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The Whole Truth Series
by Raven
Part I
Those long lashes didn't so much as flutter, the eyes
behind them not even hinting at a dream state. The lips
remained equi-distant and dry, but his tongue might as
well have been glued in place. Yes, the chest moved and
yes, the heart beat, but that was the only movement
Skinner had been able to detect for two days now.
I really should take him to a hospital, Skinner thought
againand again, left him where he was instead.
Two Days Before...
The door to his apartment had been locked and intact. The
security system was operating normally and on. The doorman
had no notice of either visitors or stops on his floor.
That was what had made it so shocking when, on his way to
put down his briefcase, Walter had tripped over Alex's
body in the near dark of his livingroom.
A curse, an instinctive pull of the gun, and then a
hurried rush for the lights, all had illicited no response
from the man lying crumpled by his chair. Skinner had
gotten no visible sign of life, and thought Alex might be
dead, a body for him to dispose of or explain, another
set-up, with a twist.
Ignoring the presumed body, Skinner had searched his
apartment warily, but there was no one there and not a
thing out of place. Returning to the livingroom, he wasn't
sure he was relieved when a closer look showed that Alex
wasn't a corpse, at least, not yet.
The man had been hurt, there was no doubt about that, but
there was nothing that would account for his comatose
condition. Bruises, rope burns and shallow cuts covered
him, as well as a thick layer of grime, but there were no
wounds to the head that he could find, not even a bump.
Walter's initial exam concluded, he was then left with the
question of what to do next. The questions of what had
happened, why, and the likely meaning behind Alex's
presence in his home this way, would all have to wait
until he figured out step two.
Deciding at last to play it where it lay, Walter half-
carried and half-dragged the unconscious man to the
guestroom. He started to simply dump him onto the bed, but
Alex reeked of smoke, urine and chemicals, and with
another short series of curses, Walter changed course for
the bathroom.
Propping Alex on the vanity stool, he started a tub
filling and then began to strip the limp form. There was
nothing salvageable, at least not by his standards, and he
chucked it all in a pile outside the door, ready to be
bagged and incinerated later. The bruises were worse on
Alex's body, and Skinner was only mildly surprised to see
welts on the man's back. Whoever had whipped him had
either been unskilled or uncaring, they seemed to have
been laid on completely at random, both in pattern and
force.
Skinner shut off the water and took a deep breath before
lifting Alex like a child and settling him in the steaming
water. He'd noticed the skin felt cold, and he hoped the
warmth would help revive Alex, if only so he could provide
some answers before Skinner kicked him back out into the
cold.
He hadn't filled the tub, and it was short enough that
despite Alex's lax muscles, there was no way he'd sink
under completely. Thus assured the man would only soak,
not drown, Skinner left him and turned to pick up the
clothes. As he reached for the jacket, he felt a bulge in
one of the pockets. It was wrapped in brown paper secured
with rubber bands, and it felt like a videotape.
Walter set it aside, knowing he'd need time for whatever
it was, and wanting to solve the more immediate problems
of Alex first. Checking the rest of the pockets revealed
nothing, and he hurriedly dumped everything into a garbage
bag and set it beside the door. He wouldn't use the
complex dump, would take it somewhere else to dispose of
it.
That accomplished, he turned down the covers on the guest
bed, found an old pair of pajamas he'd never actually
worn, and returned to the bathroom.
Alex hadn't so much as rippled the water since he'd left,
and now Skinner took a cloth and soaped it well. He had no
reason to be gentle, but he washed the face with care,
noticing that as the dirt was removed, so was most of the
color. Alex was pale, his dark lashes almost looking like
slashes against the thin cheeks.
When he'd lifted Alex to put him in the tub, Skinner had
noticed that the man was lighter than he expected, and now
under the bruises, Skinner could see the prominence of
bones. He wasn't emaciated, just a few pounds shy of a
healthy weight, but there had always been a lushness to
Krycek's body that Skinner wasn't seeing now.
He also still wasn't seeing anything to explain why Alex
wasn't waking up. Picking up the shampoo, he let his
lather-covered fingers trail slowly along the scalp,
feeling for any lumps or cuts he might have missed
earlier. He still felt nothing, and it was only as he was
rinsing the filthy hair for a third time that he found it.
At the base of Alex's neck, just in the hairline, was a
needlemark. It had been a big needle, and the puncture
mark looked raw, despite the lack of any swelling.
Drugged. Someone had worked him over, drugged him, and
dumped him in Skinner's living room. It wasn't much to go
on, but it was a start. Thinking that maybe the tape would
have some answers, Walter started to lift Alex again, then
paused.
Taking a clean, white washcloth, Walter hesitated only
briefly, then eased it into the cleft of Alex's buttocks.
There was no blood, and Walter thought it doubtful Alex
had been raped. That was one less thing to worry about,
did he suddenly have to explain Alex's presence and
current condition.
He drained the water, dried Alex as best he could, then
carried him, still nude, to the bed. It was easier to
dress him that way, and soon, Alex Krycek was tucked in
like a child. Figuring there wasn't much more he could do
for the moment, Skinner went across the hall, and into his
own bedroom.
He took the time for a quick shower, changed into
sweatpants and a tee-shirt, and retrieved the package.
Leaving his door open so that he could watch the bed,
Skinner stripped off the rubber bands, and opened the
paper.
It was a videotape, and there was a note as well. The
typing showed that it could have come from any computer
and printer, and was useless as evidence. Not that these
people were that clumsy or stupid. The note was short and
to the point, but Walter read it through twice before
putting in the tape.
"Watch the tape. Think about it. Decide for yourself. If
he doesn't die from the overdose, he'll be telling you the
truth when he wakes up."
Skinner wondered just what the hell that was supposed to
mean, as he popped in the tape and settled himself on the
bed. A glance showed Alex hadn't moved, and he turned his
attention to the screen.
It was a lousy picture, but he could make out that the man
being wrestled into the room was Alex. The hands were
tied, but Alex was fighting like a tiger. An older man
Skinner didn't recognize snapped, and the muscle released
Alex, dropping him on the floor. He got back to his feet
quickly, snarling behind the gag in his mouth, but even
with the bad feed and the smallness of the images, Skinner
could see that Alex was frightened. The gag was removed,
and the older man spoke.
"Ready to die, Alex?"
What followed shocked Skinner to his core. He listened as
the man outlined all of Alex's alleged crimes, Skinner had
expected as much. He hadn't expected to be the source of
most of them.
"I killed him!" Alex yelled in furious desperation.
"Yes, and you brought him back! That wasn't the plan,
Alex, wasn't the deal. And just where is that little palm
pilot now? At the bottom of the Potomac! We know you threw
it off the bridge, don't even bother to deny it. That was
the only one and you destroyed it! It was worth a hundred
of you!"
"You should have almost that many of me by now, I say
we're even."
Skinner saw that Alex, having decided he was going to die
and that there was no way out, was now standing straight
and calm, spitting the words out with pure hatred and
malice.
"You're right, we should have had that many, but it seems
there was an anonymous tip to Agent Mulder. Again. Leaving
us with nothing. Again."
And so it went, the old man raging, while Alex grew
steadily calmer and more vindictive in his words.
"You went too far this time, Alex. You've blown it for the
last time. But before we kill you, we're going to have a
little talk. And we're going to see whose side you're
really on, once and for all." At this, the man withdrew a
vial and a large syringe.
It was black and white footage, but Skinner swore he saw
Alex pale. Suddenly, all the bravado of the past few
minutes, all the apathy fled, replaced by pure terror. The
hired muscle had taken hold of him again, and his
struggles damn near took all three of them down.
"No! No! Kill me! Kill me, you bastard! No! Not that,
anything but that!"
It was useless, and Skinner watched as they held him down,
saw the man inject him, heard the scream as Alex was
drugged.
He continued to fight, but in moments, was slumping. The
old man gestured to a chair, and they tied Alex into it.
The old man waited a few more minutes, then spoke.
"What is your name?"
"I don't know. They told me it was Alex Krycek. I think
it's Alexei, I don't know." The words were slow and
dragged a bit, but it was plain this was the truth. A
truth serum? But why...Skinner pushed that thought aside,
listening instead as Alex confessed to helping Mulder and
Skinner anyway he could, told of betraying Smoking Man, of
being not just a double, but a triple-agent.
"Who do you work for, Alex?"
"Skinner."
"Why?"
"Because I love him."
After that, Alex could have confessed to shooting JFK and
Skinner wouldn't have noticed. One part of his brain
noticed that the questioning was apparently over, and that
the men were now beating the hell out of Krycek, but only
half-heartedly. Maybe his final statement had shocked
them, too. For whatever reason, they weren't hitting as
hard as they could have. They didn't even appear to be
having fun. The old man had pulled out a crop, but his
flurry of blows seemed frustration more than revenge.
I guess finding out your multi-generation, top-secret,
inter-galactic conspiracy just went down the tubes because
of true love would be damn annoying.
As soon as Skinner realized what he'd just thought, he
snapped back into awareness, focusing on finishing the
tape. The beating over, one of the henchmen must have
asked what to do with the body.
"Just dump it in an alleyway. I gave him enough to kill
him, he'll be dead in few hours, humans can't take these
alien drugs full strength."
"What if he does, though? He knows everything."
"He'd never be able to use it. A side-effect. Unlike our
truth serums, this one is permanent."
The tape ran on for several more minutes, long after Alex
had been dragged out, then simply shut off.
Skinner remained on the bed, frozen in place. His mind was
so busy trying to process everything that it almost made
an audible whine. Shaking himself, Skinner walked into the
living room and poured himself a large, very stiff drink.
He went out onto the balcony, the cool air helping him to
clear his head. It didn't take long for him to fall back
onto Marine logic. There was really only one thing to be
decided, he concluded, and that was if the tape were real
or not.
If it was staged, then there would be a follow up of some
kind, and he'd know he'd be approached eventually. If it
wasn't...that was harder. If it wasn't, then everything
had changed.
He just wasn't sure it was for the better.
Finishing his drink, Skinner headed back into house. He
didn't want to, but he forced himself to look in on Alex.
The man was lying exactly in the same position, the still
form lightly breathing. A check showed his pulse was weak
but steady.
Skinner left, returned to his room, and got into bed. He
turned out the lights, despite the fact that he knew he
wasn't going to be able to sleep anytime soon.
If Alex lived through the night, it would lend credence to
the fact that the tape was a fake. There was also the fact
that the beating hadn't been severe, although that piece
of the puzzle didn't fit the way it should. In fact, that
was one of the things leading him to believe it was real.
A fake tape would have been more careful not to show a
pulled punch or kick, would have gone to great pains to
make it look real.
Skinner sighed. He didn't need this. Didn't need any of
it, he had enough problems without lying awake all night
wondering if Alex loved him or not.
A pang went through him as he realized that was the real
question. Out of everything he'd seen and heard on the
tape, that was the thing he couldn't let go of. He didn't
want to let go of it. That disturbing thought wound its
way through Skinner's night, ensuring that the little
sleep he did get, wasn't peaceful.
The next morning was a Saturday, and Skinner was grateful
he didn't have to face leaving Alex or phoning in to work.
