"My" team. I almost laugh at the conceit, but I don't have the breath to spare.
They'd love that. Probably shoot me outright if they ever heard me say it. But I
can't help it... I think of them as mine. I have ever since I took them on when
things started to fall apart, brought them into the cell.
And we do function as a team, as much as they hate it.
I round the corner of the self-destructing building, trying to stay clear enough
to avoid flying shards of glass as more windows shatter. Rubbing frantically at
my smoke-stung eyes I squint and count... there's the redhead, and there... thank
god. Mulder. My breathing eases somehow, despite the fact that my lungs are still
protesting every wheeze.
As I stagger up I see Mulder's face register a flash of something I'd love to
believe is relief. Again laughter tries to claw up my aching throat. As if. Then
his forehead creases and he goes back to staring at the building; both of them
do. Wait a minute. Both? Where's...? Fucking hell.
"Skinner?" I choke. Mulder shakes his head and I whip around and stare back at
the lab. The top floor is already caving inward. It's a matter of minutes. Long
enough? It's going to have to be. I can't leave it... not anymore. They're mine
now.
I turn back and look at Mulder, searing him into my eyelids like the afterimages
of the fires that rose too fast, then spit at him in my best deadly voice, "Don't
you fucking move." I spare one glance to Scully. "Handcuff him if you have to.
You know the drill. Shoot anything that comes out of there that isn't us." Then
I'm sprinting back toward the lab, counting on the flames to keep him out if she
doesn't tie him to the closest tree.
I cross the grounds in half the time it took me a minute ago, determinedly
blocking out the shooting pain in my left leg, and Scully's voice hollering my
name. She's got enough sense to not go back in and she'll keep him out. I rely on
that since I don't have time to think anything else. Instead of returning to the
door I exited, knowing what I'm likely to find there, I head for the back of the
building. Which is where Skinner's assignment should have had him exiting anyway.
Through the utility door and up the stairs and I wince every time my left leg
takes my weight. Judicious use of the banister finally gets me to the top.
The smoke is already reaching this level as well. I start on a reverse course,
knowing the order of actions Skinner was planning, since I forced him to go over
it with me. Now I'm glad I fought him into it, despite the headache it gave me at
the time.
He hates letting me plan his missions. Has to have final say. He's such a Marine.
The smoke thickens and I drop to my knees, crawling under it as best I can,
ducking my chin into the neck of my shirt. I blink rapidly as tears start rolling
from my stinging eyes, trying vainly to keep my vision free enough to spot any of
The Enemy. My skin crawls with the knowledge that I'm moving back toward them...
knowing they can withstand a hell of a lot more heat than I can.
First room, check the door... not hot yet, so I push through. Nothing. On down
the hall, second room, same routine, and there he is, slumped and bleeding
against a desk, a lab tech collapsed over him, pinning him. Obviously they got as
far as hand-to-hand. I scramble forward and manhandle the dead body off his legs,
then tuck my fingers up under his chin, pressing for a pulse.
Alive.
His eyes open and he stares at me as if he's never seen me before. "Krycek?" His
voice cracks, and I don't know if it's from pain or just smoke inhalation.
"It ain't the angel of death. Not yet anyway. Though I've heard he's a
good-looking bastard, too." The red stain on his pant's leg is nothing to the
pool of blood on the floor next to his thigh. He's not walking out of here.
Okay, looks like I drag him.
The entire building trembles and I take hold of his arm, wrapping it around my
shoulders, bending down and yanking him forward until he slumps over my back with
a yowl of pain. The dead weight staggers me for a long moment, pressing me almost
flat to the floor. Then I'm crawling again, far too slowly, the omnipresent thrum
of time running out pounding through me. I have no idea how hurt he is, but I
can't do anything about it until I get him out. Out... out... out...
"Krycek... I'm hit. I can't... you can't..."
"Shut up," I huff, then concentrate on saving my breath.
