We all get hurt by love
And we all have a cross to bear
But in the name of understanding now
The problems should be shared
Confide in me

Kylie Minogue—Confide in me

I feel numb as I lift the glass to my lips and take a first sip of scotch. A choking coldness seems to have settled in my chest and makes breathing hard. I can only hope that the scotch will help. It hurts, my lungs feel too small and it's hard to swallow. I lift the glass for another swallow and notice that my hands are shaking. That surprises me. A deep breath and more scotch do not stop the shaking of my hands or the choking coldness I feel. The glass ends up against the wall. Even that doesn't help.

Damn Krycek. Damn the little ratbastard. Just damn him.

Cursing is all I can do right now, but if he were here I would love to smash that beautiful face to pulp, slowly. I need another drink and since my hands are still shaking too much, I just drink from the bottle. The bite of the scotch finally helps a little but I still take the bottle with me when I settle on the couch.

I have expected him to show up since that day in the hospital where I'd almost...no, where I did die and then came back. I still can't really face the fact that I died, that he killed me and then pulled me back. I saw him standing there and knew that it was Krycek. Just as I knew that it was only a question of time before he would come for me.

Before that, when I'd talked with Scully I hadn't recognised him. There was something extremely familiar about the man who had followed me, the way he moved but I couldn't really place it. However, in that moment when I saw the man watching me so intently, it finally made sense and I knew who he was. Just like he knew that I'd recognized him.

Mulder and Scully had done good work, as usual, and the surveillance pictures only confirmed what I already knew. One look at that figure and I had my confirmation. The hair and the slouch fooled me at first, but the way he held his head was a dead giveaway, at least to me. I did wonder if they believed me when I claimed that I didn't recognize the man. Maybe they did, but I doubt it. Mulder rarely forgets anything and Scully, too, has a very good memory. I'm sure that they at least have an idea or a suspicion about who might be behind all this. But they kept silent.

After I was released from the hospital I was reduced to waiting for his next move. Trying to figure out what his agenda might be was almost impossible; I'd never before had any luck with that. He's always been an enigma to me. Tangible and present one moment, elusive and unpredictable the next one.

There was nothing I could do and I hated it, still do. I knew that sooner or later Krycek would come to me. I didn't think that it would take him this long to make his move.

I sink deeper into the couch-cushions and take another swallow. Alex Krycek. I didn't get a good look at him when he sat in my car, and before that he had hidden his face behind all that hair and beard. But he sounded good, his voice still low and husky and so damned arousing.

His voice had had that effect right from the very beginning. I still remember the first day I met him in my office. Just another junior agent but when I saw him and heard that husky voice he became something very special. Another sip of scotch and I shake my head. I'm turning into a maudlin old man.

My thoughts return to Krycek. At first I think it was merely lust and my own loneliness. Even though I was married to Sharon at that time and we still lived together, we hadn't really been together for a long time. We were two people who lived in the same house but led separate lives. I buried myself in my work, trying to forget the emptiness inside by focusing on the mundane details of my work while she did her things. We rarely talked about anything beyond the bare essentials, and when we tried to talk about more the conversation invariably ended in a fight.

It was during this empty and lonely time that I met junior agent Alex Krycek. He was one of those squeaky-clean young agents that seem to come from Quantico every year. Young, that had been my first impression, way too young and too innocent. And far too pretty, maybe even beautiful, though that isn't a word often used to describe men. He is beautiful, there's no denying that, and I wasn't the only one to notice it back then. Even with those ill-fitting suites he had a certain grace about him and a face that would make his job very hard. People would resent him because of his looks.

He stood there, attentively listening to the prep-talk that I give all new agents and when he noticed that I was watching him, smiled at me. And in that moment I wanted him, pure and simple. Of course it didn't stay that simple. It never does.

I'd been attracted to men before. In Vietnam I learned to deal with the fact that I'm basically bisexual, a buddy so often was a better choice than the local whores. After I married Sharon I stayed faithful to her, even while our marriage slowly fell apart. My work had always been her greatest rival. I'd found other male agents attractive, Mulder among them, but none had ever been as tempting as Alex Krycek.

