Without warning, Krycek's voice cut through his fugue.
"Just like you, Skinner, staring into space when you ought to be looking for
him."
Walter whirled. He hadn't even heard the bastard come in. His rage drove him
across the narrow strip of concrete between the balcony rail and the doorway
where Krycek stood. There was a solid thud and a whoosh as his fullback rush
took the man down. His forearm pressed relentlessly down across the vulnerable
throat. It would have been so easy to just crush the larynx and watch the man
drown in his own blood.
Green eyes glared at him as the frantic heaving of the man's hard, lithe
muscled body sought to dislodge him. Walter knew he had the advantage and was
determined to keep it. The man was strong and adamantly clung to consciousness.
Mulder. The thought intruded over the need for revenge. Krycek had shown up
here for a reason and Walter's missing lover was the most likely cause. Walter
held Krycek pinned while he searched him. Damn, the palm pilot wasn't on him
although otherwise the man could have been the centerfold for Assassin's
Monthly.
A blistering heat crawled from Walter's groin to the top of his bald crown as
his mind traveled over the image he had conjured. Krycek, naked except for his
assortment of weapons, lounging in seductive nudity across a dark velvet
textured background.
Shying away from his suddenly salacious imagination, Walter made a mental
note to visit someplace professional and discreet soon.
With a quick pull, Walter dragged Krycek by an ear away from the pile of
guns, knives, garrotes, lock picks, and other occupational tools of the man's
career of deviance.
Krycek yelped and said, "Skinner! Lay off. You think I showed up here because
I missed Mulder using me for a punching bag? Not hardly. You and I have a mutual
interest..."
"Not unless you're suicidal," Walter commented as they reached his living
room.
"Mulder," Krycek replied.
A surge of jealousy blistered a path through Walter's body. He had seen
Mulder grab Krycek in the garage after that meeting. Vindictively, he had moved
on, thinking that his lover would continue the assault he had stopped earlier.
Now, Walter suspected that Krycek had managed to say or do something that
recaptured Mulder's attention. He knew that the red-hot relationship with his
partner was something the man had never forgotten. Its addictive siren call had
colored every violent encounter since.
"You set Mulder up," Walter stated flatly, letting go of Krycek and shoving
him away.
"Right. Which is why I went straight to the old devil when I heard and did
what his mother should have done at birth. It was a mercy killing. I put him out
of our misery. I don't know how Spender knew that the aliens would grab Mulder,
but he did," Krycek said.
The man sat down abruptly on the couch, cradling his artificial arm in the
real one. His head drooped, a beautiful grace note of surrender.
"I'm looking my way. You're looking your way and neither one of us is
finding him. I came here to propose an alliance."
"What kind of fool do you think I am?" Walter demanded.
"Same kind that I am. A fool in love with Mulder," Krycek retorted. "Hell,
I'm not pretending to myself that I'm good enough for him. Give me some credit
for facing my own nature without any illusions."
Fuck it all. Walter found he responded with sympathy to the soft lost tones
and the defeated posture.
Turning away, he said, "You want me to believe you? Give me some proof that I
can see. I want the device you use to control the nanocytes and an antidote."
Krycek squatted to gather up his belongings.
He said, "Wait for Scully's call. I left everything she will need in the
lab."
His gaze was a scalpel, a sharp thrust through Walter's defenses.
"You call the number I left when you make up your mind. Just consider this.
You have the inside road, Walter. He trusts you. For me, it's just a hopeless
dream."
The words seduced him. There was no doubt in Walter's mind that Krycek knew
how to play them all. He knew he was giving in, signing a bargain with the
devil.
If it were a different world, Walter would have loved Dana Scully. She was
easy to look at with her Irish beauty, fresh, fair skinned, with red hair that
begged for a hand to tumble it. Her intelligence and strength just added to her
appeal. Yet he had failed so miserably with Sharon that Walter didn't trust
himself with another woman. He spoke the language of men so much better.
Still, Dana was a friend. She didn't trust him with a wholehearted devotion,
but Walter doubted she even gave that sort of commitment to Mulder.
Her hand soothed him as she strapped him down to a treatment bed. This
private surgery belonged to one of her former classmates in medical school. Dana
was the sort of friend you kept forever and the plastic surgeon seemed used to
"no questions asked". Walter looked at all the pretty faces portrayed on the
walls and absent-mindedly tried to pick out Krycek's features from the variety
of options shown. He couldn't quite find any of the features, no elfin ears,
flippant tease of a nose, but it didn't matter, Krycek's beauty was an elusive
masterpiece, demonstrating that nature remained the maestro at this human art.
"The lab reports seem to be straight forward, but remember the source," Dana
said, as she drew an amber liquid into a large syringe.
"I do," Walter said, "Still I believe him in this instance..."
Scalding sensations seemed to burn from within. It felt like his veins were
exploding. Foul smelling sweat, thin and red, soaked the paper sheet beneath
him. He fought the bindings, raving and cursing at the pain. Hearing his voice
cursing, Walter felt his throat muscles constrict until nothing was left but a
mad thin whisper of sound. The pain shattered him and he faded into blessed
oblivion.
Waking, Walter felt a warm cloth easing over his body. He felt sore as if he
had participated in a triathlon. Dana's voice soothed him and he realized to his
embarrassment that she was the one bathing him. He opened his eyes and saw her
expression, slightly wistful, tender, even a little self-absorbed. She blushed
too when she realized that he was awake to feel the cloth lingering over the
strong developed muscles of his stomach.
"I would never have thought of Mulder as a lucky man until now," She said,
tossing back her head and eyeing him with mischief.
"He told you?" Walter asked, shocked.
Her laughter was a rippling sound like bare skin moving against satin sheets.
Dana was a sexy woman. "What do you think? Mulder can keep a secret, but not
from me. His eyes give him away. Don't worry about it. At least it took his mind
off the rat bastard. What is it with Mulder that he always seems attracted to
preying mantis types that eviscerate him for pleasure?"
"Moth to the flame," Walter commented. He felt drained. Still, he wondered if
he should get up. He moved once he was sure that he was no longer strapped down.
"Just relax. Richard doesn't need this room. He's on vacation. He and his
nurse were just on standby if I needed crisis support. Your vital signs were
stable enough except at the worst of it," Dana said, drawing a blanket up to
Walter's chin.
"What about the nanocytes?" Walter asked anxiously.
"He kept his word for what ever reason. Your blood tests negative now," Dana
said. "Crazy as it seems, for all the shit Krycek has done to us, I believe he
has feelings for Mulder. The room's full of sheet lightning when they're
together."
A man might feel sorry for Krycek. The next time Walter saw him, the double
agent had bruises and scrapes marring his face. Walter didn't ask what happened
at that point. He accepted the scraps of information and let Krycek leave.
However, about a week later, Krycek limped in his door like someone who had
been through a wrecking machine. He listed to one side and winced, touching the
ribs on his right side at intervals. Walter saw that hunched inward look of
abstraction he remembered from the hospital after Vietnam.
Walter asked, "Krycek, what the hell are you doing with yourself? Have you
lost your touch? Maybe you need to take me for backup on these excursions."
"Right, you really want to watch your career flush down the toilet? No, you
stay in your world and I'll stay in mine. Like I told Mulder, I gotta live with
the rats,"
"It looks as if the rats are winning," Walter commented.
Krycek ducked his head in acknowledgment. Walter considered it. You spend years
building a gruff reputation. The damn truth was that you were a sap underneath,
still the big clumsy boy trying to put a splint on a seagull's wing no matter
how many times the wicked beak scored you.
