran and slid down the hill. "You really are touched, aren't you?
Brother, if you wanna bless them, you bless them dry." He grabbed the
canteen away from the idiot. "I've obliged you all I'm gonna, Brother. Now
I'll say goodbye. You stay out of the sun, you hear?"
Mulder didn't argue. He began walking to his donkey and blessed him. "May
God go with you."
Krycek suddenly saw some horses in the distance. "It looks like the French
cavalry is heading this way. You should be able to get a ride with them to
the next town."
Mulder rushed over and looked over the slope. "Oh hell—lp me, please." He
turned to Alex with beseeching eyes. "They're after me. I've been raising
money for the Mexican army."
Krycek gave him an angry look. "If you weren't a monk, I'd let you save your
own bacon. Do as I say and act fast. Bring the last horse and follow me."
He slid down the slope and began pulling stones off one of the graves. Once
a foot was revealed, he began to pull at it.
"What are you doing?" Mulder protested, running over.
"You'll see. Now go get that horse."
About ten minutes later they were down at a river bend. Krycek slapped the
horse's rump and it began moving off, a dead man on its back.
"A horse with a rider makes deeper tracks, and we're going to ride slow so
as not to stir up the mud in the water any more than necessary. Get on your
donkey, and let's go."
"Thank you for helping me back there, Brother Krycek," Brother Mulder said
gratefully.
"Don't you ‘Brother' me, Brother," Alex growled, and led his horse a little
further ahead of the other man.
"It was very kind of you, Mr. Krycek. I truly am grateful."
"Yeah, yeah. Now be quiet."
"You know our voices aren't going to carry more than a few feet. Why are
you so angry with me?"
Krycek frowned, wondering if he should say what he thought or not. He
finally decided he may as well. "Maybe a monk shouldn't be so damned
good-looking."
Brother Mulder looked taken aback. "My looks? Why would my looks matter to
you?"
"This is the wilderness, Brother. What do you think those men were planning
to do to you, back there at that camp?"
"Erm, well…"
"It's a harsh world out here, Brother Mulder. A man with your looks is a
real joy to behold. When not in a frock, that is," Alex explained,
patiently.
"But I am wearing a frock, so my looks are of no importance. I'm a servant
of Christ." Mulder reminded him.
"That's what I'm so steamed up about."
They continued following the stream until they reached a fortress. Krycek
had Brother Mulder wait inside while he went to have a look. Unfortunately,
the cavalry had split up, and there were about six men riding towards their
hiding space.
He rushed back to Brother Mulder. "They're catching up to us… don't just sit
there." He pulled the monk along to a small cave. "We can't outrun them.
You hide here and I'll distract them."
Mulder nodded. "You've been a good friend. Go with God."
"Leave him out of this, huh? Get moving."
Mulder smiled and turned to enter the cave. Halfway inside, he paused and
then rushed back out. "I can't go in, there's a rattlesnake inside."
Krycek entered cautiously and saw the rattler curled up further inside. He
approached it slowly and just as the snake was about to strike, he grabbed
its head and swung his knife, the blade completely severing the creature in
half. "Here, if we get split up, this'll be good eating." He handed half
of the snake to Brother Mulder and strode back outside. He smirked a little
at the expression of disgust on the monk's face.
He jogged back to the fortress, and began placing rifles into each window in
that side of the wall. He peeked out and watched as the French advanced,
and checked each gun again.
The men approached, and the leader pointed his men to search out different
areas. Krycek waited, watching to see what would happen. He didn't
consider himself a foolish man, and had no intention of revealing himself
before it was necessary.
He continued to watch the men on their horses as they split up to search the
abbey. He prepared himself for the fight ahead. It was insane for him to
get involved in this situation at all. How Brother Mulder had gotten under
his skin so fast he didn't know. It just seemed necessary to protect the
man from himself.
A few minutes later, he was surprised when the men returned and after
conferring quickly, they immediately rode away. Krycek made sure they
actually left before he walked back to the cave that was hiding his new
charge. As he stepped through, he heard the rattling of a snake. Brother
Mulder sat in the corner shaking the tail of the dead animal. Krycek
grinned. So, the monk had been blessed with brains as well as beauty. "Too
bad monks don't play poker. You would do well at it," he observed.
That evening they sat together by the campfire eating snake and beans.
"This is excellent. I didn't know monks could cook," Krycek said, sounding
surprised after his first tentative bite.
"I can." Mulder smiled and took his own bite. "Who would have thought
rattlesnake could be so delicious?" Mulder drank from the canteen and passed
it to Krycek, who drank deeply before setting it to the side.
"You said you were headed north. Where north?"
"I wanted to find one of the warista bands. I'll be safe with them."
"Where are you coming from?"
"Chiwawa."
"There's a French garrison in Chiwawa, isn't there?" Krycek casually asked.
"Yes, right next to the church." Mulder continued eating as he replied.
"You wouldn't happen to know how many soldiers are in the garrison, more or
less, would you?"
"Two hundred and some cannons."
"How do you know all that?"
Mulder paused, licking his fingers and making a small show of swallowing
before replying. "The French wanted to learn to speak Spanish, so I was
assigned the task as I also speak French. I went into the garrison three
times a week. I hate them, oh how I hate them."
"Isn't it a sin for monks to hate?" Krycek was confused. What was with this
guy? There just seemed something so off about him, but he couldn't put his
finger on what it was.
"Not if it's something evil. The French army kills and tortures the Mexican
people, trying to force them into being one of their colonies… I hate them."
Krycek nodded agreeably. "Of course. How big is the garrison?"
"Two stories. Years ago it used to be a monastery."
"One of those kind with an open patio?" Krycek wondered.
Mulder nodded.
"Balcony around the top floor with a staircase leading down?"
"Yes."
"You said the garrison is next to the church. Exactly how far apart would
you say they are?"
"I couldn't say exactly, but in some places not more than ten to twelve
feet."
"On the roof of the church, is the top floor of the garrison higher or
lower?" Alex couldn't help getting a bit excited as everything was working
out perfectly for the plan forming.
"Lower, much lower."
"Sentries?"
"Day and night at the front gate."
"Brother Mulder, you're going to slow me up some, but I'm going to take you
to one of those guerrilla bands you're looking for."
Mulder looked at him curiously. "Do you belong to one of them?"
"Until I get paid, yeah." Alex lit a cigar, feeling pretty good. Things
were looking up.
"Paid? Do you mean in gold?"
"Let's put it this way, if they try paying me with tortillas I'm going to
shoot them right in the eye." He took a long drag off of the cigar.
"But the warista's are too poor to hire anybody."
"Well I made out a plan to take over the garrison and if it pays off I get
half of the French treasury."
"Then you don't have any sympathy for their cause?" Mulder asked, without
inflection.
