Bubble Tea, Wedding Cake, and You

by Logan

logan@hegalplace.com

http://www.hegalplace.com/logan/

Rating: R for strong language, and strong implication of male/female romance. Designated 100% Sallie Safe

Spoilers: Set a few months after "3"

Notes: Many thanks to Sean, who proved to be greatly inspirational. And thanks to Dr. Ruthless for the lyrics.

For the 2nd Mulder/Krycek Lyric Wheel: http://www.hegalplace.com/mklyricwheel/



Bubble Tea, Wedding Cake, and You
by Logan
/////////////////////////////////

"Get out of the van! Step away slowly and no one gets hurt!" Alex Krycek held the gun steadily in the other man's face, right between his wide, panicked eyes.

The man, his face nearly as white as the catering uniform he wore, shook visibly. "P-Please, mister, I've got a wife and kids!"

"And if you get out of the van before the count of five, you'll live to tell them all about this," Krycek replied coolly, then heaved a put-upon sigh and grabbed the man's arm and yanked him from the driver's seat of the van. Krycek slid into his place, slammed the door and put the van in drive. As he pulled away he heard the driver cry out, "You're gonna ruin someone's wedding, jackass!"

Krycek smiled. That's exactly what he hoped for.

///////////////////////////////////

It had all happened so fast that Krycek wasn't sure what had led him to this decision. The smoker and his cronies had sent him to Europe for a few months to lay low after his cover was blown with the FBI. He'd spent his time intercepting documents and phone taps from the Belgian Consulate, and thinking about the predicament he was in.

It had taken him a long time to sort his head out, and realize that he wanted the money and the power, but not at the price of harming innocent people. There were a lot of assholes in the world who deserved to be taken out by whatever means necessary, but Agent Scully hadn't been one of them.

Of all the beliefs he had compromised in taking work from the smoker, there was one thing he held fast to. He still believed in justice. Perhaps his definition of that belonged on Gunsmoke more that it belonged in the FBI, but it still mattered to him. And his personal definition of the word did not include aiding in the kidnapping of innocent women.

Just the day before he'd arrived in the US again, his head and goals clear. He was through with that wrinkled up old bastard and his cabal of tight-assed, pompous colleagues. It was too late to fix things with Mulder, way too late to make things right with the FBI and get his job back, but he was still his own man, and he was going to remain that way. He wasn't going to be anyone's goddamn puppet.

With that resolve he had gone to the smoker's office in New York the previous morning. He'd been kept waiting for nearly an hour in the reception area, a dour older woman scowling at him from her desk every time he so much as moved a muscle.

Alex had nearly dozed off when the woman picked up the phone and began to speak.

"I need to send a dozen roses to an Agent Dana Scully at the J. Edgar Hoover building," she said into the phone. "I need them delivered by five p.m. The card should read, 'congratulations to the bride and groom'. No, no name, just the message. Thank you." She hung up the phone and pressed a button on an intercom.

"Mr. Spender, I took care of that delivery you wanted," She announced.

"Thank you, Mary. Please, send Mr. Krycek in to see me now." He heard the old man's tar-roughened voice and gripped the arms of the chair tighter, trying frantically to wrap his head around what he'd just heard.

Scully, getting married? And to whom?

He knew the answer to that. He just didn't want to.

Mulder. Of course it was Mulder. He could see it so clearly in his mind. Mulder had spent the time that she was missing angsting and pining away for her, realizing how much he needed and loved her. Scully had seen his devotion, and finally given him her heart.

He was sure they were very happy, and he hated it with all of his heart.

He stood up. "I left something in the car. Tell Mr. Spender I'll be right back," he stumbled over the words, backing towards the door, then bolted down the hallway as soon as he was over the threshold. He took the four flights of stairs two steps at a time and emerged, winded, onto the busy street.

He flung himself into the first cab that passed by, and when he could no longer see the building behind him, he sank into the seat.

Mulder. Even the four months he'd been away hadn't lessened his reaction to hearing the man's name. Alex was very good at hiding his emotions, but he couldn't prevent his heart from beating just a little faster as he thought of Mulder.

If only. The most loaded phrase in existence. If only Alex hadn't been sent to sabotage Mulder's work, if only they'd met accidentally, just two guys being who they really were, if only he'd gotten out the first time that cancerous old man made the hackles on the back of his neck rise....

If only the old man hadn't discovered that Alex's father had gone AWOL from his tour of duty in Vietnam in '66. He'd approached Alex with court-martial papers for his father, promising to tear them up and give Alex the world if he'd take on the occasional side project outside of his FBI duties.

Alex didn't have 'if only'. What he had was an irritated cab driver yelling that the meter was at fifty bucks and did Alex actually want to go anywhere?

Alex got out of the cab on a street corner near Stuyvesant and started walking, remembering his last confrontation with the smoker before boarding the plane for Belgium four months earlier.

