But the moment I heard what had happened in that basement, I had to go to
him. Cancerman literally and figuratively destroyed the last six years of
Mulder's life with the flick of a cigarette. It would be an easy matter of
finding Mulder. There were only three places he could be found on a regular
basis, his office, his apartment, or Dana's. Number one was out of the
question, and if she were with him, number two would be unlikely. She would
take care of him, see that he didn't go into a self-destructive cycle. And
to do that, she would have to go to a place untainted by Mulder's less than
pleasant memories, her apartment.
This is a place of healing for him. Mulder came here on instinct when I was
(reluctantly) putting hallucinogens in the drinking water of his building.
He came here the night that he found out the sole reason the apartment above
his was rented was to spy on him. He's come here seeking shelter from less
traumatic events, but always for the same reason. Dana's home is his safe
harbor, a fact that makes me more than a bit jealous. I don't have one for
myself, let alone him. But that doesn't mean that that I don't long to
provide one.
And now the ship has come in. I hear the rattle of keys, and the doorknob
begins to turn. My world is narrowing down to two possibilities, both
equally as likely. Either Mulder will turn to me for comfort, or he will
turn to me in accusation. He has no reason, except for my denial, to believe
that I didn't start the fire. I've burned him before. I face the door and
stand my ground, waiting for the moment of truth.
I open the door to my apartment and nudge Mulder inside ahead of me. He's
almost in a sleepwalking state, except sleep is the last thing on his mind.
He still smells the smoke, feels the ashes, and see the wreckage of the last
five years of our lives. He takes two steps into the apartment and stops,
stock-still. I go to walk around him and I see the reason why. There is a
man in my apartment, and not just any man.
Alex Krycek has reappeared, and at a most inopportune time, as is his wont.
The man is enigma incarnate. He became Mulder's partner (and lover) when the
X-Files was shut down for the first time. He was part of the reason that I
was abducted. Despite this, I call this man my ally, if only because,
despite his choices and actions, he loves Mulder the same as I do.
I look at Mulder, afraid of what will happen now that he knows Alex is here.
I'm afraid for Mulder that Alex will hurt him, afraid for Alex that Mulder
will hurt him, and for me, because I will be hurt, no matter what happens.
Mulder just stands there, his face blank. He makes no move towards Alex, no
move away from him. As far as I know, the last time Mulder saw Alex was on
the back of a truck, fleeing from the gulag by the river Tungus. And Alex
just stands there, looking sadly at Mulder. It is a fragile moment of spun
glass and brittle hopes.
The moment shatters. Mulder's face darkens, blood suffusing it in his rage.
"You son of a bitch! You did it!" He crosses the room in two quick strides,
raising his hand. I know what's coming, and turn away, unwilling to watch.
Krycek makes no move to block the teeth jarring punch. Mulder steps back,
waiting for Krycek's reaction.
He makes no retaliatory moves. He staggers back a few steps, his head
rotating from the force of the blow. I know that Krycek will have a large
bruise on his right cheek by morning. His head turns back so he can look at
Mulder. The silence is broken by four roughly whispered tender words.
"Mulder, I'm so sorry."
And that is all it takes. Barriers that would take me hours, days, and even
years to merely chip crumble into dust at Alex's whisper. Mulder, with a
shudder and a sobbing breath, steps towards Alex. Alex meets him; arms open,
pulling him into a gentle embrace. Muttering nonsense sounds, Alex rocks
him, slowly leading him back to my couch and sitting him down. He kneels
between Mulder's legs, looking up into the hazel eyes. Alex takes Mulder's
hands between his, then looks down at the palms and fingertips, angry red
and blistered from when Mulder tried to claw the still smoldering cabinets
open. He kisses each wound, trying to take the pain away.
I feel like a stranger in my own home. Mulder and Alex have forgotten where
they are and whom they are with. Alex reaches up to caress Mulder's cheek.
Now Mulder makes the first proactive move I've seen from him in the last few
hours. He grabs Alex by the collar of his leather jacket and pulls him in
for a kiss. My God, what a kiss! Both men give themselves fully over to
expressing their emotions through it. They are so beautiful; it is hard to
find the words to describe it. Alex's ivory skin is quickly flushing with
arousal, and Mulder starts to become more aggressive and demanding.