Alex remained where Skinner had put him, seeming to have
not even shifted in the night. A check showed that he
hadn't, that he was positioned precisely the way that
Skinner had left him hours ago.
Skinner knew this couldn't be good for the man, remembered
Scully saying something about pneumonia and people needing
to be turned. He moved Alex onto his left side, moving
each of the man's limbs several times before rolling him
onto the side. He moistened Alex's lips with a cloth,
smoothing some petroleum jelly on them to retain some
moisture.
And then, he grabbed a cup of coffee, praising the saints
for automatic timers, pulled up a chair and simply sat and
stared at Alex Krycek.
Walter was honest enough to admit that his feelings for
this man had always been conflicted. He'd wanted Alex,
wanted him from the first moment those amazing green eyes
had peered demurely up at him through a forest of lashes.
The first sound of that honeyed-whiskeyed voice, the first
time that full mouth had curved into a smile, revealing
dangerous white teeth.
Oh yes, his body had voted early and often on how it felt
about Krycek. His mind had been slower. Skinner had felt
the betrayal sharply, had considered it almost a personal
failure that Krycek turned out to be anything but a green
young agent of tremendous promise. Still, Skinner knew
personally how easy it was to find yourself on the wrong
side, doing the wrong thing, and unable to get back across
the road.
He'd given Alex the benefit of the doubt. Right up until
Alex had pressed the buttons and killed him.
That had been more than Skinner could forgive, the
taunting eyes, the cruel look as Alex wielded his power,
watched nonchalantly as Skinner writhed and then died.
But, a little voice in his head dared to whisper, what if
he did it to save you? He brought you back, nobody else
would have. Maybe he had to kill you, to keep you alive.
And he could have done so much more damage with that
thing, could have sent you spinning from life to death and
back like a damn yo-yo. But he didn't. He only killed you
once, used it to threaten twice. And, if the tape were
real, Alex had then destroyed it, making you safe forever.
Skinner's mind continued to spin circles around itself,
while he, at long last, allowed his heart to speak. He
stopped thinking and just felt, for a long time. He kept
his eyes closed, but his ears were on alert for any change
in Alex's breathing, or better yet, the sound of stirring.
How did he feel about Alex Krycek? The truth? He'd hated
the man for almost as long as he'd loved him. Almost, but
not quite. The need to hurt him was there, the need for
revenge, if only to justify his own years of accepting
pain from Alex. But Skinner knew that need was caused not
by the little betrayals, but by the big one. The one where
Alex had seemed to prove he didn't care, literally, if
Skinner lived or died. If that assumption was wrong, then
maybe the rest of it was, too. Maybe.
For now, Skinner had to keep the man alive. He thought
about taking him to the hospital, estimated Krycek's
survival time there as around three minutes, and dismissed
the idea. He could call Scully, get her over to check him
out, but the thought of all the things he'd have to
explain gave him pause.
Mulder might know something...no. He could not call Mulder
in on this, refused to do that to any of them. So who
could he call? An idea occurred to him, and he ran into
the other room. In minutes he was on the phone, and two
hours later, he was opening the door.
The woman who stood there smiled at him, but he saw the
fear in her eyes as well, not quite hidden behind the
determination.
"Thanks."
"No problem. I said if you ever needed anything and I
meant it. Now grab that case for me, it weighs a ton."
Skinner did so, and led her into the room where Alex was.
He repeated what he knew, watched as she set up IV's, took
blood, put in a catheter, and did an exam. Her movements
were quick, efficient and yet careful. They reminded him
of her father.
Skinner had served with her father, had seen pictures of
his wife and child, had listened to countless stories.
Rafe had been an excellent medic, and when he'd died,
Skinner had written a letter to them. He got one back, a
polite thank you for sharing his memories, and he expected
that to be the end of that.
However, when Skinner had gotten back to the States, he
found that Molly, Rafe's daughter, was now an orphan and
living with people he wouldn't trust to raise a goldfish.
He pulled strings, tabbed contacts and bullied until she
was out, living with good people and her funds restored to
her trust. The fourteen-year old had thanked him, and
sworn that should he ever need anything, he had but to
ask.
Skinner had brushed aside her thanks, just glad the kid
had a chance now. She'd made the most of it, becoming a
top-notch doctor and leading researcher in her field.
Every year at Christmas there was a card, a picture, a
current address and phone number. At the bottom, without
fail, was a written reminder of the promise she'd made so
long ago.
Skinner had never expected to call her on it, but as he
watched her practically set up a portable lab in his spare
bedroom, he was glad he had.
He watched, helping when she asked, following her
directions silently. He fetched, lifted, and answered all
her questions to the best of his ability, not that he knew
much. When she asked again about the drug, he took a
chance, telling her the truth.
She didn't so much as blink, only muttered that it would
make analysis more difficult, and went back to work.
An hour later, she motioned to the door. Once in the
kitchen with a cup of coffee, she told him what she knew
and what she didn't.
"I don't know if he'll live, but I think he will. He
shouldn't have, the initial results of my lab work show
that he's got ungodly levels of this substance, whatever
it is, in his system. My guess would be that at some time
he was exposed to something else alien in nature. That
substance might have given him a certain resistance to
this drug. I did find minute traces of something else
unidentifiable, the chemical signatures look similar
enough that I believe it's acting as an anti-body of
sorts. It can't keep him from being affected, but it won't
let this drug kill him, either. As for side effects, only
time will tell."
She took a drink, and then spoke more gently.
"If this drug was intended for use as a truth serum, then
it's acting on his brain. If he wakes up, and he may never
wake up, I have no idea what his mental condition will be.
He might be completely normal, he might be a vegetable, he
might be a lunatic. We won't know until several days after
he wakes up what the condition will be, and we'll never
know if it's permanent or not. I can tell you that the
drug levels are dropping steadily. It should be out of his
system by late tomorrow night. He'll need to be kept on an
IV, the catheter, and turned every couple of hours. I'll
show you what to do before I go."
Walter nodded, appreciating her frankness. Rafe had always
been that way, and Walter told Molly as much. She smiled,
somewhat wistfully, but she was grateful for the remark.
"I'm going back to check on a couple of things and then
you can help me pack up. He should be in a hospital,
Walter, I won't lie to you. His best chance would be a
transfusion and some specialized care. I believe you when
you say that's not possible, but if the situation should
change, please, get him there as soon as you can. If he
begins to run a fever or seizures, I'd take him in,
regardless of the risk, if only so you're clean. Other
than that, just watch and wait."
She led him through the process of changing the bags, and
showed how to turn him. She left replacement fluids and
other supplies, reminded him to massage Alex completely at
least twice a day, more if he could, and then packed up.
That had been yesterday. Today, Walter had followed her
care instructions to the letter, noting that Alex was
beginning to regain some color, and that he no longer
looked dehydrated. Other than that, he might have been
carved out of stone.
No, not stone. Wood. Skinner took some lotion in his
hands, and began to massage Alex's face and throat. Yes, a
pale wood, hard and unmoving, but with the texture of life
visible.
Skinner stripped off Alex's pajama shirt and began to
massage shoulders, arms and chest. As his fingers massaged
the chest muscles, Skinner couldn't help but notice that
Alex's nipples were lovely. A pale cinnamon color, they
contrasted perfectly with the cream skin, and the fact
that Alex's chest was nearly hairless didn't hurt either.
Sternly reminding himself that Alex was in no condition to
give consent, Skinner resumed his medicinal touch. This
was the fourth massage he'd given Alex since Molly left,
and each time, he seemed to find another scar, more
evidence of the life this man had led. The compact body
was a tapestry of punishment, and some of the scars were
old and faint enough that they had to have happened when
Alex was just a child.
With a sigh, Skinner turned Alex onto his side, massaging
the back, mindful of the couple of healing welts. The
flesh was warm, that was an improvement, and felt better
under his fingertips. He was tempted to bypass Alex's
rear, but the nerves and larger vessels there needed the
stimulation, too.
Repeating to himself that this was not foreplay, Walter
gave the larger muscles a brisk rub, telling himself that
he didn't especially like that shade of pink, no, not at
all. Especially not on Krycek's ass, no sir, not him.
Chuckling at his own foolishness, he almost jumped out of
his skin when the phone rang.
"Skinner."
"It's Molly. Any change?"
"Not really."
"Okay, listen, I forgot to tell you something. There's a
great deal of evidence to support the theory that people
in comas can hear and perceive the world around them. It's
important to stimulate his mind, so talk to him, read to
him, sing to him. Play the radio and movies, the news,
whatever, when you need a break, but it's not as good as
your voice, talking to him."
"What am I supposed to say?"
"You could start by telling him you love him and see what
comes to mind after that. I'll call tomorrow to check on
you. Good night."
She hung up, not that Walter noticed for several seconds.
How had she...fuck. She was right. He knew that, but
hearing someone else say it had taken the last of his
doubt and thrown it out the window. As soon as he'd heard
her say it, he'd known he couldn't deny it.
Well, he'd never been one to ignore doctor's orders.
Hanging up the phone, he turned Alex back over, put his
pajamas back on, settled him comfortably.
"Alex, I love you." Skinner said it firmly, with the ring
of gospel, and then waited.
While there was no magical Sleeping Beauty awakening, the
heavens didn't split asunder either, and with a nod of
acceptance, Walter took a seat, and began to speak. He
told Alex everything, interspersed with another massage.
He stopped long enough to get some dinner, leaving the
television on for Alex while he ate and did some
housework. Then he came back in, saw to Alex's medical
needs, and went right back to talking. He left nothing
out, and when he left Alex's room for the night, he gave
in to the urge to place a kiss on the broad forehead.
It was hours later, in the middle of the night, when
Walter heard it. Cocking his head like a Labrador
Retriever, he strained to hear it again. There. A rustle,
brief, but definitely a rustle, and coming from Alex's
room.
Skinner quickly put on his glasses and crossed the hall.
He'd left the radio on and a nightlight, making it easier
for himself when he got up to change Alex's position and
bags. The dim light showed that Alex had shifted from his
side to his back.
Turning the light up to low, he saw something else.
Alex was awake, and if he'd ever looked more wary, Skinner
hadn't seen it.
"Can you hear me?"
A swallow, a nod, and Skinner turned the light on
properly.
"How do you feel?"
Alex nodded, still not speaking, but indicating that he
was as good as could be expected. Concerned, Skinner moved
closer, seeing the green eyes widen even more at his
approach.
"Do you know who I am?"
A nod.
"Do you remember what happened?"
Another nod.
Somewhat exasperated, Skinner asked meaningfully, "Can you
talk?"
At yet another nod, he closed his eyes, sighed heavily,
reminded himself of everything Alex had been through, and
spoke patiently, "Alex, please say something."
"I want to leave."
Okay, didn't expect him to say that, Walter thought, a
frown marring his features.
"Why?"
Alex said nothing, but a flush filled his face, and the
eyes lowered their lids.
Ah. I think I get it.
Hoping he was right, Skinner spoke again.