"I bought you some vodka even though I suspect that you're no more Russian than
I am," Walter said, walking to the liquor cabinet.
He poured a shot and then moved to the kitchen, finding an assortment of
bread, cheese, fruit and vegetables Kim had brought him for lunch. He'd
forgotten to eat it and brought it home so as not to hurt her feelings. He
grabbed the food and brought it to the coffee table, shoving it toward Krycek as
one might do toward a starving feral dog.
Krycek's eyes beheld him for a long moment. He shrugged, winced as if that
was a mistake, and took a small portion of the food. Walter filled a paper plate
to keep Krycek company, and then found that he was genuinely hungry. The meal
had been prepared to eat with one hand while Walter worked. There was more then
enough for both of them. Poor Kim always worried that he might not be feeding
himself properly.
Taking a sip, Walter savored the burn of the vodka; it was a rare
self-indulgence and one he indulged in with parsimony. When he filled Krycek's
glass, he left his own empty. Leaning back, more relaxed than he ever thought he
could be in Krycek's company, Walter watched Krycek devour every last crumb on
the plate.
Trying to think if there was anything else in the refrigerator that didn't
require elaborate preparation, Walter asked, "You want anything else?"
"No. That was good. I didn't even realize I was hungry until the food was
actually in my mouth," Krycek replied. He belted back the second shot of vodka
and then leaned back, perhaps listening to Ricki Lee Jones, decanting sex note
by throaty note in the background.
Walter picked up the few dishes and brought them to the kitchen. By the time
he was back, Krycek had fallen asleep, mouth open, every line smoothed from the
misleadingly innocent and outrageously beautiful face. His first impulse was to
kick the man out of his apartment, but as he stood over the man to act upon it;
he found that he couldn't do it.
Instead, irritated beyond a saint's patience, Walter found a blanket and
draped it over the sprawled body. He went to his bedroom and readied himself for
bed. Worn sweatpants and a misshapen tee shirt soothed his skin after the
starched boundaries of white shirts and knotted ties.
Before going to bed, Walter checked on his unwanted houseguest again. Krycek
didn't stir and hadn't moved from the awkward position in which he had fallen
asleep. He sighed as he considered that Krycek's neck would be stiff for days if
he slept the night in that position.
Familiar with trauma, he stood off to one side and said, "Krycek, you may as
well spend the night. Let me help you with those boots."
The eyes that looked at him were wide and terrified; they reminded him of
those of the littlest victims of the war. Toddlers and infants too small to
understand why their world of milk and lullabies had become a cradle of pain.
Walter said, "I'm going to touch you now. Ready?"
"Don't..." Krycek whispered in a sleep-roughened voice. "Don't hurt me now."
Feeling unjustly accused, Walter answered, "I haven't yet." Not that he was
making any promises.
The half boots were expensive custom-made leather. The soles would grip like
a cat's paw and would be as noiseless. "It's cold. I'll leave your socks on,"
Walter said.
"Kay..." the drowsy voice said, heavy lidded eyes already closing. Walter
straightened, reached a hand out for some reason to touch the cheek, wrinkled
and pink from lying against a couch seam. Thinking better of it, Walter fled
from temptation as if the devil was after him.
The bedroom was no escape from Walter's uneasy mind. He lay on the bed, one arm
behind his head and the other splayed across his firm stomach. His sharp mind
analyzed the situation.
Right after Walter was discharged from the military hospital he went through
a genuine back to earth period of soul searching. Holed up in his Uncle Sergei's
cabin, Walter had grown his hair long, added a beard that eventually reached his
chest and went weeks without seeing another soul. As far as the cabin was from
the woods, it was still not far enough to protect Walter from an unpleasant fact
of country life.
Hiking down to the highway one day, Walter had seen a flash of black and tan
in the periphery of his vision. He spotted the dog twice over the next week
until he heard it after the chickens he was raising in an attempt to supplement
his discharge pay. Running out, he had aimed a gun and then seen the dangling
teats. He couldn't do it.
Coyotes or starvation got the rest of the litter, but Walter saw the one
skinny pup gamboling beside his mother. He had started to put food out. The
bitch would not come near enough to touch, but she took to showing up a few
moments before he filled the dish. Sometimes he'd find her lying silently in the
yard, brown eyes holding all the sadness in the world staring at his door. He
would crouch and talk to her while the pup played with her tail or hunted
leaves. She wouldn't let him touch the little dog.
Hunting season always brought out idiots. Whether it was petty cruelty or
genuine inability to tell a dog from a deer, the bitch crawled into the yard
with her pup, now about four months old following her. Dying, she lay her nose
on his shoe, his dog for that one moment.
The pup mourned with the single-minded devotion of a creature that had lost
the only thing that he loved.
It ate and stayed near, sleeping on the grave that Walter had dug as he wept
and cursed his human kind. It took all summer to claim that feral dog. It would
disappear for days and come back scarred from some adventure. Walter felt like
locking it in a kennel but the dog always seemed to know his intention and
disappeared.
Finally, one day, it came in with four porcupine quills embedded in its
swollen face. It was too far to take it to the vet. Walter pulled them out
himself, the dog in a makeshift muzzle, which was almost unnecessary given the
dog's unnatural acceptance that he was helping. After the dog healed, nursed
with chicken soup and finally willing to accept the comfort of the cabin, Walter
expected it to run off. It never did.
Damn dog stayed with him longer than Sharon did. It lived sixteen years; the
best dog he had ever had. He couldn't stand to ever have another one. It
wouldn't have been the same.
In fact, the dog led him out of the wilderness. If a feral animal could learn
to trust than be damned if Walter would let it beat him in a show of courage. He
left the woods to attend college, to become a cop, and later to attend the FBI
Academy. The dog was with him the entire way.
Now, why Krycek reminded him of Duke was beyond Walter, but somehow after
that first occasion; when Krycek showed up with scraps of information and a new
set of injuries, it became a ritual to feed him and to let him to sleep on the
couch. He had the feeling he was going to be pulling out figurative quills any
day now.
Each day was like an acid etching deeper into Walter's soul. He blew up at
everyone, even at Kim, who least deserved a harsh word of any woman he'd met.
Krycek had become their only hope. His progress reports were sketchy but Walter
believed that he was truthful.
No one could have played out a game with so many self-inflicted injuries for
so long.
Finally, Krycek stumbled in, barely on his feet, hand clasped to his
shoulder. His leather jacket was rent. He was pale and wild-eyed. Dana was
wrong. Mulder's attraction to Krycek was hardly moth to the flame. They were two
incendiary devices on a juggernaut to some unknown destiny.
Walter steadied Krycek, walked him to the couch and lowered him. He opened
the jacket and found the rough bandage made out of a clean tee shirt. Blood
saturated the cloth, which told Walter enough.
Walter rapidly dialed Dana and said, "I need your trauma bag and your skills,
Scully. I have Krycek here and he's bleeding badly."
The long silence was expected as was her resigned, "Give me a minute."
Dana showing up with Doggett was a surprise. They both looked as if they had
dressed hastily. Well, Dana deserved a steady reliable man and the former New
York cop was that. Walter said, "Agent Doggett, you realize that this is the
sort of situation that you should avoid if you expect to ever get your career on
track."
Doggett's sidelong glance at Dana said that he was smitten. She hadn't asked
for the moon and stars on a platter, just to get her best friend back.
Doggett eyed Krycek and said, "Doesn't look like he eats babies for
breakfast."
Trying to look intimidating while lying down with his feet draped over a
couch arm was no easy task. Krycek managed. He didn't deign to respond. Dana
said, "I'll work in the kitchen. John, help Skinner get Krycek onto the table."
