by Val Adams
A light breeze tugged at his hair and at the open collar of his denim shirt, drying the thin layer of sweat on his neck. The days were already hot even though it was technically only spring here. So the breeze was welcome, and Alex closed his eyes and lifted his face into it. It had been long day.
He sat on the top rail of a pipe corral in the middle of nowhere, his saddled horse tethered nearby. The corral was empty at the moment, but roundup was only a couple of weeks away, and it would see plenty of use then. Alex had noticed today that there were several posts that needed reinforcing and that some of the gates and sheds needed minor adjustments. He'd bring the tools out tomorrow in the pickup and take care of things. He enjoyed outdoor work, and right now he needed the distraction from his other concerns.
Mulder and Scully would be arriving tomorrow.
Well, not arriving here. They would be staying in Fort Davis. But since that little town was just a short drive from Marfa, it might as well have been here. They had known Alex had settled here after the fallout but they had never been here before. Alex had not invited them, but, knowing Mulder, Alex was certain he'd have to see his former enemies/allies sometime over the coming weekend. Alex was not looking forward to it. He had maintained a good distance for the past two years and he was content to leave it that way.
The farther Alex got from the reminders of his old life, the better he liked it. That life was gone. The need for resistance movements, allies, weapons and assassins was gone. Resolved. Finished. He had started over and made a new life, a real life, here in the desert Davis Mountains. It was far different here than anywhere he had ever lived, but he felt more at home here than he had anywhere since his childhood. He lived quietly and alone, but his life was full—and he was actually enjoying himself. Oddly enough, it had been his former life that had brought him to this place.
The new governments of Earth, now controlled by men who had been active in the war against alien occupation, had established an international team of computer experts, scientists and astronomers to conduct a program of "research and prevention". Alex Krycek, an acknowledged hero of the resistance, had been part of that team. His knowledge of computers, alien technologies and capabilities, and his facility with languages had made him a valuable and valued resource.
"Team Alpha" as they had come to be known, had instituted several periodic tests and scans of Earth's space. These tests utilized, among other resources, the work and equipment of SETI and its like counterparts around the world. Another, separate, exercise, called "Outlook," utilized a network of the world's observatories, which acted as a sort of early warning system or "space border patrol".
McDonald Observatory, situated only an hour's drive from where Alex sat at this moment, was a participant in the Outlook project. Twice a year, Team Alpha coordinated a tracking event conducted so that any target area in the galaxy would be visible from Earth's night side 24 hours a day. During the event, the network of observatories was run interactively from one particular headquarters station and data was analyzed in near-real-time. The headquarters station rotated between participating observatories, so a spirit of global cooperation had been established and maintained. Until a more effective form of observing and tracking visitors to Earth's space was produced, project Outlook would stay in place.
Two years earlier, Alex had come to McDonald Observatory to help coordinate the first of the Outlook events. Almost immediately he had been powerfully drawn to this empty land and its hardy people, and he had realized that there was no reason he couldn't stay here. For the first time in his life, he answered to no one but himself. So, toward the end of his three-month assignment to the observatory, Alex had consulted a local real estate agent and had found this ranch. Not that he had wanted a ranch. He had liked the house. And, since he had money to spare in several numbered bank accounts around the globe, he hadn't balked at having to buy almost 2,000 acres to get it.
Alex was thinking of the house now that he'd enjoyed the sunset. He had been riding the fences all day today making what repairs he knew how to make with the few tools he carried in his saddlebags. He had noted other needed repairs, but he'd have to hire a few hands to get things in order before the roundup started. Right now, it was time to go home.
Alex slipped the sweaty baseball cap he had worn all day back onto his head. He jumped down from the corral and strode over to the big line-back dun that stood chomping a mouthful of yellow grass. The stallion's tack creaked and clanked quietly as Alex gathered the reins over the saddle horn, placed his booted foot in the stirrup, and stepped easily into the saddle.
"All right, Buck. Dinner time." Alex gently kneed the big horse into a walk. As they moved away from the corral, Alex shouted, "Dog!" and a black and white border collie emerged from where he had been chasing field mice in the shed. Tail waving, eyes bright, he ran full speed toward Alex, continuing ahead of the man and horse as the three headed for home.
The fall of Buck's hooves kicked up little puffs of dust—a testament to the lack of rainfall again this year—and Alex could see a whirlwind up ahead. He watched Dog darting back and forth far in front of the horse, still chasing rabbits and other small desert animals even after his long and busy day. The collie was still almost relentless in his energy and his ability to dart this way and that while maintaining one general course. Reminded him of Mulder.
Shit. I guess I'm going to think about all that whether I want to or not.
Many years ago, it seemed now, the Consortium had ordered young Alex Krycek to seduce his new partner at the FBI, Special Agent Fox Mulder. That hadn't taken much effort; Alex had been trained to respond sexually to both men and women, but he personally preferred men. He had found Mulder attractive and interesting, and Mulder had needed the physical and emotional release that only sex with another man had offered him.
Then had come all the betrayals, anger and mistrust. Violence. Then Tunguska. Then the Rebel alliance.
Of necessity, he and Mulder had made a tentative truce toward the end. They had managed to work effectively together, finally, without recreating or referring to the other aspect of their past association.
Watching Mulder carefully during the maneuvers that had led to the end, Alex had noticed a difference in Mulder's behavior. He had speculated that the other man's obvious contentment had not only been because of his marriage to Dana Scully but also because he had begun an affair with another man. After all, Alex had never found real sexual satisfaction with a woman. Maybe Mulder, though he truly loved Scully, was the same. And there was only one man he could think of that Mulder might have trusted enough to become involved with. Walter Skinner.
But after the final battle, Alex had been surprised to learn not only that Skinner was not in a relationship with Mulder but also that Skinner had stayed in the closet—perhaps not to himself, but to the world. Maybe even to Mulder.