"Why can't you try to work with Mulder instead of against him?" He'd railed. "He wants the same things you do, he wants to fight the aliens, he's just going about it a different way!"

Spender had stared at him impassively through a cloud of smoke. "I wish you had listened when you first met him," He finally replied, flicking ashes into a crystal dish that probably cost more than Alex made in a month. "I warned you that he was cunning and persuasive. Now he's clouded your judgment. You've lost sight of the objective, which makes you useless to me. Expendable. You should use this time away to sharpen your focus, reinvest yourself in your work. Forget about Agent Mulder. He'll be taken care of."

Forget about Agent Mulder. Hell, if only it had been that simple.

He found a bar and went inside, sat down and ordered a double bourbon and coke. He sipped it slowly, his mind wandering back to those few weeks when he'd felt like he belonged. When he'd worked side by side with Mulder and it had felt great. The easy camaraderie they had started to develop, the silly private joke about pie and coffee in small, greasy diners. And those moments when he would try to steal a long, unnoticed look at Mulder and find that Mulder was already looking at him. His heart would speed up as he looked in those kaleidoscope eyes, colors and emotions tumbling through them, trying to figure out what made Mulder's color high and his breath shallow.

He never got up the courage to ask. And then it all fell apart.

He recalled a conversation he'd had with another agent just days before the shit hit the fan. He'd gone through the academy with the guy, and had enjoyed chatting with him over lunch. It made him feel like he belonged there, gave him a sense of normalcy when life was anything but.

Alex had been mid-sentence when the other man interrupted him.

"Do you realize all you've talked about is Agent Mulder?" He'd asked, smiling. "Agent Mulder this and Agent Mulder that, Agent Mulder is so smart, Agent Mulder is soooo dreamy," he'd rolled his eyes. "You've got it bad, Special-K," he'd said, using Alex's academy nickname. "And the scuttlebutt says he's been singing your praises too. You know he bats for both teams, right?"

Alex had choked on his soda. "You're insane, man. A total headcase. How did you pass the bureau psych exam? You need therapy."

His friend had grinned. "And you need to get laid. I'm telling you, Alex, don't let this one get away. I know a lot of people think he's off his rocker, but he's a good guy."

That had been the last normal moment of Alex's life. The situation had snowballed from there, and Alex had been digging his way out from under the avalanche ever since.

After his third double bourbon and coke the bartender paused before pouring the fourth. Alex finally looked at her. She had long black hair and too much eyeliner, and she was wearing a shirt that proclaimed, 'I'm not gay but my girlfriend is'.

"Did you lose your job or your boyfriend?" she asked kindly.

"Both. But he wasn't my boyfriend. He just--" Alex sighed. It was a tired, sad little noise full of the self pity that was growing inside of him with each drink. "He's getting married. And how did you know it was a guy?"

She clucked her tongue and shook her head. "Oh, darlin', you might as well forget him. Straight boys won't do anything but break your heart." She leaned forward against the bar, speaking in low, confidential tones. "I see a lot of drunks in here, but there's nothing as sad as a drunk queer with a broken heart."

"He can't marry her," Alex said with slurred conviction. "It's all wrong. I know he cares about her, but they're like brother and sister. It'll be a disaster. It'll never last. It's wrong. So wrong."

She shook her head again and sighed, brought out a container of limes from under the bar and began to slice them into segments. "They always marry their beards. After a few years of sex that's not worth showering for and a couple of brats she'll wise up, and he'll still be in the closet. Let it go, doll. You're a nice looking boy, you could hit the scene and have anyone you wanted. Don't waste your time on somebody who ain't proud enough to let his queer flag fly."

"But I love him." He winced. Shit, it sounded pitiful even in his own ears. He swallowed the last of his drink and proffered his glass.

"You tell him that?" she asked. He noticed that this time the drink she poured was mostly coke with just a splash of liquor.

"Hell no. I lied to him. 'Bout lotsa stuff. Now he hates me. Don't blame him."

She made a quiet, sympathetic noise as he drank. "Way it looks from here, you got two choices. You can stay here and drown your sorrows and let this guy ruin some innocent woman's life, or you can make like Dustin Hoffman and go put a stop to this wedding."

Alex snorted drunkenly as he thought of Mulder in a wedding gown, his veil flapping in the breeze as the two of them sped away in a convertible.

That was it. He'd stop the wedding. He'd find a way to convince Mulder that he couldn't marry Scully. He knew he didn't have a shot in hell of ever winning Mulder's forgiveness, but he could possibly stop him from making a terrible mistake. He didn't love Scully that way. Alex had seen that with his own eyes. Respect, affection, sure. But Mulder and Scully between the sheets? Unthinkable. He had to save Scully from Mulder's misguided intentions. He had to save Mulder from himself. He'd be doing them all a favor.

And as long as Mulder wasn't married he could hang onto that small, futile hope that someday....

He'd think about that later. Right now, he had a wedding to stop.