"You're in no shape to leave just yet. In the first place,
you've been nearly dead for two days. In the second place,
I don't know how to get these tubes out of you. The IV I
could yank, but I wouldn't advise trying that on the
catheter. Thirdly, it's not exactly wise for you to be
seen in public just yet, the rumors of your death being
greatly exaggerated. Last, but not least, I don't want you
to leave."
That brought the eyes flashing back up, staring into
Skinner's face with a desperate intensity that almost
hurt. The tongue darted across those enticing lips, and
the hands clenched around the covers.
"I'll call Molly, tell her she can come disconnect you."
He turned and left, but kept an ear out for sounds from
Krycek's room. He made the call, hearing that Krycek was
indeed, fulfilling his expectations.
He entered to find Alex attempting to get out of bed, one
foot on the floor, the other still making what appeared to
be painful progress across the bed.
"If that foot touches ground, I swear to God, I'll spank
you."
Skinner said it from his position in the doorway, leaning
against the frame, arms folded across his chest, ankles
crossed. He was deadly serious, and after only a moment's
debate, Alex withdrew back under the covers.
Skinner moved to the bedside, arranged and re-tucked Alex
in, then surprised the younger man by sitting on the side
of the bed.
"Alex, I spoke to you while you were out. Did you hear
me?"
"Yes." It was hoarse, but clear, and Skinner poured a
drink of water, helped Alex drink it.
"Good. I meant every single word, still do. But you've
been through a lot, Alex, and you're not ready to deal
with this yet, neither one of us is. So, you're going to
be a good little patient and get all better, then you and
I are going to have a long talk. After that, well, you're
not my prisoner, you'll be free to go. But you'll also be
free to stay."
"If I leave before we talk?"
"I'll track you down. I'll find you, and when I do, we'll
still have that talk."
Alex was peering up at him, and he nodded to show he
understood Skinner's meaning as well as his words.
"Alex, don't worry about that right now. You need to rest
and you need to heal. Do that first, the rest will take
care of itself."
The younger man looked doubtful, but he seemed to relax a
little. Skinner gave him a couple of moments alone,
putting on some coffee for Molly.
She arrived not long after, looking tired but excited that
Alex had lived.
When she entered the room, Alex visibly tensed. Molly shot
Skinner a look, and he held up a hand, motioning her to
wait just a moment. Going to Alex's side, he tentatively
took one of the clenched hands, rubbing his thumb
soothingly across the back of it.
"Alex, what's wrong?"
"She's a doctor. I'm scared of doctors." Alex seemed
almost as surprised by the admission as Skinner was, and
the older man wondered again if the serum were going to be
permanent. An Alex that couldn't lie, Christ, the mind
boggled at the possibilities. Shoving that aside, Skinner
brought his free hand up to cup Alex's face.
"I'll be right here, Alex. She won't hurt you, I won't let
her."
"You'll stay?" It was asked with a deep need, and Skinner
ghosted a kiss over the crown of Alex's head.
"I'll stay."
Alex took a deep breath, swallowed hard and gave Skinner a
look that said he was ready. Molly came in, and after a
moment's quiet fussing with tubes, said gently, "I take it
you told him?"
"Yes. I told him I loved him, I told him everything."
"Good. You've been alone too long. I always worried about
that."
"I haven't been alone that long. It's only been a couple
of years since Sharon."
"Yes, and you were alone a good five years before that."
Skinner's eyes shot up to meet her cool blue ones. His
anger faded, as he again realized it was the truth.
"Jesus, Molly, you're just like your father."
"Thank you, again. Now hand me that gauze."
She disconnected everything, then asked Alex if she could
take another blood sample. Skinner was oddly moved when
those green eyes sought his at the request, and he took
Alex's hand again, urging him silently to allow it. Alex
tightened his grip on Skinner's hand, then actually turned
his head to bury it in Skinner's chest, before mumbling
that she could take the blood.
Walter used his free hand to stroke up and down Alex's
back, to comb through the dark waves of hair, anything he
could do to provide comfort.
"There. All done. Thank you, Mr...I'm sorry, I don't know
your name beyond Alex, and I never refer to patients by
their first name. I'm Dr. Molly Kinsey, I'm sorry to have
worked on you without consent, but you were in pretty bad
shape, and I owed Walter. Now that you're able to make
your own choices, of course, you should find a physician
that makes you comfortable. And you will need regular
follow-up for at least a year. Do you have a regular
physician?"
"There is a doctor that's seen me since I was a child. But
I tried to kill him the last time he touched me, and so I
don't think he'll work."
Alex's eyes bulged at what he'd said, but Molly only
arched an eyebrow and said with some dry humor, "No,
probably not. Well, you can take some time, get some
references. I'll be happy to keep treating you until you
make your own arrangements."
"Do...do you take new patients?"
"Yes."
"Would you be my doctor?"
"I didn't think you liked me."
"I don't, but Walter trusts you, you don't spook easy and
you didn't hurt me with any of the needles. You realize
it's my body and you asked before you took. You aren't
afraid of Walter or the truth, you're blunt and you have a
sense of humor. I'll never find anybody else better
suited."
"Very logical. You've got yourself a doctor."
"My name is Alex Krycek. I think." Undaunted by his lack
of conviction concerning his name, Alex held out his hand.
Molly shook it briefly and firmly, then gathered up her
case.
"Walter knows where my clinic is or I'll make a housecall.
I'd like to see you in three days, Mr. Krycek, barring
trouble."
"Three days."
She gave him a smile, kissed Walter on the cheek, and
left.
Skinner had watched and listened with some fascination,
noticing that while Alex had loosened his grip, he hadn't
let go yet. He could also see that the man was exhausted,
the strain of being suddenly awake and frightened taking
its toll.
"Alex, are you hungry?"
"Not much, but a little."
"I'll bring you a cup of soup. You eat it, then try to get
some rest."
Skinner brushed a light kiss across Alex's knuckles before
releasing the hand and heading to the kitchen.
"I've got Beef or Tomato, Alex, what'll it be?"
"Beef." Alex wasn't up for full shouting, but he didn't
have to raise his voice too much to be heard. Skinner made
the soup and half a toasted cheese sandwich, put a glass
of tea with it and carried it in on a tray.
Alex wasn't in the bed. Swearing, Skinner set down the
tray and headed for the bathroom just as the door opened.
Alex was holding onto the wall, moving slowly, still stiff
from his time in bed. He caught sight of Skinner standing
in the hallway, and his teeth came out to worry his bottom
lip.
Skinner shelved his annoyance, only slid his arm around
Alex, and helped him to the bed. He saw that Alex was
still eyeing him with concern, and spoke quietly.
"What's wrong?"
"I'm waiting for you to spank me."
Skinner realized what had happened, and gave a low
chuckle.
"You just went to the bathroom, Alex. You need to move,
get your strength back. That's hardly the same thing as
getting ready to rip out your tubes and run away. Do you
want me to spank you?"
"For punishment? No, I don't think so." There was a bright
red blush, and Skinner couldn't resist teasing.
"What about non-punishment spankings?"
"Sure." There was a pause, then Skinner caught the
faintest hint of mischief in Alex's eyes. "I'll spank you
anytime you want, Walter, you just have to ask."
Skinner couldn't help it, he laughed out loud. Alex smiled
that devastating real smile back at him, and Skinner was
struck again by how gorgeous Alex Krycek was when he
smiled. He also realized that he couldn't put off kissing
Alex any longer, and carefully, slowly leaned in.
He gave Alex plenty of opportunity to say no. Instead, he
felt arms wind around his neck, felt the mouth under his
part willingly. Skinner would have loved nothing more than
to kiss for the next year or so, but he was mindful of
Alex's condition. The younger man was breathless, but
passion only accounted for part of it.
Skinner stood, gave a last, brief brush of his lips, and
stood to retrieve the tray.
"You need to eat, Alex, and you need to rest. We'll have
plenty of time to make love when you're well again."
"No, we won't. When I'm well again, you'll kick me out.
You'll remember everything I've done, and you'll throw me
back into the gutter. The only reason I'm still here now
is because the damn drug is still making me tell the
truth. In the morning, when you don't have that assurance,
you'll remember that you can't trust me. You'll remember
who I am."
The voice held sorrow and deep resignation. Skinner
realized that Alex must believe it was the truth, or he
couldn't have said it. He used two fingers to tilt the
handsome face up, looking Alex squarely in the eyes,
speaking softly, but with all the conviction he could
muster.
"No, Alex. I will never kick you out. You have a home
here, with me, for as long as you want it. I love you,
Alex, that means something."
"I want to believe you. But I can't. Not yet." Alex looked
miserable, and Skinner wrapped his arms around shoulders
beginning to shake.
"It's okay. I understand. My fault, I'm pushy. Look, for
now, just believe that I want you here tonight. Can you
believe that?"
"Yeah, I can do just for tonight."
Skinner kissed him again, and then reached for the soup.
The next day, Alex seemed completely normal again, except
for two lingering side-effects. One was residual stiffness
in his joints from being immobile for so long. The second
was a continued inability to lie.
Part II
"This sucks."
Having made this pronouncement to the empty apartment,
Alex flopped down on the couch, rubbing a hand tiredly
over his eyes. He hated this, absolutely hated it, but
there was nothing that he could do. Nothing Walter could
do, either.
Thinking of Walter brought a hint of a smile to the lush
mouth. When he'd been lying there, wondering if he was
doomed to spend life as some kind of sentient throw
pillow, he'd had one measure of comfort. Walter had him.
True, after some of the things he'd done to the A.D., this
might not be a good thing in terms of survival, but it had
made him feel better. And then Walter had started to
speak, and Alex felt his whole world shifting, realigning.
It would have been sublime, had he only been able to move.
He gave a small chuckle, realizing that his not being able
to move was probably the only thing that let it all
happen. If he'd been his normal self, he'd have bolted
like a horse from a fire, as soon as Walter had said the
word love.
That thought brought him back to his current contention
that things were inhaling deeply through the mouth.
It had been almost four days since Alex had awakened, and
after the first day, Walter had been almost platonic
towards him. The older man had continued to help him walk
and gently exercise his still stiff limbs, though that had
only been necessary for another day. Walter had fixed
food, used an electric razor to help Alex shave and even
dug through his closets for clothes that fit reasonably
well. Sure, they were mostly sweatsuits, but they were
clean and they warm. Underwear had been solved by Walter
finding an unopened pack, a joke gift from Sharon that
he'd never gotten rid of. They were too small, the Euro-
bikini style which Walter loathed, and came in an
assortment of animal prints and jewel tones. Alex had
looked rather deliberately at Walter when they were
offered, waiting for a smirk. Instead, Walter had been
genuinely apologetic, and so Alex had taken them with a
sigh. It was better than nothing, he had to admit.
Walter's reaction to seeing him in the emerald green pair
had made wearing them worthwile.
Not the physical reaction, Alex had known forever that
Walter Skinner wanted to bend him over a table, that was
nothing new. No, it was seeing the flash of desire, and
then watching Walter avert his gaze, granting modesty and
dignity that had warmed Alex's heart. It spoke of respect
for him as a person, and Alex had been given damn little
of that in his life. It was a gift, when offered
genuinely, that he never failed to appreciate.