I can't bear to watch, no matter how beautiful they are. "Mulder, why don't
you and Alex go back to your place," I suggest when they come up gasping for
air. The last thing I wanted to deal with tonight is trying to sleep while
listening to Alex and Mulder have sex. And that is exactly what would
happen.
Mulder seems to remember where he is. "You shouldn't be alone either,
Scully," he says.
Damn. Now he is going to try to protect me by hovering over me when what I
need is time for me. "I can deal with it," I say, willing him to understand.
I don't want to admit out loud that it would break my heart, knowing that
the man I love is seeking sexual comfort from someone else I am attracted
to. I can be his partner, I can be his friend, and I have resigned myself to
the fact that Mulder has someone else and, in all probability, we will never
become lovers.
The truth is out there, and it hurts when it is found.
And through some miracle, Alex understands. I can see the comprehension
bloom in his eyes. He nods knowingly. "Mulder, we have things that need to
be discussed, but now isn't the time."
I can see that Mulder reluctantly agrees. He reaches out and brushes his
lips chastely across my forehead. The contact is almost more than I can
bear. Alex reaches out and squeezes my hand understandingly. He looks at me
and his thought is clear. 'Mulder has no clue that you love him.'
I squeeze Alex's hand in return, grateful even for the sympathy of an
uncertain ally. Without any further spoken words, Mulder and Alex cross the
room and go out the front door. I follow to close and lock the door behind
them.
The ride to my place as well as the elevator trip and walk down the hall is
done without any talking. When we reach the door to my apartment, I look at
Alex, half expecting him to produce a key. So I am not overly surprised when
he does. We never got to the stage in our relationship where I was going to
ask him if he wanted to pick out curtains. But I knew the men who he
reported to would have given him access.
I stumble inside, not caring if the whole fucking Consortium and the Supreme
Ambassador from Rigel 7 were gathered in my living room. All I want to do is
get drunk so I can forget. I weave my way over to the cabinet where I keep
my liquor and pull out the bottle of vodka I've been saving. Only a shot or
two of it is left. I kept on telling myself that I should throw it away,
because I don't even like vodka. But it was Alex's and it was the last
tangible thing of his I have.
I lift the bottle to him in a mock salute and take a swig. The alcohol
burns, bringing tears to my eyes. Or at least I tell myself that's why I'm
about to cry. Krycek just stares, his brows drawing together. "I don't think
that's a good idea," he says as I take another long swallow. "You know how
strong that stuff is?"
"Yes. That's exactly why I'm drinking it." I take a third gulp and Alex
holds out his hand for the bottle. Since there's no more liquor in it, I
give it up willingly. I flop down on my couch. "So what piece of
misinformation are you here to deliver this time?" I ask as I stretch out.
"A CD-ROM with a sanitized version of the files that were destroyed?"
"No." Alex puts down the empty bottle down on my coffee table and steps
towards me. "When I heard what happened, I had to see you."
I think about what he said and I start to laugh, not a nice laugh. "When the
fuck did you grow a conscience Alex?"
"I've always had one, Mulder. I just haven't always listened to it." Krycek
sits on the other end of the couch, giving me a wide berth. "I know looking
at your office was difficult..."
"Difficult?" I mock his tone with disdain. The alcohol has loosened my
tongue, as well as bringing my bitterness to the surface. It's beginning to
sink in; my life's work has been destroyed. No, I have been destroyed. My
identity is so wrapped up in the X-Files that I have no idea who I am
without them, without my quest for the truth. Of course, only the physical
files in my office went up in flames. There are backup copies, but this will
be the excuse needed to shut me out of working on the X-Files. "Do you have
any idea what it is like to lose something that has been a part of you for a
long time?"
Sparks flare in those forest green eyes. "Yes I do," he says coldly,
thumping his plastic left fist into his fleshy right palm. "Before you start
playing the martyr, remember that some of us have had it a hell of a lot
tougher than you."
I open my mouth to reply, and then shut it. Damn, the pain-in-the-ass was
right. I hadn't cornered the market on suffering. Alex lost his arm and any
semblance of a normal life, Skinner his marriage and probably any
advancement in his career, and Scully her sister and almost her life too
many times to count. And with that realization, the anger drains away from
my psyche. "So what the hell do I do now?" I asked softly.