He stumbled out of the bar whistling "Mrs. Robinson" and hailed a cab to the airport.




16 hours later

"Mrs. Skinner, if my tie gets any straighter it's going to start telling anti-gay jokes," Mulder quipped, squirming in the vice grip the woman had on his neck as she attempted to strangle him with the black bow tie.

Sharon Skinner batted his hands away. "It would be if you'd stop fussing with it. Put your hands in your pockets and keep them there, Agent Mulder. Your fidgeting is getting on my last nerve," she told him sternly.

Mulder stood up a little straighter. "Now I know where you get your commanding presence, Sir," he muttered to the man standing next to him.

Skinner polished his glasses and put them on, gave himself a final once-over in the mirror then smiled affectionately at his wife. "Perhaps I should let Sharon be your supervisor. She'll keep your butt in line," he chuckled.

Mulder picked up the can of hairspray and critically eyed his hair in the mirror. Skinner laughed.

"Mulder, you're probably more nervous than the bride. Just a take a deep breath, it'll be over soon."

Tara Scully burst into the room, a breathless whirl of tan shantung silk. Scully kept insisting the color was called "champagne and candlelight", but it was tan to Mulder's eyes.

"Has anyone seen Maggie? The caterer hasn't arrived yet. He's almost two hours late!" She reached up to straighten a spring of flowers balanced precariously in her hair.

"She was down here snapping that damn camera in our eyes a little while ago. I'm still blind from it," Mulder replied. "Why don't you see if she's in the chapel driving the florist insane?"

Tara nodded and breezed out of the room, her high heels clattering as she hurried down the hall.

"There, you all look perfect," Sharon Skinner declared. "Agent Mulder, no more hairspray," she instructed, taking the can from him and placing it on the table. "Have a glass of champagne and try to relax. Someone will come get you when it's time for you to get in place." She kissed her husband and left the room, closing the door behind her.

Mulder turned to look at his boss. "Hey, Skinner, do you think Scully- -"

There was a loud boom, then darkness. Only dim light from the streetlights outside the church illuminated the small room, casting Skinner, Bill and Charlie Scully in sallow, yellowy light.

"Maybe it's a sign," Charlie joked, and his brother jabbed him in the ribs.

"I'll go up and see what the problem is. Must have blown a fuse," Bill Scully said, then turned towards the door.

"Sounded more like the transformer to me," Skinner replied. There was a second resonating noise, like thunder, and the lights around the exterior of the church went out, leaving the room pitch black.

"Anybody got a flashlight?" Charlie asked. There was a muffled "Ouch! Dammit, Billy...", then another muttered curse as Skinner ran into some piece of furniture.

A single beam of light punctured the darkness. Skinner held a small maglite.

"You had a flashlight in your pocket? And all this time I thought you just really liked the sight of me in a tuxedo, Sir," Mulder said.

"It was in the bag with my clothes. A good agent should keep his equipment accessible at all times," he replied drolly.

Charlie Scully snickered. Bill slapped the back of his head then nearly stumbled over a chair as he headed for the door again. "We'd better go see what the problem is. Mom will be having a conniption."

"Don't worry, Scully probably has a flashlight and a flare gun tucked into her garter belt," Mulder replied.

Lights started to flash through the small, single window. Red and blue and red and blue, then red and white. Sirens wailed loud enough to vibrate the window.

"What the hell is going on here?" Mulder muttered, then followed the other men out the door, hastening towards the chapel.

The hall was a wide black hole, Skinner's small flashlight projecting a narrow beam just a few feet in front of them. Behind him Mulder heard a woman's voice say, "Has anyone seen the groom?" and someone else reply, "I can't see my own hands, much less anyone else. Who has night time weddings anymore? This is ridiculous."

Thankfully there were enough candles lit in the cathedral to burn the church to the ground. The piercing sirens filled the air, echoing in the cavernous space. People milled around in confused knots. Mulder recognized only a few of them. He went through the large double doors and stepped out onto the stairs.

The scene in front of him was like an over-budget action movie. There were police cars lining the sidewalk, a fire engine and a pumper truck filling the narrow street. Swarms of uniforms, some with dogs, emerged from their vehicles like clowns at a circus.

"I'm special Agent Fox Mulder with the FBI, and we're trying to have a wedding here," he said to the closest police officer. "Want to give me a heads up?"

"You need to get your people and evacuate immediately, Sir," the officer replied. "Somebody must not want this wedding to happen: Some yahoo has opened the gas main under the church and set a bomb in the basement. Our anonymous tip said the place is going sky high in six minutes."

///////////////////////////////

Alex Krycek stood leaning against a phone booth, watching the employees at the homeless shelter carefully maneuver the three-tiered wedding cake from the back of the van. Others carried containers full of shrimp scampi and lobster bisque and delicate little puff pastries.

