Divine Retribution
by MJ Lee

Part II


"Ready?" Krycek asked, quietly as they watched the car break and stop. A car that the Consortium had provided them with.

Mulder swallowed, "Ready," he said. He stepped forward as Krycek opened the door for him, and sank into the leather seat.

The drive was completed in total silence. Sitting in the backseat, watching the back of Krycek's neck as he spoke quietly to the chauffeur, Mulder told himself for the thousandth time that he could do this.

After about half an hour's drive the car slowed and turned into a gently curving driveway, finally gliding to a smooth stop outside a large Georgian manor. Mulder stepped outside, trying his best to match Krycek's impassive face. He walked towards the imposing carved oak doors.

Krycek took up his place behind Mulder, a little to the left, half a pace behind.

"Fox Mulder?" An elderly, white-haired man came forward a smile on his face.

Ah yes, Mulder relaxed, remembering Krycek's briefing. "Doctor Mendes," he held out his hand.

The old man ignored the hand clasping him to his chest. "Dear boy, it seems only yesterday that it was your father standing where you are."

Mulder smiled easily, concealing his sudden stiffening. "I'm afraid that I didn't know my father as well as I wished. He was away much when I was growing up."

Nodding his head, grasping Mulder's elbow, Doctor Mendes said sadly, "The inevitable price of duty and loyalty I'm afraid. But I am sure he would have been delighted to know that you are following in his footsteps." He glanced at Krycek who was standing close, face carefully blank. "Even to your servants, however," he lowered his voice, "I am not sure that this is very wise. You do know what he did, don't you?"

Mulder fought down his intuitive dislike and smiled again. "I know, but," he lowered his voice as well, pretending intimacy, "he is a most accomplished tool as long as you are able to control him."

Doctor Mendes smiled, "So like your father, dear boy..." He repeated happily freezing Mulder's soul.

They entered the house with Dr. Mendes still chattering away pleasantly, and introducing Mulder to various old men. Mulder smiled and nodded and agreed until he thought his face would crack. It was the normality of it all that truly unnerved him. The people he saw were the same ordinary men he met every day of his life, government employees who lived out their conventional, pedestrian lives, without anyone ever knowing differently.

He felt Krycek shift, the rigidity slight and probably unnoticeable to everyone but himself. It was all the warning he had before a tall dark man with a narrow face approached them. Mulder gave him a sharp look, alerted by Krycek's sudden tension. The man was not one of the 'masters' as Krycek dubbed them sarcastically, by his dress and demeanor. The stranger held out his hand, "Mr. Mulder?"

Automatically Mulder shook it. "Yes."

"I had the pleasure of knowing your father," a long searching look, "forgive me, but you do not look much like him."

Mulder summoned a smile from somewhere, "They say I take more after my mother."

"Ah yes, that must be it," but he continued to look sharply at Mulder. "My name is Garrett by the way," a sideways glance, and Mulder could feel Krycek tensing even further. Then the man walked away, a small satisfied smile on his lips.

"Alex?" Mulder glanced towards Krycek who had schooled his face to immobility by now. He shook his head once and Mulder nodded slightly in reply. In response to the slight warning Mulder did not even look at Krycek again until they were alone in their private suite of rooms.

When the door closed, Mulder immediately turned to Krycek. "Are you okay, Alex?"

"No, yes!" Tense as a bowstring, he stalked across the room. "Fuck! I never thought it'd be this hard to come back." The last was a whisper not meant for Mulder's ears.

Mulder watched, uncertain of what to say, what to do. "That man, Garrett, you knew him?"

Krycek nodded once, prowling around restlessly, "Yeah, he's been around as long as I have." A bitter twisted smile, "he used to be another of your father's favorites."

Mulder swallowed. All he could think of to say was, "Oh!"

Krycek turned and looked at him, and suddenly he seemed to relax a little. "Very eloquent," he mocked.

Mulder grinned back, too relieved to see Krycek return to his normal self to take offense. "Well, all this is a little overwhelming you have to admit."

Sitting down on the bed, Krycek sighed, "I know, and it's going to get worse. Look, we're going to have to watch our step out there."

Mulder glanced around, "Is it safe in here?"

Krycek raised an eyebrow, "You mean bugs? No problem, it's against Consortium rules to bug the private rooms," he added dryly, "one of the few rules they have. Besides, I've got an old friend down in surveillance. No, it's clean."

"Thank God for that!" Mulder muttered loosening his tie. "So, what's the schedule?"

Krycek frowned, "If things haven't changed too much tonight there's cocktails and dinner. Then comes the really interesting part, you all," his voice turned very dry, "the masters that is, gather in the library for some quiet discussion and alliance-making. Then," he shrugged, eyes sliding away from Mulder, "it's time for entertainment. We should probably stay for a part of it, it will look extremely odd if we don't."

Mulder had to swallow and wet suddenly dry lips. "Entertainment?" He croaked.

Krycek's mouth twisted, "Don't get too excited; we're not talking Roman orgies." He paused, "Well, not most of the time. But yes, basically it's what you think it is, some nice relaxation after a long hard day of plotting the betrayal of humanity."

Mulder stood up and moved up behind Krycek who stiffened but didn't move away. He put his chin against Krycek's back, and slid his arms around the hard body. "We don't have to do this," he whispered.

A long, shuddering sigh, and then Krycek said wearily, "Yeah, we do." He turned, and cupped Mulder's jaw. "Look, there is something I forgot to tell you." He didn't look at Mulder, his voice a little tight. "You have to act like your father or this isn't going to work."

Mulder sounded confused, "What are you talking about?"

Krycek hesitated, releasing Mulder and stepping away. "You're going to have to stop looking at me like you do."

"Like what?"

He was silent for a moment, and then said as if the words hurt his throat, "Like you really... care, okay? Lust is fine, but not concern."

Mulder for once in his life found himself at a total loss for words.

xx

Dressing for dinner, Krycek came out of the shower, hair slicked back and damp and with nothing but a towel around his hips. "I was thinking after dinner we'll try for downstairs. I only hope Frohike's magic box works."

Mulder frowned, buttoning up his white, starched shirt, "It'll work. But you think we should both go?"

Krycek nodded, muttering a little as he fumbled with his shirt, "Yeah, not only because one of us can keep watch, but also because it can easier be explained away if it's both of us."

"All right, you know best," Mulder agreed shrugging into his black dinner jacket. "Jesus," he swore, as the fabric caught on one of his cuff links. He tugged at the recalcitrant snag, swearing again under his breath.

"Here, let me do it, you'll tear it," Krycek said calmly coming up beside him and using only one hand managed to free the link.

Before he could move, Mulder covered his hand with a strong, gentle grip. "Alex..." he hesitated not sure what to say.

Krycek shook his head and pulled away, his face closed. "Not now, Mulder."

At dinner, Mulder was seated beside an older man who spoke courteously to him and seemed well informed if a little vague. They had a pleasant conversation about banshees and Celtic legends. It was more than a little pleasurable and exciting to be in a room where not a single man thought he was a half-mad eccentric. However, no matter how involved he became, he was always aware of the dark-haired man standing by the wall, along with other hard-eyed silent men, guarding their master's back. The thought thrilled him far more than it should.

It wasn't until the long dinner was over that it suddenly occurred to him that Alex must be half-starving. He wondered what the protocol was, but no, it seemed that Krycek was to stay with him as they moved from the dinner into a large room with comfortable sofas and a roaring fire in the enormous carved fireplace. Sinking down into softness, Mulder caught a whiff of aged leather and he smiled a little ruefully at the tiny dart of arousal that shot through him at the scent. Instinctively his eyes once again sought out Alex who had taken up his position by the wall, watching everyone with opaque eyes, body deceptively loose and relaxed.

xx

"Welcome back, Krycek." The oily voice sent silent shudders up his spine. "I wasn't sure we'd see you here again."

Turning slowly, Krycek's smile was just a baring of his teeth. "Hello, Garrett."

Leaning against the wall, the larger man followed Mulder with dark, liquid eyes. "Interesting, he doesn't seem much like his father."

Krycek forced himself to shrug, pretending disinterest, "He's not in many ways, in others, they could be the same man." That was truer than he wanted to admit and it was making him more than little twitchy. No matter how many times he told himself that father and son were two very different men, just being back here meant that one inevitably started to slide into the other.

Idly Garrett said, "What's the deal between you two?"

"None of your business," Krycek said shortly and then cursed himself at the sudden sharp interest.

"Oh? You sound rather possessive..."

Almost he laughed, relieved beyond measure that his tension had been misunderstood. "Not really."

Still idly, Garrett murmured, "So say if someone else were to offer him a bed partner, you wouldn't object?"

Pretending to think it over, letting his gaze sweep over Mulder who was listening in rapt attention to an old man, he said casually, "Depends on who was asking." He glanced at Garrett from the corner of his eye. "Why? Sentimental for the old days?"

A shrug, "I could be. I've heard rumors about this one."

Although his stomach tightened, Krycek forced a careless tone into his voice, "Anything interesting?"

Still watching Mulder, an avid, hungry look darkening brown eyes, Garrett murmured, "They say he's a renegade and working against everything his father stood for."

"They, whoever they are, were right," Krycek said caustically. There was, after all, little sense in hiding what Mulder had been.

"Yet here he is," Garrett raised an eyebrow inviting an answer.

Determined to reinforce the cover they were using, Krycek said calmly, "The old man offered him a deal he couldn't refuse."

Cold eyes swept over him. "You?" He shook his head, at Krycek's brief nod. "What the fuck is it with you and the Mulders?"

A sudden weary chuckle, "Fuck if I know, Garrett." Another truth he could have done without.

They both fell silent as Mulder came up beside them, "Time to leave, Alex," he said, laying a possessive hand on his shoulder. Feeling the tenseness of the muscles as they spasmed beneath his fingers, he massaged the nape lightly. For a moment he thought Alex would shrug it off, but, obviously recalling where they were, he leaned into the touch instead.

"Ready when you are, sir."

Mulder had to transform his exclamation into a brief cough. Gathering himself, he knew Krycek had seen his betraying start, laughter flashing deep in the green eyes. Giving in to impulse and remembering what Alex had told him in their room before dinner, he leaned forward, and cupped the smooth jaw in his hands, bringing it close for a long, deep kiss. "Mmmm," he said when he reluctantly released him again. "I'm more than ready, Alex." The sudden stillness took him by surprise. "Alex?" he prompted softly.

Krycek's mouth smiled, but his eyes were shards of green glass. "As you said, sir. But perhaps we can take this somewhere more private?"

Garrett chose that moment to intervene, "Come on, Krycek, why spoil the fun? Surely you're not going to keep him to yourself? You never used to be so selfish."

Mulder stiffened, suddenly understanding the cause of Krycek's tenseness. Sickness roiled in his stomach. Unfortunately Mulder was unable to follow his initial reaction, which was to punch this obnoxious lout in the face. He did not have to pretend the tone of possessiveness, as he all but snarled, "Alex's mine! And I don't share."