But Alex knew that Skinner was definitely gay. The Assistant Director had catalogued the assets of new Agent Alex Krycek so thoroughly on their first meeting that Alex had felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. He had even blushed. The big man had reacted to the young agent's obvious returned interest with such a heated promise in his eyes that Alex had not known how he was going to obey orders and stay away from the man.
Even now, Alex wished that he hadn't been so dutiful there in the beginning. He had wanted Skinner very badly, and he had been trained not to want anyone. One night with Walter Skinner back then might have... No. No use thinking about that.
Buck snorted, drawing Alex back to the present. He breathed deeply, smelling sweat—both his own and the horse's—the leather of the tack, the dust, and the sage. The sky was now lit in shades of pink and lavender, and for a while Alex watched the colors changing in the dimming light. The dry air was already beginning to cool. Buck was moving a little faster now that his stable was in sight, but they were still about twenty minutes away. Dog had ceased his wanderings and was now focused on getting home. As the three continued their trek, Alex found his thoughts returning to Walter Skinner.
He knew now that he could have trusted Skinner from the beginning. Knowing what he knew now, he wondered how he could ever have thought Skinner to be weak and malleable, much less one of Spender's corrupt minions. A man who reached the office of Assistant Director at such a relatively young age, who handled the responsibilities and the demands of such a wide-ranging job with ease and a certain grace—such a man was not indecisive, politically naïve, or stupid. And he reacted very badly to being held back or controlled.
He had endured the nanocytes, and he had done what Spender told him to do for a time. He had broken laws and seemingly acted foolishly as well. But no, he wasn't stupid. And Skinner's revenge, served cold, had been quite thorough. He had done exactly what he had needed to do to stay where he needed to be, to learn what he needed to know. When he had learned the facts of the matter and had judged the timing to be correct, he had thrown his considerable weight to the Rebels' side at precisely the moment it would hurt their enemies the worst. Skinner had even expected another nanocyte death—a permanent one this time—for his actions. Alex knew exactly how much courage that stand had taken.
According to Mulder, Skinner had been interested to know that he had not killed Alex Krycek when he shot the man in the parking garage at the FBI. Skinner had finally accepted the fact that he had killed Alex's clone, and he had later even accepted that Alex had been playing a crucial role with the resistance. But Alex had dealt primarily with Mulder and Scully and had not seen Skinner during the last months.
Following the Assistant Director's direction and planning, Mulder, Scully, Reyes and Doggett, in conjunction with Alex and the Rebel forces, had accomplished a great deal in a very short time. From a distance, Alex had grown to respect the big man he had still desired and had wished, for a long time after the fallout, that Skinner would want to see him. Would want him. But by his continued silence and absence, Skinner had let Alex know that he still hated him and didn't care to see him at all. Alex was surprised, now that he thought about it, to realize that it had been over three years since he'd seen Skinner.
By the time Alex dismounted at the stable, the light was truly fading and the first stars of the evening were twinkling brightly in the northern sky. As he swung himself out of the saddle, his left arm twinged a bit, telling him he had pushed himself too hard today. Alex rubbed the arm briskly and flexed the fingers on his left hand. After three years, it was still a little hard to believe that he had his arm back.
The new arm had been a gift from the Rebel aliens, a reward for his service in their cause. They hadn't asked Alex if he would like to be so honored.
He had wakened from the anesthesia strapped down in an alien laboratory, and during the next four weeks had undergone the most excruciating "therapy" as a new limb had grown onto his shattered body. For a time, Alex had not been able to distinguish between what was happening to him at the hands of his allies and his nightmares of previous experiences as a captive in other laboratories. When he finally understood what was happening, the knowledge didn't relieve the all too familiar feeling of betrayal. Alex wondered if they knew what their "gift" had cost him in pain and fear.
Still, he had his arm back, even if it wasn't quite as good as new. It tired more quickly than the right arm. The skin was a little paler than the skin on the rest of his body—the pigment was static and would not tan like the other arm. He had no fingernails on the left hand. The Rebel researchers had been disappointed, but Alex had refused to let them try the process a second time in hopes of obtaining better results. He had an arm and a hand again, and they worked. He could live without the refinements.
With the ease of long practice, he unsaddled Buck, rubbed him down and got him settled for the night. He checked in at the other stalls where two other horses were snacking on oats. He gave each a pat on the muzzle and a soft word or two before he locked the tack room and turned off the lights.
Outside, he lowered the tailgate of the tan pickup and Dog leapt into the bed for the trip to the house. Alex took a minute to check the dog's pads for thorns or other damage from his trip across the desert today, and Dog seized the moment to lick at Alex's face while it was in range. Laughing, but satisfied that his friend was in good shape, Alex opened the truck door and got in behind the wheel. Glancing at his watch as he started the engine, he realized that hed have to hurry if wanted a hot meal at Rita's tonight. The restaurant closed at ten, and he still had to clean up and drive into town. As he drove up the hill towards the house, he began to weigh the various merits of green enchilada sauce versus red.
He was distracted from his internal debate when he crossed the narrow wooden bridge over the dry gulch and pulled up to the house. After all this time, he still felt the thrill of ownership. He loved this place. He had fallen for it the moment he had seen it.
On top of a low mesa almost equidistant between the small towns of Alpine and Marfa, the small Spanish style house sat on a landscaped area of about an acre. The house had been built long ago of adobe that the workers had made just a few yards away. It was covered with white-painted stucco and crowned with a red tile roof. Trees—tall oaks, cedars and cottonwoods—that had been hand planted and tended by the original owner for years until they flourished on their own, surrounded the house, providing shade and beauty. Rising behind it were the craggy red hills of the Davis Mountains, and from the edge of his front yard Alex could see his ranch spread out below him. On a clear day, he sometimes felt he could see all the way to Mexico.