The director of the place, a petite woman with blue hair and a nose ring, approached him. "This is awfully generous," she said. "Are you sure you won't get in trouble with your employers?"

Alex shook his head. "No, we have to throw out any food that doesn't get used after we deliver it. Some health regulation. It's the darndest thing; I got to the church and the bride had called the wedding off. She caught the groom sleeping with another man." He gave her his most innocent grin.

"Well, this will feed a lot of hungry kids tonight. Most of our clients are between twelve and eighteen. We do what we can to keep them off of the streets, but we're so underfunded..." she smiled. "I'm sorry, that's not your problem. Thank you so much for your kindness."

"It's nothing," Alex smiled. "I'd better get going now. You folks enjoy it."

He hummed "White Wedding" to himself as he drove a few more blocks, looking for a good place to ditch the van. This was not how he'd wanted to handle the situation, but given the time frame, he'd had little choice.

He'd spent the plane ride from New York rehearsing what he would say to Mulder, the words tumbling through his head. He'd made a list of all the reasons Mulder shouldn't marry Scully, written in the empty spaces on pages of the in-flight magazine. After landing he'd gotten a hotel room, rented a car and driven to the Hoover building. He'd called up to Skinner's office to make sure no one was actually there. It was Saturday, but that was no guarantee Skinner wouldn't be there. It wasn't like the man had a life of his own outside of the office.

The call had rung through to voice mail, so Alex had figured the coast was clear. He'd walked through the parking deck to make certain he didn't see Mulder or Scully's car. He'd assumed the wedding must be soon for Spender to be sending flowers. He'd planned to rifle around their office and find out when and where the wedding was to take place.

He hadn't expected the melancholic nostalgia that had washed over him as the elevator doors opened on the corridor that lead to Mulder and Scully's office. For a brief time, it had been his office. Mulder's work had started to become his own, and Mulder's smiles and approval made his steps lighter, gave him a sense of purpose that had far exceeded what he felt when he worked for the smoker and his associates.

He'd paused with his hand on the doorknob. Those six weeks had been the best of his life.

It had taken him under a minute to find the information he needed. Written in neat script on Scully's desk blotter had been a brief entry for that very day. 'Wedding, 7pm. St. Andrews. M. pick up tuxes by noon."

He had looked up at the clock, and realized he'd had less than three hours until the wedding.

There had been no time to present his rational, well thought out arguments to Mulder. No time to coax Mulder into listening to him. He had decided he would simply have to interrupt the wedding.

As he'd driven towards St. Andrews, he'd decided that he didn't have the stomach for setting the church on fire. A small fire would suffice, just large enough to set off the sprinkler system, if the church had one, but it was a beautiful building, and he hadn't wanted to risk destroying it or harming anyone. That wasn't the point.

Carjacking the caterer had been pure impulse. Giving the food to a homeless shelter had been his good deed for the year.

Alex hadn't anticipated the roiling anger that had boiled in his gut when he'd parked across the street from the church. The sun had just been setting and the golden, clear light had streamed down to blaze through the stained glass windows. They'd glowed vibrant and jewel- like even from the outside. Ropes of ivy and creamy-colored flowers had festooned the stair railing, and a small red convertible had been parked outside, decorated with tin cans and baby shoes. "Just Married" had been written along the side in white.

His blood had felt like acid in his veins. This couldn't happen. He'd been so sure Mulder had felt something for him just a few short months before. They had been so damned close to crossing that line from friendship to something even sweeter.

He'd hung his head after a long moment of gazing at the church. Life had gotten so fucking hard. The one thing that had kept him going these last months was the wild, impossible hope that someday....

And then the catering van had stopped at the traffic light at the corner, seeming to mock Alex's misery.

He tried to shake off the nagging guilt he felt as he eased the van into a narrow alley a couple of blocks from the church. The caterer had been shaken but he'd be fine. Mulder and Scully would be very, very unhappy, but as soon as he could get Mulder alone, Alex would talk to him, convince him....

He was doing the right thing for all of them.

He walked down the street until he found a pay phone. He dialed 911 and told the police dispatcher, "Hey, how ya doing? Nice weather, huh? I'm calling to report a crime at St. Andrews church. I ruptured the gas line and the whole basement is filling with natural gas, then a bomb will go off in ten minutes. Agent Mulder sent me to prison for a crime I didn't commit, and this is just a little thank-you gift. I hope he enjoys it. No, I really don't want to leave my name, but thanks for asking."

He boosted a nondescript sedan and drove back to the church. Blowing the transformers was a piece of cake, and within moments the whole city block was plunged into darkness. He made his way to the back of the church just as he heard sirens screaming up the street. The police dispatcher had taken his bomb threat seriously. Very good. Next he would find the security system, set off the sprinklers, and he'd be on his way. He'd go to Mulder's apartment and wait for him there. If Mulder still had his apartment. He might be living with Scully already, and he couldn't see Scully living at Hegal Place.