Garrett chuckled, as did the old man coming up behind them. "Ah, this is familiar," he said amiably. "Hello, Krycek."

"Doctor Mendes," Krycek said too politely.

"It's good to see you back where you belong, boy," the doctor said.

"Yes, sir," was the quiet answer. Krycek gave Mulder a look, and there was a strange pleading in the usually opaque eyes.

Mulder's breath hitched in his throat. Krycek had never pleaded, never asked. Not when he was beaten, not when he was used... "Come on, Alex," he said hoping the huskiness in his voice would be taken for desire.

Silently, obediently, Krycek fell into place, a pace behind and to the left.

As soon as they were alone, Mulder turned to him. "Alex, shit, I'm sorry. I just didn't think!" Even to his own ears he heard how pitifully inadequate the words sounded.

Krycek shook his head. "Leave it alone, Mulder." He turned away, "I hate this fucking place!" he muttered.

Mulder wasn't sure how to deal with the pain that slid across Krycek's face for a moment. He wished he could simply hold Alex and tell him that everything would be all right, to shield against the memories that put the haunted anguish in emerald eyes.

Yet he didn't move, knowing instinctively that right now the last thing Krycek would want was to feel another man's hands on him, least of all... a Mulder's.

So instead he waited until Alex had regained his composure and then said quietly, "Should I change if we're going downstairs?"

Krycek shook his head, "No, better not," he crossed the room and took out Frohike's little black box from his bag. "Let's go."

xx

"Hurry up!" Krycek hissed, flattening himself against the wall, gun at the ready.

They had made their way downstairs, hiding from the occasional guard. However, it seemed that most of the people were still upstairs from the sounds of laughter, talking and music filtering down.

Following Krycek through a maze of dark corridors and empty rooms, Mulder marveled at the surety with which he moved. Freezing, hardly daring to breathe when Krycek gestured sharply, they waited for the echoing footsteps to fade again. Relaxing fractionally, Krycek started to move again—without making a sound.

Trying his best to emulate the cat-soft tread of his partner, Mulder silently swore that if he got out of this alive and whole he'd sign up for the commando courses the FBI offered its field agents. He almost stumbled over something and barely saved himself from falling over, earning himself another sharp look from Krycek.

Finally they arrived at the right door and Krycek stopped abruptly bending down and pulling up a small key. He smiled in satisfaction as he inserted it and gently turned the handle down.

Mulder whispered, "Where the hell did you get that key?!"

Krycek turned and gave him a grin over his shoulder, green eyes glimmering with wicked satisfaction, "Lifted it from the security surveillance room earlier today. Good to know some things never fade."

Mulder's eyes narrowed, but then he had to hold back a quick chuckle. "You can pick pockets?"

Krycek straightened, motioning to Mulder to precede him inside. "Yup."

They entered a small bare room one entire wall taken up with glowing computer panels. In the middle were three monitors and keyboards. "Let's find an outlet," Krycek said.

Mulder took the box and knelt down, frantically looking for an empty slot, heart beating. "Shit! I can't find one," he muttered, putting down the thin flashlight on the floor, searching with his fingers, "it should be down here somewhere!"

Krycek swore softly, running over, "Jesus, you're useless," he fell on his knees, pushing Mulder away, running his fingers lightly over the sockets near the floor, the tips of his fingers just touched a small indentation when Mulder who'd gone over to stand by the door, ear pressed against it, stiffened.

"Someone's coming!"

Krycek immediately stood up and went over. Peeking cautiously outside he cursed viciously in what Mulder presumed was Russian. Then continued, "Fuck! It's the next shift, they're early." He thought frantically for a moment and then told Mulder urgently, "When he goes to check the room beside this one, do exactly what I say, and no arguments!"

Mulder nodded mutely, throat going dry. Krycek waited tensely and then, suddenly exploded into action, pulling Mulder along with him outside and closing the door silently behind them. However, when they exited Mulder knew after a single frantic look both ways that they would never have time to get away from view before the guard came out again and saw them.

Krycek didn't try and run. Instead he gestured for Mulder to follow him down the opposite direction from the guard. When they heard the door behind them open, Krycek spun, grabbed and almost threw him against the wall, dropping to his knees all in once smooth motion.

Before Mulder could react, Krycek unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, swallowing it deep. To his everlasting shame, Mulder felt a jolt of electricity arch through his body at the first wet touch of Alex's tongue, licking and teasing. His hands clenched in the dark hair before him, and he leaned back against the wall, wondering if was going to be able to stay upright. His eyes opened wide in shock and dismay as he realized that one of the guards was moving past them to take up his post outside the lab. He wanted to tell Alex to stop, the presence of the guard both exciting him in a half-shamed perverted way, and embarrassing him horribly.

However, when his eyes flew again to the guard, he realized the man was staring in front of him, ignoring the soft wet sucking sounds, the moans just feet away from where he was standing. Mulder could not help but wonder how many similar sights the stony-faced man had seen in his time.

He came with a soft gasp. Krycek immediately rose, leaving it for Mulder to zip himself up again. When Mulder sneaked a quick glance, the elegant features were without expression. Stepping back, Krycek smoothly slid into position by Mulder's shoulder, waiting for his master to move.

Mulder walked past the guard, aware his face was on fire and grimly, determinedly kept his eyes fastened on the distance. Although he wanted nothing as much as to break into a run, or yell at Krycek for putting him in this situation, he did neither, preferring to keep whatever tattered remains of his dignity he had left.

xx

Once back in the relatively safety of their room, the two men undressed in silence. Krycek carefully took off his holster and placed his gun on the small table by the bed.

Still silently they got into bed, but when Mulder tentatively reached across and tried to slide an arm around his waist, Krycek froze, and then jerked away violently. The "No!" that burst from his lips resonated with pain as he curled up in an almost fetal position.

"Alex..." a soft, agonized whisper. "Please, I'm not the enemy." He bit his lip, remembering a time not too long past when he had been the enemy.

Turning on his back, staring up into the ceiling, Mulder felt the disturbing pull of the past. During the day every time he had seen another old man pass him in the corridor or nod at him across the room, he had wondered how many of the men had known his father, had seen his father in the exact same position, even with the same man following behind him.

Alex wasn't the only one hating this fucking place, he decided.

Although Krycek didn't make a sound, somehow Mulder was certain that he was still awake. Yet, neither man said anything as they lay side by side, silent, tense, sleepless.

xx

There was no transition between reality and memory. Suddenly he was back again in the past... in hell.

Alex was waiting in the bedroom for his master to return. Restraining an impulse to chew on his fingernails—the last time he'd been severely punished—or wander restlessly, he curled into one of the chairs, staring out the window, listening to the rain thrumming against the glass. He hated the weather, it meant that everyone was cooped up inside and people were getting bored and frustrated.

Unconsciously he shivered, feeling the throbbing pain in his back. Surely not, surely his master would know he was hurting too badly to do it again tonight. Please, he prayed, not to any deity but just praying, let him be too tired or too busy or even... nice. Usually he hated the times when his master told him he loved him, the times he had to assure his master he loved him too. A bitter smile twisted his thin face. Sometimes he wasn't sure if he did love his master or not. Or perhaps it was just the not hurting he loved?

The door opened and he immediately stood up, the automatic smile he readied dying on his lips. Shit, shit, shit! His master was not alone; there were three other men with him. He didn't recognize two of them, but the third was his master's new friend. Alex's nose wrinkled remembering the taste of stale cigarettes in his mouth the last time.

The men ignored him to his great relief, and instead he was kept busy serving them, pouring drinks, making himself useful and actually earning a small grunt of approval from Bill Mulder. Alex relaxed even more. Perched on a windowsill he was a small silent unobtrusive presence, head resting on his pulled up knees. As the time grew late he even dared to hope that perhaps everyone would be too tired to do anything.

However, at midnight, Bill Mulder stretched, joints popping. "I think we've gone as far as we can with this tonight," he said.

There were murmurs of agreement as the others too shifted in their chairs.

Alex bit his lip, curling up even further, still not giving up his hope. But then Bill Mulder's eyes fell on the slender young boy, and he lazily he ordered, "Come here, Alex."

Obediently Alex stood up and moved to the table. He tried not to show his apprehension, knowing he would be punished for the least flinch or hesitation. Long lashes fell, hiding the fear in his eyes. He hated when there were several of them, it made him feel even smaller, more insignificant and trapped than usual. It was also, as he'd once shyly tried to tell his master, hard to do what he was required to when there were several men demanding his attention. He hid the bitter smile at the memory of Bill Mulder's incredulous laughter and subsequent anger. Alex had never repeated his mistake of telling his master. Instead he did what he was told and tried not to think of it.

Swallowing he felt one of the men pull him close as pudgy, sweaty hands impatiently slid down his slim body. It was still a boy's body, slender and nearly hairless. Yet the length of leg and arms gave promise of future height and muscular development. An impatient tug on his hair and obediently he opened his mouth, relaxing his jaw, feeling himself float away gently even as his body moved smoothly in submission to the grunted curt commands. He knew if he opened his eyes that his master would be sitting a ways off, watching it all with avid, amused eyes. For some reason, Bill Mulder liked watching, but not participating when he brought guests to his room.

When the men finally left, Alex was lying in a small curled boneless heap on the bed. Burying his face in the fabric, he tried to still the trembles that still wracked his slender body. He knew how much his master hated it when he couldn't control his tears, so although his throat ached with unshed tears; he sat up, stretching sensuously the way he knew Bill Mulder liked, getting lithely on his feet, not letting the bruises or aches of strained muscles show as he moved across the room.

However, when he dared a flirtatious glance through long black lashes, his heart sank as he saw his master's frown. He never even saw the large hand descending, just felt the force of the slap that sent him crashing to the floor.

"You little whore!"

He started shaking, huddling on the floor, not daring to move or say anything. Bill Mulder towered over him, eyes stormy. "I saw you flirting with Sharpe."

Despite himself, Alex could feel tears glitter more from fear than the pain. Sharpe? He frantically searched his memory, which one was Sharpe? They tended to blur in his consciousness. Not sure what response his master wanted, he was silent, watching with apprehensive eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered finally. That seemed a safe enough answer.

Bill Mulder looked at him with cold contempt. "You're such a little slut, spreading your legs for anybody who'll have you. Maybe that's what you want, Alex? Shall I start lending you out?" He smiled thinly, "I've already had offers."

Oh, god, no! Alex swallowed, "Please, no," he whispered, getting up on his hands and kneels, crawling to Bill Mulder. "Please, I'll be good," he promised quickly, rubbing the side of his face against the leg of the man standing above him.

Bill Mulder reached down and tousled the thick brown hair. "Now, Alex, you know I don't like punishing you, but you need correction and reminding whom you belong to." Alex held himself very still beneath the petting hand. No, no, no, throat going dry. He knew that tone. Tonight was going to hurt, hurt badly. He wasn't sure if he could take it, not after last night, and the night before that. But of course he could, he could because that was the only alternative.