"Not theirs or anybody else's. See, I spent two years in a war in the
States. Right now, all I care about is money."
"If money is all you care about, then why fight in that war?"
"Everybody's got the right to be a sucker once," Krycek retorted and leaned
back against his pack, closing his eyes.
"Mr. Krycek?"
"Hmm?"
"The Fourteenth of July is a French holiday. By noon of that day last year,
the entire French garrison was drunk."
"What's the date today?" Krycek opened an eye to look curiously at the monk
sitting across from him.
"The sixth of July."
Krycek sat straight up and grinned. "Beautiful, that information puts gold
right into my pocket." He stood up and threw the cigar to the ground.
"This calls for a drink." He walked over to his horse.
"I'll be leaving you for a few moments," Mulder called out to him, getting
up.
Alex glanced back to see the young monk pick up something from the ground
before walking off. "Careful not to go too far, there might be another
rattler." It took him a few minutes to realize what Mulder had taken from
the ground, but once he figured it out, he wondered what the man planned to
do with the stub of his cigar.
"I'll pray as I walk." Mulder then walked off out of Krycek's sight.
Krycek drank his whiskey. He heard Mulder returning while he was setting up
the bedrolls. "Guess you haven't had much experience sleeping on the
ground," he offered, wishing he could offer the man a place on his own
pallet.
"Oh, I'm very tired, I'll sleep." Mulder smiled, looking quite content as
he sat at his pallet.
"For someone so wore out, you sure got a happy look on your face."
"It was a miracle you found me when you did, Brother Krycek." Mulder
excused it, preparing his bed.
"Oh, that was no miracle. Just an accident, and life is full of them."
Mulder disagreed. "It was a miracle."
"Two men are riding along, side by side. A bullet ricochets off the rock
and kills one. The other man lives. It was just an accident that it hit
the other man and not him."
"So you don't believe in miracles?" Mulder asked, sounding a little
disappointed.
"Well, um, you take a look at that fella from this morning. He coulda
picked up that stick of dynamite and thrown it back at me before I shot him.
Now that would have been a miracle."
Brother Mulder laughed and pulled the blanket over himself.
"Nice to hear you laugh, Brother," Krycek observed.
Mulder continued to smile. "You think monks don't laugh?"
"Don't know, I never spent the night with one before." Krycek watched the
young man through lowered lashes.
Brother Mulder got comfortable and then turned to look at Alex. "Good
night, Mr. Krycek, thank you very much for everything." He then shut his
eyes and appeared to fall asleep immediately.
Krycek took another long drag from his cigar and looked at the long body of
his covered companion. Sure would be nice if he could see it again, without
the long robes covering him, not to mention the blanket now covering even
that. Why did he have to get interested in a monk of all things? Leaning
back against his pallet, he covered his eyes with his hat and settled down
for a restless sleep.
Next morning, he stood over the sleeping monk and nudged him. "Hey, wake
up, Brother. It's time to get moving."
Brother Mulder woke up with a start and sat up, rubbing his back. "I'm so
stiff," he groaned and pushed off the blanket. "How can I possibly ride
today?" He forced himself to his feet.
"I ride from sunup till sundown. You either keep up or you don't." Alex
handed him a cup of coffee. "You'll feel better after a few hours on your
mule," he assured the man and walked back to the fire.
Mulder took a sip of the brew before moving. "You make very good coffee."
He stood up and followed Krycek, limping a little as he worked out the kinks
in his body.
"Man on his own has to take care of himself."
Brother Mulder nodded. "So, you're not married."
"Nope."
"Ever been?"
"Nope."
"Wanna be?"
"Nope."
Mulder gave him a curious look. "Don't you want a woman of your own?"
"What for?"
"To share your name, bear your children, be a companion."
Krycek rolled his eyes. "Ask me to quit drinking, quit gambling and save my
money."
"It must be a lonely life," Mulder observed.
"It's a great life. Women, or men when I want them, and none with the name
Krycek." He began packing up his bags, and motioned for the monk to do the
same. "How bout you, Brother? Haven't you wanted to be a ‘whole' man?
Have a woman to make love to, bear your children?"
"I've chosen a different way of life."
"What about when you get those feelings that God gave all men, including
you. You know, I always did wonder about that."
"Well, we're human of course." Brother Mulder smiled and paused as he rolled
his pallet, "When we get those feelings, we pray until they go away."
"In your case, Brother, just how much praying does that take?"
Brother Mulder took his pallet to his mule, his shoulder's shaking. When he
turned back though, his expression was solemn, and Alex had to wonder if he
had imagined the silent laughter.
"What about before you became a monk? Did you ever have a woman?"
"No."
"Ever kiss one?"
"No."
"Haven't you ever lay awake at night wondering about what it would be like?"
"No," Brother Mulder assured him.
"Seems like every man I've ever met was a natural born liar, myself
included, of course. I never knew about monks until now."
Brother Mulder climbed onto the mule and looked over his shoulder at Alex.
"You're right, I lied. But I never thought about women."
Krycek stared after him, mouth agape. "I'll tell you one thing, Brother,
I'd sure like to have met up with you before you took to them clothes and
them vows."
Later that morning Krycek stopped. "That mule is limping pretty bad. I'm
going to look at his hoof." Putting actions to words, he determined, "Stone
bruised. It'll take at least a week for that to heal up." He stood up.
"Maybe the people in this village will hide you till this animal comes
about."
"Why can't I ride the pack horse?" Brother Mulder wanted to know.
"Because he carries my equipment, that's why. I'm not about to miss being
in Chiwawa by the Fourteenth of July"
"Please, Brother Krycek," Brother Mulder began, pleadingly.
"I told you not to ‘Brother' me," Krycek snapped.
Mulder slid off his mule. "All right, Mr. Mule. You know I was right. You
are as stubborn as my mule." He took the lead and began walking.
"When we get up to the village, Brother, then I'll say adios. This is where
we part company," Krycek said decisively. He watched as the monk began
walking.
The monk stopped a little ways ahead and knelt in front of a shrine. "What
are you doing?" Krycek called out in exasperation.
"I must say a prayer at this shrine," the monk called back.
"You said your prayers last night and this morning. You're gonna wear them
out."
"It's a sin to pass a shrine without praying."
"Not if you shut your eyes it isn't."
While praying Brother Mulder shook his head. "Please, Mr. Krycek."
"All right. It's a small shrine, let's make this a small prayer," Krycek
conceded and took out a cigar to smoke while he waited.
A man leading a burro passed them by, and a few minutes later, Krycek
glanced up to see Mulder smiling at the man and taking the lead of the burro
while the other man walked off with the mule.
Mulder walked over with a huge grin on his face. "You see, Mr. Krycek, what
prayers can do? He kindly accepted my mule in exchange for this creature of
God. Now I can still be with you."