Alex stepped into the screened porch at the back of the house as Dog headed for his water bowl and the food that Alex had set out nearby. Alex pulled off his dusty boots at the bootjack and hung his sweaty hat on the rack by the door. Passing through the kitchen on sock feet, he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and slammed it back on his way to the shower.
Minutes later, he emerged from his room freshly dressed in comfortable blue jeans, a white oxford cloth shirt with the sleeves turned halfway up his forearms, his ubiquitous leather jacket, and highly polished Luchese boots. A professional search would have revealed the well-used knife in one of those boots and the thinner blade that curved gently along and inside his leather belt. He may have retired to an isolated part of the country, but he was still Alex Krycek.
Walter Skinner was trying to enjoy the sunset over Wild Rose Pass, but he was also trying not to run off the road. He grimaced to himself. It seemed everything in his life these days held little caveats like that. Trying to enjoy his retirement while finding something useful to do. Trying to keep in touch with old friends without dredging up past history. Trying to rest, to dream, without the nightmares. Trying to be proud of the stand he had taken without reliving the other, dishonorable, things he had done.
This section of State Highway 17 was winding and narrow, and, as he hadn't been in this part of Texas for a while, he was taking his time. Mulder had suggested that he take the commuter plane into Alpine and catch a ride to Fort Davis, but Skinner hated jamming himself up in those little planes for a bone-jarring flight through the desert thermals. Besides, maybe Mulder could afford the extra airfare, but Skinner hadn't wanted to pay what they had asked. He had decided to fly commercially into Midland and drive a rental car the additional 150 miles south into the mountains and to Fort Davis.
Skinner was to attend the Outlook event this weekend at McDonald Observatory as a guest of Dr. Fox Mulder, whose Washington think-tank provided part of the funding for the project. As Skinner had been teaching at the University of Texas Law School in Austin for the past two years, he hadn't seen Mulder or his wife, Dana Scully, in quite a while. Just thinking about being around Mulder this weekend had set Skinner's ulcer to boil again. So why had he accepted the invitation?
Because he had unfinished business here. He might have already waited too long to see it through, and Mulder's invitation was making Skinner face it. He wondered if his life might have been different if he had acted earlier. At least the past two or three years might not have been so fucking empty.
Maybe. Skinner fought the urge to turn the car around and head straight back to Austin. He was taking an awful chance by coming here. But his memories would not dim and his desires would not fade. He had decided that he was just going to have to take the risk of being humiliated and rejected because if he succeeded... If he succeeded, he just might have a life again.
He drove into Fort Davis and guided the car past the old cavalry fort, into the town, and over to the Limpia Hotel. Standing just across from the fine old courthouse, the rustic brick and adobe building was more of a bed and breakfast than a hotel. It was composed of several buildings—the main house, the restaurant, and another large outbuilding. A glassed-in veranda ran the length of the main building and gave a spectacular view of the mountains.
Skinner unfolded his large frame from the car and retrieved his bag from the trunk. Turning to go inside, he saw Fox Mulder exit the veranda and stride purposefully toward him. He was dressed as casually as Skinner had ever seen him in jeans, a flannel shirt and hiking boots. The air of desperate frustration that had surrounded him for so long had been replaced with unflappable confidence and irritating contentment.
Without preamble, Mulder said, "Guess what! They're real, Walter. I've talked to several people here in Fort Davis who have actually seen them! I've got to get over to Marfa and check them out. Want to come?"
Skinner sighed then said, "Hello, Mulder. Nice to see you; it's been a long time. How's the family? And what the hell are you talking about?"
Mulder visibly started, then smiled and said, offering his hand, "Sorry. Hi. Thanks for coming on such short notice. Scully says hi and she'd like to see you, but Will is sick and she had to stay home. I'm talking about the Marfa Lights, Walter! Floating ghost lights that people have reported seeing for over a hundred years! Documented and yet unexplained. Aren't you curious?"
"No. I'm hungry. Are you planning to eat dinner any time soon?"
"I'll grab something in Marfa. Let's go over there. I just can't pass this up, Walter. Ghost lights! Over a hundred years! I have to see them for myself. They say you can see them almost every night, and this is the only free one I've got."
Mulder waited for Skinner to decline and was surprised when his former boss suddenly said, "Alright, I'll check in and wash up, then I'll follow you over to Marfa in my own car. You can go ahead and arrange your little expedition for tonight and we can eat before you actually go. Where do you want to meet up?"
Alex pulled into the parking lot in front of Rita's Hot Texican, the Marfa restaurant he had been thinking about since just after sunset. He was hungry, and he had decided on the green enchiladas tonight.
He slipped quietly into the noisy diner and started to make his way across the cracked linoleum to where he usually sat at the back of the room, nodding a greeting to three older men who sat at one of the round tables in the center. The men were laughing at some joke or story. All three still wore their cowboy hats, even though they were indoors after sunset, and they sat sprawled out so that their legs stretched completely out either under the table or into the aisles. As Alex passed, one of the wiry old men boomed a jovial greeting his way.
"Hey, Beady! One uh your scientist fellers wuz in here a while ago tryin' to hire a guide to take him out to see the Marfa Lights. Smart one, ain't he?" He grinned widely at one of the other dusty-looking men at the table. "Manny here got him all set up."
Manny, the youngest of the three at about 70, added to the story. "Said he wuz real interested in unexplained phen-o-men-a. Ain't that right, Ray?"
"Damn," said Ray, shaking his head sadly. "An' here we were thinkin' those guys wuz the peaches. Just goes to show."
That got a laugh from the diners scattered throughout the room. Alex, who had stopped by the table to hear the tale, smiled a bit and said, "Well, some of them don't get out much. You have to make allowances, Ray."
"Allowances!" Laughed the first man. "Right. Do ya think he'll be able to read the sign, Beady?"
"Who's taking him out there, Henry?" Alex asked. "Is he even going to see the sign?"