"Go to the cabinet and take out the whip." From a distance he heard Bill Mulder's voice and obediently he got his feet and went over, pulling out the drawer with trembling fingers. Taking the short dog-whip, he returned and silently handed it to his master.

"Turn around and bend over." Still without a word he obeyed, closing his eyes and with a skill born of long practice he placed his mind somewhere else, somewhere safe. If it would have helped he would have pleaded and begged, but although at times that amused his master enough to make him stop; instinctively Alex knew that tonight Bill Mulder just wanted to hurt.

Distantly he felt the tears in his skin, the hissed, broken sobbing breaths as Bill Mulder beat him without mercy. He could taste his own blood on his tongue where he'd bitten through his lip in his agony. It was almost a relief when the beating was over and he was flung across the bed and brutally penetrated. It didn't even hurt that much, not after being stretched and used by the other men earlier tonight.

Half-suffocated beneath the heavy weight of Bill Mulder, pressed into the softness of the mattress, trying to ignore the agony of coarse body hair rubbing against his beaten back, Alex concentrated on breathing but he couldn't get enough air into his abused lungs. He was beginning to feel light-headed, black spots dancing before his eyes and wondering if he was going to pass out when he felt the sting of teeth biting deep into his shoulder as Bill Mulder grunted and came.

Not moving for a few moments, the older man finally rolled away, reaching out an arm and pulling the small limp body towards him until it was resting in the crook of his arm. Distantly Alex could feel his hand stroking though his hair. "There, there, it's over now. You know I only do it because I love you, Alex."

He could feel large hands encircle his arms and torso, probing casually, measuring and evaluating then sliding down the crack of his ass, long fingers pushing inside. "You really are quite astonishingly beautiful," he heard the deep voice continue. Alex felt the mouth on his lips, obediently opening in response and a large wet tongue thrust inside almost gagging him. Passively he lay there, letting his master turn him this way and that, explore every inch of his body, listening to the soft murmurs of appreciation sliding along his skin.

"Look at me, Alex," he opened his eyes and found Bill Mulder gazing at him. "You do know why I have to punish you, don't you?"

He nodded immediately, the look in his eyes that of a mortally wounded animal. "Yes, sir, I know it's for my own good, that I'm a very bad boy, and that I really deserve much worse," he recited quickly and then held his breath, hoping it was the right response, and almost sagged in relief when he saw the brown eyes watching him soften in approval.

The hands that were the cause of so much pain and terror stroked him slowly, almost gently, "That's right, my Alex. And you love me, don't you?"

Again he nodded quickly, "Yes, sir, I love you."

Bill Mulder smiled in satisfaction. "Yes, you are mine. Say it Alex, I want to hear you say it."

"I am yours, sir," peeking up through long lashes at the man holding him, Alex added, "I love you, and only you." He felt the approval and even dared a smile cuddling close to the big body the way he knew Bill Mulder liked it.

As soon as he was sure his master was asleep, Alex silently slipped from the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the door behind him softly. No matter how much he longed for it, he didn't dare take a shower for fear it would awaken Bill Mulder. Instead he opened the medicine cabinet behind the mirror and pulled out some disinfectant and soft rolls of cotton wool. Then, setting his teeth, he cleaned all the scrapes and cuts, even hunching over and cleaning deep between his buttocks, biting his lip to prevent the soft gasps from escaping. Finally he wadded up the used stained cotton and threw it into the toilet watching it flush from sight.

Staring into the mirror, he flipped back his hair grimacing at the sight of the bruise blooming across his cheekbone. Touching it gingerly, he winced from the tenderness. Well, at least it wasn't swelling too badly. Besides, the sight might actually make Bill Mulder ease up on him for a day or two.

Not able to face the bedroom or the man sleeping in it quite yet, Alex curled up on the toilet, pulling up his knees to his chest and silently repeated his vow. One day, no matter what it took he would get out of here and then no one would ever be able to tell him what to do or who to fuck!

xx

Krycek woke with a gasp, sitting up. For one nightmarish moment he wasn't sure what was dream and what was reality. The room, bathed in moonlight was the same, the bed was the same, even the man beside him was the same as Mulder stirred and asked sleepily, "Alex?"

The quiet voice was enough and Krycek dove from the bed into the bathroom where he was violently ill, vomiting well past the point where there was anything left in his stomach.

Finally, with the bitter taste of bile in his mouth, he sank down beside the toilet, hearing Mulder flush it and then a glass of cool water was stuck beneath his nose. Too exhausted to do anything but drink, he closed his eyes, breathing shallowly through his nose.

Mulder perched on the edge of the sunken bathtub. "That must have been a hell of a nightmare," he said quietly. "Want to talk about it?"

Krycek didn't look at him, drinking down some more water, feeling the cool liquid slide down his abused throat. "Leave me alone," he said curtly.

"Alex..."

He whispered, so he wouldn't scream hysterically, "I said leave me alone, Mulder."

For once in his life, Fox Mulder actually did what he was told.

xx

In the bedroom, Mulder clenched his fists, wanting to kick something. It had shaken him to the core to see Alex's eyes, blind and tormented and then when they finally focused on Mulder, filled with cold hatred.

It was the final irony that the very act he had hoped would bring Alex's forgiveness was exactly what was tearing them apart.

Helplessly Mulder knew that the distance between them widened for every moment, every hour they were undercover. Although Krycek was far too professional to let anything show, Mulder had felt him withdraw mentally. He hadn't left Mulder's side for long, the perfect bodyguard during the meetings... hard-eyed, alert; a pace behind he was the obedient property in all aspects. Yet, as they slid into their roles, Mulder felt not just distance but memories overtake them. Memories and the ghost of Bill Mulder.

Mulder sat down on the bed and buried his head in his hands.

Finally the bathroom door opened and Krycek came out. Mulder could read nothing in the opaque green eyes or the face that could have been carved from stone.

"How are you feeling?" He asked softly.

"Fine." The closed expression on Krycek's face and the distance in his voice was not encouraging. Not that it deterred Mulder.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Krycek arched a dark eyebrow. "Talk about what?"

"The reason you were throwing up," Mulder gnawed on his lower lip. "I've spent a few nights like that as well," he offered.

Krycek laughed shortly, "Hardly for the same reason." He sat down on the bed, his back towards Mulder, and then laid down, hand behind his head, staring up into the ceiling.

For a while they lay there side by side, neither saying a word, the silence heavy with things unspoken and the darkness of memories.

"Alex? Can you at least accept how sorry I am for what I did?" Mulder finally said softly into the darkness. It was the first time either of them had spoken of the past.

A long silence, and then Krycek said quietly, "Forget it, Mulder."

Abruptly Mulder turned on his side and raised himself on his elbow. "How can I? When I know that every time you look at me you hate me for what I did!?"

A long pause, and then a soft, husky, "I don't hate you, Mulder."

A harsh laugh. "Of course you don't," the disbelief evident.

Krycek sounded impatient, "Why can't you just leave it alone?"

Abruptly putting his hand on Alex's shoulder and smiling bitterly at the sudden tenseness, Mulder said, "Because of that. You flinch away from me every time I get close." A little desperately he added, "Please, tell me what to do to make it okay again."

Krycek closed his eyes and breathed out wearily. It was so typical of Mulder to think that everything revolved around him. That his actions somehow could make everything right again. "Sackcloth and ashes don't suit you. Stop feeling guilty Mulder. I don't want or need your damned contrition."

"What do you want, Alex?" Mulder asked quietly.

"To be left alone," the soft words were followed by a long silence before Krycek said quietly, "To raise Petya in peace and hope to hell I never see an alien again unless it's on a silver screen."

A long silence until Mulder thought Alex had gone to sleep, but then out of the darkness a husky, yearning whisper. "To forget."

Abruptly Krycek turned away, pulled the covers around his shoulders and refused to say another word.

xx

The next morning Mulder tried again to talk to Krycek, who just told him curtly to go down and eat breakfast since the meeting was starting at nine thirty.

Attempting to find some humor, however grim in the day, Mulder kept thinking of the proverb, 'be careful what you ask for, you may get it.' His entire life he had hunted the truth, been obsessed with searching for it and now he suddenly had more truth than he knew how to handle. As he sat silently listening to the Consortium's plans and projects, he could do nothing but marvel and be horrified in equal measures at the sheer scope of the operations, the world-spanning hydra.

"I can understand why you refused my offer of witness protection," Mulder muttered as they walked back towards their room.

Krycek gave him a cynical look, "I would have been dead in hours. It's pure arrogance to think there is any hiding from the Consortium."

Mulder only wished he didn't believe the flat statement.

"And you know this isn't even the highest echelon," Krycek told him once they were alone in their room. Rubbing a hand over his face, he sank down in a chair, leaning back and closing his eyes. Mulder threw himself down on the bed.

"I can't believe this has been allowed to grow unchecked. Hell, the Mafia has nothing on these guys."

Krycek allowed himself a sardonic smile, "Trust me the Consortium makes the Mafia look like Sunday school." It should have sounded melodramatic, but somehow Mulder failed to see either the melodrama or the humor.

Before Mulder could answer there was a knock, and Krycek stood up and went to open the door, while Mulder sat up and smoothed down his hair plastering a smile on his face.

It was another of the old men who had known his father and who came to assure the son of his friendship and loyalty, offering alliance in the hope of more power. Listening to the rambling memories about his father, Mulder watched Krycek leaning against the wall, watching the room with guarded emerald eyes.

"Your father was a great man, my boy, a great man." He re-focused on the old man, Finney, again.

"As I said, sir, I really didn't know him that well," Mulder admitted. "He was gone during most of my childhood."

Finney patted his knee and Mulder had to suppress a shiver. "Of course, we all knew of the great sacrifices poor Bill had to make. If you will forgive me for saying so, the worst mistake he ever made was to ally with Spender." His tone took on a delicate sniff; "the man is nothing but a common schemer if you ask me."

Mulder felt the smile freeze on his face. "You know Spender?" he asked carefully.

"No more than I have to," the old man made a moue of distaste. "Such a stupid man; thinks everything can be solved with a bullet or a well-placed bomb." He gave Krycek a swift glance.

Mulder intercepted and interpreted the look correctly. "There is no need for concern, sir, Krycek is completely loyal to me, aren't you, Alex?"

"Yes, sir," the voice was completely expressionless.

Finney laughed thinly, "So sure of yourself, dear boy," he rose, leaning heavily on his ebony cane, "you are your father's son."

Your father's son.

Ever since Krycek had first spoken of the mad plan, Mulder had been filled with fear. It had been augmented and reinforced by the knowledge that during their time here, he had slipped into old patterns of behavior, ordering instead of asking Alex and treating him more like a possession than an equal. It made no difference that this was what Krycek-no demanded- that he do. It still brought a haunting sense of deja vu. A deja vu of his own darkness, and of his father's.

