Part IV
"Scully," Mulder said as he started to open the door, and then his eyes
widened as he saw her fully.
"Federal agent," she said quietly. "I'm armed." Feeling the black
armored vest stiff around her sides, she stepped into the room to clear
Skinner's line of fire and looked for Krycek.
Except for Mulder, the room was empty, but the bloody washcloth in one
hand made it clear that he was not alone. Mulder was in a t-shirt and
there was no sign of his gun, and Scully felt ice down her spine when
she heard the muted click in the next room.
Skinner didn't raise his voice, but he had always been able to make
himself heard. "Krycek, we have this place surrounded. Don't bother
with the window, and don't do anything stupid."
"I think it's too late for that," said Mulder ruefully, and Scully's
stomach twisted at the affection in his voice. "Stupid seems to be the
order of the day."
"So Agent Scully tells me."
She didn't know whether to cover Mulder or move past him into the hall.
Dear God, she'd never had to worry which side he was on before.
Skinner was aimed at the inner doorway, but keeping Mulder clearly in
his line of sight. "Krycek, get your sorry ass out here."
Oh, Lord, it was Mulder's gun that slid around the edge of the doorway.
But the gunbarrel scared her less than the cold dark eye behind it, and
both were aimed at her.
And then she couldn't see them because Mulder stepped into the way.
Empty hands out, he blocked their line of sight and closed his eyes for
a moment as if he were very tired. "Please," he said, and nothing more.
She couldn't. Insane, unnatural, whatever this was, she couldn't fire
at him. "Move, Mulder," she said in what started as an order but ended
up a plea. "You know we've got to take him in."
"I can't let you," he said quietly, even as Skinner stepped in and
closed the door behind him.
"Agent Mulder, you will move or I will have to move you." Skinner's
voice too was almost gentle. Without exchanging any signal, she found
herself shifting to the right as the AD stepped left so that Mulder
could not face them both.
"Sir—Scully, no."
"No," said a hoarse voice behind him, and Scully's heart froze as she
saw that barrel shift. "I can't let you take me in.
"If I'm lucky, they'll just kill me. If I'm not, they'll have some
questions to ask first. Fuck, you guys have never kept anyone alive
they wanted to kill, and I'd be a prime target."
"Alex," Mulder said without moving, "You know I'll kill you if you
shoot either of them."
Thank God he hasn't been turned, Scully thought, but the pain in
those hazel eyes wrenched at her. "Krycek, put the gun down."
"I can't," Krycek said almost regretfully, and then Scully saw where he
was now aiming.
At himself.
Not Mulder, even for a hostage. Not herself or Skinner, because Mulder
told him not to. Himself.
"Sir," she said, and drew her gun out of line even before she clicked
the safety on.
"Agent Scully?"
"Sir, I think we should all put the guns away for a minute and just
talk."
"I think that's a very bad idea, Agent Scully." His aim did not waver.
"Sir, there's too many people in the line of fire, and innocent
neighbors behind those walls. Put up your gun for a minute and let's
try to talk this through." And keeping her knees steady, she walked
towards the inner doorway and held her hand out to Krycek for the gun.
His hand was shaking now, and she was afraid the tremor alone would put
them all at risk.
"Alex," Mulder said quietly, and with something like a sob Krycek
stepped out into the doorway and let his gun hand fall.
To her surprise, she heard Skinner shift behind her and the sound of
his safety going on. Then his hand moved again, and before she could
panic she heard the hiss of his radio. "This is Skinner. The situation
appears to be under control. Stand down and await further orders. I
repeat, stand down."
And she could breathe again.
"Sir," said Mulder with quiet intensity, as Scully tended to the torn
sutures down Krycek's cheek. "Sir, I can't let you take him in. I—He
came to me for help."
Scully felt Krycek start, but Mulder just looked back at him and nodded.
Mulder continued. "I mean—Sir, I know you can bring a team in here and
I can't stop you. But you'd have to arrest me too."
"That would not be uncalled for," Skinner bit off. "Do you know how
many laws you've broken? Not to mention Bureau regulations?"
Mulder spread his hands helplessly. "There's my gun. I'll get you my
badge in a minute."
"No!"
It took Scully a moment to realize that the objection came from Krycek.
"Mulder, you can't. I'm not worth it. Fuck, Mulder, you can't stop
now; you can't begin to know how badly you're needed."
Skinner raised one eyebrow. "For what, Krycek? More of your plots and
games?"
"No! He's the only one who can—Oh, hell." Krycek's voice went dead.
"Look, Mulder, I can't tell you. I'm sorry. Not won't but can't. But a
lot of lives depend on your doing your job, and there's nobody else who
can. So forget me, and let's get this the fuck over with."
"Sweet," Skinner ground out in a voice harsh enough to strip paint.