"Well, I cain't honestly say," said Henry, with a wicked glint in his eyes. "I think Armando may have taken him the long way round. Promised they'd be back by mornin' though. At least I think that's what he said. You know 'Mando don't speak English too good."
The other men laughed again, but Alex raised his eyebrows. "Shit, Henry, the poor idiot has to work tomorrow night. Who is he?"
"Oh, don't worry so much," said Henry, slapping at Alex's arm. "That Mulder fella said he was only here to ob-serve."
In spite of himself, Alex's lips twitched in real amusement. "Oh, well. I guess that's okay then." He nodded to the men and headed to his table at the back of the room.
He pulled out a chrome chair with a patched red leatherette seat, slung his leather jacket over the back, and sat with his back to the wall. The more he thought about Henry's story, the funnier it was.
Smiling widely, he glanced up and looked right into the stunned face of Walter Skinner, who was sitting at a table across the room.
Smile fading, Alex slowly stood. He had been prepared for Mulder, but what the hell was Skinner doing out here? He noticed that the big man had also stood and was staring at him as if he were a ghost. Of course, the last time Skinner had thought he had seen Alex, he had also thought he killed him.
A minute or so later, when it dawned on Alex that the room had gone quiet and that everyone was staring at the two of them, he sat down again. The tension in the room dissipated, but the other diners began to whisper back and forth. To his surprise, Skinner did not sit but slowly approached his table and raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Alex shrugged and Skinner sat down.
The two men silently regarded each other for a few minutes. At length, Alex leaned forward and said quietly but with steel, "Look. I don't know why you're here, but I'm not leaving. I've been thinking about dinner for hours and I intend to eat. And I'm not going to fight with you, Skinner. Not here, not anywhere. If you can't stand being in my presence, then you can get the hell out. I live here."
Skinner stared gravely at him and nodded. He said briefly, "I understand. If you tell me to leave, I will."
Alex blinked. He looked into the other man's serious face for a few seconds before he tentatively nodded once and sat further back in his chair.
Aware that they were being observed by several very curious townspeople, Alex kept his eyes blank as he catalogued the changes in the man sitting across the table. Even approaching his mid-fifties, Skinner was still buff, his body strong and appealing. Alex had already noted the broad shoulders and hard pecs under the cotton knit shirt, the nearly flat belly and the narrow hips in well-fitting jeans. But up close there was leanness in the man's face that spoke of stress or sleeplessness. The fringe of hair around his naked scalp was almost completely gray, and he wasn't wearing his glasses. Skinner was both the same and different.
Skinner returned the scrutiny and saw that Alex looked different than he had before. The kid must be in his mid-forties by now, but even so he was still a handsome man. The dark brown hair was tinged with gray above the temples. There were fine lines around his mouth and at the outside corners of his eyes. He was heavier, but the younger man had stayed fit, that much was very obvious. Skinner remembered the strong shoulders, the firm thighs and tight ass. What little skin he could see was tanned, except for the left arm. The left arm was a noticeably paler shade of golden brown. Skinner tried not to stare at it, but his eyes were drawn there all the same.
There was something else that was different. Alex seemed... relaxed—not as tightly wound as he had been before—and those magnetic green eyes had sparkled with genuine laughter just a moment ago. Now they were as expressionless as Skinner had ever seen them. Alex had changed both a great deal and not at all.
Across the room, Henry and the other two old cowboys rose to leave. They all hesitated when they saw that the two men at the back of the room were still silently measuring each other. Henry motioned for the others to stay put, and he walked over to Alex's table.
"This an old friend uh yours, Beady?" the old man asked seriously.
Alex glanced at Skinner, then he visibly relaxed and responded, "As a matter of fact... Henry, allow me to introduce you to Walter Skinner. Mr. Skinner recently retired as Assistant Director of the FBI. Skinner, this is Henry Britt, my neighbor."
Skinner seemed to gather himself and stood, every bit the dynamic man Alex remembered. Offering his hand to Henry Britt, he said cordially, "Mr. Britt, it's a pleasure to meet you. I don't need to tell you how surprised I was to see Krycek a moment ago. It's been several years since we last met."
"Well, ya know, we kinda guessed that. Pleased to meet ya. Have a nice dinner." He turned to Alex and said sternly, "Beady, you holler now."
"Thanks, Henry. It's really okay." Alex smiled at the man, who seemed to make a decision at that. He unsmilingly nodded once at Skinner and headed over to meet his friends.
A waitress came over to take their order as Skinner sat and stared in Alex's direction. Asked what he would like to have, he shrugged. Alex ordered for both of them.
"I'll have the green enchilada plate, he'll have the regular combo dinner. And bring a couple bottles of Tecate."
The waitress left, but quickly returned with two cold bottles of Tecate. As soon as they were alone again, Skinner took a long pull on the beer. He hadn't expected this meeting tonight. He had planned to find a telephone number or another way to make contact, but he had never expected a face-to-face meeting this soon.
The cold drink seemed to brace him, and his eyes focused on Alex's face. After a moment, he took a deep breath and twitched a little smile.
"Last time I saw you, you were dead."
Well, fuck. Mulder said they had told Skinner... No, Mulder had told him. Alex remembered Mulder telling him about it. Evidently, the big man was still finding it hard to believe. Alex sat forward and caught Skinner's eyes with his own.
"Skinner. I'm alive."
The big man sighed, releasing the tension he had been holding in, and he rubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah, I knew that. But it's weird actually seeing you, Krycek." He picked up the bottle of Tecate and took another long pull on the beer, leaning back in his chair.
Alex sipped his own beer and watched the other man carefully. After a few minutes of silence, Skinner looked up and said, "Beady? What's that about?"
Alex eased back now that Skinner seemed to have relaxed. His eyes reflected some humor as he explained. "Henry doesn't like my name. Alex is his granddaughter's name, and Krycek is just too Russian. Henry says he can't pronounce it and he doesn't trust 'Rooskies' anyway. So he gave me a nickname. Said my eyes were beady. Like a gunslinger."