" Simple." Krycek leans forward and stares me in the eye, a gleam in it that
should have warned me what was coming. "As difficult as it will be, do
whatever worthless job they give you without making any waves. Let them
think they have won. And when they least expect it... attack!" With that
last word, Alex scrambles forward, pressing me against the back of the
couch. His hands are as frantic as his lips, hot and demanding as they all
but ravage me. Before I'm fully aware of what's going on, my shirt is shoved
up to my armpits, my sweats and boxers pulled down to my ankles. I feel
Krycek slowly begin to work his way down my body, exposing skin and leaving
a trail of honey sweet kisses.
I manage to toe off my shoes, kick off the fabric trapping my feet, and yank
my shirt over my head. The rational part of my mind is screaming that I am a
bloody idiot for being butt naked in front of this wanted felon who has
fucked both my mind and body. But when it comes to this man, I don't listen
to my rational mind.
Krycek, meanwhile, has kept himself busy by removing his clothing faster
than I thought possible for someone who had both arms. Never breaking
contact with my eyes, he kneels down in front of me, a look of worship
bright on his face. The sweat glistening on his skin gives it a heavenly
sheen. He looks angelic, my beautiful fallen one. Isn't it said that Satan
can appear as an angel of light?
And with a devilish look of gleeful anticipation, his eyes refocus to a spot
mere inches from his lips. He leans forward and drags the tip of his nose
along the vein protruding from the underside of my hard cock. Milliseconds
later, it is followed by his open mouth and tongue, whisper soft kisses
moving towards the weeping crown.
Then I am engulfed in a wet flame. Alex's hot mouth is working my cock as if
he were playing a finely tuned Stradivarius. He makes my voice hit notes in
registers I didn't think possible for men with their testicles intact. Soft
flicks of his tongue where the head joins the shaft, light scrapes of teeth
against the underside near the base, and a heavy suction is making me
rapidly lose control. And in this situation, I am perfectly willing to let
Krycek take control.
Until he stops. With a smirk, Alex pulls away seconds before I cum. He
squats back on his heels, eyes glowing in pleasure as I, in a growl of half
frustration, half affection, question the legitimacy of both himself and his
family for several past generations. Krycek's only reaction is what my
father called a shit eating grin and to back away on hands and knees from
me. Head held high, Alex turns slightly and poses on all fours. He reminds
me of a horse, proud and arrogant, like the ones Sam and I learned to ride
one summer during my all-too-brief childhood. That summer I first discovered
what made a stallion a stud.
Well, Alex would make Nimblefoot jealous.
And in the blink of an eye, the pride and arrogance transmutes into longing
and desire. Alex's head dips, his ass lifts, and he stares from between his
arms back at me. The message in that emerald gaze is clear, 'Come and get
me.'
How could I resist such an offer? I reach out and stroke the firm flesh of
his back, which earns me a barely suppressed shudder. And yet I make no move
to get off the couch. Despite my raging erection, I don't have the energy to
fuck Alex tonight. Events in the last forty-eight hours have been too rapid
fire for me to keep dodging emotional bullets. "Alex, I can't..."
Krycek turns to look at me when I fall silent, the questioning look rapidly
transforming to understanding. Standing, he straddles my body and slides up
to whisper in my ear. "Let me do the work, baby."
All I can do is swallow roughly and nod. Of all our couplings, only once has
Alex fucked me—the night we seduced each other. The other times, Alex had
submitted, seemingly content as a bottom. I don't know for certain if it had
to do with the fact that he was figuratively screwing me by spying, but I
suspect that had a big part of it.
But that was then and this is now. I start to shift my weight to roll over.
But Alex stops me with a touch of both hands, flesh and synthetic, on my
chest. "Stay right here," he whispers before a soft brush of his lips
against mine, and then the absence of his warmth. I shut my eyes and take
several deep breaths, willing my racing heart to resume a normal pace. But
before I can accomplish it, Alex is back, condoms and lube in his hands. He
straddles my waist, this time his back to my face. Not that it's a
complaint. The view of his ass is quite lovely close up. It really is a fine
ass—tight, muscular, and just the right size to comfortably cup in both
hands. Alex's legs have pinned my arms to my sides, so I can't. But that
won't stop me from touching him.