He would not, could not, deny that there was a wonderful sense of rightness seeing the ever-present shadow at his shoulder and watching Alex carry out his every wish. Nor could he deny the dark temptation to have this forever no matter the price paid. To know that every time he reached out his hand, every time he turned around, Alex was there, beside him, in bed, during meetings, when he ate dinner.

Yet, all it took was one look at the closed, blank face and he knew that it was no real enticement. Not when he could remember the Alex who had laughed, eyes clear and without shadows, mouth curling in real laughter instead of sardonic grimness.

That was the man he wanted with all his heart and soul.

Sitting in his chair, staring blankly in front of him, he thought that since he had come here that was all they had told him, how like his father he was. How proud his father would have been to see his son take up his legacy.

It froze him to his soul, the knowledge that when the old men looked at him they saw not Fox Mulder, but Bill Mulder's son.

"Come on, Mulder," the husky impatient voice broke into his dark thoughts. "This is the perfect time for another try at the mainframe computer." He smiled grimly, "I made a deal with Garrett who agreed to divert the guard."

Mulder looked alarmed. "Was that safe?"

Krycek shrugged, "It should be, Garrett thinks we're after info on some of the other guys." He allowed himself a sardonic smile. "Just ordinary Consortium games. If he ever finds out what we really did he won't dare breathe a word to anyone since killing the messenger is standard operating procedure."

Following behind Krycek, watching the cold, calm efficiency, the impenetrable facade, Mulder wondered with a sudden piercing fear if in saving Peter Krycek and Scully he had lost everything.

xx

This time there were no interruptions, although Mulder couldn't stop the fierce flush warming his cheeks as they once again made their way through the endless dim corridors.

It was with a soundless but nonetheless heartfelt sigh of relief that he watched as Krycek swiftly slid the small black box into place, disguising it so skillfully that unless you knew exactly where it was no one would ever notice.

Krycek stood up and smiled, the first genuine smile Mulder had seen on his face since they'd arrived.

"Mulder?"

"What?"

"Let's get the hell out of here."

They did.

xx

Safe House, Washington, DC
The Next Morning

"Mulder, we've got a problem."

Mulder looked up to find Frohike and Langley all but hopping from foot to foot, Byers hovering uncertainly behind them.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

"Halfway through the transfer they discovered what was going on and locked us out."

Mulder's heart suddenly started beating like a jack-hammer. "What?" he finally managed to croak.

"We must have tripped a security wire somewhere 'cause suddenly, boom! We had to disconnect or they'd have traced us."

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Mulder cursed.

"Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction as well," Frohike agreed. The three men seemed more ashamed than anything else, as though they had failed a test of some sort. "Well, we're going back and looking over what we have and we'll tell you tonight, okay?"

It wasn't more than twenty minutes later that Krycek walked into the room. Mulder took one look at his face and sighed, "I guess you heard the bad news?"

Krycek nodded. "I've been on the phone," he flopped down in the sofa and put up his legs, stretching bonelessly, like a tired cat. "It was damned lucky we didn't blow our cover. The meeting is over, but there are still some people out there, it shouldn't be too hard to get back inside."

Mulder bit his lip. The very last thing on earth he wanted to do was to go back. He looked up and caught impassive green eyes on him.

"I can't say I like the idea much either," Krycek agreed calmly, "but I don't think we have a choice, do you?"

Mulder sighed, "No, we don't." He hesitated as Krycek stood up again, "Ah, Alex? Look, we really do need to talk."

Although his back was turned, Krycek nodded jerkily. "I know, but not until it's over."

When they got back to the house again, it seemed much more empty. They were however greeted with casual welcome and were soon installed in their old room again.

While Mulder was showering and changing, Krycek left to 'check out some possibilities,' as he put it.

Mulder was just buttoning his shirt when Krycek returned, looking dark and cursing softly. "What is it?" he demanded.

Krycek spat something unintelligible in Russian and then said sourly, "They've discovered someone mucked around with the mainframe so they've doubled security, we're not going to get back in again."

Mulder felt like throwing something, had it all been for nothing then? The danger, the fear and the demons he'd called up from his memories. "It's over?"

Krycek wearily rubbed his neck, "I'm not sure, there are one or two possibilities I can check out." He added absently, "I've been around for a long time, and I know quite a few people, something may shake loose."

"So we stay," Mulder couldn't quite restrain a sigh.

"We stay."

Mulder spent the rest of the day in the library, doing some quiet research. Sitting in the oak paneled room, breathing in the dusty rich scent of old books and leather, he shook his head ruefully. This was the life he had been destined for, the quiet, unexciting existence of an academic. What was the French proverb? 'The more things change, the more they remain the same.'

A soft footfall behind made him turn his head, and he saw Alex come up to the table.

"What are you reading?" Krycek asked.

Mulder looked a little abashed, "Nothing too earth shattering actually. I found a first edition of Mary Shelley's 'Frankenstein', fascinating stuff."

Krycek shook his head and didn't say anything, although the slight flash of impatience was evident. Badly wanting to change the subject, Mulder asked, "Did you find anything useful?"

Sitting down, Krycek hesitated briefly, "There is someone, but he's not coming back until tomorrow morning, Murphy, remember him?" Mulder shook his head, "he's an old ally, and enemy, of your father's." A faint smile, "a bit more of an ally than an enemy. I found out through one of the guys in security that he's got some of the mainframe files backed-up. With a little luck he might have enough of what we didn't get for Scully to puzzle it all together."

Mulder arched an eyebrow, "Is that allowed?"

Krycek gave him a sardonic smile, "Of course not, but that's never stopped anybody. The point is, unless he's changed drastically, Murphy can be bought."

"How much?"

Krycek shrugged, "Don't know yet, and usually it's not money he wants, he..." he hesitated choosing his next words carefully, "he's after other things; excitement, manipulation."

"Oh wonderful, " Mulder buried his head in his hands. "Christ, isn't there one normal guy in this place?"

The sudden husky laughter surprised him. "What's normal? Here, normality would make you dead very quickly." Krycek shrugged standing up, "In any case, it's time for dinner now. Come on."

A soft groan, "Don't tell me I have to change for another formal black-tie event."

Krycek shook his head, "Nah, now that the meeting is over you can choose between dining in the hall or in your room."

Mulder brightened, "Room, please." He gave Alex an almost shy look, "and you can eat with me?"

Krycek hesitated, "If you want."

Suddenly feeling more cheerful and galvanized into action, Mulder rose, "I definitely want." He swallowed down the rest of what he wanted. Since the nightmare, he hadn't so much as touched Alex. The stark fear in the green eyes had sickened him to his soul, and he never wanted to chance seeing it again. But it had not been easy not when every night since he had been on his back, staring up into the ceiling sleepless, listening to the soft even breaths of the man beside him in bed. When all he'd had to do was to reach out his and touch a smooth shoulder. When his body remembered only too well the blinding pleasure found in the velvet heat of the lean body beside him.

During dinner that night they talked more easily than they'd done for a long time. However, gradually, Mulder realized it was only his voice talking and Alex had fallen still and silent, half the food left untouched on his plate. "Why don't you try some of this?" Mulder was forking up some of his veal, and then held out his fork, "it's great." For a man who usually lived on Chinese take-out and pizza he was enjoying the recent change in his diet.

Krycek waited until his very stillness had caught Mulder's attention.

The slow, deliberate movement set the blood thudding heavily through Mulder's body as Alex leaned forward, green eyes trained steadily on the stunned hazel of the man opposite him, a pink tongue curled out. His white teeth bit into the tender meat, chewed and swallowed with obvious enjoyment.

"Mmmm..." he said softly, "you're right, it is delicious."

Mulder blinked. "Umm, Alex?"

Krycek shook his head with that small wry smile that Mulder loved curling his mouth. The one that spoke of amusement not pain. "Yes, Mulder?" The tone was very innocent.

Still uncertain but more than willing to follow Krycek's lead, Mulder put down his fork, a part of him noting his hand was actually trembling. "Should I ask what you want?" He laughed breathlessly.

Green eyes danced with humor and something warmer as Krycek stood up and moved around the table, holding out his hand. "If you have to, then I'm obviously doing something wrong."

"No," Mulder said taking his hand and rising, sliding his arms around Alex's neck, kissing him deeply. "Oh, no," he murmured again, when they had to break for air, "you're doing everything perfectly right."

Looking at him with a strange glitter in the green eyes, Krycek arched against him, taking Mulder's mouth hungrily again, with enough force that Mulder felt his lip crack and tasted his own blood, and then he almost jumped when another tongue gently pushed aside his own, exploring and soothing the tender flesh.

Still entwined they moved the few steps to the bed and sank down on it, mouths still locked to each other.

There was something different about Alex tonight, Mulder thought hazily. He seemed like a man possessed as he pulled at Mulder's clothes. There was no finesse in him, no slow skillful seduction just an almost desperate need.

Finally they were naked, chest to chest, near bursting cocks moving against each other. Krycek greedily swallowed Mulder's moan at the gentle friction, reaching down and grasping Mulder's cock, rubbing the swollen, tender head, at the same time he bent his head and started licking at Mulder's nipples, coaxing them to pebble-hardness.

Sobbing, head flung back, eyes wild, Mulder choked down a scream as Krycek slid a thigh between Mulder's open legs, moving it slowly back and forth as his hand moved around behind. His warm finger insinuating itself inside he pressed lightly on the prostate at the same time as he bit down on one nipple hard. His knee rubbed Mulder's cock. Nerve-endings overloading with sensation, Mulder was unable to hold back and with his scream muffled in Krycek's shoulder, he came hard.

Cradling Mulder's trembling body in his arm, whispering soft endearments and using his remaining hand to run light, teasing patterns down the wiry pale body, Krycek chuckled softly, the sound slithering like silk across Mulder's too sensitive skin.

He bent his head and kissed the swollen silk of the lips hovering so close, laughing into the moist welcoming cavern as Mulder silently begged for more, arching his body into Krycek's, strong hands suddenly clutching dark hair, pulling Krycek impossibly closer, as though Mulder wanted to swallow him whole.

When the hand traveled down his back, stroking long, lazy circles moving along the pale curve towards the tempting swell beneath the slenderness of the waist, Mulder opened his legs eagerly, hips pushing up to meet the questing fingers. "Fuck me," he whispered, lifting his mouth for more kisses, "please, Alex."

Sliding down Mulder's body, Krycek stopped for a moment, admiring the feast laid out before his eyes. "You would let me do anything right now, Mulder, wouldn't you?" He whispered huskily.

Mulder closed his eyes, his body dissolving, burning, "Yes," he breathed, "oh yes..." every syllable drowsy and heavy with pleasure.