I knew that it would be sheer stupidity to get involved with another agent, especially a subordinate. I had known that all too well and the more time I spend with Alex the less I cared. He seduced me, or maybe I should say I let him seduce me. Even at that time I wondered what he saw in me—balding, middle-aged and nothing special. Nothing like Mulder who became Krycek's partner and who seemed interested in his younger partner after Krycek had proven himself. Alex however came to me and it wasn't only sex, he forced me to live again. Dragged me to the museum, the zoo, to the movies and whatever else took his fancy. For the first time in too long I remembered what it felt like to be in love and to live again. But it didn't last.

After Scully's abduction he came to me. Hurting. Afraid. Told me as much as he could and there was little I could do to help him; much as I wanted to. I was angry but still too much in love with him to reject him. And I knew our smoking nemesis. There wasn't much I could do against him. I was already on his bad list by trying to protect Mulder and Scully.

Of course, there were moments where I feared that this all had been an elaborate setup to get to me, and I only wondered when the incriminating pictures would appear. So far they haven't so I cling to the hope that what Alex claims to feel is genuine. Or was genuine. I don't know what I should think now.

Things continued that way. He came when he could, always hungry for my embrace, always very unwilling to talk about what was going on. Then that unpleasant encounter in the staircase. He disappeared after that and the only signs of his continued existence were a few postcards from different places around the globe and the occasional e-mail. I don't know what angered me more; that he hit me, or that I couldn't talk to him. Even then I wanted him.

I learned from Mulder that Alex was back in the States and that he'd been in Hong Kong. At the first possible occasion I even drove to that silo and sneaked in to see if he was there, but it was empty and he was gone. When I got back home I found him on my couch, signs of exhaustion and stress still very visible. He stayed for a few days, rarely talking while I tried to make sure that he ate and slept enough. His nightmares gave me a basic idea of what had happened. I only learned that the smoking bastard had wanted to kill him and that he'd barely escaped. And that Alex wanted to take the smoker down. I wanted to tell him to work with us, to do this the right way but I knew that he might have more success than Mulder ever would have, so I didn't ask. The FBI was full of consortium-supporters and by that time the smoker was already putting more and more pressure on me.

After that he rarely stayed for longer than a night and sex took precedence then. He seemed starved for human contact and I wasn't in a position to deny him. Despite everything, I still wanted him. And even if I didn't agree with his methods, I understood what he was doing and why. Although there were also moments when I wondered if I wasn't deluding myself.

The receipts to Mulder didn't surprise me, but I was somewhat surprised when Mulder appeared with Krycek at my apartment. I chained him up on the balcony, but only until Mulder was gone, then I took him upstairs, first to a hot bath and then to my bed. He refused to tell me what was going on, only hinting about a few things involving aliens and a possible way to fight against them.

I wasn't very happy when Mulder dragged Krycek all the way to Russia. I didn't hear from him for months and became more and more worried. Mulder's report hadn't put my fears to rest and I could only imagine what Alex was going through. He came back but things had changed. The loss of his arm and the obvious pain and exhaustion were only the most visible signs, he had become even harder, more cynical and more willing to do whatever it took to achieve his goals. And he talked even less about what was going on if that was possible.

Of course I learned about the whole issue with the black oil and the vaccine. Scully is meticulous where her reports are concerned and though Mulder's read more like a Science Fiction novel they are still very concise and informative. I saw him more often after that, guess he was spending more time in the States then, instead of travelling around a lot. He got better, gained some of the lost weight back and learned to deal with the lost arm. And he still came to me, at first unsure about his welcome, defensive and pushy, but he was back in my life and my bed. I welcomed him in both; hating myself for dealing with a man I knew was a killer and used people without a second thought, yet still enamoured with the man I saw glimpses of behind that cold mask.

And now this. I still can't believe that he killed me. I take another swallow of scotch. He killed me, that's something I still can't grasp. I was always aware of the fact that Alex would use me just like he used Mulder and to a slight extent Scully. He would have been a fool if he hadn't but I never thought that he would go so far as to actually kill me. Granted, he pulled me back but he was willing to go to the end. Guess I was still naïve enough to believe that what we had together was something special, something that would make him hesitate to hurt me.