Shears clipped away the bloody sweater. Dana gingerly drew back the makeshift
pressure bandage and said, "He lost a lot of blood, but it's stopped now."
Krycek groaned as she probed the wound. It was a deep gouge.
"What happened?" Dana asked.
Krycek said, " I found an alien who didn't want to be plammed. I had to get
through him to get the location of the base for the remaining mother ship.
Mulder has to be there. The other two ships have been destroyed."
"You're sure that Mulder is there?" Dana asked, as she readied a needle.
"Yeah, they have them all there. I think they're giving up. What's going on
is a clean up operation. Don't leave any modified technology even if it is in
the body of the residents. I don't know if they want to hide the evidence from
us or if maybe some James T. Kirk is really out there, enforcing the prime
directive. Anyway, in ten more days, the ship will be there. The rebels are
ready at last. They want to take the master races out. If we want to save Mulder
and the other experiments, we have to be ready."
Walter said, "We will be. Where is the base?"
"Tierra Del Fuego. There's a sinkhole that took out several mines, very
coincidentally, about the same time as a UFO sighting," Krycek said. A savage
look crossed his face, "We'll send them to hell too. With him."
There was no need to ask who him was. Krycek's hatred of the Smoker ran too
deep to be eased even by the man's blood.
Dana said, "Settle down, Krycek," She tapped the needle and moved closer to
her patient.
Krycek looked at the needle with a peculiar expression. He asked, "What's
that?"
"A pain killer," Dana said.
"No thanks," Krycek answered.
"Look, don't be a fool. This is going to hurt," Dana said.
"Thanks for all the concern, Scully, but..." Krycek averted his eyes. "I'm
an addict. And I want to stay clean so, no, just do it."
Some instinct brought Walter forward to offer his hand. Krycek took it and
held on, as tears leaked from his tightly closed eyes. Twenty stitches to close
the jagged wound. Walter found himself flinching with the man as the needle slid
in and out of the edges, drawing them together neatly.
Taking a shaky breath, Dana said, "Finished."
The neat bandage covered the wound and Krycek accepted aspirin, unwilling to
take so much as a Tylenol Three. He was ashen, sodden with sweat; his lip
trembled, showing flashes of strong white teeth.
Walter said, "Doggett, help me put Krycek in my bed." In an aside to Krycek's
shake of the head, he snapped, "You need a good night's rest which you won't get
on my couch."
Dana followed them in, sat on his bed, taking Krycek's pulse. In an odd
gesture, she pushed back a wisp of sable hair from the man's forehead. "Will you
get him back, Krycek?"
The man's eyes opened and he said, "Yeah, I've screwed everything else up,
but I can do this one last thing right."
What the hell did he mean? Was he suicidal? Walter shook back that thought,
not wanting to consider it longer.
Dana placed a jar of pills on the table. She said, "Make sure that you finish
these antibiotics, Krycek, who knows where that plam has been?"
A twitch of the lips acknowledged the humor. Krycek sank back into the
pillows, a frown still creasing his forehead. Walter turned down the lights and
said, "Call if you need anything."
Leaving the door open so he could hear Krycek, Dana and Walter walked out of
the bedroom. Doggett said, "I'll wait for you in the hall."
As the door shut behind her new partner, Dana said, "About John, I suppose
you don't think too much of me, starting a relationship while Mulder is lost to
us."
Dana put her hand palm flat against Walter's chest. She met his eyes clearly,
obviously wanting reassurance.
It seemed the right thing to do. He covered the hand and patted it, saying,
"Mulder would want you to be happy. It's not like we're in mourning. We'll get
him back. We're an unbeatable team."
Her smile was soft, her blue eyes misting. "I'm glad that he finally let you
love him. After Alex, well, I thought he would never let himself trust again."
After Alex...Walter closed the door, deep in thought. Was there really an
after? He didn't think so. Mulder's violent reaction during that meeting and
what ever took place after that confrontation in the parking garage proved that.
Walter scowled, remembering Mulder's hands gripping Krycek's shoulders, their
bodies pressed together as Mulder forced his former lover against the car.
Seeing that, Walter had felt both jealousy and an unwanted heat. He hadn't
confronted Mulder. He was afraid to find out the answers to his unasked
questions.
Although he intended to sleep in his bed, assuring himself that he would hear
Krycek if his fever grew worse or if he tried to leave with such a severe
injury, Walter put it off. He read a new agent's report, muttering in
frustration at the lack of focus in the rambling narrative.
He wanted to know about the case not the personal history of the participants
unless that was relevant. Another thing,apparently, the man didn't know where
the spell-check button was located. His endeavors were creative, if not
conducive to clarity. Krycek had always written concise and carefully proofed
reports. You could love a man for that almost.
His eyes were blurring by the time he finally gave into the drowsiness that
had crept up to him. Krycek was huddled under the covers, looking waif-like and
ill.
Walter placed a hand on the forehead, smiled as he remembered his mother
doing this although she always followed up with a kiss. The man felt warm, but
not to the point where Dana should be called. Krycek opened his eyes. "You sure
you want me here?"
Nodding, Walter got in beside Krycek. The man's eyes were still intent on
him. "Do you need anything?" Walter asked.
"A new life. This one is fucked," Krycek replied. He raised his hand up to
touch the bandaged shoulder.
Walter reminded him, "Don't fret at that."
"Yeah, I know." Krycek replied. He moistened his lips with a swipe of his
catlike tongue.
He said, "Skinner, about Mulder and I, you don't have to worry. If you make
him choose, he said that he would choose you. I blew my chance."
That was an unexpected comment. Walter didn't know why Krycek wanted to
reassure him. Then it hit him what Krycek had said. Mulder had told him, "If I
have to choose?"
Did Mulder think that Walter would be content to have him go back and forth
between two lovers? Between two lovers... God, that sent a rush of torrid
thoughts into Walter's head, he couldn't help imagining Mulder in bed with both
of them. Krycek and Mulder would be so beautiful together. The thought of them
both kissing him, tasting him, caressing him, caused Walter to harden instantly
like a horny teenager.
Walter tried to will the erection away but it was demanding his attention.
Even concentrating on the memory of the palm pilot didn't help. His perverse
mind envisioned him wresting the control from Krycek and ripping the disguising
wig and beard from the sullen, but lovely face... taking him and taming him.
With a groan, Walter rolled out of bed and got to his feet.
Amusement rippled in Krycek's voice. "Can't stand being this close to me, can
you?"
"I just feel like I need a shower," Walter answered, not feeling up to a
verbal sparring match.
With the shower running to cover what little sound he could not repress, Walter
first envisioned Mulder kneeling at his feet, clever hands caressing him as the
delightful mouth explored his cock. Unfortunately, even in his dreams, Mulder
was unpredictable. "I brought you a present...come to bed, Walter."
Krycek, two armed, baby faced as when they had first met, lolled on the bed,
naked, on his stomach, and offering his succulent mounds of his ass to Walter.
Mulder's voice was smoky and rich as sage honey. He said, "Just start
anywhere, Walter, it's all for you."
Fantasy couldn't hurt, right? Walter obeyed his lover. His hands were large
enough to cup the peach fuzz soft rounds of Krycek's ass. He massaged them,
gradually reaching his fingers around to explore the trembling thighs. Krycek
quivered like a nervous thoroughbred, hot to be ridden.
Walter pulled Krycek's hips closer as he ran his thumb along the already
lubricated crack.
"Why Mulder, you shouldn't have!" Walter exclaimed, envisioning his lover's
lustful smile.
"Take him. He's so hot, so ready," Mulder said, sinking onto the bed. He was
going to watch, make them his own little porn show.