Reaching out, Krycek opened the small drawer and pulled out a small tube. Squeezing some thick jelly on his fingers, he moved between Mulder's legs, coating long fingers, he reached deep inside, probing, and touching just there, making Mulder bite his lip and writhe in need. But then he felt Krycek's warm breath in his hair, and felt the soft chuckle whisper along his skin. "Oh no, so far I've done most of the work." Still with that devilish smile dancing in his eyes, Krycek stretched out on his back, "come here, Mulder," he murmured, using his hand to guide the other man to kneel above him, fingers splayed across one pale hip.

Mulder felt the first touch of something hot throbbing against him. He shuddered; pleasure and apprehension shaking and mingling as he slowly, oh so slowly sank down, feeling Alex's cock enter him, millimeter by millimeter. Oh god, the feeling of being stretched and filled, the burning pain shot through with the most intense pleasure he had ever felt. Tensing his thigh muscles to control the speed and angle of descent, Mulder felt sweat pour off his sides, his head flung back, moving slowly from side to side. "Oh God Alex!" He could feel the hard length slide slowly, oh so slowly inside him until it filled him completely. Gathering himself, he began a slow rhythm, guided by the strong hand on his hip, slowing down or speeding up. And then he felt himself turned on his stomach, Alex kneeling between his legs, sliding inside again in one smooth thrust, his hand stroking along the heated length of Mulder's cock, milking it in time to his thrusts.

Arching his hips, hands clenched to the headboard so tightly they whitened, Mulder muffled his screams of pure pleasure in the pillow.

Krycek's strong thighs imprisoned and shaped him, he was being fucked and used and he loved every moment. He felt Krycek shift; his cock driving impossibly deep inside, and the moan that broke from Mulder's lips was not unmixed with pain. Unheeding, Krycek rode him hard, fingers shifting from Mulder's cock to his shoulders as he pushed Mulder down on the bed, gripping hard enough to leave bruises, selfishly intent only on his own satisfaction.

Trapped beneath Alex, Mulder squirmed, pushing up his hips, impaling himself even deeper in his attempts to free his trapped cock. He moaned again, "Please, please..." Sweat sleeked their skin, mingling and joining the acrid scent of arousal and sex.

"No!" Krycek ordered, shifting his weight, pressing Mulder's aching cock deep into the mattress. "Don't move!"

"Alex, please..." Mulder groaned hands still locked to the headboard. But Krycek's only reply was to increase the pace until Mulder thought his spine was going to break. Fingernails scrabbling desperately across the smooth surface of the wood he pushed back, almost sobbing in his frustration at being unable to touch his cock or have Alex do it

Low husky laughter as Alex leaned forward, and whispered in his ear, the sound almost feral. "Feels good; doesn't it?"

"God yes," Mulder breathed, then jumped at the bite in his ear, hard enough to break the skin followed immediately by the sting of a wet tongue slowly licking, and when Krycek wrenched his head for a brutal kiss, Mulder could taste his own blood on Krycek's lips. "Beg me, Mulder," Alex hissed. "Beg me to fuck you."

Without shame, without hesitation, Mulder begged. "Please fuck me, fuck me, I'm yours!" he groaned in time to Krycek's thrust. Even with his aching cock trapped and crushed against the mattress the force of Krycek's thrusting the friction was enough to keep him on the edge but not enough to push him over. "Fuck, Alex!" he keened...

In answer, Krycek increased his speed and then he suddenly groaned, back arching as he came. Desperate for release Mulder couldn't believe it when Krycek simply pulled out and rolled over on his back, leaving Mulder still aching hard and unsatisfied.

"Alex?!" he asked unable to believe what was happening. He tried to catch his breath; his cock still hard and begging and his breath came in gasps.

Krycek didn't even look at him, his eyes were closed, arm flung across his face. "What?"

"You can't leave me like this!"

Krycek smiled thinly, viciously. "If you're that desperate, finish it off yourself."

The blood still pounding through his veins, Mulder bit his lip, balls heavy and aching, his gut clawing with frustrated need. "Why, Alex?" he demanded angrily. "Is this how you get your kicks?"

The dark head was turned away buried in the pillow and the broad shoulders were shaking faintly, as if Krycek was holding back sobs. But when he turned and looked at Mulder his eyes were dry. "Go to sleep, Mulder," his voice was very tired.

There was something in the face that effectively halted Mulder's anger, replacing it with cold fear.

xx

He woke in the morning to an empty bed and an icy feeling of deja vu. However, a panicked look around revealed Alex standing by the window watching the sunrise, wearing nothing but skin. The lean, long lines of his body enough to make the breath catch in Mulder's throat and his body to harden.

Naked as well, he slipped out of bed and padded over to the other man. Pressing a kiss to one sinewy shoulder, he stroked slowly down pale flanks.

Krycek shivered and shifted slightly. But when he turned his head, the lines of pain carved deep into the deceptively youthful face stunned Mulder.

When he spoke, however, it was in a calm, almost conversational voice, "Did you know that this used to be his room?" He looked around, "the first time I ever saw it I must have been twelve or so, I can't remember..." Vaguely he added, "It used to seem a lot bigger then. I thought—" he stopped abruptly.

"You thought what?" Mulder twinned himself around Krycek, pressing quick kisses across a smooth shoulder.

Krycek smiled wearily, "I thought I could chase away the ghosts if I..." again he didn't finish.

Mulder closed his eyes, suddenly understanding the strange desperation he'd seen in the green eyes last night. "You thought if you fucked his son here it would make the father go away."

Krycek's hand dropped and he stepped away. "Something like that, yes," he admitted tiredly. He looked around, "but he's too strong for that."

"Alex, he's dead."

Krycek gave him a strange smile, "Do you really think so, Mulder?"

Uncertain of what to say or do, not wanting to be reminded of his father, Mulder just continued to touch, light, gentle caresses, slow, sensuous strokes of fingers and lips, trying by the sheer force of his love, and his desire to keep the memories at bay.

Although the hard body with its long, clean, aristocratic lines yielded easily, almost wantonly, the pain never left Krycek's eyes even as he turned and arched against Mulder.

"Come back to bed," he finally whispered against Alex's lips, tongue stroking them apart, delicately exploring.

Krycek looked at him for a moment, and then with a soft sigh he capitulated, body suddenly fluid and pliant. "Yes..." he let his head fall onto a hard pale shoulder, mouth touching the rapid pulse at the base of the taut arch of an exposed throat.

Slowly, almost as if in a dream, Krycek reached for him, sliding his hands down Mulder's body, kissing and licking his way down the flat stomach, running teasing light fingers along the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. Slowly, he wove a spell of passion and need.

It was the most exquisite, shattering experience of Mulder's life. For long moments all he could do was lay there, heart beating, filled with the wonder of it. But then, slowly, reality began to impinge on his consciousness, and he shifted slightly, feeling completely satiated lips curved into a lazy, relaxed smile. "Mmmmm..." he murmured, "that was amazing."

There was no answer and when Mulder turned his head he found Alex lying on his back, his remaining arm flung over his forehead and staring emptily into the ceiling.

"Alex?" Sudden fear sharpened his voice, as he raised himself on his elbow, touching gentle fingers to the face he loved.

Slowly, Krycek stirred and blinked, "What is it?" His voice was distant and cold as an arctic wind.

Mulder dipped his head, drinking of the swollen, flushed lips. "I love you," he said softly.

Krycek closed his eyes, a twisted ugly smile thinning his mouth. "Don't confuse sex and love, Mulder. You just haven't fucked enough guys yet."

Mulder shook his head, confused and hurt at the coldness. "Stop it, Alex," he murmured, "I don't want to fuck anyone but you."

Abruptly rolling away, Krycek rose. "I need a shower," he said over his shoulder.

Mulder sat up, "Want some company?" He tried to smile despite the knot of hurt inside him.

The only answer was a curt shake of a dark head. "Get dressed, I'll go see if Murphy's returned and if Garrett can set something up."

Helplessly Mulder watched as Krycek disappeared into the bathroom.

He was dressed and waiting with badly concealed impatience when Krycek returned. "Well?" he demanded as soon as the door opened.

Krycek was looking rather strange, but all he said was, "Not here."

He wouldn't say anything else as they gathered their things and left the house. In the car back he seemed distracted, deep in thought, very distant.

After a long look at him, Mulder decided to let him alone. He was learning through hard experience that when Alex was wearing that distant look there was no use trying to get anything out of him.

It wasn't until they were back with the Gunmen, Scully and Skinner, all of them seated at the table that Krycek quietly, succinctly told them that Murphy not only had the data they needed but was willing to trade it.

Mulder sat up straight, "This is the break we're looking for!" he exclaimed. "How much does Murphy want?"

Krycek nodded, although a barely perceptible tension had invaded his shoulders. "That's the catch," he said a little distantly.

"What is?" Mulder asked.

"His price includes..." a barely perceptible pause, "one night."

Although Mulder looked confused, Skinner was quicker on the uptake. "Out of the question," he said shortly.

Krycek gave him a faint smile, "That was my first reaction as well."

By now Mulder had caught up. "With you?" he sounded stunned. "He wants, uh, to spend the night with you?"

"That was the general idea, yes," Krycek said coolly. The shrug was in his voice, "Fuck only knows why he would want a well-used, over the hill, one-armed guy, but there is no accounting for perversion."

Dark brown eyes lit in a glimmer of real amusement. "I don't think that only perverts still want you, Krycek," Skinner said mildly, his gaze shifting to Mulder for a moment.

Catching the look, a more genuine smile twisted Krycek's lips. "Hell yes, and he's the sickest of them all."

"Hey!" Mulder felt the grin tugging at his mouth. It was all too rare to see Alex relaxed and at ease enough to joke, especially now. He felt intensely grateful to Skinner for lightening the mood. "I resent that. I'm not a pervert. Sick maybe, and definitely spooky, but not a pervert." He shifted slightly, fingers brushing against Krycek's arm, ignoring the slight stiffening, although Skinner noted it. "But Skinner's right, we don't need the data that badly."

The smile died. "The problem is, we do," Krycek said slowly. "And we can't steal it, he's too well covered. Look," he took a deep breath, "I'm not saying I'm exactly enjoying the idea myself, but hell, it's a small price to pay." He gave Mulder a warning look when the other man was about to protest, "and I'm not doing this for you guys or Scully, I'm doing it for Petya, and I would do a hell of a lot more for him—" he stopped abruptly as Mulder went white, eyes losing all their light, and the hazel turning into muddy-brown.

Krycek sighed, exasperated, "Shit, Mulder, will you stop being so fucking sensitive? I didn't mean that as a crack at you."

"Of course you did," Mulder bit his lip. "But it's okay."

In a strange way it really was all right. Because, as long as Krycek snapped at him, at least he didn't cut himself off. It was the one thing Mulder hated above everything else. That empty, distant look, the absent smile that said Krycek had gone away into a far-away country of the mind where Mulder couldn't follow.