"Your mule for that little burro? Well if that kind gentleman traded you
even, you won't be meeting up with him in Heaven." Krycek observed.
"There's nothing wrong with the burro. Why should I feel cheated?" Brother
Mulder asked, pulling the animal to the wall before he tried to climb on.
The burro moved to the side, and Mulder almost tripped. He took the reigns
more firmly this time and tried again.
Alex tried not to laugh, and watched for a moment as the monk struggled to
get onto the beast. A few unsuccessful tried later, he shook his head, and
decided to leave. If the monk caught up with him fine, if not, too bad.
Brother Mulder eventually caught up with him before they reached the
outskirts of the village. Krycek set down camp and tied up his horses.
Brother Mulder went on ahead to learn what he could about the French army's
movements from the villagers.
Alex bought a melon wedge and wandered through the small market until Mulder
returned, leading an old man to him.
"He and his family live on a hill quite a distance to the west. Three hours
ago, on their way to market, they passed a French patrol."
"Which way were they headed?"
Mulder spoke to the man in Spanish, and was told north.
"All right, let's get the supplies we need and move out." Krycek watched as
Mulder thanked the man and they got on their way.
Late that night, Krycek awoke when the horses became skittish, whinnying and
moving about. He could see nothing suspicious in the dark of night, but
trusted the instincts of the horses. He woke up Mulder.
"I want you up in that tree." He pulled the monk to his feet and dragged him
to said tree.
Mulder moved as directed, but looking up in the tree where he was supposed
to go, he gasped nervously. "Please Mr. Krycek, looking down from heights
frightens me."
"Then look up. I think there may be a mountain lion around here and I want
you up there." Alex helped Brother Mulder climb the tree with a firm hand
on the man's ass.
Mulder yelped, and quickly climbed the rest of the way up on his own.
Alex grabbed his container of gunpowder and began pouring it out, trailing
it away from the camp to some trees.
"What are you doing?"
"If you can't see him, you can't shoot him. How are you doing, Brother?"
"Looking up." Mulder sounded nervous.
"Good, good." Krycek lit his cigar and he softly said, "We won't talk now.
This'll make him run if he's going to." He then lit the trail and jumped
back.
In the light of the trail created by the lit gunpowder, he saw the outline
of a Mexican family. As they were revealed, the women and children began
weeping and crying.
"What the hell?" Krycek muttered, and watched as Mulder slid down the tree.
Mulder listened to both the older and younger women for a moment and then
translated. "They're running from French soldiers in Santiago. They're
waiting for a train to Santa Maria."
"Muchas gracias," the monk thanked them.
The family quietly left, walking off.
Krycek turned to Brother Mulder. "Santa Maria is the town I'm headed for.
Those warista's are hiding out there somewhere. You need to find out why
the French are heading there."
"All right, I will," the handsome monk agreed, walking back to his pallet.
"By the way, Brother, I guess I owe you an apology for when I was trying to
get you up the tree there, I..." Krycek sat down leaning against a tree
trunk.
"Oh, no apology necessary, Mr. Krycek. In an emergency, the church grants
us concessions. Anyway, it's no sin that you pushed me up the tree with
your hands on my ass." Mulder lay down and got comfortable under the
blanket.
Krycek sat up abruptly. "Where did you learn that kind of English?"
"What kind?" Mulder asked, innocently. His eyes remained closed.
"Ass."
Mulder opened his eyes to look at Alex curiously. "Brother Carl in the
monastery taught us different words for different parts of the body. This
he called the ass." Mulder lightly slapped his rear in emphasis and closed
his eyes again.
"Where's this monk from, anyway?"
Mulder paused before responding, "New Orleans, why?"
Krycek shook his head, "I'd sure as hell like to know what he did before he
became a monk." He watched as Brother Mulder fell asleep.
As the monk slept peacefully, Krycek began to fantasize. He imagined the
young man out of his frock. He thought back to when he had come upon the
man, almost naked. Long legs, a strong back, sparse hair trailed along the
man's chest down his belly and hidden beneath the frock Mulder had used to
cover his modesty. He had seen just a glimpse of a nicely rounded ass, and
wondered what it would be like to hold and caress it.
Just as he was getting into the fantasy, Mulder mumbled something in his
sleep, and Krycek pulled himself together, feeling guilty for considering
sex with a man of God. Granted, the man had confessed to experiencing
desires to lay with a man before taking his vows, but this was after the
vows had been taken. He forced himself to calm down, and eventually fell
into a fitful sleep.
The next morning, Mulder left Krycek at the camp and he went to the next
village. Walking into town, he heard the beating of the drums and the cries
of distress from some women.
Being led to execution was a young Mexican man. He was made to stand in
front of a stone wall and was blindfolded. As the soldier walked away from
him, the prisoner yelled out, "Viva la Mexico!"
The four French soldiers aimed their rifles, and on command of their
captain, fired.
The man made a small pained sound and fell. There was a circle of blood on
the stone wall behind the fallen body, showing the true aim of the firing
squad. The soldiers turned in unison and after command of officer they
marched away.
Mulder wiped the tear from his eye, watching as the women rushed to the
fallen man and cried out and prayed over his body. His own prayers were
interrupted by a young French soldier who shook his arm speaking in French.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand." He pretended ignorance, hoping the soldier
would search for someone else.
"Please," the man pleaded with an accent, "an officer is dying. You can
offer him some spiritual comfort." He dragged Mulder along to the small
hut.
"Our colonel has been very ill. Wait here."
Mulder allowed the man to pull him into the hut. He waited in the foyer,
watching the doctor examine the colonel. When the doctor moved, he was able
to see who the man was, and a small gasp of distress escaped his lips.
"Come," the soldier came back and took his arm. Mulder hesitantly entered
the room. He took the cross from his waist and lifted it to his lips,
kissing it, and then laid it on the dying officer's chest. Then he raised
his arms to the sky and brought them down in a sign of prayer, and he softly
recited the words of the Lord's prayer, and other prayers that sounded holy.
The colonel opened his eyes briefly and blinked a couple of times. Brother
Mulder lifted the cross up and let it block part of his face, while he
continued praying. He was interrupted when the colonel rasped, "Vu putain
dé goutante." Mulder covered the dying man's mouth with the cross, stopping
any other words from being spoken.
"Brother, he is delirious, you must forgive him." The young soldier pleaded
apologetically.
Brother Mulder nodded. The colonel was now dead. "I do forgive him. I
forgive him with all my heart. Now he is with God."
Alex heard Mulder ride in. He wandered over, to see the young man digging
into the horse's saddle bags. Brother Mulder pulled out a bottle of whiskey
and began chugging it down. He rushed over, and Mulder turned, coughing.