As he fumbles with the foil wrapped condom, I lean forward slightly and
firmly plant my lips on one of those perfect globes. Alex stops, obviously
not expecting my caress. A small, breathy moan escapes him as I start to
nibble. And a full one escapes when I start to suck. I keep up the suction
for several minutes and then break off with a wet smacking noise. And I
smile at the sight of the bruise now gracing Krycek's ass. "I made this," I
think with childish delight. "I've marked you and made you mine and no one
will take you away from me."
Alex has finally managed to get the package open. I jump in surprise as he
awkwardly rolls the condom onto me, using his prosthetic hand to hold the
tip in place. Now I am confused. Alex said he would do the work, so why was
he preparing me this way? It's not to keep my couch clean. I've jerked off
on it many times before. Then his fingers, slick with the lube, slide around
to trace the crack of his ass before slipping past the ring of muscle. They
glide in and out, preparing himself. A light goes on in my head. I know what
he's planning now. So I watch Alex finger fuck himself with an anticipatory
smile. He is arching back into his strokes, head tilting upwards like a wolf
baying at the moon. Alex then withdraws his fingers, and undoes the straps
that hold his artificial arm in place. It drops to the floor with a loud
thud. He rises in one fluid motion and turns to face me, locking me in his
gaze.
I take hold of my erection, lifting it so my cockhead rests just behind his
balls. Alex readjusts his position and slowly impales himself. The spincter
tightens fractionally before releasing and embracing me. He descends only
far enough to cover my glans before stopping.
I cannot wait any longer. I place a hand on either of his hips and pull him
downward until his balls are nestled in my pubic hair. I hold him down as I
start a side to side rocking motion. Alex sucks in his breath and moves with
me for the moment. Then he moves counter to me. I hold still as he begins a
second series of circular motions, down and away, up and forward, like he's
riding on a merry-go-round.
His hand strokes from his neck, between his dusky nipples, around the well
of his navel, teasing the line of dark hair that leads to his nest of curls.
The sound of our breathing goes ragged when his hand reaches his rampant
cock. My hand closes over his, increasing the pressure. Alex swallows once
and speeds up, forgoing the fancy movements. Digging my heels into the
leather cushions, I thrust up, meeting his downstrokes. My hand tightens on
Alex's, once, twice, thrice
Alex tosses his head back, his jaw dropping as he cums. I watch the tiny
shivers rattle his shoulders before the contractions begin squeezing my
cock. The sight of him alone is enough to push me over the edge, let alone
the feel of my cock in his ass. I push upward one more time as Alex
collapses against my chest.
He lies against me for a few minutes before getting up. Without a word, he
removes the used condom and heads off to the bathroom. When Alex returns
with a damp washcloth, I still haven't moved. He tenderly cleans me, wiping
up his seed with gentle, loving strokes. And once he's done he curls up
beside me, one ear pressed over my heart.
Alex's hand gently strokes down my cheek, wiping away my tears. Shit! When
did I start crying? Alex presses his lips to the corner of my left eye and
settles over me, warming me, protecting me, loving me. How long has it been
since anyone has held me close? Even Scully keeps her distance, reverting to
her infamous ice queen mode after particularly stressful cases. Something
about that nags at the back of my mind, but I've never bothered to tease it
out.
But now I'm too tired to think, to fight, to do anything but cry. Alex hooks
his arm around my shoulder so he can both hold me and stroke my hair. I want
to reciprocate, but I'm too damn tired. He nuzzles my cheek and repeats what
he said earlier as I drift off to sleep. "Don't let them win, Mulder. Don't
let them win."
I stand in front of the door to apartment 42, steeling myself for what I'll
find in there. After Mulder and Alex left, I had taken a long, cold shower.
They don't work as well for women as they do for men, but it did allow me to
calm myself down enough to get some sleep.
But not nearly enough. I woke up at about 3:00 AM, after only two hours of
sleep. I spent the next several hours thinking over what would happen next.
The X-Files were shut down. Mulder and I were still partners, but it would
only be a matter of time before we were split apart again. We have weathered
storms before, but this one could destroy us.
But what has me most concerned at this moment is Alex Krycek. Mulder's love
for Alex is one of his greatest weaknesses. I believe that yes, Alex does
love Mulder, but Alex is not the kind of man who will sacrifice his survival
for noble ideals. I think Mulder knows this on some level, but it does not,
or cannot, affect his actions towards his ex-partner. No more than I cannot
stop acting on my feelings for Mulder.