"You'll n'ver get me out... you can't carry me 'n I... can't walk." His voice is
slurring, and I can feel something hot and wet soaking into my shirt where he's
sprawled across my back. He coughs. "Th's place... going down good. Go... get
out..."
I don't bother to answer, just work on inching myself forward on elbow and knees.
Out the door, down the hall, and the smoke is thicker and this is not good. He
coughs again. The floor under my hand is heating up and I can't crawl any faster,
my back aching with the strain. My leg is protesting every movement and I bet
I've really fucked up that knee this time.
"Kry—"
"Just... hold on... to me..." I manage and he thankfully falls silent. I hope
he's not unconscious again, but by the time I reach the stairs I wonder if it'd
be easier if he was. This is going to hurt. I start easing down them, knowing I
should be trying to cushion him more but I can't think how and we have to get out
NOW. He's making harsh grunts of pain but the stairs shake and I hear the rumble
of another explosion somewhere below and behind us. I bump down the stairs
faster, losing him at the last two steps as he slips from my grip and slides off
my back. Staggering to my feet I reach back, grab his clothing, and everlastingly
haul him to the utility door and through.
Don't stop... too close. I focus everything on dragging him further away and then
hands are catching me and I'm falling against them and being dragged myself. Next
thing I know a wet rag is pressed to my face. I blink rapidly, trying to clear my
burning eyes, and Mulder's face swims into view, totally pissed for some reason.
"I thought you said never go back in, for any reason, no matter what," he
shouts at me.
I wince as I try to drag in a breath, and tilt my head sideways to see Scully
bending over Skinner, bringing him around again. As his eyes blink open I refocus
on Mulder. "Only I'm allowed to break my rules," I rasp. Then I pass out.
Three hours later, Temporary Rebel Base
"Shit, what happened to the boss-man?"
"He broke his own rules." Mulder's voice is all ice and sarcasm, and I
contemplate keeping my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. "Apparently, as
usual, there's one set of rules for him and one for the rest of us." His tone
tells me he's talking to me, not Rhodes. Which makes the subterfuge rather
pointless.
Oh well. I'm in a little too much pain to be able to effectively fake it anyway.
I let my lids flutter up and clear my throat. Feels like I've been gargling
broken glass. I try to open my mouth to tell him I'd be in this shape whether I'd
broken my own rules or not, but I can't draw enough breath.
"Scully," he snaps shortly, and next thing I know Scully's bending over me,
fitting an oxygen mask over my face and telling me to breathe slow and easy. I
stare at the ceiling and realize I'm back at the temporary base. After a few
minutes with the oxygen I'm okay enough to breathe on my own, as long as I don't
try too hard.
"Skinner?" I rasp, as she steps back.
"He'll be fine," she murmurs. "Get some rest." She smiles at me suddenly. "We got
'em good that time."
As she walks off I raise an eyebrow at Mulder. "Good?"
"Well, it's not like things are over," he drops down on the edge of my bed, still
glaring at me. "But we got in a good hard hit. All our reports are saying nobody—and nothing—walked away from this one."
I breathe out a shallow sigh of relief and let my eyes close.
"Don't fall asleep on me, you bastard."
Forcing my eyes back open I stare at him wearily. "What, Mulder? What now?" I'm
used to not being able to do anything right for him, but Christ almighty, I just
saved his old boss' life. That ought to be worth at least a break from the
insults, the distrust, the sniping.
"I don't like you changing the rules."
"I didn't change them," I whisper. "The rules stand. Don't you ever, ever, go
back in. For anything. We need every single person and every scrap of
information, and if you're clear, that means you stay clear."
"And what the hell do... does the resistance do without you?" he snaps.
I blink up at him, confused. Does he really not know? "They follow you, idiot." I
close my eyes and drop into sleep.
Three days later, Temporary Rebel Base
Knee wrapped and lungs back in working order, I look in on Skinner. Scully tells
me he's been asking for me, and I suppose I've avoided it long enough. I can tell
by the way his jaw is clenching that he's refusing pain medication. "Might as
well take the meds. You're not going back out for a little while."