Since it was a dream, Walter slid his naked cock into the easily opened hole.
He gripped Krycek's hips and rode him harder then he would ever have treated a
lover in real life. It didn't matter because Krycek was squirming and pleading
for more, thrusting backward as he moaned Walter's name...they came together.
Walter slid down to sit on the tub edge before hastily washing the come from his
body. He waited until his breathing had returned to normal before dressing in
his pajamas.
Krycek's eyes glittered for a moment as Walter got back into bed. He said, "I
like your bed. It's comfortable."
"Good. I'm glad. Now get some sleep." Walter directed.
Walter said, a half forgotten wisp of Mulder planted vampire lore rearing its
head. Now, you've done it. Once invited, Krycek could always climb into his bed.
A Mulder like voice laconically added, "As if that's a bad thing?"
The man needed to be tied up. Walter collared Krycek as the man headed out
the door. "Where the hell do you think that you are going?"
"I have to check on supplies," Krycek said.
"John and Dana are taking care of that," Walter said, "Dana said you need to
rest. She's seriously concerned about an infection and she says that you're
anemic. In fact, I have just the thing in mind. How do you feel about liver and
onions?"
"It's revenge, right?" Krycek asked, shuddering.
"Right, and I plan to enjoy watching you eat every bite. Sit on the couch.
Turn on the TV. Pretend to be human for once," Walter instructed.
The flutter of the luxuriant lashes betrayed something. He had hurt the man's
feelings. The rat bastard had feelings?
Retreating to the kitchen, Walter heated the cast iron skillet that had once
adorned his mother's kitchen. He'd dragged it with him ever since he left that
cabin, a tangible reminder that some things last. Potatoes went in first. The
liver needed to be a little pink so he would hold off on that. He wept over the
onion, a Walla Walla sweet, one of God's little gifts to man. The sizzling
sounds were satisfying and he looked forward to the breakfast. The one time that
he'd tried this meal on Mulder, the man ran from the apartment, muttering,
Tooms...
Thirty minutes later, Walter set platters on the table. Rounds of oranges
decorated the sides. The liver was spiraled with the onion slices. The potatoes
were crisp at the sides the way Walter liked them.
Krycek came over and sat down, his nose sniffing the air. He said, "I suppose
because you fussed over it, I'll try it, " he had a curious expression. "I never
ate liver before."
"It's something your Mom makes you try," Walter replied, sitting down
himself.
"Well, as I said, a Mom was never part of my life. I've always been alone
like a hawk circling overhead, looking for the rabbits."
Amused, Walter responded, "Funny, I've seen hawks. They take good care of
their fledglings. I've seen them together until the young ones stop making five
point landings trying to catch something."
Scowling, Krycek took a bite. He commented, "I've had worse."
Walter let the man wash the dishes, but not his frying pan. That took the
special scrubbing stone so the patina of use would not be marred. It took years
to season cast iron just right. More impatient people would go through dozen
Teflon coated skillets in the time it took to develop just the right finish on a
cast iron pan.
"Now what?" Krycek asked as he dried the plates.
"You rest. I have to go put an appearance in at work. Don't go out," Walter
instructed.
The few times Mulder had spent the weekend at Walter's apartment, it looked
like a troop of chimpanzees had invaded. It wasn't malicious. It was just the
man's nature. He wandered wherever his thoughts took him and they covered a lot
of territory. You could trace his progress by the trail of objects that had
briefly caught his interest, been carried around, and abandoned as another event
distracted him. Krycek was nothing like Mulder.
Krycek was napping when Walter entered the bedroom. He opened one eye long
enough to see that it was him before tucking one of his guns back between the
headboard and the mattress. He wasn't the kind of guy you wanted to wake
suddenly.
Sitting silently, Walter watched Krycek sleep. A crease indented over his
nose from time to time and his lips would quiver. Giving in, Walter stroked
gently down one side of Krycek's face. The wrinkle smoothed and the face
stilled. He settled his cheek against Walter's hand; his drowsy body telling
more than his words would ever speak.
The alien rebel arrived, wearing the face of Walter's landlord and then in
front of Doggett's wide eyes, took on a broad-faced guise. One of the Kurts,
Krycek said. The shape shifter was a hybrid and his genome was based on that
model of clone. Walter remembered it from Mulder's files. He did read the damn
things and they were hard to forget.
So the plan was made. The alien rebels were going to make a frontal attack.
Dangerous for them, but necessary for the covert attack at the rear that Walter
would lead.
The Rebels had been busy developing some surprises for their former masters. It
wasn't going to be pretty. Slave rebellions seldom were. However the fireworks
would keep the master race occupied.
One of the former slaves had crept out using a series of passages surviving
from the old mines. They would go in that way. Walter noted that Krycek paled as
they discussed the spelunking. He'd have to find out why later after Dana and
Doggett left.
"You on some kind of starvation diet?" Walter asked, "You were never this
thin even when I first met you."
"Saw you looking that time at the gym back when I was a FBI agent. The boxing
lesson you gave me was fun," Krycek replied. His head tilted sideways in a pose
too gamin not to be intentional.
"I should have remembered what a hard hitter you were. I always wondered what
else you were good at," Krycek said in a throaty, intimate voice.
Walter really should have stopped him from unzipping his trousers and letting
them fall. However, instead, he stared as Krycek dropped boxers to the floor and
stepped away from the pile of clothing.
Eyes of dazzling splendor gazed from beneath a seductive veil of lashes.
"Think of this as therapy. We have to work together and you need to ...relax."
Krycek touched the strap that held on his prosthesis and asked, "On or off?"
"Whatever you want." Walter answered.
Picking up his clothing, something Mulder never did, Krycek carried it with
him to the bedroom. Walter stood, trying to decide whether to run out of his own
apartment or to rush after Krycek and toss his naked ass out the door...
Hell, no, Walter mustered an indignant snort. Krycek was the one who had
caused his state of tension. The relief that he offered was acceptable, no,
Walter felt that he was entitled to it.
And it didn't mean that Walter's feelings had changed. Krycek was still the
vermin he had always been even if he was a damned attractive rat.
His decision was made. Walter called out, "I'm going to shower first."
If Walter had expected the brief respite from temptation to help, it did not.
He put on a robe, not bothering to tie it. His erection bobbed eagerly as he
walked the brief distance to his bedroom.
Krycek lay like an offering upon the dark blue sheets. His eyes were closed;
his lashes feathered richly black against his pale skin. His hand stroked his
cock, a beautiful flesh instrument, filling slowly as the languid hand coaxed
it.
Gripping the hand in mid stroke, Walter said, "You're a rude son of a bitch.
Didn't your mother ever tell you to wait to be served?"
"Can't say that I ever met the woman," Krycek replied, opening his eyes. "I
didn't figure that you would want to waste a lot of time with me. I thought I'd
just give you what you need."
"I need Mulder." Walter replied, but he hung the robe on the bedpost.
Krycek's eyes averted at that and his lips tightened in reaction, making
Walter sorry that he had said it.
A moment later, Alex stirred on the bed, the undulation emphasizing his
beauty. It was as if he had invoked some internal magic to fill Walter with
desire.
Sparks of heat ignited all over Walter's brawny frame.
"Nice. I can't say I never looked in the past, but it's the first time that it
was safe to really linger," Krycek commented, his hand lifting toward Walter as
he knelt on the bed.
As they came close, Walter wanted to kiss Alex, but he hesitated. To Walter,
that was more intimate than sex. He thought guiltily of his lover; Mulder loved
to kiss. They spent hours exploring each other, teasing and tasting. If he
kissed Krycek, it seemed as if he was taking this too seriously.