He heard indignant voices at the front of the church, and a loud, angry male voice demanding an explanation. He leaned his head against the rough brick wall and sighed. Mulder. He hoped Mulder would forgive him.

"I'm doing this for you," he whispered.

He set the alarm control panel to start the sprinklers. Within moments he heard panicked screams and the sounds of voices on the street, women sobbing and men shouting.

There would be no wedding that night. He'd send Scully an apology note. Maybe some flowers.

He walked around the side of the building, preparing to cross the street on the opposite corner from where he'd parked the stolen car. He was wearing dress pants and a sports jacket, and hoped he'd blend in with the sodden, indignant wedding guests who spilled out onto the sidewalk.

Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a tall, red-haired man in a tuxedo. He was gesturing furiously at a fireman.

Sean Pendrell. He'd been Alex's one true friend at Quantico. Sean was the one who'd given him the name "Special K". He'd called the other man Opie, after that red-headed kid on the Andy Griffith show. Sean was a stand up guy. He was the one who had tried to convince Alex to take a chance on Mulder.

He sighed. He was sure Pendrell wouldn't hesitate to arrest him now. He ducked his head and stepped out into the crosswalk. Just to his right a little girl who couldn't have been more than three, dressed in pink tulle and sporting a headful of red curls, broke free of the crowd and dashed into the street ahead of him, directly into the path of an oncoming police cruiser.

There was no time to think or worry about the possibility of discovery. He snatched the screaming child up and barked a loud shout himself as the bumper clipped his leg.

His knee would no longer support him. He crumpled to the ground, twisting as he fell so that the wailing child landed on top of him instead of being crushed between him and the blacktop. Burning pain arched up his spine as he hit the concrete, and he saw stars.

He moaned as the child was pulled from his arms.

"Bonnie, oh my god," a woman sobbed, stroking the terrified toddler. She turned to the tuxedo-clad man next to her. "He was kidnapping Bonnie! I turned my back for just a moment and she was gone! Charlie, get a police officer!"

"No, lady, she was in the street, that cop car nearly hit her--" Alex protested, groaning as he rolled, getting to his hands and knees, every muscle in his back protesting.

Somehow, this just wasn't how he'd imagined being on his knees before Fox Mulder.

He never got to find out if he could stand on his own. He was dragged to his feet and his tormented back was slammed against the police cruiser. Three Mulders swam before his eyes. He blinked rapidly, moaning as the muscles in his lower back clenched, trying to tear away from his bones.

"Krycek! You did this! Haven't you done enough to Scully already? You ruined the wedding and tried to kidnap her niece?" Mulder demanded, shaking Alex by his jacket lapels, letting Alex's head bounce off the hood of the car.

"Didn't!" He protested dumbly. "Kid was gonna get hit by a car! I saved her life!"

"He's telling the truth," A quiet male voice cut in. "I saw the whole thing, Mulder. Bonnie wandered out into the street. Alex grabbed her just in time."

Alex turned his head. "Opie? Opie Pendrell? Thanks, man, thanks for sticking up for --"

Mulder looked wide-eyed at Pendrell. "You know this piece of shit, Sean?"

Pendrell nodded. "Yes. I went through the academy with Alex. We were pretty good friends. I haven't seen him in months, since he left the bureau. I heard rumors about why he left, but frankly I didn't believe them."

"He orchestrated Scully's abduction!" Mulder insisted. Thud went Alex's head against the car.

"I didn't, I swear!" Alex croaked. "Mulder, you gotta believe me --"

"Bullshit! Who sent you, Krycek? Why are you doing this?" Mulder shook him harder, and Alex clung to his unraveling consciousness.

"Couldn't let you marry Scully," Alex moaned, wishing by that point that Mulder would just hit his head hard enough to knock him out and make the pain stop. "Not right, Mulder, it's not right, you don't love her like that...."

Sean laughed and Alex's head banged against the car again.

"Are you as stupid as you are insane?" Mulder shouted. "I'm not marrying Scully, you idiot!"

"Wha--?"

He fell back against the car. His eyes slid shut to stop the sky from spinning above him.

"Mulder, let him go. Stop hitting him." Sean's voice was blessedly gentle. Alex opened his eyes. Sean was peering down at him with wry amusement.

"You screwed the pooch this time, Special K. I happen to be the lucky groom. Mulder is my best man."

No. This was *not* happening. Scully and Opie? Well, they'd have cute kids, if they could ever get to the altar.

"Sean, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he said, struggling to get his elbows under him and sit up. "I thought Mulder, Mulder and Scully --"

Sean shook his head and helped Alex to his feet. "You've still got it bad, man, don't you?"

"Got what bad? Other than criminal insanity, that is. You masterminded Scully's abduction, didn't you? Tell the truth for once, Krycek!" Mulder lunged at Alex again, wrapped a hand around his throat and began to squeeze.