His eyes flicker open and he stares up at me with that same weird look on his
face he had when I crawled up to him in that office. Never one to waste time, he
starts right in. "You were clear," he says softly. "They told me you were clear
and out." I shrug. "You came back in," he continues. "Your rule—"
I snort. "You and Mulder. It's my rule, I can break it." I glare at him steadily.
"And only I can break it."
He continues to look at me oddly, and the silence stretches uncomfortably.
Finally, he clears his throat. "Thank you."
I shuffle from one foot to the other, and back toward the door. "Don't mention
it." Really. I've got an image to uphold.
Three weeks later, Rebel Headquarters
I stand silently as Mulder finishes his tirade and turns on heel, Scully
following him. Rhodes and Seville glance at each other, and ease toward the door,
guessing the strategy session is over. I let them go without comment, dropping
into a chair and staring blankly at the maps on the table. I'm right, and he
knows I'm right, but he can't bring himself to admit it. Can't bring himself to
trust me or my judgement.
And the worst of it is, I completely understand.
He doesn't like my methods, and he never has and he never will. He'll come
around, because he knows we don't have a choice, but he'll do it kicking and
screaming and try every other possibility first. And harp at me nonstop about my
lack of ethics and my amorality and my willingness to sacrifice 'expendable'
people. While I stand there, and look back at him, and lift my chin, and say
nothing. Suffer in silence, good little soldier.
That's okay, Mulder. You wear your white satin robes, and I'll just wear my
pride. We never did talk the same language, why should we start now.
I hear the rest of the small group make for the door. I know it makes them
uncomfortable, listening to Mulder go at me. Well, no, rephrase that. It makes
them uncomfortable to listen to Mulder go at me because I just stand there
and... let him. If I fought back they'd just enjoy the free entertainment. I know
none of them get it. I cadged most of them from various outposts in the
Syndicate. Most of them have no idea of my history with Mulder. All they know is
nobody else talks to me like that.
I know they can't figure out why I never react, when they've seen me practically
put other people through the wall for a hell of a lot less. I know they have
their theories. Hell, some of them are even somewhere close to the truth. Doesn't
matter, really. None of it does. I couldn't care less what they're saying or
thinking.
I know what I owe and I'm not running anymore.
As the last footsteps fade I let my forehead rest against my palm, sighing
deeply. The deep voice, when it comes, startles the hell out of me and I
practically jump out of my chair.
"Just out of curiosity, why do you let him do that?"
Covering my embarrassment at my lapse in alertness, I glare at Skinner. He, of
all people... "You know my history with him," I snap shortly, getting to my feet
and gathering up the maps.
He eases up out of his chair and, leaning on his cane, makes his way over to the
table. "I know our history, too," he offers sardonically. "You killed me, and
you don't let me talk to you like that."
I raise an eyebrow at him. "Have you ever listened to yourself?" I mutter.
Surprisingly, he laughs, then holds his side. I shrug and stuff the maps back in
a folder, avoiding his eyes.
"All I mean is, with me, you give as good as you take," he reaches out and plucks
the folder from my hand and starts reshuffling the maps and making sure all the
papers line up. "You yell right back, and you've been ready to haul off and knock
me one a time or three. Or seven or nine."
I sigh. He is not the person I want to have this conversation with. Hell, there
is no one I want to have this conversation with, because the fact is I don't want
to have this conversation at all. But he's a stubborn bastard. As stubborn as me,
I've learned. I try to figure out how to say it in a way that won't say too much.
"Look. I can't... do anything about what I've done. It's done, and I did it, and
that's that. I'm not going to be some repentant little sinner, wallowing in shame
and regret." I turn and face him. "I've been who I was. And now I am who I am.
And I can do things differently from now on. Some things." I lean forward, my
hand splaying on the table, holding his eyes. My voice takes on a timbre that
scares even me. "And I will. I will not add one... more... scar."
He stares back at me, and then slowly nods. "I understand, Alex," he says softly.
And unfortunately for me, I think he does.