"I don't see how you can drink this stuff," he gagged, wiping his mouth.
"Give me that, you'll get cock-eyed drunk. What happened down there?"
"I was recognized, that's what happened." Brother Mulder retorted, shaking
as he staggered to a tree stump and sat down. "I've never been so scared in
my life."
"Recognized, by who?"
"I had visions of being shot." Mulder leaned over, resting his elbows on
his knees and leaning into his palms.
"By who? What did he do?"
"He died. I was asked to give spiritual comfort to one of the colonels
dying of fever. When I saw him, I nearly died. He was one of the soldiers
I taught Spanish to, back at the garrison in Chiwawa. Thank God none of the
other soldiers believed what he called me." Mulder gasped, still trying to
catch his breath.
Krycek was curious. "What did he call you?"
Mulder glanced up at him. "A filthy warista."
"So, he died and you're safe. What did you find out?" Krycek wanted to
know, now that he knew the danger was past. Mulder was as bad as a woman
sometimes.
"They're waiting for a train due from Santa Maria, so they can load it with
supplies and ammunition."
Krycek was appeased by this information. "You did well, Brother. So,
between here and Santa Maria there has to be a gorge. Where there's a
gorge, there has to be a trestle. Now all we have to do is make sure we get
there before the train does."
"Will you burn it?"
"I'll blow it to hell-and-gone with the train on it. Now come on and get up
if you're going to ride, or I'll have to leave you," Krycek warned, and
watched as Mulder struggled to his feet.
"I am not intoxicated." Mulder assured him, walking steadily to the burro.
"You ought to be. That's a hell of a lot of whiskey before breakfast,"
Krycek retorted.
Mulder jumped onto the burro. "My faith in God will turn it to water. We
had better hurry. I've never seen a train blown to hell-and-gone before."
He started the animal moving.
Krycek stared after his companion. With a shake of his head, he mounted his
horse and caught up quite quickly. They rode all morning and part of that
afternoon. While riding through a ravine, Krycek suddenly felt a sharp pain
in his chest and glancing down, he realized he had been hit with an arrow.
He couldn't stop himself from falling from his horse.
He looked up and realized they were surrounded by Indians. Most on
horseback.
Brother Mulder rode forward, shielding Alex from further attacks. "Get out
of my line of fire, Brother," he demanded, cocking his gun.
"Can you kill them all with one pistol? Put it away. These are the Yaki.
They're wild and pagan, but the church has reached some of them."
Krycek saw Mulder lift the silver cross from his waist, and lift it to the
sky. "Can you get on your horse?"
"I think so," Alex struggled to his feet and after a few false starts was
able to mount the horse again. He groaned in pain.
"You'll have to stop that noise when we get close. Are you on?" Brother
Mulder continued displaying the cross.
Krycek noticed the sun was bouncing off the metal of the cross and actually
getting in the eyes of the Indian's. He wondered if it had to do with the
leader ordering the men to stop. They were able to ride away unscathed.
Well, without any other harm.
Once a safe distance away from the Indians, Krycek allowed himself to slide
from the horse and leaned up against a large rock. "Get me that bottle of
whiskey, will you?" he asked Mulder, feeling exhausted. He had used up most
of his strength and energy by staying on his horse the few miles. While the
monk began opening the saddle bags, he said, "It's a good thing it hit above
my heart. A woman once told me it wasn't in the right place, good thing,
huh?"
Instead of replying, Brother Mulder brought the bottle over. "This is the
last bottle."
"How long has it been?"
"About an hour." Mulder used his teeth to pull the cork from the bottle.
He nodded his thanks and said, "Brother Mulder," he took a swig of the
proffered whiskey, "I need you to take my hat and fill it with moss. Can
you do that?" He took another swallow of the burning liquid, relishing the
numbness that began flowing through his burning veins.
Brother Mulder nodded and took the hat. Alex was grateful the man didn't
ask how or why or where, and watched as the servant of God went in search of
the requested moss.
While the man was away, he again allowed himself to fantasize. This time
Mulder was kneeling before him, as if to say his prayers. Instead of
praying, though, Mulder was reaching out to unfasten his pants. Alex moaned
at the thought of that mouth, with the pouty lower lip, wrapped around his
cock. He felt a stirring in his lower regions and groaned at his stupidity.
There was no way he could relieve himself in time, and when Mulder
returned, his arousal would be obvious. He concentrated on the pain in his
chest and drank more of the whiskey. By the time he felt more in control,
he was feeling pretty damn good.
He began humming the bars to a song he had heard once in a bar some time
ago. "I beat him on the head and I left him there for dead, damn your
eyes." He saw the monk approach with the moss, and smiled at him. Brother
Mulder was so pretty for a man. Why did he have to be a man of God?
"Got the moss?"
Brother Mulder knelt next to him, setting the hat filled with moss carefully
to the side. "What do I do with it?"
"I'll take you through this step by step, but first I gotta get drunk."
How long has it been?" Alex carefully examined the now almost empty bottle
of whiskey, and hoped it would be enough.
"You asked me that just twenty minutes ago."
"So, how long was it then?" Krycek asked, trying to sound sensible, before
he began singing again. "And the parson, he did come, he did come. And the
parson he did come..."
"About an hour."
"Come on, my gorgeous monk, who saved my miserable life from those damned
Yaki's. You don't want me to lose my deal now, do you? The parson he did
come, he did come, and he looked so..." He began singing again, but stopped
in mid verse to say, "You know, this isn't such a nice song, but it's the
only one I can sing while drunk."
"I don't care what you sing," Mulder assured him, sweating profusely. "Just
tell me what needs to be done so I can get this arrow out."
" and he looked so bloody glum as he talked of kingdom come, well he can
kiss my ruddy thumb... Damn your eyes," Krycek hummed, and then pulled
himself together long enough to say, "You need to cut a groove in the shaft,
deep enough for gunpowder. Don't worry if I yell a bit." He began singing
again, "And the sheriff he came, he came too, he came too, and the sheriff
he came too, with his men all dressed in blue, Lord they were a bloody
crew... Damn their eyes."
Mulder took the knife from the pack and knelt above him, nervously beginning
to create a groove in the shaft of the arrow. Alex could see the sweat on
Mulder's face, and he wanted to taste it. He kept that thought silent, and
continued singing instead. It was safer that way. "And up the rope I'll
go, up I'll go, yes, up the rope I'll go and the bastards down below,
they'll say, Sam, we told you so, Sam, we told you so... damn their eyes."
"That's good," he finally said, looking down at the shaft. "Now cut the
shaft short." He listened to the harsh breathing of his companion, and felt
a stab of pride. The man was so out of his element, yet doing everything he
was told without protesting.