Alex couldn't breathe. Sean grabbed Mulder's forearm, and Scully appeared behind him, a blur of silk the color of warm candlelight. "Mulder, let him go! Arrest him, don't kill him!"

Mulder wasn't listening. Alex reached up as his vision grew fuzzy around the edges, wrapped his hands around Mulder's shoulders and yanked the other man towards him. They collapsed in a heap together on top of the police cruiser, Mulder's wool-clad thigh rubbing against Alex's crotch.

Alex gasped for air when Mulder's grip loosened. He clenched his fingers in Mulder's hair and pulled hard. Their mouths collided, and Mulder teeth dug into Alex's upper lip. He so didn't care. He eagerly pushed his tongue inside and kissed Mulder for all he was worth. His back wailed in misery as he rolled his hips, flipping them over.

He reluctantly released Mulder's mouth and sprang back. His muscles sang a song of torment as he righted himself, watching as Mulder slid from the rounded hood of the car and hit the street.

"I'm sorry, fuck, I'm sorry. I just wanted you to be happy!" Alex gasped, then turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him. It wasn't nearly fast enough, in his opinion, given that half his muscles felt like they were on fire.

"Mulder, don't!" He heard Sean say behind him. "Let him go! Leave this to the police."

He said a silent thank you to his former friend. He looked over his shoulder, though the movement wrenched his back in ways human muscles were never meant to move.

"You look beautiful, Scully!" he shouted. "Sorry about your wedding! Congratulations!"

He rounded the corner, hotwired a Mazda Miata, and didn't stop driving until he was watching the sun rise over Pilot Mountain in North Carolina.




Four Days Later

"Sure, Melissa, I'll let her know. You know how she is; work, work, work." Mulder smiled as he hung up the telephone and turned to his partner. "Your sister and mother are upstairs waiting to coif your 'do," he informed her. "And I should probably get up there and keep the groom from ordering the bomb dogs to search the place again."

Scully laughed and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "Thank you for everything, Mulder. I don't know how we would have gotten through the last few days without you."

Mulder smiled, smoothed back her hair and planted a tender kiss on her forehead. "All I did was drive Sean's parents back to the airport. Now come on, partner, let's go get you married." He gave her a gentle squeeze and pulled back. "Are you sure this is how you want to do this? The conference room probably isn't the most romantic locale you could have chosen."

Scully smiled. "After what happened last time, I'm more concerned about security than romance. If we could have gotten the Pentagon I'd have been happy, but this will have to do," she grinned. "We're going to have the wedding blessed by Mom's priest tomorrow before we leave for our honeymoon, so we'll be legit with both church and state."

Mulder chewed his bottom lip for a moment, watching Scully gather her dress and toiletries to take upstairs. "Scully, do you know what Sean meant when he said Krycek 'had it bad'?"

After the ensuing chaos of the wedding-that-didn't-happen, they hadn't had time to discuss Alex Krycek and why he did what he did. Mulder had thought of nothing else since that night, and had welcomed the chance to throw himself headlong into helping Scully and Pendrell sort out the mess.

Not six months before, he would have been pretty damned pleased to have Alex Krycek throw him down and kiss him senseless. And that's what riled him so much now; more than he wanted revenge for the man ruining Scully's big day, he wanted to know if Krycek had kissed him as a diversion or because he really wanted to.

"I don't know, Mulder. I didn't know that Sean knew Krycek. I knew he was still friends with a few guys from the academy, but he never mentioned their names. The police want to question him about Krycek, but we're still discussing whether or not we're pressing charges."

"What?" Mulder yelped. "You must be joking, Scully! Why wouldn't you press charges? He carjacked the caterer and called in a bomb threat!"

Scully looked over at him. "Sean asked me to wait, Mulder. He said we need to talk about it first. We'll decide when we get back from Florida."

"You're going to Florida for your honeymoon? I pictured something a little more exotic."

"Not on our salaries," Sean Pendrell replied as he entered the basement office. He kissed Scully tenderly. Mulder looked away. They were pathetically cute, and kissing was really the last thing he wanted to think about right now. Especially one kiss in particular.

"Dane, baby, Missy and your ma are waiting for you upstairs, and Skinner has twenty extra agents on alert. The judge will be here in twenty minutes," Pendrell said to Scully. Mulder straightened his tie, smoothed down his shirt, and prepared to follow them upstairs.

They heard the clatter of footsteps in the hallway. All three Agents looked up to see a very nervous delivery man escorted by two agents and two security guards. He pushed a cart that was spilling over with white and red and pink long stemmed roses in cut crystal vases.

"Delivery for Agent Scully," Clarence, the barrel-chested, giant of a security guard announced. "We checked for explosives, it's all clear."

"And there's a package for you, ma'am," the delivery man held out a manilla envelope.

Scully raised a brow and reached out tentatively for the envelope. "Sean, will you see if there is a card with the flowers? I got flowers the day before the wedding with no signature. If these are unsigned, we need to increase security."