Three months later, Rebel Headquarters
"I said, I'm going with you."
"For fuck's sake, no. It won't work that way." I stalk down the hall, ignoring
the footfalls pattering along behind me.
"I don't care. I'm going with you and that's final."
"Dammit, Mulder, get a clue. This is too important to risk and you know how the
shifters have started to pick up on you. You're a liability at a meet like this
and you know it. What is your problem?"
He's all cool precision, voice dry. "Maybe I'd just like to be there with you
when you collect."
"Oh for—" I want to rip my hair out by the roots. I spin and go toe to toe with
him. Skinner and Scully stand behind us, just watching. "You can't honestly
think I can't be trusted at this stage of the game? What the hell would I sell
you out to?? THEM? Give me a break."
Mulder snorts. "You can't honestly expect us to take you on trust?" he mimics my
words with a smirk.
I sigh. "It would be nice, but no, I don't really expect it. Of course you've
been trusting me enough to risk your life on my information and my say-so, but
hey, what's that, right?"
"I trust what I see, Krycek. I trust what I'm involved in. In case you hadn't
noticed, I stick pretty close to you as a rule."
I stand there and want to scream, kick, rend, pummel, shoot something. Anything.
Deep inside my chest something tears, and I want to hit back, slice into him with
words that will hurt as much as that just did, considering these last few months.
Christ, haven't I proved anything?
But I don't. I just stand there like always and look him right in the eye and...
and nothing. Just take it all in and keep going, steady as the tides. It doesn't
matter what he strikes out with; all I can do is stand there with my hand
outstretched. I could hate him for it if I didn't—
Fuck it. Not going there.
Taking a slow, deep breath, I force my voice as flat as his. "You'd be in too
much danger. This is better done alone, but would you accept if one of them
came?" I gesture to Scully and Skinner without looking at them.
He opens his mouth to protest, and I can see he really didn't expect that
offer. He wants to be there himself. I have to wonder at his persistence, but he
is after all, Mulder. He doesn't need a reason to be bull-headed about something.
Is it that important to him that I stay right under his thumb? Depressing
thought.
"I suppose." He turns and stalks off, his entire bearing broadcasting his
displeasure. I stare after him and then find myself turning to Scully. It's
second nature by now.
"Talk to him?" she says before the words leave my tongue. She smiles wryly at my
surprise. "Sometimes I think it's what you keep me around for, Alex."
I start to tell her how wrong she is, how important she is, when I realize she's
kidding. She brushes by me and heads after him, leaving me with Skinner watching
me thoughtfully.
Christ, that's all he seems to do these days. If I had a nickel for every time I
turn around and find those hawk eyes bearing down on me, I could buy the
fucking aliens off. At least he's not giving me shit these days. He still
doesn't like me, but he's not picking apart everything I say and peering over
every piece of information I bring in like I just forged it and the ink's still
wet. He's been a lot less ornery since... well, since I saved his life. Seems
like I bought somebody's trust that day, for the low low price of a little smoke
inhalation and a wrenched back.
But I wish to fuck he'd stop watching me with that weird speculative gleam.
He's seeing way too much and I'm not particularly comfortable with it. Not that
he ever says anything but—
"What?" I finally snap, unable to stand the silence any longer.
He shakes his head, stepping up to me until he's toe to toe with me the way I was
with Mulder just minutes ago. When he speaks, his voice is a soft murmur, so deep
I have to strain to hear. "If you ever get tired of waiting, Alex, let me know."
He tilts his head to one side, stares at me for another long moment, then
abruptly walks away.
I stand in the hallway, staring after him, totally confused.
What the hell was that all about?
Burn Me If You Want
by Ratadder
Smoke wraps like a noose around my neck, but at least the flames are behind me. I
clear the last door with a wild leap as I hear glass shatter too close. Rolling
on the grass, I draw a clean breath for the first time in too long. My lungs ache
but I'm up on my knees and then my feet and running. Limping, stumbling, but
running. I'm late. Really late. I have to get to the rendezvous, check my team.