I'm still not entirely sure what exactly he's trying to achieve. Blackmail? By now he should have enough material together to ruin my life completely. Control? For what purpose? I was never much in a position where I could do anything against Krycek. Unless I was willing to betray not only him, but myself.

So, why kill me? I take another drink and still can't come up with a solution but I'm not longer feeling that cold but more mellow and warm. The scotch is working its magic.

Life goes on. It's a cliché but also a fact. I continue to go to work, deal with Mulder and all my other agents, go to the gym and try not to think about what else might be going on. The anticipation is still there and there are times when I almost jump at shadows, expecting Krycek to appear and attack me again. Just as there are moments when I'm reminded of him as he was when we were lovers. I want my lover back.

It's Friday again and I try to think of things to do or to take with me so that I have something to keep me occupied over the weekend. Weekends are the hardest. Too much time to think and not much to distract myself. For the first time in too long I'm finally up to date with all the paperwork. It's better to keep busy.

The apartment is dark when I open the door. No surprise there. Dark and empty like it always is these days. I go into the living room, ignoring the lights for the moment and move towards the stairs. That's when I notice that the apartment isn't as empty as I'd thought. There's a shadow seated in one of the chairs near the window, the outline very familiar.

I hesitate for a moment and then move to turn on the lamp on one the table next to the couch. "Krycek."

I take a moment to study him. He looks good. Healthy and well nourished. And still so damn beautiful. Men shouldn't be beautiful, but he is. I've seen him in his various stages, from sweet green agent to junior tough in jeans and leather to senior tough still in jeans and leather but with a far harder edge, and now I have the somewhat more sophisticated version of the senior tough in my apartment. Dressed all in black, lean and sharp like a dark knife.

I drop my suitcase and coat on the couch and sit down. He watches me with a relaxed wariness. I want to kill him. Almost as much as I want to kiss him.

"What do you want, Krycek?"

He has that inscrutable look on his face that makes me grind my teeth and then only shrugs slightly. "Just wanted to make sure that you're okay."

That callous comment brings the anger back, full force. "All of a sudden? Spare me the sentiments, Krycek. What do you want?"

For a long moment he's silent, clearly thinking about what to tell and what not. "This isn't about what I want. This hasn't been about what I want for years, Skinner."

"No?" I can't keep my sarcasm in check. "You infect me with nanocytes, kill me and then bring me back. Three weeks later you appear in my car and make some ominous threats. Now you're here and I want some answers, Krycek."

"Answers?" A bitter laugh accompanies the word and Krycek stands up, moving closer. I have to force myself not to move when he comes closer. He smells of leather, soap and the faint hint of an expensive aftershave. A familiar scent that my cock likes a lot and I try to fight the first stirrings of arousal. It would be too easy to just forgive him, go to bed, have sex and wait for the next time.

"Answers?" He shakes his head. "What answers? To which questions? Do aliens exist? Is Mulder crazy? Would you prefer to be dead, Walter?"

He moves back to the chair and perches on the armrest, his gaze intent on my face while I try to think of anything to say. Krycek smiles ruefully. "There are no easy answers, Walt." Suddenly he looks tired and defeated. "I was sent to kill you. Permanently."

That statement stuns me and for a long moment I don't know what to say. I should be dead then, shouldn't I? It would have been so easy for him to just let me go, but he didn't. Why?

"Why didn't you?" I finally manage to ask.

He laughs softly, bitterly. "I couldn't. I just couldn't. It would have been wrong." He turns to look out of the window to the balcony. Is he thinking of that one time when I chained him up out there? Warming him up afterwards turned into a lot of fun for both of us. He sighs, shakes his head and looks back at me. "They were quite adamant in their demands, especially the Smoker. You've spoiled his plans once too often, and he loathes you because of it. Without you, Mulder and Scully would lose their most influential ally in the FBI, possibly their jobs."

I can only agree with that and this isn't the first time the smoker has tried to get me out of his way. There have been other attempts to remove me permanently. It took Alex Krycek, my own lover, to stage a successful attempt. In a way that's ironic. But that still doesn't explain why he brought me back.