The arrow dug deeper into his flesh and he whimpered when Mulder carefully
sliced the knife through the wooden shaft and broke it off.
"How much time as gone by?"
"Over an hour." Mulder threw the feather ended piece of wood to the side and
wiped his brow.
"You know, Brother, you're a fine looking man. Get me up straight. You
feel so good, smell so..." he couldn't get his thoughts out sensibly, but
continued, "I couldn't help thinking when I saw you almost naked..."
Mulder interrupted him, "You must forget that."
"I don't want to. I can't forget it. Every night we bed down beside each
other, I think of you that way," Alex confessed, wanting it all off his
chest.
"I forgive you. If you weren't drunk, you wouldn't be saying this," Brother
Mulder assured him.
"Can't stop me from wishing. I can't help wishing you weren't a monk. Get
me some gunpowder, but leave the pouch back there."
"Gunpowder?" Mulder sounded shocked.
"Gunpowder will cauterize it," Alex explained, simply.
Mulder walked to the horse to retrieve the powder and poured some into his
hands before returning to Krycek's side.
"Put it in the groove of the arrow and light the powder. You're going to
drive the arrow through me and pull it out on the other side. Take the
knife and set the blade against the tip of the shaft, then use the gun and
hit it. Make sure you hit a straight blow."
"What if it doesn't go through straight?" Mulder asked, biting his lip.
"My gorgeous Brother, if it's not straight, the arrow will break off inside
me. Now, once it's out, use the moss and push it in about a half inch on
both sides to prevent putrefying. Then we have to get going and find that
bridge. This arrow business is wasting time we don't have."
Brother Mulder nodded his understanding and began muttering a prayer under
his breath.
"You praying for me?" Alex asked.
"Yes," Brother Mulder made the sign of the cross and turned back to him.
"I must be drunk enough, damn my eyes, that's actually touching." Alex
observed, and nodded at the gunpowder. "This is going to flare up a bit, so
be sure to get out of the way once you hit the stick with the gun."
Mulder gave him an annoyed look, and lit the flame. He quickly brought the
blade to the edge of the arrow and tapped it with the gun. It went straight
through and was easily pulled out.
Alex gave a short scream and promptly fainted.
Mulder grabbed the bottle of whiskey and gulped down the remainder of it.
Krycek awoke with his arm in a sling. He decided that was a pretty sensible
idea, as it would prevent him from putting too much strain on his left side.
Now that the arrow was out, and the pain wasn't so sharp, he realized the
arrow was closer to his shoulder than his heart anyway. That wasn't so bad,
if he let it alone for a few days, he should be fine by the fourteenth.
"Mr. Krycek!" Brother Mulder approached him with the animals. "Mr. Krycek,
we have to get going. Remember the train of French supplies? You have to
blow it up." He reached out a hand toward him.
Krycek frowned. "How long has it been?"
"Over an hour."
Krycek forced himself to his feet. They were supposed to have left
immediately after the arrow was removed. "You let me down, Brother Mulder.
You didn't wake me up." He strode unsteadily to his horse.
Mulder didn't apologize. "You needed the rest."
"I'm going to need help getting on the horse." Alex admitted, finding
himself unable to mount. Even with Mulder's help, he was uneasy once on the
horse.
The monk made a small disgusted noise and mounted the horse, sitting behind
Krycek. "Lean back against me." He ordered, still holding the reigns of the
burro.
Krycek obeyed and smiled dreamily. "I like being in the arms of a monk.
How do you like it, Brother?" He started the horse at a slow gait.
"The Church allows it for the sake of your safety, but you may not take
liberties," Mulder warned him.
When they reached the gorge, Alex looked up at the sky. "Sun shouldn't set
for another few hours." He slid off the horse, grateful to be on firm ground
again. "The dynamite is in my bag, get it out for me, would you?" He sat
down amongst some stones, and waited until Mulder brought him the little
stack of dynamite.
He took out a few sticks and tied them together. "Now I need you to take
this to the top of the bridge."
"Me?" Mulder squawked, aghast.
"Well I can't do it." Krycek pointed out, indicating his arm which was still
in a sling.
"I'm afraid of heights!" Mulder reminded him, angrily.
"I saved your life, can't you even do this little thing for me?" Krycek
asked indignantly.
"I just saved your life as well," Mulder retorted.
Krycek couldn't argue with that, so instead he asked, "You're going to
abandon me in my hour of need?"
Mulder nodded, stubbornly.
"One lousy, stinking trestle. Think of all the Christian souls you'll
save."
Alex was relieved to see the weakening in Mulder's resolve, and he
continued, "You'll get up easily. Please, Brother Mulder?"
Mulder finally nodded, glancing nervously at the bridge and the many
criss-crossed bars of wood. He walked to the trestle and looked up.
"Just pray," Krycek offered, watching as the man grabbed hold of the lowest
bar. "That Christian faith of yours will carry you on up like a bird."
Mulder muttered something under his breath, and began climbing. Alex
watched his slow assent, knowing the man would be fine. He knew Mulder was
nervous, even afraid, but determination would see him through. "All the way
to the top, so I can get a clear shot!" he called up.
After what seemed like an hour, Mulder was at the top. Alex watched from
the bottom as Mulder placed the dynamite between the braces.
He watched as Mulder slowly climbed down the trestle. He knew this would be
the hardest for the man, as he had earlier claimed to being afraid of
looking down from heights.
Finally, Mulder jumped to the ground. He headed straight for the horse and
retrieved a full bottle of whiskey from the saddlebag. To Krycek's
surprise, he chugged it down.
"I never seen anyone take to hard liquor like you, Brother," he observed.
Mulder turned to him with narrowed eyes. "I want to see you shoot something
about the same size before we do this." He glanced around and pointed to a
small stone in the distance. "There, that rock." He pointed at it, and
grabbed the rifle.
Krycek glanced at his arm and realized he was going to have some problems.
"You'll have to cock it for me."
Mulder raised a brow in query.
"Pull that lever right there, good." He took the rifle and tried lifting
it.
Mulder sighed and took the barrel of the rifle and set it on his shoulder.
"Thanks. Here, hold it steady for me… not like that!"
Mulder moved his grip from around the barrel to holding just the bottom of
it.
"That's better. Okay, take a breath and don't move."
Mulder obeyed and Alex shot the gun. He missed the stone by a foot.
"You're still drunk, you'll never hit the dynamite," Mulder growled.
Krycek acknowledged the truth in that statement, but offered, "Here, you sit
down, I'll kneel."
Mulder sat as instructed, reloaded it, helped aim the rifle, held the barrel
and took a deep breath. Alex pulled the trigger and missed. Mulder stood
up and glared angrily at him.
"Can you shoot?"
"No, I can't shoot! You made me climb that bridge for nothing!" Mulder
exclaimed.