Alex eyed the clock warily, musings interrupted by the
quiet chimes. Walter would be home in less than an hour.
Alex was not looking forward to it.
Swearing fluidly in Japanese, Alex headed for the kitchen.
Dinner was done by the numbers, Alex having found a meal
kit in a bottom cupboard of Walter's kitchen. Walter had
told him to feel free to nose around, asking only that he
stay out of the den for the time being. He hadn't asked
Alex to promise, only asked, before heading off to work.
Alex had agreed, and in his kitchen foray, had found the
meal kit and a prepackaged dessert. There was a bag of
salad in the refrigerator already, and with his diminished
appetite, there should be more than enough food for two
people. He might not have been able to move quickly and he
lacked some fine motor control, but he wasn't really an
invalid or debilitated either. Doing nothing without a
purpose wore his nerves to a frazzle, and besides, he
figured he owed it to Walter to help where he could.
It had taken him almost two hours to vacuum the apartment,
something he judged would normally have taken about a
fourth of that. Dusting had gone more quickly, his feet
and legs not being as involved, and while he hadn't
touched Walter's work clothes, he'd thrown in a load of
towels to wash.
Now, he seated himself at the bar, his ingredients neatly
in front of him, and assembled dinner the way he usually
assembled a bomb. It was an appropriate thought. Tonight
was the night. The Night. Tonight.
Quickly cutting off the Rod Stewart song before it could
take root in his brain, Alex reached for the milk. If only
it were as pleasant as waiting to be deflowered, he
thought darkly, not that there was even a leaf left on his
stem waiting to be plucked.
No, he was waiting for Walter to come home so that they
could talk. Really talk, about the past and the future,
and the infamous, "Where do we go from here?"
Alex shuddered as he spooned dough into the baking dish.
Christ, of all times not to be able to lie. Shaking his
head at the injustice of it, Alex reached for the can
opener.
The worst part was that he had no fucking idea what to do.
He'd thought about leaving, just packing up and being
gone, but that would only postpone their talk, not to
mention likely ensure that Alex did his share of talking
standing up. He wasn't sure that Walter would spank him,
but he wasn't about to take any chances. Besides, he was
in no shape to run to ground, not just yet.
If only he could lie. Not a big lie, he assured himself,
just a little shading of the truth. Just enough to be
safe. How the hell was he supposed to keep safe if he
couldn't even lie about something as basic as how he felt?
He put the pan into the oven and turned back to the bar to
start on the dessert.
Hearing the front door open, he glanced at the clock
again. It was early for Walter, only by a few minutes, but
too early, judging by when the man had told him he was
leaving. The sounds weren't right, either. People coming
home from work generally didn't care how much noise they
made, were usually a bit louder as they kicked off the
cares of the day along with their work shoes.
This was near silence, and Alex cast a quick look around
the kitchen. He knew his chances weren't good, not in his
current condition, but he was damned if he'd lie down and
roll over.
He noiselessly opened the knife drawer, standing beside it
so that he could drop his right hand into it easily. That
was a last resort, his accuracy wouldn't be worth shit,
and a two-year old could disarm him right now, but it
might buy him a minute or so.
Reaching into the spice cabinet he picked up the crushed
cayenne pepper, uncapping it and holding it in his left
hand. If they can't see, they can't shoot, or at least,
not as well. He eased the rolling pin off the hook,
putting it at the far side of the knife drawer. He
couldn't think of anything else, and the sounds of stealth
were drawing closer, so he braced himself against the
counter and got ready to attack.
And damn near fainted with relief when he saw Mulder's
head stick through the door. Even in his current
condition, he could probably still take Mulder.
Nonetheless, he maintained his defensive pose, ready just
in case.
"What do you want, Mulder?"
"The truth."
"Buy the latest issue from the Gunmen."
Mulder actually smiled at that, and Alex relaxed a little.
He'd spent a lot of time studying the man in front of him.
His life had once depended on knowing him as completely as
possible, and experience told him that Mulder meant no
harm.
"Relax, Krycek. I just want to talk to you."
"Yeah? Get in line, G-boy."
Before Mulder could respond, Alex heard the blessed sound
of Walter coming in, dropping his briefcase and keys on
the table.
"In the kitchen, Skinner. And we're not alone." Alex
yelled it calmly, but he knew Walter would hear the
warning in his tone.
"Jesus, Krycek, that alien drug did nothing for your
paranoia."
Mulder said this as Walter kicked open the door, gun
drawn. When he saw it was only Mulder, he relaxed,
starting to put it away at Alex's nod. There was no way
Skinner would need a gun to take down Fox Mulder, not even
if the other man had his out, in hand and ready to fire.
"What do you know about it?" Skinner asked with suspicion,
moving to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of
water. Alex noticed that it put Skinner between Mulder and
himself, and knew it wasn't accidental.
"He's the one that dumped me in your apartment." Alex gave
a grin of pure delight as Mulder absorbed those words and
the meaning behind them.
Some fifteen minutes later, Alex knew that he was in some
sort of psychogenic state, he had to be. Nothing else
would explain the fact that Mulder was setting the table,
Walter was taking dinner out of the oven, and he, Alex
Fucking Krycek, was finishing up the dessert. He put it
into the freezer to chill, and then took a seat at the
table. Walter had halted conversation after Alex's little
shocker, insisting that they all take time and eat.
"Thanks for making dinner, Alex." Walter said it softly,
little more than a whisper, and his eyes were warm. Alex
felt himself melt a little, even as he shrugged it off.
"I was bored." It was true, but not the whole truth, and
Alex cringed as he heard his mouth continue on against his
will. "Besides, I wanted to do something to help you."
Skinner smiled at him, a quick look of reassurance before
taking his own seat.
Mulder had been pouring himself some tea, and now he found
his place, as well.
"If anyone attempts to say grace, it will be a prayer
before dying."
Alex simply could not take another surreal moment, and he
was pleased that his truth button didn't push on
metaphors. That, or he really was desperate enough to
attempt to kill, which was just as likely. Sipping water
that he wished were vodka, Alex let Walter serve him, not
wanting a lapful of hot food in front of Mulder. He
noticed that Walter served Mulder as well, and reminded
himself again that Walter had once been a soldier, and
knew all about showing weakness in front of the enemy.
"Okay, I didn't have lunch, and breakfast was minimal, so
I'd like to enjoy my dinner. You can talk, but keep it
light and inoffensive, got it?"
"Yes, sir," Mulder responded from habit, and while Alex
said nothing, he got the message. No taunting your ex-
partner until the coffee is served, fine.
Alex was mostly quiet, listening as Walter and Mulder
spoke of scores and stats. They were such...men. He
sighed, taking another bite. He didn't have any problems
with that, could play the game as much as the next guy,
but it was just that, a game for him. Maybe if he'd ever
been to a ball game it might mean something, but the
scattered moments watching odd bits on television didn't
hold much promise.
He noticed that they didn't talk about work, not
surprisingly, and that the one time Scully's name was
mentioned, Skinner looked decidedly uncomfortable. Hmmm,
now what would cause that? He mentally reviewed the man's
file, but could find no answer. Marking it for examination
later, Alex turned his attention back to the conversation.
"...supposed to be his best work yet." Alex rewound, found
the author's name had indeed registered, and estimated
that it was time he spoke again.
"Yeah, it's great. I wouldn't say it's his best, though,
that sounds like the New York Times pumping their own
list. Personally, I think book three was his high point."
He noticed that Mulder and Walter were both looking at him
like he'd just sprouted a second head. He expected it from
Mulder. It hurt from Walter, not that Alex let it show.
"Yes, Krycek can read. I enjoy reading, actually, it's the
closest thing to a hobby I ever had. It didn't matter
where I was, most places have a library, and you can get
magazines at any convenience store. It's quiet, cheap and
portable." He said this calmly, and stood to start the
coffee.
Walter's hand rested lightly on his arm, pausing him, but
not attempting to hold him.
"I wasn't surprised by that, Alex, I know you're smart and
I know you're remarkably cultured considering what I know
of your background. If I seemed shocked, it was because I
feel the same way about book three, and never found anyone
else that agreed with me. That's all, Alex, I swear."
Alex hesitated for only a moment, before letting the pain
go. He'd believe. He wanted to believe, and this was
small, it wouldn't hurt to give in to the fantasy for this
one small thing.
"Thanks." It was all he said, but he let the rest show in
his eyes, turning his head so that Mulder couldn't see.
This was only for Walter, private, as was the silent
response. It lasted only a few seconds, but it steadied
him for the evening to come. Though God only knew what
would happen next. Alex pulled out the dessert, carrying
it with caution to the table. Walter served again, and by
the time the pie was cut, the coffee was ready. Mulder was
closest, and he poured for everyone, not noticing that he
knew to put the sugar next to Krycek and the creamer next
to Walter. Alex noticed, but refrained from commenting.
"Okay, dinner is officially over. Mulder, what do you
want?"
"Answers. Truth."
"How refreshing." Alex was thankful that sarcasm was
allowed by the damn drug, needing to see the flicker of
irritation on Mulder's face.
"You know, Krycek, I didn't have to bring you here."
It hit a big nerve, made worse by the fact that Mulder had
said it almost gently, and Alex didn't dare try to
respond. He dropped his eyes, looking at the pie in front
of him, cutting a piece he had no intention of eating.
"Well, it sure as hell didn't take long for the gloves to
come off, did it? Mulder, let's start with you, tell us
what you know, and we'll go from there."
"Why do I have to start, sir?"
"Because I'm curious as to how and why you decided to
break into my apartment."
Mulder's face showed he hadn't quite considered that angle
fully. He spared half a moment to chew his bottom lip
worriedly, then visibly conceded.
"I'd gotten a tip about this guy a few weeks ago. A trace
proved successful, and after making his routine, a camera
was installed without detection. I was given access to the
live feed, and saw and heard the entire incident.
Following Krycek's removal from the scene, I was able to
ascertain the likely point of expulsion and was able to
take custody of the body."
It was pure Mulder in report mode, and Alex noticed that
Skinner had also chosen to adopt his work demeanor,
sitting ramrod straight and toying with his fork the way
he always used to toy with a pencil. Krycek felt a pang of
lust as he remembered standing in front of that big desk,
Skinner looking at him intently, judging his work and
worth. He'd had more than a few fantasies about that damn
desk, had been on it, over it and under it in just about
every way he could imagine. There was not one thing wrong
with Alex Krycek's imagination.
He brought himself back with a mental shake. Play later,
business now.
"I see. Let me translate that out of Mulder speak, tell me
if I get it right. You got an anonymous phone call, used
FBI resources and time to check him out, had the Ubergeeks
put an illegal wire tap on his phone. Then you stalked him
and when he was out, engaged in a little recreational B &
E, had Frohike install a micro-camera, and kept Langly
company in the van watching the feed and swapping porn.
When you saw Krycek and heard what was happening, you went
ape-shit, followed too fast and too close, and nearly got
caught and/or your ass shot off before you got yourself
and Krycek out of there."
The silence was delicious, and Alex held it in as long as
he could. Finally, he couldn't hold back any longer, and
the laughter burst from him like a spray of bullets,
making the other men startle. Mulder looked seriously
pissed, the flush on his face saying clearly how accurate
Walter's translation was.