Krycek said nothing, but there was a shuttered look in the green eyes, and Skinner cleared his throat, breaking the tension. "To bring things back on topic, you're sure there is no other way? I could make some phone calls, I've got some people who owe me a favor or two, I might even be able to shake out a search warrant."

Krycek smiled wryly, all sign of emotion gone. "I only wish it was that easy, Skinner, but if you do that you also blow our cover to kingdom come." He shook his head again. "Nope, we do it my way."

xx

"You are not doing this, Alex!" Mulder glared at him from the open door.

Krycek didn't even bother to turn around. "The discussion is over, Mulder."

"No it's not!" Mulder crossed the room, glaring at Krycek, wanting to shake him. "We'll find another way, the gunmen can hack into his computer. You are not sleeping with this guy."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" Krycek's mouth twisted in a caustic smile.

Mulder bit down on the sarcasm that rose to his lips. "Alex, please listen to me—" he began again.

Krycek shook his head. "Stop arguing with me Mulder. We've run out of options. As I said, it's not like I haven't done it before." A shadow crossed his face and he shivered a little.

However, Mulder was too upset to notice the slight shudder. "You sound like a whore. Anyone would think you're eager to do this," he said bitterly, and then could have bit his tongue off.

Krycek gave him an incredulous look. "Oh yeah, Mulder, I just love being fucked and used by a fat slobbering bastard who gets off on pain and submission."

Unspoken but hovering in the air between them were Krycek's memories of another time and place. When it was the man facing him now who had used his body. When it was Mulder who had fed on his pain and hatred.

Krycek reacted, as he always did, by withdrawing, mentally and physically.

"Alex, I'm sorry," Mulder whispered, wondering savagely how many times he had said the words to the man in front of him.

He wondered how many ways there were to hurt the one person he had come, albeit unwillingly, to love. Because he was flooded with guilt, his voice, when he continued, sounded surly. "I'm not blaming you."

"Forget it, Mulder," Krycek said, pulling the covers around him, rolling on his side. "Good night."

"Alex..." there was so much he wanted, needed, to say. To explain. But the back turned to him was stiff and uncommunicative. With a sigh, he said, "Good night," and curled up on his side, soon asleep.

When he woke in the morning, Krycek was gone.

xx

However, when he came outside, Krycek was waiting for him, sunglasses covering his eyes. Without preamble he said, "You're going to have to talk to Murphy."

Mulder stared at him. "You want me to what?!"

"I need you to broker the deal." Krycek's mouth twisted, "you own me, he can't move without your permission."

"Are you seriously asking me to be your fucking pimp!?"

"Yes." The answer was short, uncompromising. "You just don't get it, do you, Mulder? Nothing matters, nothing except to get that data. So yes, and I am not asking you, I'm telling you to do this."

"And if I don't?" Mulder was too angry to back down.

The car arrived and slid to a stop by the curb. Krycek opened the door, waiting for Mulder to get in. "Ah, but you will do exactly as I want," he took Mulder's jaw in a steel grip, kissing him deeply until Mulder felt his lips soften and part in helpless pleasure, his body arching in reflective need. Krycek drew back a little and smiled cynically, "you'll do it or you'll never have that again," he said calmly.

Mulder spent the entire ride to the house fuming in silent fury. How dared Alex give him ultimatums? How fucking dare he?! His eyes narrowed into icy slits. By god, if Krycek wanted to be treated like fucking property, then that's what he'd be!

He did not realize how much he resembled his father in that moment, nor how deeply he had fallen into his undercover persona.

When they arrived at the house, Mulder got out and slammed the car door behind him. Krycek's eyes narrowed when he saw the pale set face, but before he could say anything Garrett oozed up as they entered the house. "Mr. Mulder, Krycek, Mr. Murphy said he will unfortunately be delayed and will be here after lunch."

"Fine," Mulder said shortly, "come on, Alex." He stormed up the stairs.

He didn't hear Garrett's soft lascivious chuckle, or see Krycek's sudden wariness as he followed Mulder followed upstairs.

As soon as the door closed behind them Mulder slammed Krycek against the wall, an arm against his throat, the other roaming impatiently, pulling up the T-shirt, unzipping the jeans. "You're mine, Alex," Mulder said between clenched teeth, staring into narrowing green eyes. "Mine!"

"Fuck you, Mulder!" Krycek spat back.

Mulder laughed bitterly, "My pleasure. You wanted me to be like dad? Well, congratulations, you've got what you wanted!"

Krycek's eyes suddenly widened, and his body went tense. "No," he shook his head. He took a deep shuddering breath. "Back off, Mulder."

Mulder smiled unpleasantly. "Not a chance. Ever since we started this fucking insane plan of yours I've been jumping through hoops. 'Do this, Mulder, be that, Mulder.' I've had it with being ordered around!" He spat, "Now shut the fuck up and spread or I'll fucking leave!"

Not doubting that Mulder would do as he threatened, Krycek suddenly went limp, not protesting as Mulder wrenched his jeans off and pushed him towards the bed.

He fell forward on his stomach, landing heavily. Krycek felt Mulder nudging his legs apart. Closing his eyes, he made no sound, not even when Mulder slammed deep inside him, careless of anything but his own pleasure, his own anger.

Dimly in his ear, he heard Mulder's low furious voice calling him names, 'whore', 'slut', 'possession'. He wanted to scream "no!" but it was too much effort so he just closed his eyes and rode it out, allowing his body to surrender and tried his best to forget how many times before he had been in the same position, on his stomach, a man between his open legs, his body ground into the mattress by the force of the thrusting. He tried to forget how many times it was this man's father who had pinned him down and hurt him in this room, on this bed...

Mulder thrust deep and came with a groan slumping against the still body beneath him. For a few moments he remained where he was, panting, trying to catch his breath.

Abruptly his eyes widened in horror as he realized what he'd done. Withdrawing as gently as he could to avoid any more pain, his stomach clenched at the sight of the blood on his cock.

"Oh fuck, Alex!" his throat closed as he silently cursed his temper. "Oh, hell, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" He reached out in desperate regret, hands as gentle as they had been brutal before. He knelt beside the body, kissing the bruises marring the texture as tears fell on the hot damp skin.

Krycek remained where he was, still on his stomach, head turned away from Mulder, breathing in a low, even rhythm.

"Alex, please look at me," Mulder whispered filled with self-loathing and fear. Again he tried to reach out, to comfort and soothe. Krycek flinched at the touch, his body stiff and unresponsive. Ignoring the silence Mulder continued to hold and rock and stroke, "I'm sorry," he whispered huskily, again and again.

When Krycek jerked away, turning his head, there was a thin trickle of blood dripping down his chin where he'd had bitten his lip to prevent the sounds of pain.

Mulder wondered if it was possible to feel any more terrible. When, moments later Krycek got up from the bed and said evenly over his shoulder, "Get dressed, Murphy is waiting," Mulder knew he could.

Apologizing was useless he knew as Krycek disappeared into the bathroom and slowly, wearily he pulled his clothes back on, wondering if in a few minutes of madness he had destroyed all his hopes for the future.

When he came out of the bathroom again there was still no discernible expression on Krycek's face. He went over to his bag and bent unzipping it and pulling out a clean shirt and pair of jeans. Dressing, Mulder saw a flash of pale skin and to his own shame felt the responding tug inside.

"Ah, Alex," he stood up and crossed the room. Careful to keep his distance he said quietly, "How do I do this?"

Krycek spared him a single glance. "Don't worry about it, Murphy will know what to do." He straightened. "Let's go."

Helpless and frustrated, Mulder followed.

xx

"Ah, there you are, Mr. Mulder, Murphy greeted him jovially, coming down the stairs, not even glancing at Krycek standing silent by Mulder's side. "Have you considered my proposal?"

Mulder longed to plant his fist in the fat face with its small pig eyes. However, he forced himself to smile politely. "I have." He looked at Murphy, and heard his voice go cold and hard. "There are however some conditions."

"I'm listening."

"First of all I want payment in advance."

Murphy nodded, "Understood, you will have half the data within the hour." He smiled thinly, "and the rest afterwards."

"The second condition is, I don't want him harmed."

Small eyes narrowed into mere slits. "Define harmed."

Although Mulder had to choke back hot rage, his face remained impassive. Alex would be proud of him, he thought vaguely. "No open wounds, no injuries that would incapacitate him, and no..." he paused, "no tearing."

Murphy looked like a sulky boy. "Ah shit, Mulder, you drive a hard bargain."

Mulder just looked at him unemotionally. "Take it or leave it." Although he knew that this was the key to helping Scully and Peter Krycek he prayed that the bastard would refuse. But no such luck.

"Fine, I'll transmit half of the data immediately. I'll give him the rest of it." He turned away and left, still without looking at Krycek.

"Fucking bastard!" Mulder snarled once they were safely back in their private room.

Krycek shrugged, his voice very tired. "He's no worse than any of the others."

Mulder said quietly, "It's still not too late to pull out. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do." Krycek actually smiled a little. "And you know what Mulder? It's okay, because for the first time it'll actually mean something." He turned away, "I have to go."

xx

Safe House, Washington DC
The Same Night

Unable to stand a night knowing what was going on in another room, Mulder made some excuse and fled the house. He had never felt so helpless or frustrated in his life.

They were all in the crowded and messy living room watching the clock move.

Although Byers and Langley were talking softly, neither Skinner nor Mulder made any effort to pretend that they weren't waiting. The clock had already passed three when a sudden noise made them all stiffen. Then the door opened and Krycek stumbled through it. He stared at them, eyes too wide, face flushed.

"Hey, what are you guys doing up? You didn't have to wait up for me to come home," he said carelessly. He dug through his leather jacket, coming up with a computer disc. "Here you are," he flipped the disc to Frohike who caught it automatically, "all bought and paid for."

He suddenly started to shake.

Both Skinner and Mulder rose, and for a moment he flinched at the sight of them coming towards him, a blind panicked look in bottle-green eyes. Skinner saw, recognized it for what it was, and swore silently.

"Krycek," Skinner said quietly, taking charge and gesturing sharply for Mulder to stay back. "Alex?" he repeated gently, "it's all right, you're home, you're safe," he continued to talk in a low, steady voice, all the time approaching slowly until he was standing so close he could see the faint, rapid breathing, the emptiness in the green eyes. Still he didn't touch the other man. "Come on," he said calmly, "what you need is a shower."

Ignoring Mulder's concern and the Gunmen's wide-eyed interest, Skinner herded Krycek into the room he shared with Mulder, blessing the fact that it was next door to the tiny grotty bathroom. Still talking in a calm, deliberately casual tone, he knelt digging through the canvas bag on the floor for clean clothes.

Finally there was the sound of a shower.

He waited patiently, but when Krycek hadn't come out after twenty minutes, Skinner straightened, mouth narrowing and opened the bathroom door. A cloud of steam met him, and he choked for a moment, vapor hitting his glasses and making him temporarily blind.