"Pretty astute old guy. He seems to like you."
"Yeah." He cocked an eyebrow at his unexpected dinner companion. "They've kind of adopted me around here. The way we greeted each other tonight, they'll be suspicious of you until you prove something one way or the other."
Skinner nodded and took another pull on his Tecate. "Small towns everywhere are the same, I guess."
Alex noticed that the big man was now staring at his left arm. Skinner noticed that Alex had caught the stare. For a moment Alex silently dared the man to comment.
Holding the green eyes with his brown ones, Skinner said, "I heard you got your arm back."
Alex unblinkingly held the stare. "I heard you got rid of the nanos."
Skinner nodded curtly. "Doesn't make up for having had them any more than your having a new arm makes up for having had the first one cut off."
For a moment, still eye to eye, neither man made a move. Then Alex slowly lifted his left hand and flexed the fingers, grinning. He sat back and lifted his bottle toward Skinner in a toast.
"Comes real close, though."
Skinner's face cracked into a grin, and he raised his own bottle in response. "Yeah."
Skinner drained the bottle as the waitress arrived with dinner and more beer. The hungry men tucked into the spicy and delicious meal, and for several minutes neither man even thought of trying to continue the conversation. After the first edge of hunger had been blunted, Alex glanced across the table and asked, "So, what are you doing in Marfa?"
Skinner answered without looking up from his chile relleno, "Scully couldn't make the Outlook tomorrow night, so Mulder asked if I wanted to come." He paused and looked up into Alex's face. "And I'd heard you lived near Marfa. I was going to try to see you while I was here. I..." He looked at his plate and started to cut into a red enchilada. "Well, anyway. I'm staying in Ft. Davis. I was supposed to meet Mulder here for dinner."
Alex looked up from his plate and snorted. "He ditched you."
"He ditched me," acknowledged Skinner with a rueful grin. "I take it that Mulder is being led on a wild ghost chase by a local prankster. Care to tell me what was so funny while ago?"
Alex wiped his mouth with a paper napkin and took a sip of beer. "Well, it seems that Mulder has hired a local to take him out to see the Marfa Lights. It figures he'd find out about them and have to see them himself. Thing is, you can just follow the roadside signs and find the place all by yourself. For free. There's a historical marker at the viewing site, for crying out loud. According to Henry, Mulder decided that only a local guide could show him the real way to get close. So Armando Salas, a Mexican-American who grew up out here and has known all about the Lights practically since he was born, has agreed to guide him to the site from the desert side. He told Mulder they might be out all night."
Skinner's eyes gleamed appreciatively, "Playing a little joke on the tourist? Your neighbor said Armando Salas' English is pretty bad. What if they run into trouble?"
"Relax. Armando is actually Dr. Armando Salas, and he teaches English Lit. at Sul Ross State University in Alpine. I think they'll be fine. Unless Mulder kills the guy when he finds out it's a joke."
"He won't. Mulder is more able to laugh at himself these days." Skinner leaned back in his chair and sipped his beer. "If anybody came out of this mess a better man, it may be Mulder."
Alex snickered. "Yeah, but he was pretty fucked up when the whole thing started."
"True." Skinner smiled.
By the time their plates were empty, the two men had become better accustomed to each other's company. There was still some wariness, but both men were conscious that each of them was making an effort toward peace between them.
And the hair on the back of Alex's neck, as well as a sudden heaviness between his legs, was reminding him of just how much he had wanted this man. If possible, the years had only intensified the desire. Back then it had been lust at first sight. Now lust was combined with admiration and respect. Dangerous.
Looking up through his lashes, Alex struggled for control as he watched Skinner finish the last of his beer. The big man raised the drink to his lips and ran his tongue over the mouth of the bottle before he took the last long, slow pull. His lower lip glistened with moisture when he lowered the bottle from his mouth, and as he licked the last of the taste from his lips with a swipe of his tongue, he glanced across the table and caught Alex watching him.
Jesus. The heat in those glittering green eyes caused Skinner to flush and to shift uncomfortably as his jeans grew suddenly too tight. He remembered that heat, the promise in those eyes. He had never felt anything like it before or since the day he had first laid eyes on Alex Krycek. Why the fuck had he waited all this time to see this man?
Skinner lowered his eyes as Alex raised his. Well, it seemed that the cat was out of the bag on both sides of the table.
It was not really news to either man. Sparks had always flown when they had been in the same room. Always. It had been easy to dismiss the intensity of their emotions as hatred for a while. But now...
The other patrons had finished their meals and had left the restaurant, and the room was now clear of everyone but Alex, Skinner and the staff. The waitress came back to clear the table and present the check and both men ordered coffee, each hesitant to end the evening. As the two men slowly sipped their coffee, Skinner asked, "Will you be at the observatory tomorrow night?"
"No. I don't really have that much to do with the project anymore. When Dr. Kreljik comes in from Vilnius, they call me to come translate. But other than that, I stay out of the way."
Skinner nodded and was silent. Alex found himself struggling for words, for a topic that would keep Skinner interested enough to stay for a few more minutes. But he'd never been one to make small talk, and he knew Skinner wouldn't appreciate the bullshit. Maybe it was too late for anything to happen between the two of them anyway. Maybe they had missed their chance.
Alex sighed and raked a hand through his hair. Skinner looked up from his coffee and caught the frustration on his dinner companion's face. He took a chance that he knew what that sigh meant.
"We have a lot to get past, don't we?"
Startled, Alex looked up into Skinner's face. "Yes."
"Is there some place we can go to talk?"
Skinner watched the light in the green eyes fade until there was no color left in them. Beady, that's what they called him here. Yeah, it fit. There was nothing now to be seen in those eyes, and there was suddenly a lot of empty space around Krycek.