"Oh, Christ, Walter, don't do that to me! I'm still
recovering, you know."
"Be quiet, Alex." It wasn't harsh, but Skinner was
serious, and Alex swiftly got himself back under control,
deciding that maybe a little pie wouldn't hurt after all.
"I'll take your silence for a yes. We're not at work,
Mulder, this is all unofficial. I'd appreciate it if you'd
stop the bullshit and levelled with me."
"What do you want to know?"
"Why? Why did you bring him here?"
Mulder's face showed that he was clearly thinking
everything over before answering, having learned his
lesson of a moment ago. At last, he nodded to himself, and
Alex recognized the face that meant Mulder was about to
lay it all out on the table, personal consequences be
damned.
It was one of the things Alex admired the most about
Mulder. True, if Alex ever really tried or wanted to, he
could kick Mulder's ass with ease. But inside Mulder was a
core of titanium, and it wasn't about victory or survival
or anything like that. No, when Mulder got tough it was
always about something completely selfless, someone else's
need, never his own. For that alone, Alex had helped and
spared him countless times.
Mulder was a genuine, goddamn living, breathing hero. The
fact that he had no idea what he was or why he did the
things he did, only added shine to his medal.
"I needed someplace quick and someplace safe. I needed to
be able to get to him. If the effects are permanent, this
is the best shot at real information I've ever had, and I
couldn't let that go. Those are all valid reasons for
choosing you and this place, and they're all purely
secondary. You want to know why here? Because I watched
the tape and I watched you. You love each other. It's
almost criminal in its insanity, and it's probably going
to cost both of you your lives, but it's true."
Mulder made a soft, sad sound of amusement, picking at his
pie crust as he continued, "You know, for a long time, I
thought it was me. I have occasional bouts of vanity, and
during one of them, I started to wonder why Krycek was
always just a little left of the party line. It was like
he couldn't decide which side he was on, confused the hell
out of me. I thought he was just ambivalent, then I
thought he was a mercenary political slut, but that didn't
make sense either. Finally, I worked a profile. It pointed
to him being in love, and I was lonely and vain enough to
think it might be me. It wasn't. It was you, sir. The
final clue was when he brought you back. You're the reason
I'm still alive, you're the reason the X-Files still
exist, the reason Scully isn't dead yet. All because Alex
Krycek fell in love with his one-time supervisor."
There was no sound for a while, and Mulder got up, poured
everyone some more coffee.
"It was easier to figure out you loved him back. That did
make sense, and I wasn't busy pouting that you weren't in
love with me." It was a very revealing comment, and Alex
knew that Mulder offered it to put them all on equal
footing again.
"I brought him to you because this is where he's supposed
to be. I spend half my waking hours hating his guts, but
if he can be happy, by God, he's earned it after all he's
been through on my behalf."
Mulder paused, took a sip, then looked deeply into
Skinner's wide brown eyes.
"And you, sir. What has my cause cost you? Everything,
including your life. If Krycek is a chance for you to
build a new one, then it's a chance you have to take. If
you throw me out now and never speak to me again, I won't
regret this, because I owed you, both of you."
Mulder closed his eyes for a moment, unable to resist any
longer the desperate need to now state his own case.
"Please. I need answers. I don't have much time left, I
don't know how I know that, but I do. I'll give you
anything you want, do anything you say, I don't care. But
I need this."
Alex saw the tremble in the long fingers, the suspicious
brightness to the hazel eyes. He was still trying to
breathe past the lump in his throat at all Mulder had
said, but he turned to Skinner.
"Walter, I know we were supposed to talk tonight, about
us. I'd like to postpone, if it's alright with you. It
seems Agent Mulder and I are about to have a very long,
painful conversation."
"Of course. I'll get my coat."
"No!" It was said loudly and in unison.
"You have to stay, Walter. I won't be able to do this if
you aren't here." It was all Alex could say, but it was
more than enough.
"Sir, I'd like you to stay, also. Krycek and I may
understand each other, may even ultimately care what
happens to the other, but we also share a volatile temper,
and have been known to let emotion sway us. I think we'd
both feel safer if you were here. And armed." The last was
said as a feeble joke, but it broke the tension the way it
was intended.
"I'll stay."
Part III
Alex took a long drink of his water, trying not to show
how nervous he was. The idea of spilling his guts to
Mulder was never pleasant. The thought of doing it in
front of Walter and without being able to lie was enough
to make him look longingly at the front door. Still, Alex
owed Mulder and it was time the man was paid.
Putting down the mostly empty bottle, Alex shifted into a
more comfortable position and gave a short nod.
"I'm ready. Ask."
"Is Samantha dead?"
"Yes."
Mulder closed his eyes, but it was obvious when he re-
opened them, that he'd been expecting the answer. He only
looked sad, a spike of pain overlaid with genuine relief.
Alex could have said more but didn't, remaining silent
until Mulder could ask the next question.
"What happened to her?"
"I don't know much, Mulder."
With that warning, Alex told him what he did know, of
Samantha's abduction. She had been taken by very human
men, moved to a safe house and raised by a Consortium
family, until she was old enough for the experiments to
begin. She'd been relatively unharmed, but had refused to
give up, always trying to find her family. Eventually, her
rebellion had led to harsher confinement. She'd died
accidentally some time after that, a miscalculation of a
standard drug dosage.
"She was cremated, her ashes dumped in the lake behind the
facility." Alex paused, and despite biting his lip firmly,
couldn't help from adding, "I'm sorry, Mulder."
Mentally swearing, Alex made his way to the bathroom. When
he came out, Walter was in the hall.
"I thought Mulder could use a minute alone. And I wanted
to check on you, make sure you were okay."
"I am. How's Mulder?" The man had listened without
interrupting, his face a mask, but there was no blocking
the grief in those hazel eyes. Alex had dropped enough
hints to Mulder over the years that none of this was a
real shock, but nothing could ease the wound completely.
"He'll be ready for more questions when you get back."
"That's okay." Alex slumped a little, leaning against the
wall. He was tired, but not bad yet.
Walter's hand closed on the back of Alex's neck, warm and
strong. Alex couldn't help leaning into the touch,
relishing the simple comfort of the touch. He hated being
so weak, so vulnerable, but he was. Walter kindly didn't
say anything, only waited until Alex pushed away from the
wall and started walking again.
Alex took his same chair, noticing as he did that Mulder
was just coming in from the balcony. The man looked like
he'd been crying, just a little, not that Alex could blame
him. Knowing it ahead of time couldn't erase the pain.
Mulder took another second to compose himself, moving into
the kitchen and refilling his glass. Walter sat down in
another chair, one that let him see both men. When Mulder
returned, all three men took a deep breath, squaring their
shoulders.
"Are you ready?"
"I'm good. Next question."
"Why did they take her instead of me?"
"Every man had to give one child, no more, no less. Your
father had already given a child. Bill Mulder hadn't."
"Who was my father?"
"Spender. Your father is Spender."
Mulder took this without blinking, almost as though he'd
always known it, and maybe he had. All Walter knew was
that the man seemed unaffected, only nodding slightly.
"I guess that's all I need to know about that. Samantha
was my half-sister, Jeffrey was my half-brother. My
family."
"There's more, Mulder. You really aren't going to like
this." Alex looked more uncomfortable than he had since
they'd started, and Walter braced himself to come between
them.
"Tell me."
"Spender is my father, too. I-I'm your half-brother."
Obviously, Mulder had not been expecting this. He was
stunned, his hazel eyes swirling almost with the emotions
going through him. His face finally closed off completely,
shutting his eyes, and going perfectly still, only a few
harsh pants betraying his state.
Finally, his breathing evened out, and he asked in a
deadly calm voice, "You're my half-brother?"
"Yes."
"How long have you known?"
"Since they made me your partner at the FBI. I-I suspected
before then, some of the things Spender would say, and he
always took a...a personal interest in my work. If I
failed, he was usually the one to whip me, not the
trainers. Everybody knew he was your father, and I finally
started to put it together. Just before they sent me in to
work with you, he told me for sure. He said, 'Alex, I
expect a lot from you. You have some deep shoes to fill,
and I'll be watching closely to see how you do compared to
your brother.' I'd heard him say the same thing to
Jeffrey. He was always comparing Jeffrey to you. His
grades had to be as high as yours, his work as good. He
had to be as smart, as brave, as bold as his precious Fox.
You were two years younger, and still the one setting the
bar."
Alex took a long deep sigh, closing his eyes halfway, a
bitter twist to his mouth.
"I never felt sorrier for anybody than I did Jeffrey. He
couldn't be as good as you or as bad as me. No matter what
he did, it wasn't right. He couldn't win. He was normal,
hopelessly average, and Spender couldn't take that, was
disgusted by it. Mediocrity drove him crazy. Jeffrey would
have died anyway, he was becoming dangerous. He'd begun
following in your footsteps instead of trying to fill your
shoes, but he didn't have a clue what was going on, how to
stay alive or keep other people alive. He would have been
eliminated either way, but I think the only reason Spender
killed him himself was because he couldn't stand that.
Jeffrey died because he wasn't you or me. He couldn't hate
him like he could me, and he never loved Jeffrey like he
did you. He never loved anybody like he did you, Mulder.
That was the food chain, you, me and then Jeffrey."
Walter was shaking inside at what he was hearing. It
answered a million questions, asked a million more. It
made sense, he supposed, but it also was a bitch to wrap
your mind around.
He looked now at Alex, and he could see the resemblance.
Not physically, they didn't look anything alike, but there
was a matching intensity, and focus. How many times had
the two of them butted heads? How many times had they each
let the other walk away, unable to make that final shot?
"Is that why you always let me hit you? Why you never
fought back the way I knew you could?"
"Yes, partly. The rest of it was that I deserved it for
what I was doing. For what that black-lunged bastard was
forcing his own bastards to do, knowing we were his sons.
He knew, Mulder, and he still set us on each other like
pit bulls in a dogfight. I started trying to get out right
then. It's hard, Mulder, trying to get out. While I was
still in, I saved you everything I could. You asked me if
I killed your father. I didn't kill Bill Mulder, Fox, I
couldn't do that to you, I've got the scars to prove it.
He'd raised you, and if he'd done a piss poor job of it,
well, he was still the man you thought of as your father,
and I wasn't going to take that away. That was when
Spender started suspecting me, that instead of hating you
and wanting your destruction, the way he wanted me to,
trained me to, I was beginning to try and protect you.
That I-I cared about you." It trailed off, the words
faint, but Mulder and Walter heard them.
There was a pause, and Mulder finally opened his eyes. He
looked at Alex, saw him waiting for judgement. He took in
the paleness, his slight tremble, the way the green eyes
were pleading, as though they couldn't lie anymore,
either. And then, then it happened. Alex tilted his head
down and to the side. It was nervous habit, Mulder had
seen it before and it had always bugged him. Now he knew
why. It was one of his own nervous habits, Scully had
teased him about it before. She said she could always tell
when he was just about to break, because his neck snapped
first, like his mind was so full, his head too heavy for
his neck to support it anymore.