"The martyred Saint Alex. So now we're supposed to forgive you and live
happily ever after. I don't think so, boy."
Taking a deep breath, Scully tried to focus on the practicalities and
not let herself get drawn into the hostility around her. Having checked
Krycek's jaw, she moved down to examine the pierced nipple. "You've got
a mild infection here. Did they give you anything to use for it?" She
was sure her blush was visible enough to light the room, but Krycek's
own color was high and he only shook his head. "I've got my limits,
Krycek. If you want this cleaned out, do it yourself."
Then, straightening her shoulders, she looked around at the others.
Someone had to drop the posing and get them all to talk sensibly. Maybe
it was the testosterone. "All right, let me get this straight. Krycek,
are you planning to turn informant? Are you willing to tell Mulder
everything he needs to know?"
Breath shuddered out of him in a long sigh. "I can't. I'm sorry."
"Or just get out of the business and disappear?"
His eyes met Mulder's desperately as if they were alone in the room.
"No. I can't. There's things I need to do."
"But surely you're not expecting Mulder to join you? Your—side,
whatever that may be?"
"No!" Krycek looked horrified.
Scully nodded, relieved. "But that means we don't have a lot of choices
here."
"Agent Scully, I was not aware that there was any choice involved."
Skinner's growl was dangerously soft.
"Sir," she took a deep breath and turned to him, "why did you come
along on this mission?"
"Because you asked for my help, Agent Scully." But Mulder had caught
her thought, and stared back at her with the beginning of hope.
"Sir, I think you came in person and left the team outside because you
thought this might require unusual—policies. Methods. Decisions."
"State your point, Agent Scully."
"I think you set this up so you could have choices, sir. And I'm asking
you to think about this one. From—from what I saw here earlier, Mulder
is not going to be able to function unless he can resolve certain...
problems. And whatever you may think of his usual methods, sir, you
know he's the best man you've got."
Mulder was staring at her as if she were the one who'd gone insane.
"So despite everything—Despite all Krycek's done, if we can't arrest
him without losing Mulder—Well, sir, I'm not willing to pay that
price."
Now all three of them were staring at her. "Look," she said in
exasperation, and then found she had nothing else to say.
Skinner's jaw shifted and he shook his head. "Agent Scully, I think
you've been around Mulder too long. The Bureau does not decide randomly
which laws to enforce and which to set aside."
"Then why did you come up here in person, sir?"
And that massive hand came up and kneaded the bridge of his nose.
"Because I've been around Mulder too long as well."
Scully finished working on Krycek's injuries as Skinner talked on the
radio. "Yes, it appears to have been a false alarm. No, Jenkins, I am
not under duress—" His growl suggested that such a thing was
impossible. "Yes, you can come up here to check it out personally if
you insist," he shook his head reassuringly at Mulder, "But Agent
Mulder's had a rough enough time with what appears to have been a
highly ill-advised prank, and I suggest we leave him to watch
television in peace. Yes, I'll be down in a minute. Skinner out."
He looked at Krycek for a long moment. "I'm not going to bother with
threats. If anything happens to Mulder—"
"Take a number, Skinner," but Krycek's voice was more resigned than
anything else.
"Agent Mulder," and now that spearpoint gaze was directed at the
huddled figure in the computer chair. "Your request for leave has just
been approved, and I don't want to see you back on the job until you're
fit for it. I know you feel the need to flout orders, but this is not
negotiable: you need to get help."
"I know," and Scully hurt to hear how tired her partner sounded. "I
just—"
"Agent Mulder, that's an order."
Again, Scully knew someone had to break off this male head-butting and
keep things sensible. "Mulder, I can call around to some friends
tomorrow and find a good confidential therapist. And—" she tried to
keep her voice level, "maybe a good couples counselor."
Skinner's face was stone. "I think the last might be a bit rough on
the counselor, Agent Scully. A personal therapist is obligatory, but I
think as a—couple—they need less orthodox methods."
"Sir?" Mulder sounded utterly bewildered, and so was she.
"I understand that there are ... responsible practitioners of sexual
deviance in this town, including ritualized violence, Agent Mulder. I
strongly suggest that the two of you find someone to teach you some
level of self-restraint."
Mulder finally stopped staring at the door long after the footsteps had
faded. Turning, he saw Alex looking equally stunned.
He opened his mouth and closed it again. Shook his head. Tried to laugh.
And finally gave up. "Beer? I think MonsterVision's on."
But neither the wry drawl of Joe-Bob Briggs nor the scanty fur bikini
of a cavewoman being pursued by a rubber dinosaur could keep his
attention when he was so constantly aware of Krycek's presence that he
even found himself breathing in the same rhythm.
Krycek seemed both aware of him in turn, his body shifting when Mulder
moved as if to track Mulder by radar, and yet so inturned he seemed
almost blind.