The voice was lifeless, too, as Alex said, "Why? Do you really want to dredge up all the shit we've been ignoring for the past couple of years? I told you I wasn't going to fight with you. Anything you want to say to me you can say here, now."
The older man took in the blank eyes and the protective buffer Krycek had retreated behind. He hoped he knew what that meant.
"Maybe I want a little more privacy for that. Maybe I have a lot more on my mind than ancient history." Skinner tipped his head at the staff. "They seem to be ready to close up. We have to go some place anyway."
The ex-assassin gave no sign that he had even heard what the other man said. His expressionless eyes were focused on Skinner's face, and the big man could see no yielding. At length, Skinner leaned forward across the table and whispered one word.
"Please."
Surprise drove the emptiness from the green eyes. Alex watched the older man for a long minute.
Finally, he took a deep breath and blew it out before he said, "There aren't any quiet little bars around here, and my place isn't exactly around the corner." He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "But if you don't think it's too cold out, I know a place where we won't be disturbed. You can come with me in the truck if you want."
"Okay."
They walked outside together and stood in the clear night air. The night had cooled considerably, but Alex didn't really need his jacket. Skinner seemed to be comfortable in his long sleeved knit shirt. Only the streetlights illuminated the area. Behind them they heard the door of the restaurant being locked. There were no other people in sight and very few cars still moving through town.
"We're going to be outside, Skinner. Do you want more beer or coffee?"
"Make it coffee. I've had a long day, and I still have to get back to Ft. Davis tonight."
Fifteen minutes later, Alex pulled the pickup off the road onto a salt flat. He drove far enough onto the flat that they would not see the traffic on the road, even though there was little traffic at all. The hard earth bore the weight of the truck almost as well as the highway; the pickup left almost no track across the land. Alex parked the truck but left the headlights on. He immediately walked to the clumps of mesquite standing nearby and began to gather dry wood to build a fire. Skinner saw what Alex intended to do and began to hunt for rocks big enough to form a ring.
As he searched, the big man breathed deeply, sucking in the cool, clear, dry air. It had been a long time since he'd built a fire under the stars. He had forgotten how good it felt, how much fun it was.
When the fire was burning brightly, Alex went to the truck to turn off the headlights and returned with a blanket and a small wooden box he kept behind the seat. In it were a small rack, a couple gallons of water, a can of coffee and a camp coffee pot. He also brought out one heavy plastic mug and the thick lid of a thermos to use for the second cup. Silently, he put the coffee on to boil. Then he sat back on the upturned crate and looked at Skinner expectantly.
The big man sat on the blanket near the fire, feeling the warmth and enjoying the smell of the fragrant wood. He braced himself and looked directly across the fire at Alex, noting the blankness of the eyes, the distance he maintained. Hell, he probably still carried that knife in his boot. Realizing he was stalling, Skinner cleared his throat.
"You bought a place near here, didn't you? Does that mean you like living out here?"
So, Skinner was going to try for the rapport they'd enjoyed over dinner before hitting him with the hard stuff. Oh, hell. Why not? It wasn't as if he wanted Skinner to leave.
Alex reached for a stick and began to poke at the fire while he considered his response. "I really do. It's quiet, not many people out here. Most of them are characters like Henry, though, which keeps life interesting. I have a ranch that Henry manages for me, but he's teaching me a lot as we go. The outdoor life is good, and I have my computer to keep me in the loop with other things."
"Sounds pretty lonely."
"I'm not afraid of being alone, Skinner."
He waited for the other man's acknowledging nod before he continued, "But the fact is, I'm not alone. I have neighbors who are friendly, who watch out for me—which used to make me laugh until I realized how nice it was to have somebody care about me. When I want other company, I go over to Alpine. There's a small gay community over there—artists and writers, mostly. Interesting conversation. Beau and Grady are good about feeding me every once in a while now that they know I don't poach."
"What about sex?"
Alex snorted and shook his head. "You first."
Skinner shrugged. "Sex? Same as always. Quick pickups or Rosie Palm. I've been in Austin for a couple of years now, teaching. There are a few clubs I enjoy every now and then. I don't have to be as circumspect as I used to be."
Without looking up, Alex offered, "I go to San Antonio every once in a while. Sometimes I drive down to Mexico. It's closer."
Silence descended, and both men stared at the fire for several minutes. The coffee had begun to boil and was starting to hiss and pop. The noise was loud in their ears. Pleasantries exhausted, Skinner caught Alex's green eyes and held them as he began.
"I hated you, Krycek."
Alex dropped his eyes, shook his head and stabbed at the fire. "That's not exactly news, Skinner. Don't tell me that's been eating at you all this time."
"You don't understand. I truly hated you."
Alex looked up and found nothing to say. He knew Skinner had reason to feel that way. He forced himself to keep his eyes on the big man and to let them reveal nothing of the bitterness he was feeling.
In a very low voice, he said, "I know. You have no reason to believe me, but I'll tell you anyway. I was trying to find my way out. I thought I was doing what I had to do."
Alex watched Skinner, whose eyes were focused on the fire. Without his glasses, the big man seemed more vulnerable. The pain in his eyes was visible, as though the hatred he had felt had hurt only himself. Alex turned that thought in his mind and waited.
In a moment, Skinner said firmly, "After everything came down, I finally figured out that you weren't to blame. And I know that if I had been more open and if you had been able to trust me in the beginning..."
"You would have been dead sooner and more permanently," Alex cut in brutally. "So would I. Ultimately, so would a lot of other people. That's a non-issue."
Skinner looked up and straight into the green eyes. While he thought about that, Alex reached for the coffee pot using an old shirt he'd kept in the box. He lifted the lid, poured cold water into the boiling liquid and waited for the grounds to sink. Then he poured two cups of the strong brew and set one in front of Skinner. He sat back on his heels and watched Skinner's face as he fought with himself.
Across the fire, Alex said, "Let that one go, Skinner. I can carry my own mistakes. I do."