Krycek crept across the bed to him, reminding him of some wary animal
approaching. Head down, submissive, probably acting a role, but still sexy as
hell, the man made his way toward Walter. His right hand stroked along the
furred thigh enticingly.
"Sir?" Krycek said, the single word thrilling Walter, inviting him to play it
out. "May I?"
Walter's throat constricted. Goddamn the boy for striking this hidden urge in
him.
Finally Walter sprawled, opening his legs to allow Krycek access to him.
"Yeah, do it. Make it good, boy," The deep voice rumbling from his chest
surprised Walter. He sounded like a hungry bear even to himself.
Nuzzling, Krycek's small nose teased him. Hot breath tickled next. Walter
arched, grabbed a handful of hair, and growled, "I said do it! Now!"
A small smile lifted the corner of the sweet mouth. How the hell could the
man look like an angel and live like the devil?
Walter released the sable hair and waited. Now Krycek stopped teasing. His
mouth traced the length of Walter's cock. His tongue was cunning, tantalizing
with hints of more. His mouth brushed and coaxed before it slowly encompassed
Walter.
The shock of it sent Walter's body arching in frenzied longing for more.
Krycek seemed determined to give Walter as much pleasure as he had given pain.
Holding back, Walter said, "I want to fuck you, Krycek."
After a moment, amused eyes looked back, "Yeah, I thought you would."
Krycek licked his shining lips and prowled back up towards Walter. He posed,
round cheeks brazenly offered, wiggling in the air. He had a beautiful back,
hairless, the spine was an exquisitely delineated line; the broad shoulders were
molded with muscle and the waist almost impossibly narrow. His hips were
surprisingly broad for such a lean man.
Moving, Walter knelt behind the beautiful offering. He tugged and said, "I
want to see you."
The face, which turned toward him, looked surprised. Krycek asked, "I thought
you'd rather pretend I was someone else."
"Don't make assumptions," Walter growled. "Wait though. Let me..."
Bending over the ass, Walter spread the cheeks wide and laved the opening
with an exploring tongue. Krycek muttered, "You don't have to go through all
that trouble."
"Shut up, Krycek. If this is for me, do it my way," Walter replied.
Krycek's body unfurled to him. Krycek was trembling by the time Walter coaxed
him onto his back. The man wore a strange expression on his face. He was turned
on; his erection was surging upward toward his stomach in a begging question
mark. Still, his arm covered his face.
Walter asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"Yeah," the voice growled. "Come on, we both need this."
The legs wrapped around Walter insistently. He was tight as Mulder was, but more
yielding as his flesh enfolded Walter as if the penetrating cock was some
missing part of him.
His voice rasped as he pleaded for more. His soft grunts grew more frantic as
Walter sped toward orgasm. It was an act of will to slow down, to become one
with the yearning heat of Krycek's flesh and bring him with Walter, all the way.
Separating was a shock. Krycek turned on his side, turned away instantly,
body pulling inward and removed. His breathing didn't recover when Walter's did.
He drew rapid, deep gasps as if...as if Krycek was crying.
Regrets, venomous things in the light that shone on the battlefield of the
bed, slithered through Walter's head. Why the hell had he done it? Right, he
knew. Because he was lonely and needy.
Who needed much reason when Alex Krycek was beautiful and offering himself
because of whatever convoluted excuse for logic existed in that elegant head?
The final blandishment was that Krycek was just scarred enough to make Walter
feel whole...
Whatever the excuses, it had been good and Walter was too good a man to just
take without caring. He turned toward the man that he had just fucked. "Alex,
Alex, are you all right?"
Out of the bed, Krycek was hurrying toward the suitcase that had turned up
the second day when Krycek was not supposed to be out of bed for more than a
quick trip to the bathroom. "What the hell's wrong with you? Did I hurt you?"
The laughter rent the air. Krycek replied, "You wish. I just wanted to see if
you would... Don't flatter yourself. Mulder said you were easy. Guess he was
right."
It happened without Walter even thinking. He caught Alex by his one arm and
swung him back onto the bed. He pulled the man over his knees and held one hand
firmly on his spine. The other rose and fell in a steady series of swats. In
shock, Krycek took it.
Walter said, "I'm sick of your games, Krycek. I'm sick of your lip. If you
had a mother, she should have done this a long time ago."
That ass was so beautiful that it was a shame to mar it. Still, Walter had
the feeling that if he stopped now that Krycek was lost. Now that he had
supplied the information, they didn't need him as much, but it still mattered
somehow.
Walter yelled, "When we go in, there will be one leader and that's me,
Krycek. I'll make the decisions and I don't want to hear any questioning. Do you
understand?"
His hand was sore. His legs were going numb and still his hand thundered
blows on the tender and now rosy flesh. Krycek was sobbing. His cursing had
stopped and now he merely cried, heart-broken, heart breaking sobs.
Finally, Krycek begged, "No more. I ...give in. Please. Please, sir."
Walter's hand felt as if it was swollen. Krycek's ass looked as ruby red as a
ripe apple. "All right," Walter started to move Krycek off his crushed thighs,
but the man turned and buried his face in Walter's neck.
"I'm afraid."
"Afraid of what?" Walter asked, hand rubbing the sleek back.
"Of the tunnels. Of being trapped down there. Alone, no food, no water, no
hope," Krycek said.
Walter thought about it. The silo. Of course, the man had been left to die in
one by Spender.
Mulder had told him about it. Of course, Mulder had also been observant on
that ill-fated trip to Russia. He said that Krycek had gone nuts in the cell at
the gulag, nearly having a full fledged panic attack.
"You won't be alone," Walter said.
Lifting the small chin, Walter looked into the wide green eyes. He said, "I
won't leave you, Alex. I promise that."
Gathering up Alex's one hand, he stroked it and said, "Trust me, Alex." It
didn't surprise him to hear the man's first name leave his lips. This was one
hell of a confusing situation for both of them.
"I do. Trust you," Krycek said. "Mulder was always my weakness and they used
it over and over again. When I came here, I was going to do the right thing, get
Mulder back and get out of his life. I didn't expect to feel anything for you.
Now..."
Pulling away, Krycek slumped over and then lay on his belly. His hand
explored his burning ass. "What the hell was that about anyway?"
"It seemed the logical thing to do at the time," Walter offered.
"Right, Sarek," Krycek replied.
Walter said, "I couldn't stand to see you leave, Alex." His hand stroked the
sable locks. "That was about a lot of things. I care about you."
Sternly, Walter added, "But I really meant it about one leader."
"Okay," Krycek said. "I can do that. As long as you listen to what I know.
The Smoker never did."
"I hardly want to repeat his errors especially considering the end results,"
Walter said.
"Already refused to kill you once. He always underestimated you, just as he
did me. Spender was a fool," Krycek said.
Offering a hand, Walter said, "Come on, let's have a shower."
It had been a guileless offer. However the body was classic, damaged, more
beautiful for the contrast of the scars, but hardly innocent. Washing the back,
careful of the rosy cheeks, Walter felt his need on the rise. Alex leaned into
him, put his hand on Walter's erection, thrusting his own with demanding
certainty toward Walter. It was almost more of an aftershock, but it was sweet
for the slow pace, for the tender exploring of each other's flesh. Later, Walter
kissed the nape of Alex's neck as he dried his back later.
"I thought Mulder was a lucky man at first. I never thought I'd have a chance
to know how lucky," Walter whispered as they got back into the remade bed.
Alex turned to him, willing to move closer now. "You knew?"