When he could see again, he crossed the floor to find Krycek sitting on the floor of the shower-stall a brush he'd found somewhere still in his hand. Patches of red showed where he had tried to scrub himself raw. "I can't get clean," he said blankly not looking at Skinner. "No matter how I rub, I can't get rid of the smell and taste of him."

Vaguely surprised by the sudden sting of compassion and hell yes, pity, that coursed through him, Skinner said in a calm, level voice. "I know, Krycek." Approaching carefully, he knelt on the floor, unheeding of the water wetting his jeans. "Here, let me help," he said picking up the soap and using his hands and a washing cloth he found, he lathered it up and started to clean the reddened tender skin.

"Fuck," Krycek muttered, head bent, shivering under the large hands that gently stroked down his back, washing away the stench of pudgy, sweaty, fingers pawing at him. "I don't know why the hell I'm not dealing with this." He hated the thought of being vulnerable, especially in front of Walter Skinner.

Skinner, following his train of thoughts easily, said wryly, "Don't be too hard on yourself, Krycek. Humans, and that includes you more or less, have an amazing power of recovery. You've managed to forget quite a bit in the last two years, so it's bound to be hard to get back into the shit again."

Krycek managed a grin, "You're all heart, Skinner," he said with cool irony, but no real hostility. "Anyone ever tell you your bedside manner sucks?"

Reaching out for a towel, rubbing down pale shoulders and back with brisk impersonal movements, Skinner replied, "Frequently. But luckily for me, bedside manners aren't a part of FBI duties." Now dry, he guided Krycek back into his small room, handing him some jeans and a sweatshirt. Dropping the towel, Krycek took the clothes, unconcerned with his nudity.

Skinner swallowed and looked away, clearing his throat a little uncomfortably.

When he looked back again, Krycek was watching him with a familiar baiting amusement. "Sorry," he said, not sounding it in the least. "Didn't mean to embarrass you."

Skinner shot him a look, "I don't embarrass so easily," he growled to hide his discomfort.

A flippant grin, "Ah, in that case..." he slowly and deliberately arched, passing so close by Skinner could swear he felt the texture of the silky skin sliding past him.

While he could understand Krycek's need to regain his equilibrium and some of the self-respect that had been stripped from him by tonight, there was a limit to his patience. "Go to bed, Krycek," he said gruffly, turning away.

There was a soft rustle of sheets, and when Skinner turned around Krycek had crawled beneath the covers, huddling into their warmth. With his eyes closed and long black lashes resting against the smooth paleness of his skin, he looked deceptively young and vulnerable. A long slow shudder traveled through the lean body and then another... and another.

Like many big men, there was a hidden, rich vein of gentleness in Skinner. It had been masked by his experience, first in 'Nam and later in the FBI, and he had played the part of gruff, unemotional FBI agent with great skill. However, it showed in little things. Like the bag of birdseed he carried in his brief-case, and how during lunch he would go to a nearby park and sit on a bench eating a sandwich and feed the birds.

He hesitated only briefly, and then he walked over to the bed and sat down. Another hesitation and then he put a single hand on the nearest shoulder, ready to withdraw if Krycek shrugged it off.

The only reaction was a single deep breath and then complete stillness once more.

Skinner didn't say anything, didn't move apart from that light touch, but slowly the tremors decreased and the wire-tense muscles began to ease.

Skinner wasn't sure how long he sat there, listening to the soft even breaths slow, feeling the limbs gradually uncurl and relax into sleep. Sitting in the darkness, some lines from a story he'd read as a child ran through his memory; "But the wildest of all the wild animals was the Cat. He walked by himself and all places were alike to him." That described Krycek perfectly. A complex tightly-wound man who had walked through darkness and emerged, if not whole, then comparably sane.

It was hours later when Skinner finally stood up and slowly stretched. Krycek didn't move, deeply asleep, and didn't even stir as Skinner opened and then closed the door quietly.

Outside he nearly fell over Mulder who sat with his back against the door, slumped over on the floor, half-asleep. Blinking, the younger man sat up and yawned. "How is he, sir?"

Letting some of the anger he felt boiling inside, anger at himself and the situation, through, he hear himself growl, "How do you think he is? He's just whored himself out to a man he hates. How the fuck do you think he feels?"

Recoiling from the glare, Mulder blinked at the unexpected ferocity. "Hey, no need to bite my head off."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Skinner sighed. "Sorry, Mulder, I shouldn't take it out on you." He gave his agent a dry look; "I never thought I'd say this, but, poor bastard." There was no joy in the truth that no matter how much he wanted to deny it, they were not so different after all, he and Krycek.

Mulder smiled a little ruefully, "I know the feeling sir, but he rather grows on you."

Skinner nodded, and then said, "Leave him alone for now, Mulder."

Mulder looked reluctant but something in Skinner's voice must have convinced him because when stood up, he stretched slowly and then wandered off towards the room where Frohike and Langley were working.

Dawn had already begun to creep over the horizon when Mulder returned to the room he shared with Krycek. Stumbling a little, yawning, he undressed slowly, letting his clothes fall where he threw them. Krycek was still asleep, curled into an almost fetal ball.

Getting into bed Mulder yawned again, and was tempted to reach out and pull Alex into his arms. Unfortunately he had quickly learned that Krycek hated being held during the night. The first time Mulder had tried to cuddle, Krycek had nearly broken his neck, and the bruises on his chest had just begun to fade.

xx

When Mulder woke up the next morning he was alone. Alex had obviously been gone for some time judging by the coolness of the sheets and the almost unnoticeable indentation on the pillow beside him. Mulder stretched lazily, reveling in the realization that it was finally over. That he would never have to return to the house, to the old men who so carelessly re-opened wounds that had barely had time to scab. The old men had frightened him more than facing vampires and zombies ever did, by their calm conviction that he was Bill Mulder's true son.

Getting up, Mulder focused on the fact that finally he and Alex could begin to sort out their complicated relationship. The past days had taught him one thing at least; he would do whatever it took to keep Alex in his life. Yes, today they would talk and perhaps lay some ghosts permanently to rest.

However, Krycek proved strangely elusive. He seemed to avoid Mulder and Skinner with equal zeal, spending most of the day on the computer watched over by Langley and Frohike. Judging by the new respect in their eyes, Mulder assumed Alex knew what he was doing, something proven when Frohike told him, with awe, that Krycek had managed to access databases even the Gunmen hadn't known existed.

Standing in the small dingy bedroom that night, Mulder yawned. He heard Krycek enter and turned his head, "I never thought I'd be so happy to see this dump again," he said easily.

Peeling off his jacket, Krycek threw it across the chair by the window. "Yeah, is Scully okay? I heard you talking on the phone before dinner."

Scully had moved to the university where she was working with her former professor to decipher the data. Professor Handelman had professed himself fascinated by her research and offered the use of the university's facilities. They had all agreed that Scully working there was the best thing possible.

Mulder smiled. "She's fine. She sounded very grumpy when I asked if she needed any help." He grinned at Krycek's expression. "No, that means everything is going fine." Wryly, "you've never seen Scully when she's on the trail of something have you? She said she and Professor Handelman were pursuing some very interesting possibilities. In Scully-speak that means they're dancing up and down with excitement." He shook his head, "I know people think I'm dedicated, even obsessed, but they've never seen Scully in a lab. I only hope she'll remember to eat. Remind me to send some Chinese take-out to the university tomorrow."

"I envy you, Mulder," Krycek said softly, eyes suddenly a little wistful.

"Envy me what?" Mulder asked startled.

"Scully. She would walk through fire for you. She already has. You have any idea what that kind of loyalty is worth?"

Hazel eyes turned thoughtful. "I guess I never really think about it," Mulder admitted, "we're partners."

Krycek smiled wryly, "You're more than that. You'd die for each other, you're there for one another whatever it takes." He paused and then said softly, "I've often wondered what it would be like to trust someone like that. Unconditionally. Whatever you do she backs you, even if everyone else thinks you're a murderer or lunatic or even dead, Scully won't give up."

"You sound as though you're in love with her," Mulder joked a little uncomfortably.

Krycek didn't laugh. Instead he said rather pensively, "I think if things were different I could have been. I sure as hell respect her, she's got guts and morals and—" he broke off and smiled rather sardonically, "everything you and I don't have."

Mulder arched an eyebrow, "Speak for yourself."

"Oh come on Mulder, it's too late to pretend you're a lily-white innocent any longer." The husky voice took on a slight edge. "Face it, Mulder, you and I are more alike than you're willing to admit."

Mulder wondered if he should be angry, but he didn't feel like getting angry or arguing. What he wanted was something very different.

Mulder crossed the room in a few easy strides. "I rather like the sound of that," he said, pulling Alex into his arms.

"Like what?" Krycek didn't flinch away, but he didn't respond either. Green eyes unreadable, he was deceptively relaxed.

"You and I. Us." Free of the Consortium and the dark memories, Mulder felt giddy with relief. He wanted to laugh and fuck and... pushing Krycek against the wall he pinned the other man lightly. They were almost the same height and he just had to lean forward the few inches that separated them and kissed the tempting lips. Krycek closed his eyes, neither responding nor rejecting, just standing there quietly while Mulder explored his mouth.

"You're so beautiful," Mulder murmured, stroking the face, the pad of his thumb lazily following the curve of sensuous lips. "I love you, Alex."

Krycek jerked away violently.

Confusion widened hazel eyes, as Mulder watched internal shields slam up and into place. "What is it?" he asked genuinely bewildered.

Very distantly, Krycek told him, "That's what he used to say. 'Hold still, Alex... you'll love this, Alex... I love you Alex...' " His fist knotted, "Don't you fucking dare tell me, I'm beautiful" he spat the last word.

"I am not my father!" It was a desperate, furious explosion of sound.

"I know!" Krycek turned away, "but it doesn't really matter." he turned and gave Mulder a long, level look, "Every time I look at you I see Bill Mulder." His mouth stretched into a mirthless smile. "You have no idea just how alike the two of you are. You pursue the 'truth' as fanatically as he ever did his covert projects. What you did, the deal you cut with the smoker. That's something he would have done."

"Jesus, Alex," how often do I have to tell you I'm sorry? That I would give anything I own to take it all back?!" Mulder wanted to bang his head against the wall in howling frustration.

There was a terrible weariness in the husky voice, "Truth is, I don't give a fuck how sorry you are."

He paused and smiled bitterly, his words mocking Mulder's remorse. "I know I forced you into the deal with Murphy, but I have to hand it to you, you handled the deal like a real pro." Mulder whitened at the reminder of his fury and where it had led them.

Krycek continued, his voice a level torment. "Want to know how often I stood beside your father while he did the same?" Again there was a profound weariness in his voice. "How many times he took out his frustration and anger on me?"

Mulder stared at him, his insides torn into shreds. He could have dealt with anger, even hatred, but Alex's anguish defeated him. The knowledge that through his own hatred, his own actions he had brought them to this pierced his heart. "I love you," he repeated helplessly.