Skinner remembered Mulder telling him about Krycek's nightmares. The scars. The bizarre history of his "training" by the Consortium. And he realized that anyone the assassin had held a real grudge against had already been permanently removed from the land of the living. If Krycek said he had no problem with Skinner's actions at the time he spoke of, he meant it. Skinner looked up and nodded.
Alex was glad for a moment that he did not have the over-developed code of honor that Skinner had. If he had been obsessing over that for several years, the man must not get much sleep. Still, it had taken courage to bring it out, to expose himself that way.
After a few moments, Skinner reached for the plastic cup and took a tentative sip. The coffee tasted marvelous. Hot and strong and somehow different. He braced himself and looked up into the green eyes glowing at him from across the fire.
"What else?" Alex asked, knowing what was coming. He watched the older man try for an easier way to say what was on his mind, but the emotion behind it was too heavy.
Skinner's face was a mask as he said harshly, "You controlled me. You killed me."
He had been expecting this, but it was still hard. "Yes."
Alex dropped his eyes, but his voice was steady and clear. "I didn't want to do it, but I did it. I know bringing you back doesn't make up for that."
Skinner then averted his own eyes and remained quiet for several minutes. Then he said firmly, "I killed you, and I wanted to kill you. Knowing what I know now, I know I was wrong. But I murdered you. And the fact that I shot a clone and not really you doesn't make up for that either."
The only sound for several moments was the crackling of the fire as it settled and began to burn out. Tentatively, each man looked into the other's face. For a moment they searched each other's eyes for signs of the old hatred. Each saw only acknowledgment and acceptance.
Then Skinner's lips twitched as he saw a gleam come to Alex's eyes. Together they said, "Comes real close though."
The tension eased and the two men relaxed in their places on either side of the fire. Alex reached for the coffee pot and warmed each of the two cups, wondering where the conversation would go now that the main issue had been disposed of so easily. He tried to push down the hope that was rising in him, the hope that maybe they hadn't missed their chance after all.
When he looked up, Skinner had sobered again and was watching Alex carefully.
So there was more. And judging from the man's demeanor, Skinner was expecting this one to be the worst. Alex searched his memory for anything else that could possibly screw this up. He came up blank.
"What is it?"
Skinner put his coffee cup on the ground and braced his hands on his knees. He took a deep breath and blew it out. Then he said, softly, "I fucked Mulder."
Alex felt the words hit him like a blow to his midsection. He lifted his chin and met the brown eyes with his own. Skinner held the glare unflinchingly and waited for Alex to react.
It was then that Alex realized that, somehow, Skinner had known that would hurt him. This was important to Alex, and Skinner knew it. He was apologizing as if he owed Alex this explanation.
As if he'd been unfaithful.
Well, fuck. He had to admit it felt like Skinner had been unfaithful. The two of them had never even touched each other in anything but anger. And yet there had always been something more...
Alex raked a hand through his hair and looked away from the man staring somberly at him from across the fire. Skinner had admitted he'd fucked Mulder. Alex sighed and said softly, "So did I."
There was no answer from the other man. Alex looked up. "You knew that I let him fuck me?"
The big man again held the green eyes with his own. "Yes, and I also know that it happened while you were still under Spender's thumb. I know it didn't happen again after you went rogue and that it didn't mean a damn thing to either one of you."
Alex fought hard to keep the astonishment off his face. He reached for his stick and began to poke at the fire. If Skinner would cut himself the same slack he was giving Alex, they might still get through this.
"You're right. He was never my choice. He became an ally, and I learned to trust him a little. But he was never my choice."
Alex almost asked if the other man's affair with Mulder had meant anything to him, but he wasn't sure he wanted to know.
Skinner watched carefully from across the fire. As if in answer to the unspoken question, he said, "It only happened once, and it didn't mean anything to Mulder. It was just sex to him. And I... I just wanted him to be you."
Skinner's voice faded to nothing. He rose and stood staring, stone-faced, away from the fire and across the salt flat. The fire crackled and popped in the silence.
When he heard Alex's reply, it came softly but firmly.
"Then we're even on that, too."
Skinner's let out the breath he had been holding as Alex rose and went to stand beside the silent man. Shoulder to shoulder they stared across the flat, knowing this was the important moment. Each was waiting, trying to think of something elegant and meaningful to say to cement an understanding between them. It should have been easier to say these words than it had been to deal with all the other crap they had tonight.
Nope. Guess not. Alex was very aware of the large body standing beside him. He wanted nothing more than to tackle the man and fuck him into the ground. Meaningful, maybe. Not very elegant. Think of something else.
For his own part, Skinner was trying to restrain himself from grabbing the younger man and seeing if the boy was limber enough for all the wild monkey sex he'd been dreaming about recently. Okay, maybe later.
The silence drew out longer. Alex's lip began to twitch as he tried out some phrases in his mind. Christ. He wasn't any good at this stuff. He noticed that Skinner was blankly staring at the ground with a wry smile on his lips. He guessed Skinner wasn't any better at it than he was.
"Skinner."
"Yeah?"
"We through talking?"
"God, I hope so."
Skinner turned and jerked Alex into his arms, crushing the willing mouth below his in a demanding kiss. Alex, meeting the desire head on, returned the kiss with equal passion, his hands gripping his lover's shoulders hard enough to bruise. Gripping the slighter body to him with a punishing grip on the man's ass, Skinner began to walk Alex backwards toward the blanket beside the dying fire.
With a growl, Alex shifted his weight and dragged the large man down to the ground with him. Both men retained just enough sense to control their fall onto the thin blanket.
"Christ, Alex!"
Alex stripped his jacket off quickly, reaching for Skinner's belt as the big man began to tear at Alex's shirt. Giving up on finding the fine motor skills necessary to unfasten the buttons, the big man simply ripped the shirt open, pushed the cotton off the muscled shoulders and for the first time touched the golden skin. He felt the cool air hit his own stomach as Alex pulled his shirt out of his jeans and hurriedly lowered the zipper.