"A good boss knows when not to ask any questions," Walter commented. "And you
were not exactly discreet. There was talk."
"I know. They laughed at Mulder over that too," Alex said. "I had choices, I
guess. I just kept letting my fear and my anger make the wrong ones. I kept
thinking that he should have loved me more, made me stay."
"Swatted your ass when you tried to run out on him?" Walter joked.
Alex blushed and said, "Something like that. You going to do that again?"
"Are you going to try to run out on me again?" Walter demanded.
Something rose from the dark oceanic depths of those green eyes. Alex's
expression held inquiry and wonder. He answered, "No, I'll stay. You'll get
tired of me soon enough when Mulder is back."
A fleeting vision of the three-way fantasy teased Walter's mind. He said,
"We'll see. As you said, all in good time."
Heavily laden with packs, the four of them bent over as they escaped the
turbulence of the helicopter. Alex recovered first. He stood with the eerie
lights in the background illuminating his otherworldly beauty like the gilt and
crimson on a Russian icon. His breath escaped in sharp puffs, crystals forming
in a scintillating cloud. His eyes were extraordinary in this atmosphere,
peridot- green and gleaming. Walter couldn't take his eyes off him. Sidelong
glances told him that Dana and even Doggett were also moved.
Adjusting his pack, Alex said, "Our guide will meet us over on the other side of
that gorge. Let's get going."
Doggett remarked, "I never thought that South America could be so cold."
"Antarctica is twenty miles in that direction," Alex said, pointing.
Doggett stared off into the featureless distance and said, "No kidding. I
never knew that."
They trudged through a sleet-laden gale, bending nearly double against the
gusts. Every stunted tree and bush was gnarled and shaped by the wind into a
tormented figure. It looked like a garden as painted by Hieronymus Bosch.
The wind eased after they fought their way down but the going was rough.
Walter felt the sweat prickling under the decontamination gear. He had thought
the gym kept him in shape, but this was a different sort of exertion. He envied
Alex who seemed to climb like a mountain goat despite his handicap. The opposite
side of the draw held a sharp cut in the bank with a spill of rocks. Walter
couldn't tell if it was natural or man-made, but it did provide a stepping stone
arrangement that was easier to climb.
Krycek tilted his head after they reached the top of the opposite side. He
seemed to be listening for something and, after a moment, he grimly nodded and
said, "He's here."
Shortly thereafter, they saw a large figure, unmoving despite the shrieking
force of the wind. Krycek said, "That's our guide."
Doggett's blank expression gave way to horror as he saw the creature that
greeted them. It looked like a badly reanimated corpse. All of its orifices were
sealed shut. Walter hadn't seen one of these either, but he was familiar with
its description. Still the visual impact was worse than Walter had imagined. The
thing's flesh was a morbid mauve color, livid around the sealed eyes, ears,
nose, and mouth.
How the hell did it function? How did it see? What did it eat and how? Walter
swallowed as bile rose in his throat.
Alex said, "Yeah, I know it takes some getting used to. Let's take a minute,
okay? I want to make sure that all of you know how to use the plams and the
flame-throwers."
Squatting in a semicircle, the three FBI agents examined their equipment as
Alex demonstrated. Alex said, 'The flame-throwers are the only things that work
for the Oiliens. Although, in a pinch, a blast from a fire extinguisher will
slow them down. Freezing doesn't kill them, but it sends them into a dormant
stage. They don't look like much, but they are quick. Don't touch anything
without being very sure that it is clear of the black oil. The hybrids are the
easiest to kill. The plam goes here..."
Alex bent the alien rebel's head to show them the sweet spot. "If you're good
enough, a solid blast of automatic fire will do it. You have to destroy the
spine though and don't get too near the things. The fumes can blind you or kill
you. The last form that we have to fear is the Greys. They are vicious, but not
intelligent. You kill them with armor piercing shot. Hit them someplace major
the first time. You won't get a second chance."
You had to admire the man, Walter thought. How long had he been living in
this nightmare, fighting creatures so alien and terrifying? Alex stood,
shrugging his pack back on. They were all wearing a type of armored
decontamination suits. Alex tugged down the helmet and sealed the connections.
Walter took the lead; Alex flanked him as Doggett took the rear, putting Dana in
the middle. She was starting to show and was slower with the pregnancy.
The mine entrance was through a crookedly sunken building. They took a lift
down, the smooth functioning indicating the alien rebels had used it on previous
missions. Alex leaned back against the wall. His face had taken on the familiar
feral alertness that Walter had thought in the past was all there was to him. He
was wound, but under control.
Walter said, "Stay with me, Alex, when we get below. We'll get each other
through it."
The man nodded. He said, "Just one more thing. I'm here to get Mulder out and
to set some charges to help the rebels. The other prisoners are a second
priority to me. The rest of you can see to them while I look for him."
Dana commented, "I think we guessed that your self-interest was the only
thing driving you. I suppose it's lucky that you consider Mulder part of your
well being."
"Fuck you, Scully," Alex shot back.
It took a firm hand to keep Doggett back. Walter said, "Knock it off. We're a
team and we have to depend on each other. Correct."
No one met his eyes. Walter snapped, "Do you all understand?"
Three sheepish murmurs acknowledged him. "All right, let's go."
The first part of the passage was not bad. It wasn't until they hit the first
cave-in that it became difficult. Alex assured them that the rebels has shored
up the walls. The rubble concealed supports that guaranteed they would not be
buried. Even as Alex told them that, his lips, pink and pretty as porcelain
doll's, drew into a rat-like curl, flattening against his large white teeth. His
pupils expanded to leave only a thin ring of green. Walter saw a slight tremble
in Alex's hand. It surprised him when Alex turned resolutely to crawl through
the passage.
Doggett took the lead after their guide. He had done some spelunking in his
day and seemed comfortable despite the damp walls and the weight of the earth
looming down on them. Dana followed. If she was frightened, she would be damned
before she would show it in front of Krycek.
The passage wound down; it felt like the earth pulled them toward its core.
Walter knew there was plenty of oxygen, but it still felt as if it was hard to
breathe. Every dislodged rock echoed as it tumbled. They froze repeatedly,
cringing, waiting for a slide to crush them. Walter listened to Alex's lungs
labor as he gasped fearfully. He waited a moment as they came to a broadening of
the tunnel. Reaching to Alex, he asked, "Okay?"
"Fine," Alex answered. Then, he added, "Not so fine, but I am going to do it.
I have to do get him out."
Walter took Alex's hand, squeezed it and said, "We'll get him out. I'm with you.
I won't leave you."
Green eyes blinked in the light of their headlamps. Alex nodded and swallowed
hard. "Yeah," he said softly.
Finally they emerged from behind a metal panel mostly concealed by a stack of
barrels. Alex dropped to a crouch, taking several rapid breaths, his face tilted
toward the ceiling as if in supplication.
"Claustrophobia?" Doggett asked.
Walter nodded. Doggett remarked, "Took guts to come down here then."
Even Dana nodded. There were two corridors. Dana and Doggett took one. Walter
and Alex the other. Alex moved ahead glancing into each cell and impatiently
pushing forward. He made brief stops to plant his explosives, but even so,
Walter was hard pressed to keep pace.
The first few cells held nothing but human remains. The abdomens looked as if
something had clawed its way out from within. Walter hurried on, trying to keep
Alex in sight.
About halfway down the corridor, Walter found a living person. He used a
skeleton key to unlock the cell door. The woman, who huddled inside, sprang up.
She was dressed in rags that barely managed to keep her decent. Her long hair
was tangled and her face covered with grime. She asked, "Who are you?"
"A rescue party," Walter explained. "Try to keep up. We don't have much
time."