"Yob tvoyu mat'!" Krycek spat suddenly blazingly angry. "This isn't a fucking soap, Mulder. Falling in love isn't the automatic answer whenever something goes wrong in your life!"

He laughed without humor. "You lose your job, your fucking dog dies, fall in love and suddenly everything is sunshine and roses. Surprise, that's not the way it works in real life."

Mutely, Mulder stared at the man facing him, wondering why every effort to win his forgiveness, every attempt to bridge the darkness of their past backfired? Always leaving him powerless in the knowledge that the chasm between them widened as he grasped desperately, hopelessly for something as elusive as marsh fire.

He bit his lip and tried again, because not to try was simply not an alternative. "Alex, I can't change the past, no matter how much I want to, but at least give me a chance to show you how different things could be between us."

The sound that fell from Krycek's lips was too bitter to be called a laugh. "Yeah, right." His lip curled, "and what happens the next time you get angry? The next time you remember who I am; who I was?"

Mulder flinched violently. "It won't," he said in a strangled tone. "I'm not going to let it." He took a deep breath, keeping his emotions in tight check. "Alex, I know that this whole Consortium deal has had us all pretty strung out; I mean neither of us was at our best. That was a lot of past, of memories we had to deal with. But, well, it's all over now." He strove for a light tone. "All we have to do is let Scully work her magic, and Peter will be safe."

That if nothing else would surely reach Alex.

There was no answering smile as Krycek snarled, "Just leave me the fuck alone, Mulder!" he turned and left abruptly.

xx

Leaving Mulder still calling his name, Krycek walked outside, breathing in deeply the cool fresh night air. The darkness of the night embraced him and welcomed him back into its familiar cloak of protection and concealment. It would be so easy to become what he once was, to let the shadows swallow him again.

Krycek shook his head sharply, rejecting the emotion whispering through his mind. That wasn't who he was, not any longer.

He held the memories of the past two years to him like a shield. The memories of Peter coming home throwing his back-pack in a corner, drinking milk out of the cartoon and playing the terrible noise he called music loud enough to shatter the windows. Of watching Saturday morning cartoons in the kitchen together. Of long golden afternoons spent fishing together. Of standing in the bookstore smiling at the customers, feeling the warmth inside at their casual greetings, knowing that for the first time in his life he belonged somewhere.

That was the Alex Krycek he was. The Alex Krycek he wanted desperately to be.

Returning inside he hesitated. He couldn't go back to the room he shared with Mulder. He was too weary; too torn, to deal with Mulder's emotions.

Especially if Mulder was going to continue stubbornly insist on declaring his eternal devotion. Krycek's mouth twisted cynically. What Mulder felt was not love but sexual obsession and guilt wrapped up in a package Fox Mulder's mind could accept. For a moment he wondered if it wouldn't be easier to just let Mulder screw himself raw and get it out of his system. But fuck, he had told Scully the truth that time in San Jose, he didn't owe Mulder a damn thing.

That's when, for some insane reason, he suddenly thought of Skinner and the strange understanding he had read in the usually so hostile brown eyes last night. Without volition he found his feet turning past Mulder's room and he watched his hand raise and knock on the closed door.

"Come in!" A deep voice called out.

For a moment he stood, poised to flee, questioning his sanity and the reason for being here. Suddenly it was too late, and the door opened in his face, and all he could do was remain where he was, silent, uncertain, as he met the cool eyes of the man facing him.

Skinner had obviously been about to go to bed and was wearing nothing but his jeans. The glasses Krycek always suspected he wore more for protective camouflage than anything else had been put aside for the night.

In silence he stared at the hard body, outlined in the moonlight spilling across the floor painting a silver pool and for a moment panic gripped him. The memory of other bodies, big, hurtful bodies. Large hands whose grip bruised and pawed, probing his body with casual lust. He swallowed, and as he had done so many times before, deliberately closed off a part of his soul, of his mind. That detachment was what had allowed him to survive whatever they'd done to his body. It was what allowed him to step forward, a lazy, sensuous smile shaping his lips, his head tilted. Old tricks, and he felt himself slide back into another time, another life. A time when he was a possession to be owned and used.

Tonight, as past and present and future collided he found he needed comfort, as never before and if the price was the use of his body, it wasn't a bargain he was unused to.

"Skinner," ah yes, just the right touch of huskiness.

"Krycek," Skinner seemed a little surprised. "Did you want something?"

He wondered what Skinner would say if he answered, 'you.' Abruptly he knew that it was not a lie if not the complete truth either. In a strange way he did want Walter Skinner. "Not really, I just thought we'd talk."

Still relaxed, Skinner asked, "What about?"

A slow, rippling shrug, "I wanted to say thank you. I didn't mean to fall apart." He smiled faintly, "not a pretty sight, I know."

Skinner raised an eyebrow, "I've seen worse." A strange understanding threaded through his voice when he added. "No thanks necessary, either, I know last night was tough."

He nodded, somehow sure that the other man did know. Yes, Walter Skinner would understand in a way that Mulder never could. He took another step. "I..." and then he stopped not sure how to continue, for once in his life very uncertain.

Oh on some level he had always known that Skinner wanted him, although the man hid it well beneath that stony-faced FBI AD mask, the signs were easy enough to read. The real question was; would lust transcend hatred?

The two men stared at each in silence, Skinner's face unreadable, and once again Krycek had to question his sanity for coming here. What did he expect? Did he really think that Walter Skinner would so easily forget the past? And for what? A fuck with Alex Krycek, the man he hated?

Skinner waited, unmoving, but his eyes had darkened and his body gone tense and still in a predatory crouch.

Krycek hesitated and then slowly almost tentatively he tilted his head slightly, exposing his throat in a mute, primeval surrender. Half closing his eyes he waited for Skinner to take what was offered.

Instead of the expected response, Skinner simply touched one shoulder lightly and then stilled again. When puzzled green eyes focused on him, he said quietly, deeply, "Is this what you want?"

Used to Mulder's impatient arrogant demands, for a moment Krycek was disconcerted. Finally he nodded once and in reply, without words, Skinner slowly reached out and pulled him into strong muscular arms.

Held closely, Krycek relaxed a little. It was complete madness, and something that would have to be paid for in the morning, but at this moment nothing mattered except a need to be held in the ephemeral illusion of safety and desire.

Green eyes lit in an ironic smile. Had anyone asked yesterday if he could ever imagine himself held by AD Walter Skinner, he would have told him to go check into the nearest funny farm.

His mouth twisted in bitter cynical amusement. Once again a man who wouldn't shake his hand in public, would happily fuck him.

For a long time, Skinner simply held him in silence; the only sound the quiet steady taking and releasing of breaths. Finally he shifted and moved towards the bed, sinking down on it, never releasing the man in his arms, maneuvering them until they were side by side, facing each other.

Bending his neck and burying his face in the broad chest, Krycek stilled in resignation, knowing that it was time to pay. He lightly touched the small hollow at the base of Skinner's throat with his tongue, a small murmur of satisfaction humming in his throat feeling the responding shiver and increase in the pulse beating there. Sliding his leg between Skinner's, moving close, rubbing lightly against the mass of muscles and sinews that held him in a warm and yet light grip, he smiled as he felt Skinner's cock harden against his thigh. He shivered a little and told himself silently, no, don't think of big cocks ripping tender tissue apart, big hands holding him down with bruising force. Lifting his head, he kissed his way up a suddenly tense throat lapping up the tiny beads of moisture breaking from the skin.

"Mmm," he smiled lazily, spine fluid as he melted into the bigger man. Shifting so he could get his hand free, he trailed his fingers over suddenly clenched stomach muscles, down lower, hovering teasingly just above the straining, twitching cock. When he suddenly felt a large hand close around his wrist.

"No." Skinner said deeply, eyes dark and unfathomable. It was the first word he'd uttered since he'd pulled Alex into his arms.

"You don't want to fuck me?" Krycek raised an eyebrow, staring at the hardness close to his hand.

Skinner, followed his look, and actually chuckled. "Yes, I do. But that's not all I want."

Krycek frowned suddenly very wary. "What are you talking about?"

The AD looked at him thoughtfully, and then said calmly, "I have no interest in just a quick fuck, Alex." Krycek started, it was the first time Skinner had used anything but 'Krycek.'

All kinds of alarm bells were going off as Krycek stiffened and pulled away. "What the hell are you talking about?"

A quiet chuckle was the answer, as Skinner calmly pulled him back again into his arms. "I'm talking about making love, not fucking. I'm not a boy at the mercy of his hormones. I want more."

Krycek bit his lip; this wasn't going as he'd planned. He almost jumped as a blunt finger slowly smoothed the delicate arch of a dark eyebrow.

"I want to make love, Alex."

Skinner gently but firmly removed the hand from his thigh. "And you don't want that, not yet." Again he shook his head at the automatic protest. "You're going to learn, if it kills me, that someone can want more than just your body, great as it is, or your skill in bed."

He bent his head and tasted the mouth, firm lips opening easily tongue meeting and curling around Krycek's. However, then he drew back whispering, "Tonight, Alex, let me just hold you..." he felt the bunching of tense muscles as Krycek made another abortive attempt to flee, before suddenly going limp and boneless.

Bitterly shamed Krycek fought the tightness in his throat, telling himself that this was ridiculous. For fuck's sake, what was he doing?! Jesus, was he completely mad?

Why the hell couldn't Skinner just do what he was supposed to? Why couldn't he be like Mulder and just greedily take what was offered?

No, instead the fucker just continued stroking his back, making quiet comforting noises.

Christ it had been so long. So fucking long since he cried, and even longer since someone just held him.

Abruptly the memory breached the walls he'd placed around it.

xx

"Hush, Aloysha, we'll be fine."

The boy in her arms sniffled and rubbed the tears from his cheeks leaving them oddly stripped. "I'm scared, Tatya. I don't want to leave you again."

She shook her head, rocking him, "Don't be. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." She kissed him on the nose, "We'll always be together, no matter what."

The boy smiled, leaning his head against her breast, one thin hand gently stroking her distended belly. "You, me and the baby." He looked up into her eyes, as green as his own, but with even fewer illusions. "Are you happy about the baby, Tatya?"

The woman, a girl in years only, smiled wearily. "I don't know, Alyosha." She put her hand over his and together they could feel the faint movements beneath the skin. "You know I hate the man who fathered it, but the baby..." she was silent for a long time and then finally shook her head. "No, I can't hate it. It's already a part of me, of us."

Curling into the thin body of the only person in the world he loved, who loved him, Alex Krycek closed his eyes, soothed by the steady beat of her heart beneath his ear, her arms around him, stroking his back and hair. And then he heard her whisper, "I love you, Alyosha. Sleep little one, I'll be here when you wake up and always. You're not alone..."

xx

Part III

mj.lee@chello.se

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