Mulder stood and watched as Alex flinched back and Walter
stood. Putting both hands up, palm out to show he meant no
harm, Mulder waited for Alex's tentative nod, then
continued his approach. Sitting down on the table in front
of Alex's chair, Mulder studied the face before him
closely.
"Look at me."
Alex obeyed, but his eyes struggled before locking onto
Mulder's hazel ones. Walter almost held his breath,
willing things to not get ugly.
"You got his smirk."
It was said somewhat absently, and Alex replied in kind.
"Yeah, but you got his nose."
The tension gave a final swell, then popped like a too
tight skin. A corner of Mulder's mouth twitched, and Alex
mirrored the movement. Mulder broke then, chuckling almost
painfully at the humor hiding such dark fear.
"I guess, part of me must have known there was some
connection. I knew you cared for me, Alex. When I thought
you were in love with me, this must have been what I was
picking up on. And, and I can admit that I knew I felt
something for you. I could never just outright hate you,
there was always a qualifier. Shit. Alex Krycek is my
fucking half-brother. Scully's gonna love hearing this."
Alex remained quiet, not saying anything, just waiting for
whatever came next.
"Alex, I can't pretend knowing this makes the rest just go
away. Don't expect a Kodak moment, or some greeting card
sentiment. It'll take me a while to get used to the idea.
But, I guess this buries the hatchet once and for all. I
can't forgive everything yet, but I can start to accept
it. I don't think Walter'll let you do anything new, so
the future looks hopeful. I believe you, Alex. And I'm a
little low on family right now so, if you're willing, I'd
like us to make an effort. What do you say, give me a
chance to be a big brother again?"
"You're the only family I have in the world, Mulder. I'd
like that." Alex was shaking almost violently now, and
Mulder saw the shimmer of tears in his eyes. Giving a soft
snort that combined amusement and disbelief, Mulder slowly
leaned forward, taking Alex's face in his hands. Alex bit
back a whimper, forcing himself to be still and take it,
whatever it was.
Mulder stood, then bent down and kissed each of Alex's
cheeks, Russian style, then his forehead.
"Enough, for today."
Mulder then walked away without another word, closing the
door as he heard the first of Alex's sobs, and his own.
Part IV
Alex had cried for a long time after Mulder had left.
Walter had gathered him up, carried him to the bedroom,
and laid him down on the bed. He'd then stretched out
beside Alex, and for the first time since he was a child,
Alex had been held while he'd cried. It had felt good, so
damn good, and Alex found he was unable to stop crying. Or
talking.
As though his secret about Mulder had been a Pandora's
box, once breached, Alex felt secret after secret tumble
from his lips. His true past, what he remembered of it,
the complex knot that was his feelings toward Mulder, and
even the deepest shameful truth of his feelings toward
Spender; all of it came pouring out of Alex, in a flash
flood of grief, anger and pain.
Slowly, very slowly, Alex began to calm. He was shaking
violently, trembling so hard in Walter's arms that the
other man was actually physically moved, as well. Walter,
overwhelmed by all that he'd heard, was unable to think of
a single thing to say. Opting instead for the comfort of
action, he gathered some tissues from the bedside table
and cleaned Alex's face.
Alex was exhausted, nearly asleep from the emotional
stress in his still weakened condition. He let Walter
bathe his face, dutifully accepted the glass of water
offered to him, and raised his hips as Walter undressed
him. Slipping beneath the cool cotton sheets, Alex was
asleep in mere moments.
Making sure he was really out for the count, Walter eased
from the bed, making his way quietly to the living room.
He poured himself a hefty shot of whiskey, and went out
onto the balcony, relishing the chill in the night air.
Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek. Half-brothers. Sons of
Spender. It boggled the mind. And yet, it made such a
perfect sense that it was nearly anti-climactic. Swirling
the liquor in the bottom of the glass, Walter thought
about everything that Alex had just confessed to him. Oh,
it wasn't everything, not by a fraction, but it was pretty
nearly the complete story of the man's personal life. And
Alex had left nothing out, whether by drug or design.
The twisted layering of his feelings toward Mulder hadn't
been such a shock. Hearing Alex confess with deep hatred
and hurt that, despite everything, a tiny part of him
loved Spender; that it had been the need for parental
approval and affection that had driven Alex to such depths
of ruthlessnessnow, that had been a shock. Alex wanted
a father figure, Walter realized that was part of his
appeal to the younger man. It also explained why Alex
turned faintly submissive whenever Walter pushed at him.
That was fine with Walter. He wasn't looking for a
lifestyle, but he could go Ancient Greek and do the mentor
role for Alex. Hell, there wasn't much he couldn't or
wouldn't do for Alex. He tossed back the last of his
whiskey, and moved to go inside. He grabbed a fast shower,
and then slid into bed beside Alex. The younger man curled
into him, and Walter pulled him close, before drifting to
sleep.
Alex woke up first. His mind, never having shut off
completely, even while he was asleep, went immediately
back to the night before. Remembering all he'd told
Walter, Alex was too disheartened to even sigh. The man
would never love him now, how could he? Spender's bastard?
And not even the only one of those. No, today was
definitely the day that Walter would decide to stop
playing house and kick him out.
The pain of that thought was like a physical cut, and Alex
closed his eyes again, for just a moment.
"I still love you."
The words were a deep rumble, and came from the pillow
next to his own. Alex's eyes shot open again, and he
turned his head sharply. Walter was lying on his side,
facing Alex. The brown eyes were squinting faintly, but
were completely clear and sober.
"Last night didn't change anything, except some of my
perceptions of you and Mulder. And it made me loathe your
father even more. But it didn't change my feelings for
you. I still love you, Alex, and I still want you. In this
bed, in my arms, in my life. Deal with it."
After several long moments, Alex's mouth quirked at one
corner, and he turned to face Walter more fully. "Even if
it means spending holidays with Mulder?"
Walter, seeing that Alex believed him, allowed his
features to soften, and reached up, cupping Alex's face
with one broad palm. "Even that."
"Okay."
It was all Alex said, but it was enough. Kissing the broad
forehead, Walter drew Alex closer, holding him until he
began to squirm.
"I need to get up, Walter."
"Me, too. But you feel good. I don't want to let you go,
Alex."
"Me, either. But I'll come back."
"Promise?" There was a note in Walter's voice, a shift in
tone that told Alex the man wasn't just talking about a
bathroom break anymore.
"I promise. I'll come back, Walter." Alex trembled
slightly as he said it, knowing he'd have to keep that
vow, no matter what it cost.
"Good enough." Another kiss, and Walter let him go.
Alex used the en-suite bathroom, Walter opted for down the
hall, knowing he could walk it easier. Neither man paid
any attention to their state of undress. Walter made the
coffee in his briefs, and showed no interest in getting
dressed whatsoever. Alex, also coming into the kitchen
clad only in his underwear, was in favor of the decision.
The two of them shared breakfast, a pot of coffee and the
newspaper. Then, without a word between them, moved back
to Walter's bed.
Settling in, Walter arranged his pillows just right,
before reclining against the headboard. Alex propped
against Walter, the back of his head resting on the broad
chest. Alex stared up at the ceiling for a long time,
feeling the fingers of Walter's right hand carding through
his hair absently.
"I love you." Alex offered it quietly, and felt Walter
nod. "I'm scared, Walter. I've never done this, never been
with anyone, not like this. The closest thing I ever had
to a relationship was a fuck buddy in the ranks. People
think I'm dead but eventually, I'll leave this apartment,
and someone will see, will know. They'll come after me. It
doesn't matter that I can't hurt them anymore, I'm a loose
end, and these people don't like loose ends. You could get
hurt, get killed. Again. I threw away the palm pilot, but
they've still got the SOB that created it."
Alex heard the faint stutter of Walter's heartbeat as he
said this last, and it only made him more resolved.
"I can't stay here, Walter. I can't stay with you."
"You're right." This was unexpected, and it was Alex's
turn to go silent. "You can't stay here, you'd be dead
inside of a month. And you can't be with Walter Skinner,
it's not safe for either of us. But there's another
option."
"Oh, yeah? What's that?" Alex asked it flatly, the small
part of his soul that had given in, that had actually
begun to believe, shriveling painfully with each breath.
"We go somewhere else. I stop being Walter Skinner, A.D.,
and become someone else. Someone you can be with,
somewhere you can live."
Alex rolled over, his eyes huge and full of disbelief and
confusion. His soul fought to keep from believing again,
fought to not give up believing just yet. "What are you
talking about?"
"Alex, you've read my entire file, right? You know
everything they know about me, right?"
"Yeah."
"Have you ever heard of Jomes Island?"
Alex's face crinkled, and he mentally reviewed Walter's
file. He didn't quite have Mulder's memory, but his was
nearly as good, despite the fact that it took him more
effort.
"No. There's no mention of such a place in your file."
"I thought not. It's not much of an island, Alex, just a
few miles off the coast of Virginia. It's stuck in with a
bunch of vacation home lots, almost none of them
developed. None of them ever will be, it was bought mostly
as a combination tax write off and nature preserve. It's a
private island, each home is set on a small private
island, that's the retail push. But I bought Jomes Island,
and the two around it. I did it years ago, thinking it
would be a great place to retire, and I bought the side
islands for...well, for children and grandchildren."
There was a hint of pain there, and Alex rubbed his hand
soothingly over a shoulder. Walter cleared his throat
slightly, patted Alex's comforting hand, and continued.
"I bought it sort of backwards, a friend of my brother-in-
law wanted to ditch it quick, he needed cash and I didn't
want to deal with the legal stuff. He sold it to me under
the table. We were going to fix the paperwork later, but
then Mike was killed in a car wreck. I got a friend of
mine, a lawyer, to set up the papers, but by then, well,
I'd started seeing some of what was going on in the X-
Files. I'm not sure why, but I had her draw it all up in a
false name. For nearly a decade, I've paid the taxes and
established residency there under that alias. I now have a
full set of documents for that alias. The island's
deserted, and yet close enough that you can get anything
you need in a couple of hours. I've sent things to and
from there, visited a couple of times, under the alias.
The locals think I'm a harmless widower that went off the
deep end a little when my wife died."
Alex saw another flash of pain in those brown eyes, but he
also saw determination.
"I'm ready, Alex. My resignation's been typed for a month,
my assistant has been getting things set in motion. I can
walk out of there tomorrow, disappear off the face of the
earth. And I'm ready and willing to do that, Alex. The
only question is whether or not you'll go with me."
Alex closed his eyes, slumping down onto Walter's chest.
Too much. It was too much. Hope, need and desire, they
were closing around his throat like steel hands, and he
couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't...
With a small cry of pain ripping out of him, Alex flung
himself out of the bed. He moved as quickly as he dared,
going to the guest room, his room, and locking the door
behind him. Slumping against it, he slid to the floor,
feeling more desolate in the face of his dreams than he
ever had in the arms of a nightmare.
Walter hadn't tried to stop Alex, hadn't made a single
move or said a word to him. He had no fucking idea what
had just happened, but he did know that it wouldn't pay
him to push Alex. Walter sighed, rubbing a hand over his
face, then reached for his glasses. This time, he got
dressed.