"I'll sober up fast. Meanwhile, you fix me up some hot coffee," Krycek
assured him, only to hear the whistle of an approaching train. He winced.
"I'll fix you some hot coffee!" Brother Mulder punched him in the jaw and
pulled him back to his feet. "Sober up, you dirty bastard!" he shouted,
shaking Krycek forcefully. He grabbed the rifle, reloaded it, went through
the motions and ordered Alex to shoot it. He missed. "Again!" He reloaded
the gun and helped aim it again. This time the bullet hit its mark, just as
the train was driving over the bridge.
With a loud explosion, the bridge collapsed, taking the train with it. The
force of the explosion caused both men to fall back, Krycek on top of
Mulder.
Alex looked down at the man close enough to kiss and asked, "Did I, or did I
not hear you call me a bastard?"
"Whiskey can make a man hear anything." Mulder replied, and pushed Alex off
of him. "Dear Lord, forgive him for his impure thoughts."
Alex allowed himself to fall to the side and frowned. He was sure Mulder
swore at him, but the monk was right. He was drunk, not to mention
fantasizing when he shouldn't have been. Maybe he had just imagined it.
Mulder stood and set up a fire. He made some hot coffee and Alex accepted
the brew gratefully.
Once Alex was feeling more sober, and could sit on his horse without falling
off, they set out for Santa Maria.
"I may need some help in here, are you allowed to enter a saloon?"
Mulder nodded, "The Church grants us cessation's..."
Krycek spoke with him, "at times like these."
They entered a tavern together, and some of the men did a double take when
they saw the monk walking in.
They sat at a back table and a young man came to ask what they wanted.
"Tequila, please." Krycek nodded toward Mulder to order something.
"Do you have a lemonade?" Brother Mulder asked the man hopefully.
The man nodded and went for their drinks. "I have a feeling you're the
first monk they've seen in the tavern for quite a while," Krycek offered,
with a little grin.
The bartender brought back their drinks and Krycek stopped him by asking,
"Does anyone else here speak English?"
"No, Sir."
"Are you sure?"
The man looked around the room again and nodded. "I am the only man who
speaks English."
"Good, good. I'd like a 1789 French champagne."
The barkeeper looked confused.
"Are you the owner of this bar?"
"No sir. That would be my father."
Krycek was getting impatient. "Where is he?"
"He is very sick, sir."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I must speak with him, may I see him?" Krycek tried to
sound conciliatory, even as he was annoyed with this turn of events.
"I will take you to him, but he has been unable to speak for many days." The
man led them outside.
Krycek spoke softly to Mulder. "This is just great. The only man who knows
how to reach the band of soldiers and he's dying."
Mulder simply nodded and followed.
Inside the pueblo, Krycek asked the man if there was anyone else that could
tell him how to find the camp.
The dying man lay on a cot, and nodded, moving his finger a little. His
wife understood him and turned to Krycek. "He says the candle-maker knows."
"Thank you." Then he turned to the barkeeper. "How do I find the
candle-maker?"
"Come, I'll take you to him."
It was a long trek through the fields and mountains, until they finally came
to a small clearing. One of the horses stepped on a lever and a fence made
of barbed rope sprang up, surrounding them.
"Put away your guns, gringo," One of the men demanded, coming out of hiding.
"Colonel Skinner is expecting me, my name is Alex Krycek," Krycek replied,
putting his gun back into it's holster.
"General," the same man corrected him.
"Colonel, general, what's the difference? Take me to him."
It was another silent trek through the mountains, and they passed by women
and children, huddled together against the mountain walls.
They reached a bunch of caves, and an older man stepped out of one. He
looked at Krycek and said, "I've been waiting for you. What happened to
you?"
"I stopped a Yaki arrow." Krycek indicated the sling.
"So you never got to Chiwawa?"
"Brother Mulder saved me a good part of the trip." Alex nodded at his
companion.
"How?"
Krycek wasn't talking until he knew he wasn't going to be cheated out of his
money. "Is the deal still on?"
"I gave you my word."
Alex carefully stepped up to the cave entrance. "You give me a bottle of
tequila and I'll lay you out a plan as smooth as a baby's bottom."
"You tell me the plan and I'll tell you how smooth it is."
Later that evening, the General nodded. "That's not a bad plan."
"Thank Brother Mulder here, we make a good team." Krycek tilted his head at
his companion.
The General nodded his acknowledgment. "The only problem is weapons. We
have very few."
"When you brought me into this deal, you told me you had no artillery. Have
you any rifles?"
"Not many."
"Soldiers, how many do you have?" Alex asked, irritably.
"Forty men now, but by the time we get to Chiwawa we will have about fifty
or sixty more.
Krycek shook his head. "Even drunk they'll kill you," he scoffed.
"I know my men, every one is tough and courageous."
Krycek waved that off. "What you need is dynamite. That'll even up the
score a bit."
The General made an assenting noise. "You tell me where the trees are that
are growing dynamite, and I'll have my men pick some for you."
Krycek glared at him.
"Where are we going to get dynamite? We have no money, even this tequila you
are drinking was donated."
"You have no money, you have no weapons, you don't even have a hundred men,
how the hell do you expect to win this battle?" Krycek wanted to know,
finishing his tequila and standing up.
The General stood up as well. "Get out of here."
"I'm in on this deal and no man is taking me out of it," Krycek refuted.
Brother Mulder interrupted them, lifting the cross that hung from his waist.
"Maybe if I could sell my cross, it will buy dynamite?"
The General smiled. "That is a good thought. Maybe there are others who
would be willing to donate to their jewelry to the cause as well."
"I can beg from house to house for donations," Mulder offered.
Krycek nodded, accepting the idea as good. "Best place for buying dynamite
is in Texas, and you know no one is going to sell a load of dynamite to a
Mexican. I would love to buy it for you," he told the General.
The General agreed.
Later that evening, Brother Mulder returned. "How did you do, Brother?"
Alex asked.
"I'm not sure," Mulder confessed, and opened the small pouch, dumping the
contents onto the ground.
The General and Alex sifted through the rings and necklaces and other gold
and silver, and Alex smiled. "With all this, we could buy enough to give my
horse a rupture. You did really well for me... for the cause, Brother." He
gathered it back into the pouch.
Mulder smiled, pleased with the praise.
"I'll leave immediately."
General Skinner nodded his approval and Alex stood up to leave. "Please,
Mr. Krycek, I need to talk to you." Brother Mulder grabbed his arm. He
looked nervous, as if he wanted to make a confession.
Krycek decided he didn't want to worry about whatever it was. "I can't,
Brother. I need every moment to be here by the Fourteenth."
Mulder nodded his acceptance, though he looked a bit disappointed.
Alex turned to the General. "Where should we meet up?"