Skinner surged upwards and rolled Alex onto his back, groping for the waistband of Alex's jeans. Suddenly, somehow, two pair of jeans were open and loose. And two hard and aching cocks were free and straining toward each other. As he jackknifed up hungrily seeking his lover's mouth, Alex reached between them to wrap his hand around both shafts.
At the first touch, a bolt of electricity seemed to shoot down Alex's spine. He stiffened and shivered, meeting Skinner's heated gaze and hearing him gasp for breath as if he, too, felt the sparks. Skinner reached down to wrap his own large hand around Alex's where it gripped their two weeping cocks and began to pump.
Their mouths met and welded to each other. A few harsh strokes and both men came hard, each screaming his completion into the mouth of his lover.
Skinner lowered his head to rest on Alex's naked chest and strained to catch his breath. He licked at the brown nipple near his mouth and promised himself a nice long session of tasting Alex. He raised his head to look at his lover's face.
Alex, smiling into the brown eyes, twined his come-covered hand with Skinner's and raised them both to his mouth, cleaning their combined fluids from fingers and palms.
The big man groaned at the sight and leaned up to help with the cleaning, tasting his lover for the first time. When the last drop was gone, he cupped Alex's jaw in one hand and pushed himself up to take the reddened mouth in a rough caress, his tongue reaching for the last taste of their love.
Alex felt the devastating sweetness of the rough kiss, groaning in spite of himself as he felt his cock twitch with renewed interest.
"Walter."
Walter pulled back and looked down on his lover, taking in the glittering green eyes and the smooth skin, bathed in a pale silvery light. He ran a possessive hand through the dark hair, down the neck and across the strong shoulder and chest. Touching was so much more than his dreams had promised.
"Alex."
The younger man reached up to cup Walter's cheek, arresting the roving eyes with his own. "Walter, the ground feels like cement and the fire's gone out."
"Yes, I know. So?"
Alex pushed himself away from Walter's grasp and sat up, refastening his jeans and pulling the remains of his shirt around his body.
Walter was suddenly very unsure of himself. He, too, zipped and straightened, then sat silently on the cold ground waiting for Alex to speak.
Not meeting the other man's eyes, Alex said, "So, I thought we might..." Walter was amazed to see a tremor shake the strong hands as they tugged at the shirt. "I was thinking we... that you... Well, fuck."
As Alex, frustrated, rose to stand, Walter rose with him and pulled him into his arms. He clamped Alex to him with one hand in the small of the man's back and the other hand buried in the dark hair. Alex clutched fistfuls of the back of Skinner's shirt as he returned the pressure, holding the other man to him even as he was held.
"Just say it, Alex. Its okay." Hesitantly, he continued. "I guess I never really expected you to... well, you know."
Alex stilled, but made no move to release himself from Walter's embrace. After a moment he said, "Look, I've never had a home to take someone to before, so I don't know how this works. But I want to take you there. Just tell me before we go that I won't be fouling my nest, okay?"
Eyes closing in relief, Walter, rubbed his face against the dark head and whispered, "This wasn't a one time fuck for me. I want you, Alex. For as long as you'll have me."
Walter waited in the silence.
Finally, Alex asked, "Can you ride?"
Surprised by the question, Walter snorted. He felt Alex grin against his chest. "I mean ride a horse. Asshole."
"Yes, Alex. I can ride a horse." He dropped a kiss on the dark head. "And I have a few rope tricks that just might amaze you."
Alex pulled back and grinned up into Walter's face. "You'll have to prove that. Lets get out of here."
Swiftly and silently, the two men poured the remaining coffee on the embers of the fire and chipped enough of the hard earth to bury it. As Alex packed the crate, Walter stepped away from the cold campsite and stood staring across the flat land. He had been too preoccupied to see it until now, but the ground near his feet was sparkling with silver stars.
"Alex, what is this?"
"Salt. It reflects the starlight. You should look up, Walt."
Walter looked up into the night sky, feeling his eyes widen in wonder. Stars. Not just a few tiny pecks of light twinkling far away up in the darkness, but hundreds, perhaps thousands, of big bright diamonds crowding the sky. Walter felt his lover come stand behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him back into the warmth of his chest. The big man folded his own arms on top of Alex's and pulled them tighter to him as he gazed out over the salt flat beneath the hills.
With no city lights to dim them and no smog or cloud to mask them, the stars and the fingernail sliver of the moon became the most beautiful sight Walter had ever seen. Alex shifted his feet, directing Walter to turn a bit. When he faced the new direction, Walter saw the Milky Way. No little wisp of blurry white, but a giant river of milk in the sky. As far as he could see, the stars surrounded them and fell all the way to the horizon. He felt as if he and Alex were standing inside a snow dome.
"Christ, Alex, who needs an observatory out here?"
"You can even see satellites moving around up there without using a telescope. I don't think you'll mind missing the Outlook tomorrow night." Alex pulled away and tugged at Walter's hand.
"Come on, we'll leave a note for Mulder on your car at Rita's."
Walter, a little slow to follow because he was still gazing upwards, stumbled behind his lover until Alex turned back and planted a quick kiss on his lips.
"Walter. We can move the mattress outside if you want, but let's go home!"
He leaned in for another kiss, this one leaving no doubt about his reason for haste.
This time they made it to the truck, to the highway, and home by the light of the western stars.
he West Texas sun was blazing its way down behind Cathedral Peak. The thin clouds above it reflected the sun's gaudy colors—gold, red and orange—haphazardly slashing long bright streaks on the clear blue of the sky. At this time of day, even the muted browns and greens of the dry hills below the peak took on a reddish glow. Darkness was not imminent; the half-light would last, colors shifting and mutating, for another couple of hours. But from where he sat on the plain below the hills, Alex knew that the sunset had reached its spectacular height.