In his room, Alex heard the sound of Walter moving around,
but paid no attention to it. For over an hour, Alex simply
sat there, staring at nothing and taking no notice of his
awkward positioning, of the cold from the floor, of his
muscles beginning to stiffen. It was only when the phone
shrilled loudly in the quiet, that Alex came back to
himself. He heard Walter's voice, heard it approach his
door, and tried to get up. He managed to scoot out of the
way, but that was all he could manage. Walter knocked, and
after biting his lip, Alex reached up, unlocked the door,
and called for him to come in.
"Did you fall?" Walter approached him carefully, not sure
if his help would be welcome or not.
"No. I shut the door and just kind of slid here."
"And you've been there ever since?" There was a slightly
scolding tone in Walter's voice, and Alex tried to manage
a glare, but couldn't.
"Yes. And now I'm cold and stiff and I'm stuck. You can
yell at me after you help me up."
Walter put his arms around Alex, under his arms and around
his chest. Standing with a slight grunt, Walter stood him
up and helped him to the bed. Alex lay back, and Walter
began massaging the cramped legs firmly, but carefully.
"Ow!" Alex winced as strong fingers insistently soothed a
knotted muscle. "Christ, that hurts."
"You're lucky I don't make something else hurt. I ought to
tan your ass for letting yourself freeze up like this."
Walter muttered it darkly, even as he tenderly moved to
one fine-boned foot.
Alex, already annoyed with himself, in pain and upset from
earlier, opened his mouth to tell Walter to fuck off. As
he did so, he caught sight of Walter's face in the mirror
across from the bed. There was frustration written all
over it, frustration and pain, and Alex realized that the
last hour had been no picnic for the older man, either.
God only knew what Walter was thinking.
After all, Alex grunted as a thumb coaxed his instep into
relaxing, the man had offered to give up everything he
had, everything he was, to go live with Alex in some kind
of primitive utopia, and Alex's only reaction had been to
run. Sighing, his muscles now warmed and stretching back,
Alex rolled onto his stomach, growing very tired again,
despite his sleep the night before.
"You can. I won't blame you, you've earned it."
Walter stood up, brows drawing together. "What?"
"You want to spank me? Then go ahead, spank me. I won't
hold it against you." Alex had closed his eyes, arms
crossed under his pillow. He didn't care, honestly. It
wasn't like it would really hurt, and after what he'd been
putting Skinner through the past few days, the man was
entitled to release some frustration on him.
Walter let his hand drift up to the slender curves of
Alex's rear. Though he was gaining weight, it was a slow
process, and muscles weren't back to their former fullness
yet. Walter's hand easily spanned most of the butt, and he
gave a gentle series of pats to the cotton covered flesh,
before sitting down on the bed beside Alex.
"Consider yourself spanked. Now, that was the office.
Something's come up, and I have to go in. But I have the
feeling that if I walk out that door now, you're going to
try to go out it, too. That's your choice, Alex. You
aren't a prisoner, and we've talked enough that you know
how I feel and what I want. I know how you feel, and if I
don't know what you want yet, I think it's because you
don't either. I don't think you're in any shape to leave,
but I won't force you to stay. You're free, Alex, it's
your choice. But I can ask, and I will. Please, don't go.
Not yet, at least, wait until you're stronger. Until you
can take better care of yourself. You go out now, you're a
dead man." There was pain in that last statement, sharp
and deep, and Alex rolled onto his side, one hand reaching
out to Walter's.
"I won't leave. Not yet. In fact," Alex sighed deeply, and
gathered the last of his courage for the day, "if you
want, why don't you call Mulder? See if he's up to
babysitting his little brother."
Walter's eyes filled with the brightness of hope, and Alex
closed his eyes again, unable to stand the light.
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure. But warn him that I'm in a bad mood and if he
starts anything I'll probably shoot first and not care
later."
Walter chuckled, reached down and kissed Alex softly on
the mouth. It was good, so damn good, and Alex clung,
opening his mouth to Walter's for long, breathless
moments.
"Go. I have to sleep." Alex settled back onto the pillow,
and Walter drew up the comforter, tucking him in warmly,
stroking a hand over the dark waves, before slipping from
the room.
When Alex woke up hours later, it was to the sound of the
television on downstairs and the smell of something
cooking. Stretching carefully, Alex looked at the clock,
and saw that it was after noon. His body felt better
though, as if sleep were intensifying the healing somehow.
Pushing that thought aside, Alex pulled on a sweatsuit. A
visit to the bathroom later he then made his way
downstairs.
He found Mulder in the kitchen, always an odd place to
find Mulder. The hazel eyes looked up at him, and Alex
tensed, but there was no awkwardness or uncertainty in
them. Alex realized that Mulder had done what he always
did. He'd figured out the truth and accepted it fully,
without care for the personal cost.
"Oh, good, you're up. Skinner said I was supposed to feed
you, and that I wasn't allowed to use the phone to do it.
I've got canned beef stew going and I was about to make a
sandwich, only I don't have a clue what you eat or how.
Aside from take out, of course." This would have been
knowledge gained during Alex's time as his partner, and
Alex couldn't help but test it out.
"Pizza?"
"Vegetarian, thin crust, extra mushrooms."
"Burger?"
"Big Mac, no fries, apple pie, chocolate shake, small
coffee. Approximately a third of the coffee gets stirred
into the shake."
Mulder had finished taking out the sandwich fixings now,
and he spared a slightly shy, amused grin with Alex.
"Scully dips her fries in mayonnaise, when she thinks no
one's looking."
Alex chuckled, and took a seat at the bar, reaching for
the bread. He made his own sandwich, knowing that Mulder
was memorizing this too, whether he wanted to or not.
"Where are the bowls?"
Alex gestured to the appropriate cupboard, and Mulder
dished up the stew. He was surprised to find a sandwich
waiting for him on his plate. Alex smirked slightly, a
friendly smirk.
"You went to Wolfram's Deli a few times while I was
trailing you. You were wired, I heard the order."
Mulder accepted this without a quibble, taking a bite and
chewing thoughtfully.
"Alex?"
"Yeah?"
"Diana?" At the look of distaste on Alex's face, Mulder
sighed. "I don't really want to know, do I?"
"No. Not if you ever expect to have normal relations with
anyone ever again."
"I was afraid of that." They finished the meal in silence,
and Alex helped Mulder clear away the dishes. They
adjourned to the den, and Mulder offered Alex the remote.
Shaking his head, Alex watched as Mulder scanned the dials
twice, then shut the TV off.
"You can ask things. I'd rather it not get too deep,
without Walter here, but I don't mind a mild
interrogation."
"Are you sure? Skinner said you weren't in the best of
moods."
"I wasn't. I'm not. I don't know, Mulder, fuck, I don't
know anything right now. But you might as well make use of
me while you can."
"Stop me if you need to? Or if I ask something that needs
to wait?"
Alex nodded, eyes closing as he waited. It was harder and
harder to keep his eyes open. Alex made a mental note to
tell his doctor, and waited for Mulder's questions.
They were mostly light, questions about the Consortium,
about specific cases. Alex rattled off the information
easily, it was no effort to let the truth fly from his
lips. He was tired of holding so many secrets, and now
that it was impossible for him to lie, Alex found it was
nearly impossible for him to keep the truth to himself,
either. Cursing an entire alien race to every depth of
hell he could personally imagine, Alex answered without
hesitation or uncertainty.
"Alex? Why did...why did my mom..." Mulder's face was
slightly flushed, and Alex sighed.
"This may hurt, Mulder. Are you sure?"
"I want to know. I have to know why she did it. I can
handle it, Alex." A look into the man's face assured Alex
that he could, and with a deep breath, Alex spoke quietly.
"I wondered about that, too. I mean, Jeffrey's mother had
been courted. He dated her, did everything the usual way.
It was a regular marriage, for her anyway. Until it turned
ugly. But there was nothing sinister there, no dark plans.
She was young, pretty and smart, and made a good
impression at cocktail parties. She was a good choice for
a man on the way up. Until he realized she was a little
too smart, a bit too strong. Anyway, that was Jeffrey's
mother. Then there was your mother. Teena Mulder was, if
anything, an even better choice. Stronger, but more
manageable, smarter, more sophisticated. She was beautiful
woman, full of elegance and style. She was a good choice
for a man already near the top."
Alex took a drink of his juice, and cleared his throat
before continuing.
"The only problem was that she was already married, and to
one of his colleagues. Still, in their social circle, that
wasn't such a big deal. It was fairly common, even.
Spender can be very charming, Mulder. He knows how to find
out a person's weak spot and play on that, without ever
showing that he's been playing. There's your mother, busy
being the perfect wife, only her husband was too busy to
notice. She had her clubs, her organizations, her
volunteer work. But a real job was out of the question, it
simply wasn't done, and she was stuck in a big house on a
little island. She was lonely and she was pretty and she
was suddenly realizing that the man she was with had been
more interested in her prestige than in her."
Mulder swallowed hard at this pronouncement, but he knew
it was true, not just because Alex couldn't lie. He
thought over some of the fights he'd witnessed between his
mother an Bill Mulder, and it made sense.
"Then along came Spender. He would invite them to go away
for the weekend, knowing Bill Mulder would be loathe to
leave work, and cut his part short. With Jeffrey young
enough to need his mom, soon it was just Spender and Mrs.
Mulder, out on the lake together. He flattered her, he
made her feel like her life was still viable, like she was
still pretty, still vibrant. He listened to her, really
listened, and that alone got him halfway to where he
wanted to be. He made her feel alive again, Mulder, and
she couldn't hold out against that, not after being so
cold and so alone for so long."
"He seduced her." Mulder said it quietly, and Alex nodded.
"Yes. He seduced her, and it was romantic and forbidden
and she savored it, every moment of it. Until she found
out she was pregnant. That wasn't supposed to happen. In
fact, your mother had assumed she couldn't get pregnant.
After all, she and your father had been married for three
years, and she had done nothing to prevent it. That hadn't
helped the situation with your father, either. He'd wanted
a son, an heir, someone to carry on the family name. It
was a bitter point between them. She was stunned when she
finally figured out what was making her sick in the
mornings. And then horrified."
Alex paused again, checking Mulder to see how he was
dealing. He was okay, and Alex continued.
"See, your father had been out of the country for the past
four months, gone to Russia, to work in the labs there.
She was three months pregnant, and he was due back in a
month. She went to Spender, and told him. He assured her
he would take care of everything. He would arrange for a
private clinic, pay for everything."
"He was going to have me aborted." Mulder said this with a
slump.
"No. He was going to arrange for her to get away, to go
somewhere until after she'd had the baby. He was hoping
she would use the pregnancy and abandonment so that she
could file for divorce, without needing his consent. No,
Mulder, he wanted you. See, while it's true that he
originally seduced her for the game, for his own needs,
something else is true, too. Something that sets you apart
even further from me and Jeffrey. Spender loved your
mother."
Alex watched as the head came up, eyes staring intently.