"Outside Chiwawa is a little church. Be there as soon as you can, as early
as you can, by the morning of the fourteenth."
Alex nodded and turned back to Mulder. "Goodbye
Brother Mulder. Don't let the French spend that money before I return."
Krycek returned and saw Brother Mulder praying at a shrine near the church.
Mulder turned at his approach and waved in greeting. After making a final
bow to the shrine he walked over.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Krycek. How is your shoulder?"
"Better, thanks." Krycek had removed the sling before getting to Texas. No
reason to make himself into a target. In fact, he felt fine. Which was a
good thing, considering the battle he was about to help fight in today.
"I'm glad to see you have returned safely," Brother Mulder admitted. It
looked as if he were about to say more, but he stopped.
"Waiting for the dynamite, huh?" Alex grinned at the young man.
"And you." Mulder's eyes lowered and he smiled shyly.
Krycek was pleased. "Missed me, huh?"
Mulder nodded. "A bit."
"Yeah, well, to tell the truth, it felt sort of wrong, not having your burro
to slow me up the last few days."
"Did it?" The monk went to untie the Burro.
"Yeah, dammit. Problem is, Brother, I should never have met up with you in
the first place."
Brother Mulder shook his head and said, "Come, General Skinner is waiting
for you." He mounted his burro.
"Where have you been, Krycek? There are only a few hours of daylight
remaining."
"I had to go to three towns but I got all we'll need. How many men do you
have?"
The General shrugged casually, and said, "Oh, uh, about one hundred. Let us
go."
The trio walked to the church and stopped inside to kneel and make the sign
of the cross. Krycek watched and tried to copy them, but didn't really know
what to do. As they continued walking, the men in the church began
following them.
They started a silent procession up the stairs, and eventually reached the
top of the church. General Skinner and Krycek walked stealthily to look
over the roof and into the garrison. They looked at each other in confusion
and Krycek angrily stalked over to the monk. "They're all sober. You must
have gotten your calendar mixed up."
"No, today is their Independence Day," Mulder insisted.
General Skinner spoke up, "Blowing up the bridge must have put them on the
alert. Surprise will now be impossible."
"Just listen to me..." Krycek began, desperately.
"I will listen, but my mind is on my men," Skinner warned him. "All you
think about is money."
Krycek opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything to argue.
Brother Mulder interrupted them. "All right, I think I know how we can get
in by surprise."
They turned to him, willing to listen.
"Three streets from here is a house. It used to be the residence of the
Bishop. During the rainy season there was a tunnel that led from the house
to the garrison. When the Bishop moved, the monks walled it up. I think
you could break through it though."
"Who lives in there now?" The General wondered.
"Very good friends of mine."
"Trustworthy?"
"Very trustworthy," Mulder assured him.
Krycek breathed out a sigh of relief. "Great, then I have a plan that'll
work."
Skinner turned to him. "What?"
"Fire." Then Krycek turned to Mulder and asked, "When you were giving them
Spanish lessons, did you ever get a look at where they keep the money?" He
took Mulder's arm and they walked to look over the roof into the garrison
again.
"They used to pay me from a strongbox in that room." Mulder pointed to a
room left of the patio.
"Iron or wood?"
"Iron."
"Good, then it won't burn. Okay, I figure we need four troops. The first
one you give them coal oil and dynamite, they can go through the front, then
the second can go through the tunnel and burst into the courtyard. The
third group can be over there, and the fourth group should be of your best
riflemen. They should be up here, to take off the sentries and help the men
in the courtyard." He hesitated, before mentioning, "Of course, this all
has to happen at the same time."
Skinner nodded. "Firstly, we'll wait till the cover of night and
secondly... some women and children carrying a piñata..."
"What's a piñata?" Krycek interrupted.
"A Mexican tradition to liven up a party." Skinner grinned.
Mulder led them to the house he had described as being the old residence of
the Bishop. They entered to hear lively music playing. When the current
residents saw them enter, the music stopped and suddenly a red headed beauty
ran over to Mulder. "Baby! You're safe, they didn't get my favorite." She
grabbed Mulder into her arms and gave him a huge hug, her hands giving the
monk's ass a huge squeeze.
"Dana!" Mulder greeted her happily, lifting her in the air and twirling
once. Dana kept her arm around him and began leading him further into the
room.
Krycek watched all this in silent bewilderment. "Brother Mulder, this here
is a Cathouse," he finally found his tongue.
"This is the best whorehouse in town, Krycek." Mulder grinned over his
shoulder and allowed the redhead to lead him further into the room.
Realization finally hit him, and Krycek growled. "Day and night, night and
day out in that desert, you made a sucker out of me?" He approached the
other man angrily.
"I didn't want to, but you forced me to," Mulder explained, sounding
perfectly reasonable.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
Mulder moved some chairs off of a rug, as he spoke, "What's the first thing
you told me when we saw the French cavalry? If I weren't a monk, you'd let
me save my own bacon. Then when I told you about the garrison, you said if
I wasn't a monk, you'd as soon say thank you and goodbye. I wanted to be
with you, I wanted to be safe. I tried to tell you at Skinner's camp but
you were too stubborn to listen." He rolled up the rug and opened the trap
door, leading into the basement. Mulder grabbed a cigar from the mouth of
one of the clients, and looked up at him.
Krycek knew he had to be gaping, but he was in shock.
"What are you looking so surprised for, Mr. Krycek?" Mulder began descending
the stairs. "Just because I'm saving your bacon, again ?"
Krycek turned to the General who simply shrugged.
While some of the men were using a pick-ax to break through the bricks of
the tunnel, Krycek and Skinner inspected the piñata. Krycek then placed the
load of dynamite inside.
"How long is the fuse?" Skinner asked.
"Thirty seconds."
"So short?" Skinner asked, nervously.
"Any longer fuse might be seen. Just don't make the women too old or the
children too young, and tell them not to trip."
One of the soldiers informed them that the tunnel was open, so the General
nodded for the piñata to be finished and they went to go explore the
pathway.
The tunnel led to the garrison, but it was the lower half, and it turned out
the basement was being used as a dungeon. There were prisoners chained to
the wall, starving to death.
Mulder led them to the steps leading up, and they found they were locked in
by a barred door.
"Dynamite would take away the surprise. It must be opened from above,"
Skinner observed.
Mulder spoke softly, but firmly, "You could turn me in. They would have to
open the door if they had another prisoner. The French want me very badly.
Why don't you turn me over and ask for a reward?" he offered.
"I don't like it." Krycek jumped off the steps to stand by Mulder.
"What do you suggest then?"
"I'll have to think about it."
"There is no time," Mulder shook his head.
"I still don't like it." Krycek didn't want to turn him over to the French.
Who knew what they might do to the man.