"This wasn't the first attempt to get rid of you," he says softly.

"I know."

"No, you don't. Not all of them. Some never even got close."

I stare at him, trying hard to swallow while I try to grasp what he's hinting at. He has stopped attempts on my life? Protected me? So he does care, doesn't he?

"Why?"

"You are needed."

"The truth, Alex." I know I shouldn't press him, it shuts him up quicker than anything else, but I need to know. I need more from him than he has been willing to give so far. It reminds me of my time with Sharon. She was always asking me for more than I felt comfortable revealing. She left in the end but I don't think I could ever leave him. I don't even want to think about the possibility that he might leave me.

"I...selfish reasons. I need you. I need to know that there's a place where I can go and just..." he shrugs helplessly, falling silent.

I understand what he's left unsaid. A place where he's known, where he doesn't have to hide and where he isn't judged. We so rarely speak about all that's going on with the aliens, the consortium and everything. Most of the time we don't need to. It's easier to just be with each other. Yes, sometimes he has left me information, but we rarely speak about his role in all of this. He has also almost never spoken of his feelings for me. I can admit that I love him. Can he do the same?

I only know that he wants to stop the Consortium, just as I do. I don't approve of his methods but I understand them and sometimes even envy him his freedom.

"What next, Alex?" I curse myself for my own weakness and softening for him. "What happens now?"

"Now?" His face is again an unreadable mask. "The Smoker believes that I have you under my control. That it will be easy for me to order you around since it only takes a few seconds to kill you."

"I know that." I growl, reminded again.

"What you and no one aside from Dr. Orgel knew, is the fact that those nanocytes are only viable for two months."

Two months? I try to count backwards to the day I was infected and realize that it was exactly two months ago. Alex smiles wryly and inclines his head. "Two months, Walt. And the smoker doesn't know."

Which means that he no longer has a hold on me. No longer can threaten and control me. I no longer know what to think or feel. It's all so tangled up and mixed together. Why can't life be simple? During the war it was relatively easy, most of the time we knew who the enemy was, but now? No longer a world of black and white but endless shades of grey. And I don't know what to do with the one shade of grey that's sitting in my own living room. A part of me understands his ruthless pragmatism and even rejoices in the sacrifice he was willing to make to save me. The other part is still horrified at what happened and that he could even go through with it in the first place. I feel utterly helpless, tired and old. I don't want to fight anymore, not with him, not with anyone.

"What do you want now, Alex?" I finally ask.

"A drink would be nice. Vodka if you have it." He sounds almost flippant and for a moment I'm offended, but then I realise that he's trying to ease the tension and I'm grateful for it.

I nod and move towards the little bar. Alex rarely drinks but has a weakness for vodka, especially mixed with bitter lemon but this situation seems to call for straight liquor. I pour him some vodka and myself a scotch.

Our fingers brush briefly when Alex takes the drink. He looks up at me, his green eyes dark in the muted light and suddenly he looks young and defeated. "What do I want?"

"Yes, Alex, if it were up to you, what would you want?"

"What I've always wanted since that first day in your office. You."

Such a simple and yet complicated answer. Why can nothing about this man ever be easy?

He sprawls comfortably into the chair, long legs outstretched and relaxed. Sipping at his drink he stares up at the ceiling. His voice is low and husky when he begins to talk.

"You only have a vague idea about what we're dealing with. Even Mulder doesn't know much. His guesses are good but not even close to the whole truth. I have to be very careful with the things I can do and how I do them. One wrong word and I might disappear. Dead if I get lucky, or just another experiment for the aliens. Or even for some of the consortium scientists. There are several who would love to get their hands on me. I've survived too well for too long."

A grimace crosses his face and I know that he's remembering his possession by the oilien and maybe some of the things he saw while he dealt with the Consortium and their projects. Just how much has he seen? And what does he know? As usual more questions than answers.

Finally he sighs and shakes his head before getting up and downing the last of the vodka. "I should go." Confession time seems to be over.

When he moves past me, I reach out, my hand around the wrist of his prosthesis to stop him. The plastic feels hard and unyielding. With this move I've made a decision. I'll regret it later, but I don't want him to leave. Not now. "Stay, Alex, please."