I close my eyes. I know that I am Mulder's other weakness. My mother told me
how Mulder had not given up faith that I would come home, even when my
mother was ready to. He never gave up searching for a cure, even when it
looked hopeless. He doesn't give up easily on anything or anyone he cares
about. And he cares about Alex as much as he cares about me.
Standing outside the door is only stalling. I need to go in there and find
out what has happened. I have a good idea what I will find—Mulder and Alex
together. Sharing something I will never have—either of them.
One of the things I forced myself to admit last night is that I also have
feelings for the man who was involved in killing my sister. If anyone had
told me a year ago that I would be emotionally attracted to Alex Krycek, I
would have laughed in their face. But when I found him in Mulder's
apartment, mourning his 'suicide,' we bonded in a way I can't explain. And
when Alex appeared in my hospital room, apologizing for not having found a
cure, I had no doubt that he was being honest. I can't explain how I knew, I
just knew.
Pulling out my keys, I unlock the door and step in. Mulder is asleep on his
couch, and appears to be naked beneath the rumpled afghan tossed over his
frame. From the sounds of water running coming from the direction of the
bedroom, I assume Alex is using the shower. I resist the temptation to peek
at either of them. Instead, I take a seat in the beat up chair opposite
Mulder's couch and stare idly at the fish tank.
The water shuts off, and I hear fabric rustling and soft grunts coming from
Mulder's bedroom. Mulder sleeps on. I don't know if I should go in and offer
Alex assistance. Eventually the sounds die away, and I turn towards the
door. Alex doesn't appear in the door like I expect. Instead, a gun muzzle
pokes out cautiously. "It's me, Alex."
Alex steps into the living room, tucking the gun into his waistband. He
looks how I feel—tired. We both have fought the good fight for so long,
and we have kept the faith in our own way. But will we ever finish the race?
He looks at Mulder for a long time. I know what he's going to say—given
who
and what he is, it is inevitable. "I have to go." I understand why. If the
Consortium found Alex with us, his life would be forfeit. "As soon as I have
any information, I'll contact you."
"I know." I take Alex's hand and squeeze. He looks surprised that I reached
out to him. He squeezes back. Without a word he picks up his jacket and
walks to the door. "Alex." He turns back at the sound of his name. There is
so much I want to say to him. Don't leave Mulder. Don't leave me. Stay with
us both. But only one thing crosses my lips. "Be careful."
Alex nods and steps outside. I sit down to resume the vigil. With Alex's
help, Mulder and I will fight our future with the courage that has fueled
our search for the truth for the last five years. I can only pray that it
will be enough.
I walk down the hallway to the elevator. There is so much to do, and so
little time to do it.
They won't be able to keep Mulder away from the X-Files. As long as he's in
the FBI, he will be drawn to them. Or maybe I should say they will be drawn
to him. It's just like our relationship. No matter what happens, we find
each other.
As I push the button to call the elevator, I think about how mad Mulder will
be when he wakes up and finds out that I've slipped out without saying
goodbye. But I have to return to the Brit and await my orders. Soon I hope
that I will have enough power and prestige among the Consortium that this
skulking won't be necessary. For now I'll have to be content that Dana will
be there for him.
Dana. When did I start thinking of Mulder's partner by her first name? And
why do I feel so strongly towards her? I love Mulder. Mulder loves me. Dana
knows that, and in spite of her feelings for Mulder, respects that boundary.
Mulder, oblivious as he is, hasn't figured it out. We should leave status
quo alone. My relationship with Mulder is screwed up enough as it is without
trying to turn it into a threesome.
I pull my jacket tighter around me. It was nice to actually act human for
one night, not have to have to watch over my shoulder as much. But duty
calls, and it's time for me to revert back into the 'cold hearted bastard'
role that I'm finding harder and harder to remove.
The end
Uncertain Allies
Part V
Contemplations
I don't know exactly why I had to be here at this moment. It's a stupid
idea, and dangerous. Old Smokey's boss has taken me on as a 'protegee,'
which really means glorified errand boy and bodyguard, the expendable one. I
might as well start wearing a red shirt like the ensigns who die in the
first five minutes of a Star Trek episode. Doing anything that could even
remotely be construed as treacherous would be signing my death warrant.