"We have to get that trap door open," Mulder reminded him.
"You know what you're talking about is crazy, Mulder."
"Listen, Krycek. Everyone has a right to be a sucker once."
Krycek stared at him, not appreciating having his words quoted, but
understanding that Mulder was right.
"We will have a man in the belfry. When he sees you enter the garrison with
Mulder, he will ring the bell three times. That will be the signal for the
women with the piñata to start at a slow walk. From the time you enter the
garrison you will have four minutes until the explosion."
"Slow them up, make it six minutes," Krycek suggested.
"All right, six minutes."
Krycek turned to Mulder. "All right, let's go give a Spanish lesson."
While they were walking back through the tunnel, Alex stopped, and pushed
Mulder up against a wall. "I don't know how this will turn out, but I owe
this to myself." He framed Mulder's face with his palms and kissed him.
Mulder kissed him back, before pulling away. "We had better go."
Krycek nodded, watching as Mulder walked further down the tunnel. "Bad time
for a war," he muttered under his breath, "Bad time."
Outside the garrison, Krycek knocked on the door and called out, "Anybody in
there speak English?"
A voice from within asked, "What is it you want at this hour?"
"I think I may have something that might interest you," Krycek replied.
The door opened and a French officer stuck out his head. "Oh my God," he
breathed, recognizing Krycek's companion. "Mulder! Entrez, entrez," he
ushered them in.
"Get in there," Krycek used his foot to give Mulder's ass a gentle kick.
Once inside, the officer was walking around excitedly. "Well, the General
himself will want to meet you."
"Now wait just a minute," Krycek stopped him. "I've had about enough of
this here warista. Now if your general wants to socialize, I have no
problem with that, but I'd just as soon have him locked up."
"I am sorry, monsieur." The officer apologized with his refusal, and went
into another room for a moment.
Mulder said softly to Alex, "I sure wish I had that cross right now."
The officer returned and ushered them into a larger room. An older man,
smoking a cigar banged on the table with his crop and called out, "Mulder,
here S'il vous plait."
Krycek assumed this was the General.
Mulder straightened his shoulders and stepped forward.
The General began to laugh. "Excuse me, monsieur. I am not laughing at you,
but at his costume." He assured Alex, and then turned back to Mulder. "Come
to think of it, we'll have to shoot you dressed like that."
Krycek jumped a little. "Now General, I understand raising money for the
Mexican army is a crime..."
"So is shooting a lieutenant," the General added.
"Did that bastard die?" Mulder queried.
Krycek was again taken aback. Mulder shot someone?
The General nodded. "Yes, the lieutenant died, and you will too. Monsieur,
I am General Spender."
"Well, my name is Hamilton, Terrence Hamilton. Tex to my friends."
The General smiled at him. "How did you come to catch him for us?"
Krycek began spinning a story, but his mind was on the piñata and the plans
which were going down the drain. It was all going to hell, he thought. It
wasn't long before he heard the singing of the women and children.
"So you didn't know about the 200 gold francs reward?" the general sounded
surprised at the end of his tale.
"Reward? Well, that's better than a stab in the eye. So, why don't you lock
Mulder up, and send me on my way."
"No, no, no, condemned prisoners are entitled to one last night of
relaxation. Would you like wine or cognac, Mulder?"
"Cognac, a full glass," Mulder replied, trying to hide his frustration.
Krycek could feel Mulder shaking next to him.
"Please bring the 200 francs, and for you, monsieur?" the general looked to
Alex.
"Make mine smaller than the one you gave him. I'm just a country boy."
The general obliged him, and poured himself one. Then he made a toast. "To
your virtues and also your vices, eh, Mulder. What a pity to bury them
both."
Alex watched as Mulder drank his cognac in three large swallows. Mulder
glanced up at him and grinned, albeit shakily.
The singing was becoming louder and the general walked over to the window.
"People who know how to sing, the Mexicans. Are you familiar with this
melody, Monsieur Hamilton?"
"Can't say that I am."
"It is for birthdays and weddings and what not." He opened the window.
"My, how touching. They know it is our Independence Day and come to toast
us. Do you know what a piñata is?" Spender turned to him.
"Can't say that I do."
"Come see. It's quite something. They build a figure, usually an animal
with a clay jar and fill it with candy and nuts and fruit and small toys.
Then it is suspended from the limb of a tree."
"How cute," Krycek muttered, watching as the girls lit the fuse on the
piñata. Knowing he hadn't much time anymore, he pulled his gun and shot the
General before the man knew what was happening. The remaining officers
scrabbled for weapons, but were shot before they reached any.
Mulder ran to the door, and they escaped through it.
A shout called into the night, "Viva Mexico!"
A bugle began blowing, and shots began volleying through the warm night air.
Men were screaming, men cried out, explosions caused by dynamite were
loud. All around them, men were dying, guns were being shot and fires were
starting.
Alex found an opening in the wall, facing the church, and helped Mulder
climb through it. "Go to the house and pour yourself another cognac," he
suggested.
Krycek used dynamite on the dungeon door, allowing the men to get through
and into the courtyard. He shot any French soldiers in his way, and slowly
but steadily made his way to the room housing the strongbox.
Pushing a wheelbarrow with the strongbox in it, Alex walked to the Madam.
"Where is he?"
Dana pointed him to some closed doors. "My room, second door on the left."
He knocked on the door. "Mulder, open up."
"I'm taking a bath!" Mulder called out.
"Well, get out of the bath." Krycek rolled his eyes.
The man acted like a woman sometimes. He really had to find out how Mulder
had ended up in a whorehouse.
"Will you go away and come back later?" Mulder pleaded.
"Oh for..." Alex muttered and used the wheelbarrow to force the door open.
Mulder was laying in a tub full of steaming water, smoking a cigar. He
raised a brow at Krycek, a small smile touching his lips.
Krycek grinned, and removed his gun belt as he approached the water. Then,
still dressed, he stepped into the tub. Ignoring the hot water soaking into
his clothes he removed the cigar from Mulder's mouth.
Mulder laughed and pulled him further into the water until he lay on top of
him. "This better than those fantasies from the last few days?" he asked,
licking his lips.
"A damn sight better," he assured Mulder and kissed him.
It didn't occur to him until much later to wonder how Mulder had known about
those fantasies.
End
Notes: Vous putain degoutante – you filthy whore.
Unfortunately, I don't have a program which allows me to use accents above
the letters, but the spelling is correct.
Two Mules For Brother Mulder
by Kindli
Alex Krycek rode his horse through the wilderness and sands of Mexico.
While approaching a hill he heard yelling and laughing. He dismounted and
climbed the dune to look over. Three cowboys were laughing, and taunting a
young man who stood there trying to cover himself with the remnants of his
clothing.