"I will. My daughter's here somewhere. A little girl. She's only five," the
woman said, hope and fear both evident in her voice.
"Here's a kid," yelled Alex, opening the door of a cell. He went in and
emerged with a terrified little girl.
The mother grabbed the child with a moan of relief. The instant she touched
her daughter, she seemed to find new strength.
"Abby," she murmured, "Abby, mommy is here."
With a curt nod, Alex said, "Keep up," and moved forward.
Moans and whimpers sounded from behind the next metal door. Walter stopped to
use his lock kit on the door, letting a man in a police uniform stumble out. He
blinked and wavered on his feet, staring at Walter as if deciding if he was a
hallucination. He asked, "Did you come to rescue us?"
A bit shamed because truthfully he had only thought about getting his lover
back, Walter said, "Yeah, do you know Agent Mulder?"
"Yes. He's here somewhere," the man said.
His heart leaping in response to that, Walter said, "Good, come on. Keep
moving."
The next cell held a Gray, which leapt at him with mindless fury. Walter hit
the raptor skull dead center. He froze afterwards, not understanding or
believing what he saw.
Its shattered skull housed a predator's teeth, crocodile-like and yellow. The
arms were short and ended in long claws. Its hide had a slimy appearance, the
only thing that linked it to the oil form of the first stage. The shattered
remains of its host lay in the background.
"No time to analyze the damn things now," Alex's voice said roughly.
They had collected three men and another woman by this time. The last cell
held a naked man, writhing in pain. His stomach was grossly swollen. Something
was moving behind the transparently thin skin covering the abdomen. Walter
approached the captive, uncertain what to do.
A thin stream of pink fluid bubbled along the distended flesh. The rescued
people screamed, "Kill it!"
Still Walter hesitated. The skin parted. In sick horror, Walter watched a
claw scrabble out. It was wet and soft looking, but hardening even as he gazed.
Just as the reptilian skull emerged, a shot rang out and another. The infant
terror died as it was born.
Shock kept Walter down for a moment, but as he scrabbled to his feet, he saw
Alex. "He was already dead," Alex explained.
Nodding, Walter backed away from the dead man and his parasite.
"Mulder's not here," Alex said.
The man in the police uniform said, "There's a room where they do
experiments. He might still be in there."
Dana and Doggett were waiting when they reemerged into the main room between
the two corridors. They had their own collection of former prisoners. Alex
shoved a black leather case at Dana and said, "Give them the treatment and start
for the surface. We'll follow in a minute. Mulder's held something place
different.
Walter watched Dana's expression twist. He understood that she was torn
between her lover for her partner and her duty. He had so often felt the same.
He was glad that he was the one this time who was free to follow his heart.
A nod and a glare at Alex acknowledged that Dana agreed. She was already
filling a hypodermic by the time Walter turned away to follow Alex.
"It's about time," Mulder croaked. "What took you so long?"
Walter needed to do something, but the hooks seemed worse then porcupine
quills. Walter looked for a release, but Alex was quicker. He stroked his hand
above a glowing light on a panel and the restraints slid out of Mulder's flesh,
leaving no trace of blood or injury.
Screaming came from beyond the corridor. It didn't sound human. Alex said,
"We have to move. The rebels are going to blow the ship up."
"Good, I want to see that," Mulder said, "I can walk."
Supporting Mulder between them, the two men ran back toward the hidden
entrance. Alex showed no sign of hesitation now. He took the lead, pulling
Mulder along as Walter aided from behind. Walter wanted to ask how long they had
before those charges blew, but couldn't spare a breath. Besides, he could tell
by Alex's expression that it was going to be close.
Dana and Doggett were just pulling the last straggler from the passage when
Walter, Mulder and Alex emerged from the tunnel into the mouth of the cave.
Alex yelled, "Run. Come on! Move! Those charges are going to blow."
They ran, pulling the weaker survivors along. Walter and Alex half carried
Mulder between them. A child was across Walter's broad back, and a woman clung
to his other arm. Even Dana was burdened with the weight of two teenagers. Not
even Alex suggested they leave anyone. These people had earned their lives twice
over.
The troop carrier that Alex had phoned to meet them loaded them all as
quickly as they could be tumbled inside. The helicopters rose and strained to
get as far from the site as possible. As they hovered over the ocean, waves of
turbulence shook them.
Alex said, fiercely, "The rebels are free now."
The smaller stealth helicopter was overcrowded with the four FBI agents and
Alex. Dana hovered over Mulder, seemingly surprised at his condition. Compared
to the other captives, he was well nourished and seemed to have no obvious
injuries. Walter crouched near, swaying with the still choppy movement of the
copter. He reached out, taking Mulder's free hand as Dana took his pulse.
"What did they do to you?" Walter asked.
"Hell, if I know," Mulder admitted. "How long since Oregon?"
"Four months," Walter said. "Four months of hell. I was afraid you were
dead."
"Any water here?" Mulder asked.
Stepping over Doggett's legs, Alex made his way back and offered a flask.
Dana took it and said, "Thank you." She held it for Mulder to drink.
"That's good," Mulder said, "More?"
"In a little while," Dana admonished. She smiled and said, "You aren't in too
bad of shape all things considered. Some of the others are going to need a lot
of medical care."
"I was privileged," Mulder muttered, "the favorite son, a hybrid bastard that
was bred to betray my race. My purpose was to sire a race of slaves. They just
wanted to make a few more changes. Take away more of my humanity."
Alex knelt and reached a hand toward Mulder, touching his shoulder. His
expression was yearning, but hesitant.
Mulder covered the hand with his own and said, "Thank you, Alex. I know you
helped me and I know about you and Walter. They let me see you sometimes, you,
Walter, and Scully. It was supposed to torture me, I think. Make me think that
everyone just went on without me. It didn't work. It made me stronger to know
that you were working together. I knew that you wouldn't forget, not any of
you."
Taking over, Dana said, "Rest, Mulder, rest for a while."
As soon as Mulder closed his eyes, Alex retreated to sit beside Doggett, who
appeared to be trying to digest the events of the last few hours. Walter
sympathized. He hadn't believed in aliens either until he saw them steal his
lover.
As for Alex, well, the conversation he wanted to have would need to wait.
The doctors at the military hospital pronounced Mulder to be reasonably fit.
He was suffering from malnutrition, dehydration, and general exhaustion, but he
was not in critical condition by any means. Walter and Dana were with him when
he woke.
The hazel eyes scanned the room and seemed a little disappointed, but Mulder
quickly recovered, reaching his hand out to Dana. She ran to the bed and sat
down, hugging her partner lovingly. "I knew you weren't dead. I kept the X-Files
open for you and I looked when I could." Her face crumpled as she said, "But I
didn't know where they had taken you."
"Hey, it's okay. I'm back," Mulder reassured. His eyes met Walter's with a
yearning expression.
Doggett poked his head in, his expression, after surveying the scene, was
very uneasy. He said, "I set up some guards over the other victims."
Patting Dana's arm in benediction, Mulder pointed at Doggett and said, "I
think your partner wants you."
"Mulder?" Dana said, "about John? I..."
"It's okay. You look good together. Go on. Have a cup of coffee. I think
Walter and I have a lot to talk about it," Mulder admonished.
Still looking uneasy, Dana left, Doggett's hand finding hers as the door
closed behind them. Walter walked over and cupped Mulder's face and met those
dry lips in a deep breath-taking kiss. "I love you," he said, daring now to put
into words what they had refused to say to each other in the past.
Apparently, Mulder agreed that it was time to stop pretending it was less
than it was. He said, "Yeah, I know. Same here."