And he was angry. Mulder, whose own rage was quiet for the moment,
nonetheless found himself tensing up as Krycek's muscles tensed, his
own jaw aching when Krycek's clenched. Then, without warning, Krycek
flung his beer bottle across the room to smash against the wall.
"Ebat'—" he almost spat. "Bless you, my children; go find yourselves
a matched pair of whips. What the fuck business is it of his?"
"Christ, Krycek, would you rather he'd shot you?"
Krycek launched himself upright and stalked over to scowl at the broken
glass. "Son of a bitch thinks he's got a right to approve me. Us.
This from the asshole who handcuffed me to his balcony."
Mulder laughed. "Hey, it could have been worse; he could have
recommended some "practitioner of sexual deviance" that he knew
personally."
"Whatever." Krycek was not amused. He dropped to sit on his heels and
poke at the foamy shards. "He's not my fucking father, all right?" His
voice was tight.
And then Mulder saw the large piece of brown glass in his hand, the
speculative focus with which Krycek brushed it against one thigh and
left a thin line of parted denim slowly darkening where it had been.
"Shit!" And Mulder grabbed him by the collar and yanked him to his
feet, startling him so that he dropped the sharp fragment back on the
carpet. "Alex, stop that!"
"And you're not my fucking father either, okay? Christ—"
Feeling something dark well up in him, Mulder shoved him sprawling back
onto the couch. "No, I'm not your father, asshole. And you're not mine.
But I bet they had too fucking much in common."
Krycek stared back at him, and lost what little color he had. "Shit.
Fuck this! I'm out of here."
"What?"
"Let me out of here, fucker! I don't have to—I can't—You—"
Mulder stood over him. "I'm not stopping you. Leave." But he made no
move to give Krycek even room to stand. "Who were you calling a coward,
Krycek?"
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Mulder heard himself snort. "You want me to talk. You want me to fuck
you and fuck you over. But you? Oh, no, you aren't going to talk, or
act, or think about anything. That why you wanted me, Krycek? So you
don't have to do anything? I don't want a dog, asshole."
And Krycek drove upwards to his feet, rocking Mulder back with the
force of it. "Is that what you think I want? Is that what you think
I am?" There was no room between them; Mulder felt the heat of his
breath, the taut frame shaking against him.
Mulder blocked the swing that would probably have broken his jaw, and
catching Krycek by the wrist and the back of the neck, he held him
pinned for a moment. "I think you're a liar—" He pulled Krycek's head
closer. "A traitor—" Those jungle eyes clenched shut. "A murderer—"
He brushed his lips against the tattered mouth beneath his. "And a
coward as afraid as I am of lo—of lo—" Kissing those soft eyelids,
those velvet lashes, he tasted the salt they could not hide.
He didn't know he was crying himself until he felt the sting, and then
Alex's mouth opened against his jaw and moved blindly up to drink his
tears in turn. And they were holding each other so tightly it was
another kind of pain, and sobs racked them like passion. "I'm sorry,
I'm sorry," he tried to say into the mouth that was saying the same
thing to him, lips and tongue a word together, a mirror, the heart's
braille.
And it hurt, O God it hurt, knife-edge of grief and loss cutting them
both like a blade lancing a wound. Mulder tried to comfort the lean,
shaking body in his arms even as he clung desperately for comfort of
his own. "I'm so sorry—" but now the mouth on his was speaking other
words, words he was too afraid to hear, to say. Words his whole body
was saying despite himself.
So brave, this fragile creature he held. So brave. So honest, body and
mind, even through the pain. So faithful once he knew his heart. And
offering Mulder both his life and Mulder's own. O God, so brave—
I love you too, Mulder said soundlessly into that mouth, giving him
back truth for truth. But words were not enough, so he put all his love
and awe into a kiss and told him that way. Gently, careful of the
bruised lips. This was too strong for force. No more apologies; they
were an insult to this man who had welcomed his hate and endured it
with utmost courage as an act of love.
"Love," Mulder said out loud and kissed him again. "I love you. I need
you. Don't ever leave me, Alex. Oh, I love you." And when he was
answered with Russian, he knew it was an honor, an act of grace beyond
anything he could earn.
The rage, the darkness, were still waiting. He could feel them in
himself and in the taut frame in his arms. But if this lay at the heart
of it, somehow they would find a way home.
(Several people have asked for a definition of "tang": it's the part of
Hilt
by Nonie Rider
Tang
Scully had never been so grateful for the bulk of Skinner behind her.
Gun out, she knocked at the door. "Mulder, it's me," she said, and
heard someone moving inside, and then the click of the lock.
a knife-blade that extends into the hilt, often for its full length. It's
the core of a knife's strength, since without it, any lateral pressure
would snap the blade off at its base.)