Pendrell dug around in the flowers and plucked out a small white card. "It says, 'a thousand apologies, Special K'," he announced.

"Oh my god, Sean," Scully said softly, holding up a handful of papers from the envelope. "There are tickets for an all expense paid cruise to Cozumel and five days at a private villa. Oh goodness, is all of this from Krycek?"

Pendrell broke off the stem of a rose and tucked it into the button hole in his lapel, then handed one to Mulder and one to Scully.

"Man, I gotta get going," The delivery man said.

"Do you work for a florist or were you hired privately?" Sean asked.

The young man stiffened, paling. "I work for a private messenger service."

"Well, you tell the man who sent these that the only way we're taking that cruise is if he agrees to talk to Agent Mulder and clear up a few things." Sean reached for the man's clipboard and signed for the delivery. "Now skedaddle, we're going upstairs and getting married."

"Pendrell, what the hell are you talking about? The only way I want to talk to Krycek is during an interrogation!" Mulder couldn't understand how Pendrell could possibly harbor any good will towards Krycek, especially after the fiasco at the wedding. He watched Scully calmly placing the vases of flowers on the desk, pointedly ignoring their conversation.

Pendrell smiled mysteriously and turned to Scully. "Dane, go on up, Mulder and I will be there in a minute, okay?"

Scully eyed him for a moment then planted a kiss on his mouth. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, Mister. I'll see the two of you in fifteen minutes. Don't be late!"

Sean closed the door after Scully left.

"Now tell me what's so special about 'Special K' and why I shouldn't arrest him for what he did to Scully. For what he did to *me*." The scent of roses invaded Mulder's nostrils and he sneezed emphatically.

Sean crossed his arms and looked at Mulder. "I don't know what Alex got himself mixed up in, but he's not that kind of person, Mulder. I think that if he had something to do with what happened to Dana, then there's an explanation for it. I spent two months bunking with the guy, and we had some pretty serious talks."

"It was all lies! He's a traitor, a liar, he was using me."

Pendrell shook his head. "I don't believe it was all lies, Mulder. I saw him just a few days before Dana was kidnapped, and yeah, something was off. But I know one thing for sure. He shanghaied our wedding not to hurt us, but because he thought *you* were marrying Dana, and he couldn't stand the thought. He's in love with you, Mulder. And from what Dana has told me, I think you felt something for him too."

Mulder raked his hands through his hair. Scully had seen his attraction to Krycek? He thought he'd hidden it so well, for reasons of convention and professionalism and a healthy dose of relationship phobia. Had it really been that obvious?

"Perhaps I felt a certain chemistry with the man I thought he was," he conceded. "But he proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was all a facade."

Pendrell stepped forward and squeezed his shoulder. "You're as thick as a brick, Mulder. I don't know how Dana puts up with you every day. You're a criminal profiler. Don't you think if it were all lies, you would have known something was wrong?" He sighed and dropped his hand. "Look man, all I'm saying is that if you want answers, don't beat them out of him. Give him a chance to talk. Things sometimes aren't what they appear to be. You of all people should know that. That is, if he even turns up again."

Mulder couldn't continue this conversation. He swallowed hard. "I'll think about it. Come on, chief, let's go get you married. Scully will shoot me if you're late."

The wedding went off without a hitch. Scully looked beautiful, Pendrell cried, Skinner kept wiping his eyes, and Mulder could have sworn Melissa Scully was flirting with him. The bride and groom were quietly escorted from the building after cake and coffee and pictures.

Mulder eventually went back to his office. He turned on the radio to combat the disconcerting quiet, so Sean's words would stop chasing themselves around his head.

It didn't work.

Krycek... in love with him? Yes, there had been an attraction. A strong one. And it hadn't only been sexual. Mulder had started to let the guy in, to really share with him, and he'd found Krycek empathetic and easy to talk to. His wariness had retreated and he'd found himself talking to Krycek about all sorts of subjects, from quantum physics to basketball to his time at Oxford.

Yes, there had been times, more and more frequently towards the end, when he'd thought that if he just leaned over and kissed the man he would have welcomed it. But he never had. He'd made up a hundred excuses. Sometime when we're not at the office, sometime when we're here at night and no one might walk in, after we're done working on this case.... and then Scully was gone and Krycek was gone and Mulder's life had been thrown into a tailspin. He'd slept with Kristen Kilar, but that had been more of a self-inflicted injury than a liaison. Something painful to dull the larger pain of Scully's absence. Of Alex's betrayal.

How could Sean possibly be right? What explanation could there be for Krycek's actions, other that that he was working for Cancer Man? True, he'd known where Krycek was the entire time the Duane Barry situation went down, he'd been having supper with the man when Scully was taken. But still, he had to have been involved. He'd given Barry the drugged water, hadn't he?

//Unless he didn't know the water was drugged himself.//

He shook off the thought.