So many feelings crowding in, the urge to break down, he was tired of being
strong, tired of pretending that he didn't feel the way he did about Mulder.
Walter could only hold his lover as if he never wanted to let him go.
Mischievous eyes danced a few moments later. Mulder said, "You were pretty
hot together, you and Alex."
Drawing back, Walter felt his face grow scarlet. He couldn't find any words.
He remembered Mulder saying that the aliens had let him see them at times, but
had forgotten it in the joy of having his lover back. He set his jaw, determined
not to cheapen what had happened between he and Alex. He said, "He needed me and
I needed..."
The impulse was to say, needed someone, but that wasn't exactly true. He had
needed Alex and had taken him. Walter said, "I suppose I always was attracted to
Alex. Somehow working that closely and taking care of him made that become a
stronger emotion."
"I think you know what I want," Mulder said, "after all we've been through,
we're due a little honesty. I've never cared what people thought of me and have
seldom done what people think I should. I want you both and I think that Alex
and you want the same thing."
Dropping his eyes, Walter let that absorb into his consciousness. It should
have been shocking, but it wasn't. It was right for the three of them and he did
agree that they had earned it.
"One small problem," Walter admitted, "I don't know where he is."
Alex may have disappeared but his occupation was obvious. Empires were
crumpling; key players found dead or vanishing from place and installations
destroyed. Walter worried, not so much about Mulder, who was doing well, but
about Alex out there on his own and perhaps feeling that he had no more reason
to be careful of his life.
The day that Mulder was due for discharge, Walter awoke from a semi-doze as a
nurse entered the room. She said, "Someone wants to see you, a Mr. Krycek.
Should I have the guards let him in?"
"Yes," Walter agreed, after Mulder nodded.
Noticing Mulder sit straighter, smooth his hair; Walter knew that it was the
right choice.
It had only been four days, but Krycek looked as if he had dropped ten pounds
in that amount of time, weight that he had not stood to lose, given that he had
never put back on the flesh he had lost in that prison in Tunisia. He had taken
time to shower, he was neatly dressed in one of his good suits, and his hair was
freshly trimmed. The roses he held completed the picture of a suitor.
Walter moved out of the chair that he occupied near Mulder's bed. He gestured
for Alex to sit in it and leaned against the wall.
Mulder smiled slightly and said, "So there you are."
"I brought you flowers," Alex said. He thrust the bouquet at Mulder. With the
blossoms out of his hands, he didn't seem to know what to do. He rested his
hands on his knees, drummed his fingers against his leg, and shifted in the
chair.
The roses sat on Mulder's bed until Walter rescued them, moving some faded
ones to the garbage to use the vase. He was happy enough to have something to
do.
The silence broke with Mulder's soft laugh. He said, "This isn't like you,
Alex. You were always so self-confidant. From the very start, Krycek, Alex,
Krycek, I knew you liked James Bond right at that moment. You like to be seen as
secretive and in control, but that's not how your profile reads to me right now.
So how come you ran away so quickly after we were safe?"
"I had a lot of...loose ends to tie up," Alex said. He averted his eyes, his
chin jerking in a sharp gesture, familiar to Walter from late night discussions
before the rescue.
Mulder's hand went out insistently until Alex took it. He said, "You can kiss
me, Alex. Don't try to tell me that you don't want to."
Alex's eyes asked Walter for permission. Walter nodded silently, almost
hopefully, knowing what he wanted to happen.
Leaning close to Mulder, eyes closed, Alex waited for Mulder to complete the
kiss. Mulder's hand, long, sensitive fingers splayed tenderly, caressed Alex's
cheek and then drew him forward. They both drew sharp breaths and then their
lips met, and stayed joined for a long moment.
When the kiss ended, Mulder pulled Alex into an embrace; the man's face
pressed against his chest.
"Mulder. Mulder," Alex choked out.
Hands stroking through Alex's short hair, Mulder rocked him, cheek resting
against his lover's head. His eyes met Walter's and he held out his hand.
It was an easy decision to accept it. He sat on the bed, Mulder leaning
against him. Walter lifted Alex's head, met his eyes. He said, "You didn't have
to run away. There's a place for you."
"A place where you belong," Mulder added. "Come home with us today, Alex."
The yearning that shone from Alex's green eyes could have melted stone. He
looked back and forth between them, shoulders hunched as if waiting to be told
it was a trick.
"We're serious," Walter said, "all you have to say is yes."
There was one moment when Alex drew back from them both; Walter thought that
he meant to run. The knuckles of Mulder's fingers whitened as he held on to
Alex, determined not to let him flee this time. Walter added his hand on Alex's
right arm, letting him know that he was safe and taking the fear of choice from
him.
The one word escaped as an epiphany, "Yes."
The three men held each other, complete at last.
Breaking away, Alex said, "I still have work to do, pockets of this mess to
clean up. I won't be able to do it your way, Walter."
Eyes glinting with humor, Alex added, "Not your way either, Mulder. This
won't be a matter for courts. There can't be any of the aliens left except the
rebels nor can I leave the men who sold us out in power. It's still war and I
have to fight it the way I know best."
"We'll help you," Mulder declared easily.
The taste of compromise and playing it safe had long paled for Walter. He
nodded and said, "Anyway that we can."
"Okay," Alex agreed.
"Liver and onions," Alex suggested with a sidelong glance at Walter.
"Not hardly," was Mulder's response.
There was a moment at the car door when three hands seemed all to reach at
the same time, finding each other's instead. Walter firmly held onto his lovers
and said, "Wherever we go with this, however it ends, we go there together."
Two hands gripped his. Together. The future looked brighter than the lights
in the sky.
The end
Red Tailed Hawk
by Ursula
Out there, he was out there; Walter sighed as he gazed into the night sky
from his balcony.
Two days later...
The apartment was clean when Walter arrived home. Krycek had tidied without
misplacing one thing. Walter believed that every magazine was within a
millimeter of the position in which he had left them. Only the clutter and dust
was missing.
That evening was spent planning. Dana and Doggett worked well together. Both
were analytical and logical. They poked holes in plans, allowing Krycek to
propose fixes and Walter to watch the whole of the strategy, keeping the
timetable in mind.
However, as soon as Dana and Doggett exited, Krycek had a strange fire in his
eyes. He turned on Rickie Lee Jones and turned down the lights.
"What the hell are you doing?" Walter demanded, trying not to follow Krycek's
hand, as it unbuttoned his black silk shirt.
The shirt dangled from the one real hand before whispering to the floor. Krycek
paused than slid his hand down his chest, calling attention to the smooth skin
over sharply defined muscles.
The guards must have been drawn away to the struggle at the front of the
enclave. There were various rooms, full of alien and human technology, none of
it making sense to Walter. Alex hissed curses as he set additional charges.
When they found him, Walter feared that his lover was dead. He lay on a strange
table that seemed almost more like a stone alter. The restraints that held him
pierced his flesh, yet the wounds did not bleed. Walter groaned as he saw the
barbs that held Mulder. Hearing that, hazel eyes opened; they were undaunted
even here and gleaming with the fierce light of his intelligence.
Ambulances met them at the airport. In the commotion, Alex vanished. Walter was
annoyed, but his first concern was Mulder for now. But later, well, later, he'd
drag the rat back from whatever hole he'd found. Walter was not the kind of man
who let go easily.
Later that day, Alex waited by the car as Walter wheeled a complaining Mulder
out, having agreed to enforce the hospital rule in this respect. The moment
Mulder was outside, he scrambled out of the chair. "Stupid rule," Mulder said,
"I can't wait to eat some real food."