Alex' face is unreadable but when I pull slightly he comes willingly to me, sinking to his knees between my legs. I cup his beautiful face in my hands. He looks at me silently, his eyes wide and vulnerable. I lean my forehead against his, closing my eyes. "Don't leave, Alex. Please." I hate how needy I sound.

When I open my eyes again Alex has his closed and a slight smile plays around his lips.

His eyes open, and this close, with the lamp behind me, I can see the deep green of his irises. Such fascinating eyes. He shifts slightly and kisses me, his mouth warm and sweet, tasting of vodka and chocolate. I take my time exploring his mouth, leisurely and thoroughly. Alex kisses me back with the same care and reverence I show him.

Leaning back on the couch I pull him with me, until he straddles my lap. I need more contact, need to feel him, touch him. Wrapping my arms around him, my hands move under his jacket, stroking up his back. I bury my face in the curve where his neck meets his shoulder, breathing in his scent. He smells of leather and spicy aftershave.

Alex allows me to remove his leather jacket and I hug him close, feeling him slowly relax in my embrace. Most of the tension leaves him while my hands move languidly over his back, reveling in the feel of strong muscles underneath soft cotton.

I want to stay like that for the rest of my life, holding Alex and knowing that he's safe. It's Alex who finally stirs and speaks.

"Lets go to bed, Walt."

He stands up and reaches out with his hand, pulling me up from the couch when I take his hand. Together we walk up towards my bedroom. At the top of the stairs, Alex turns to me and kisses me softly on the mouth.

"There's one truth I can tell you, Walter. I love you."

I pull him into my arms and return his kiss with growing passion. "Good, that's all I need to know for now."

He snorts at that, clearly not believing me, and pulls me into my bedroom. Pushing me in the direction of the bed, Alex quickly strips and removes his false arm. Watching him do that always takes my breath away and I swallow hard. I can't really explain why but for me it's an epitome of just how much he trusts me. He bares himself completely to me, with all his vulnerabilities and frailties. In a way it's frightening.

I pull him into my arms and kiss him again and Alex answers me with hunger, pressing himself against me. I like the feeling of him in my arms, warm, soft flesh over hard muscles and bones. I gently trace the line of his spine down to his ass and feel him shiver at the sensation.

I cup that tight, muscular ass and pull him even closer to me, feeling his erection press against mine. Somehow we manage to end up on the bed and Alex presses me down, leaning over me, kissing me deeply. Then he begins to trail kisses down my throat, sucking softly on my Adam's apple before moving lower.

Reaching out for him, I pull him back up to me, taking that wonderful mouth again. I don't want anything complicated tonight. I just want to feel him moving against me. My hands roam over his body, feeling smooth skin and the scars that cover him, most of them already familiar but I discover a new one on his left upper thigh.

We move together, easily finding a good rhythm. It doesn't take long for either of us. Alex comes first, silent as always, the way he stiffens, then shudders and the spreading warmth indicating his orgasm. That and the look on his face, which triggers my own.

I hold him close afterwards and just try to breath and regain my own equilibrium. After a while Alex moves away and disappears into the bathroom, returning with a wash cloth and towel. Once I'm clean, Alex crawls back into bed with me and settles against me. This tendency to snuggle after sex is one of his most endearing traits. I never really liked cuddling all that much, but with him I cherish every moment I can get. Maybe because it reminds me that he's so much more than the hardened fighter and killer that I so often encounter.

I've almost drifted off to sleep when Alex speaks.

"I can't stay for long. A few days, there are things I need to take care off and..." His voice is soft while his hand slowly trails over my chest.

"And?" I prompt him.

He's silent for a moment, the tiny frown line between his eyebrows appearing. Finally Alex shakes his head. "I'm not entirely sure, call it a bad feeling, as if something is going to break soon." Shrugging again Alex leans up to kiss me. "I'll try to stay for Saturday and Sunday. I don't want to leave until Monday."

"That gives us the whole weekend," I say and pull him closer, dropping a soft kiss on his forehead, before settling back into the pillows. Tomorrow I intend to make every moment count but tonight I just want to sleep with him in my arms.

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