"It's true, Mulder, I swear by everything holy, that
black-lunged son of a bitch loved her, really loved her,
as much as he's capable of loving anyone or anything. He
loved her, he was thrilled to hear she was pregnant, and
excited about the baby. About you. He would have taken
your mother away, left his family and made a completely
new life with your mom and you. But then Bill Mulder came
back home."
Alex squirmed, and looked worried.
"Mulder, this part is bad. It's not going to be easy to
hear. Are you sure?"
"Please, Alex? I need to finish, to know, once and for
all."
Alex bit at his lip, then scooted over on the couch. "Come
here. Sit beside me. I-if you can stand it, let me hold
your hand, while I tell it."
"That bad?"
"That bad, or I wouldn't ask, you know that."
Mulder swallowed hard, and moved to the couch, dutifully
holding out his hand. Alex took it, and resumed.
"When Bill Mulder found out, he went insane. He was
furious with her. He called her a slut, he threatened her
with everything he could think of and then he finally beat
her. Spender had no idea Bill Mulder was home yet, the man
was nearly two weeks early, and so Spender couldn't help
her, couldn't protect her, couldn't save her. When he got
back into town, the day before Bill Mulder was supposed to
come home, it was too late. Bill Mulder had taken
everything your mother owned and put it so far out of her
reach, it might as well have been the stars. He'd dragged
your grandparents into this, using them for leverage, for
emotional blackmail to keep their daughter in line and
married to him. And then he did the worst thing he could
have. He showed her pictures of babies being used in the
project, and told her that unless she wanted the same
thing to happen to you, she'd better forget she'd ever
even looked at another man."
Mulder's hand tightened to pain on Alex's, but after a few
sharp breaths, relaxed again, and Mulder nodded.
"She didn't tell him who the father was, she didn't dare.
She'd already figured out that they hated each other, and
she knew if he found out that the baby was Spender's, he'd
kill her and you for sure. So, she turned away from
Spender, away from everything but Bill Mulder and her
pregnancy. It was only after you were older that the rest
of it came out. When they did your genetic profile for the
Consortium, something your mother knew nothing about,
guess whose DNA showed up? It was on file, of course, and
since Spender had already given one family member up, they
couldn't take you. Bill Mulder was enraged, again, but
this time it was a colder fire. He knew that he'd have to
have a child and soon, or give your mother up to the
project. He wouldn't do that, he had too much pride, too
much invested in her. Besides, you were a son, a trophy,
what he'd always wanted. So, he got the scientists to help
him out. They took your mother for a weekend, and when she
came back she was pregnant, and this time, the child was
his. And if your mother was never the same after that
weekend, Bill Mulder didn't care."
Mulder gagged briefly, thinking of his mother and what
they'd done to her, what had been needed to make her
pregnant with Samantha. Alex rubbed a hand on his back,
and after a while, Mulder spoke quietly. "I'm ready,
again."
"The whole time, Spender stayed away from them. At first,
he was bitter, he felt hurt and betrayed, but then he
realized that your mother was only trying to keep you
safe. He figured out what had happened, that Teena had
never told who the father was, and the only way he could
help protect you was to keep his distance. When the truth
came out, Spender was dangerous enough that Bill Mulder
didn't dare kill either of you. By then, your mother was
already dealing with the fact that she was going to lose a
child, and she'd long ago grown to hate both men for what
they'd done to her, for making her a pawn and using her.
She was devoted to the two of you, you and Samantha. When
they told her that first, you were going to be taken, she
was desolate. And Bill Mulder told her, he wanted to
punish her again for the fact that his son wasn't really
his. She remembered the labs, the pictures he'd shown her,
and she begged and pleaded for you.
"When the DNA report came out, she thought it was over.
They couldn't take you, her child was safe, the only child
she'd ever be able to have, they'd made that plain in the
hospital. Then Bill Mulder sent her away for the weekend,
and when she came back, all she could think of was that
the baby inside her was going to be given up to those
monsters, and there wasn't anything she could do about it.
She thought of trying to lose the baby, but she couldn't
bring herself to do it. She thought about suicide, but she
was afraid of what would happen to you if she did. She
didn't trust Spender, didn't trust her husband, and no one
else could have helped.
"Bill Mulder saw what was happening with his wife, and he
knew that she was dangerous to herself and the child. He
couldn't risk losing either of them, not at this point, so
he lied. He told her that the project had changed, that
the baby wouldn't be taken, laid it on thick. She didn't
believe him, not for a long time, but then as the years
passed and nothing more was said about it, she finally,
finally relaxed. See, she'd assumed they needed young
children for the project, the infants and toddlers she'd
been shown pictures of. She didn't know that Samantha
would only be useful just before she reached her teens,
that they didn't want the girls until they were old enough
to reproduce."
Mulder gave a near sob, and ground out, "So when Samantha
turned six, Mom thought she was safe. She thought it was
okay."
"Exactly." Alex whispered it, his hand once again being
nearly crushed by Mulder's grip. "Your father let things
go like normal, and for a while, your mother was even
happy. And then one night, he went with her to just visit
the neighbors. When she got back, Samantha was gone and
you were catatonic. And Bill Mulder had paid his debt to
the Consortium, had his revenge on Spender and your
mother. He played the grief stricken father, needing her
to believe it was nothing to do with his work, and she
bought it. The other explanation was just too horrific for
her. She was devastated, Mulder, you know that. It was
nearly a year later that Spender managed to get word to
her, the truth about Samantha. That coincided with a few
of the things you had started to remember, and it was too
much. She would have killed herself then, but for you. She
wasn't much of a mother, Mulder, not after Samantha, but
by god, she was doing the best she could. Teena Mulder
just didn't have much left to give, but she kept you alive
and away from Spender."
Mulder was crying now, and Alex reached out, almost
awkwardly, putting his arm around Mulder's shoulders.
"You know it from there. I'm sorry, Mulder."
With a sob, Mulder buried his face in Alex's neck,
clinging to the only family he had left.
A long time later, Mulder eased back. He wiped his face on
his sleeve, not caring if he ruined his shirt. Alex
reached to the end table, handing over some tissues.
"Sorry."
"Don't be. It's the first time I've ever been able to
comfort you." Alex bit at his lip as the truth slipped
out, and Mulder gave him a soft, broken looking smile.
"How did you find out all this?"
"The files. It had transcripts, and things like that, old
letters and cards but it also had two other things: stolen
journals. Your mother used to keep one, so did Bill
Mulder. Spender's wife told me a lot of it, I was her
guard for a while. She's the one that told me he loved
your mother. Well, and he told me, too. When he went to
see her, before her stroke, was the only time I'd ever
seen him nervous. He was scared to fucking death to talk
to her again. And when she had her stroke, that was the
only time I'd ever seen him guilty. When she died, that
was the only time I ever saw him cry. I think it was the
only time in decades that he had cried. He loved her,
Mulder, and he loved you, too, in his own sick, twisted
way."
Mulder nodded, accepting it, since it was the truth. After
a long moment, he looked at Alex. "What about...about..."
"My mother?"
"Yeah."
Alex's mouth gave a bitter twist, and his eyes were frozen
nearly solid. "My mother was a fourteen year old abductee,
with the highest pain tolerance the lab boys had ever
seen. Spender was called in to witness. He had a lot of
anger for your mother still, and this girl could have been
a younger version of her, except for the green eyes. She
made a useful mistress for a man with a grudge. It's a
shame she decided to try to up her value. She stopped
taking the drugs, and got pregnant with me. Spender was
fine with that, despite the loss of his punching bag. Of
course, once she quit taking the drugs, she wasn't going
to live much past my birth anyway, so he let her get away
with it. She was from the Russian labs, that's about all I
know. Spender was disappointed with Jeffrey already, he
thought you were out of reach, and he knew I was going to
be a boy. He was pleased enough to let her name me,
although he altered it slightly. She named me Alexei, I'm
pretty sure, not Alex. The Krycek might or might not be my
real name, the file on me is pretty blank, Spender wanted
it that way. He didn't want me to be able to find out too
much about myself, when I started looking."
Alex had slumped while he spoke, and now he was shocked to
feel Mulder's arm come around him, pulling him close.
"You don't have to."
"I know. I want to."
It was the last bit needed, and Alex took his turn taking
comfort from the enemy.
He was tired, so tired, and completely talked out. Mulder
waited until he had himself together, and then helped Alex
up, guiding him pointedly toward the bedroom.
"I don't want a nap." Alex grumbled it for pride's sake,
yawning even as he did so.
"Maybe not, but you need one. Besides, Skinner'll kill us
both if you don't rest."
"Nah. He might spank, but that's all." Feeling his face
turn incandescent, Alex literally did bite his traitorous
tongue this time. "Shit! I don't suppose you'd forget I
said that?"
"I don't think I could if I tried. But I won't tease you
about it either. Besides, I kind of like the idea." Mulder
only said it to help ease Alex's embarrassment, Alex knew
this, and he chuckled, then grew serious.
"You said that to make me feel better. How okay with me
are you?"
Mulder said nothing, only held back the covers for Alex,
then pulled them up around him. "You're my half-brother,
Alex. And I need all the family I can get. Besides, I-I
missed it, you know, being a big brother. It was good,
before, you know, somebody t-to talk to, somebody that
unders-stands, someone you ca-can look out for." The
stuttering was a dead give away, and Alex fought to hold
onto his own control as he realized that Mulder had done
more than accept. He'd forgiven. "I want that again. I'm
that okay with you, Alex. How okay are you with me?"
"Will you teach me how to play baseball?"
Mulder's eyes were bright, and so was his smile. "Of
course. But you have to get well first, so go to sleep,
okay?"
"Okay, Mulder."
"Fox. S-Samantha always called me Fox."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
"Okay. Fox."
"Good night, Alexei."
The name made Alex tear up, and he couldn't stop himself,
he reached out, holding his arms out. Mulder went into the
hug happily, squeezing tightly, if briefly.
"Shhh. Sleep, now."
Alex lay back down, and Mulder pulled the cover around
him, tucking him in securely, if somewhat awkwardly. He
hesitated only a moment, then kissed Alex on both cheeks
again, before moving out the door.
Alex went to sleep, thinking that he was going to miss Fox
when they moved to Jomes Island.
|
Title: The Whole Truth Series Author: Raven Email: raven@aeneas.net Pairing: Sk/K Author's Notes: Alex has two arms in this story. (Why? Because it's my story and I can. Besides, if I want to graft reindeer antlers on the boy and call him Rudy, it's no worse than what CC's done to him for years.) Dedicated to the AlexK-H-C and D group for being so very kind about my first offering, and to Ursula, for always being patient, kind and creative. Thank you. Additional Author's Notes: Inspired by hearing "Hero" one too many times on the radio. The passage below kept reminding me of Walter. Spoiler Warning: Passing references to a few canon events, major reference to one specific event (SR...oh, darn, forgot the number...you know the one... yeah, that one.) Rating: R Summary: What would you do if you suddenly had all the answers, and knew the truth? Skinner and Mulder find out, and from Krycek, no less. Disclaimer: The characters within these stories belong to Fox, 1013, CC et al. There is no profit made or intended from these stories, and they should be considered as being for entertainment purposes only. |
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