Krycek had kept him from getting to Scully in time to save her.

//Unless he was afraid Duane Barry would shoot you for betraying him in the travel agency office.//

Krycek had ruined Scully's fairy tale wedding, after all she'd been through.

//Unless he saw it as some grand romantic gesture to keep you from marrying the wrong person. Hell, me and Scully?//

He snorted at the thought.

He had cost Sean and Scully thousands of dollars when they could barely afford a honeymoon.

//And bought them cruise tickets to make up for it.//

Krycek was a coward.

//He risked capture to save Bonnie Scully from being hit by a car.//

"Shut up!" he yelled at no one.

He'd done enough navel-gazing for one day. He was going home. He grabbed his jacket and briefcase, turned off the lights, then closed the door.

///////////////////////////

"Shut up!"

Feedback screeched in Alex's Krycek's ears, and he snatched off the headphones. The cheap little bug he'd planted when he searched Mulder and Scully's office the weekend before was working extremely well.

He paced the small hotel room, running his hands through his hair.

He'd thought for sure that Sean must hate his guts by now. He couldn't imagine what sort of things had been said about him around the Hoover; that he was a liar, a traitor, that he'd set up the whole Duane Barry thing. That he was some kind of criminal mastermind who'd infiltrated the bureau.

Good ole Opie. He was still sticking up for Krycek, to Mulder of all people. The guy was just too nice to survive in such a dog-eat-dog world. No wonder he'd chosen to stay in the lab instead of continue on to crime scene investigation.

The more he thought about Scully and Pendrell, the more it made sense. Science geeks in love. It was romantic, in a nerdy kinda way. They'd get turned on by the smell of formaldehyde and make little red-headed test-tube babies who were born with pocket protectors.

Alex sank down onto the bed. Sean has asked Mulder to talk to him, to really listen to him. And Mulder had said he would think about it. That was more than he'd hoped for in his wildest dreams. What if Mulder kept his word? He could help Alex find his way out of this fucking mess with Spender and get his life back on track. They'd get turned on by everything and anything and have lots of wild sex with nary a sprog in site.

He sighed. It could be so perfect. If only Mulder would give Alex half a chance to seduce him.

There was only one way to find out. Out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

He looked at the credit card the old man had given him. It was sitting on the nightstand from where he had used it to order Scully's flowers. He picked it up, tapped it against his chin as he thought.

He picked up the telephone and punched in a number. A cultured British voice answered.

"Yeah, it's me again. Do you still have that special merchandise you picked up from that farm in Oklahoma? I need one of those delivered to a Bonnie Scully, care of Charles Scully. In Virginia Beach. Yes, I'm serious. The best one of the batch."

He hung up the phone, smiling. He would spread a little sunshine with the old man's money before he cut the nicotine-stained apron strings. He hoped the kid liked her gift. If she hadn't wandered out into the street, Alex never would never have gotten the chance to kiss Mulder. He owed her big time.

Next he drove to the Chinese restaurant where he and Mulder had often eaten together. He ordered several dishes, and two cups of the weird Asian drink that Mulder had professed a fondness for. He slapped the credit card down on the counter.

"Dinner's on me tonight. Charge everyone's ticket on there," he said, gesturing to the full dining room.

The elderly man's eyes widened. "Are you crazy?"

"Like a Fox," Alex grinned. He handed the gold card to a panhandler on his way to the car.

He hummed "Son of a Preacher Man" as he drove to Mulder's apartment, his optimism growing with each mile the car ate up. He'd known that Scully wasn't right for Mulder. Now he just had to show Mulder who *was* right for him.

"That would be me," he said to his reflection in the rearview mirror.

He carefully balanced the bags in his arms as he knocked on Mulder's door.

His heart leapt into his throat when Mulder answered. He was still wearing his suit jacket, and a white rose was tucked into the lapel.

"I brought you bubble tea," Alex stammered, suddenly nervous, thrusting the cup at the other man. He could still feel Mulder's mouth against him, Mulder's thigh between his legs. His groin ached pleasantly with the memory.

"You remembered," Mulder said softly, accepting the cup. A faint, almost shy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He looked at Alex for a long moment, searching his face. Alex felt like melting under the shockingly gentle scrutiny.

"Sean Pendrell says you're in love with me," Mulder finally said.

"And he said you used to have the hots for me," Alex replied, meeting Mulder's gaze openly. It wasn't a challenge; it was a truce. "I didn't help them kidnap Scully, Mulder. Please, let me explain."

Mulder nodded, opened the door wider, and reached for the bags. "If there's General Tao's chicken in that bag I'll have your children." He peered into the bag. "Too bad we don't have leftover wedding cake for dessert. What the hell did you do with the food anyway, Krycek?"

Alex grinned and stepped inside.




Watergate Hotel Honeymoon Suite
The Next Morning

Sean Pendrell stepped into the shower with his wife, took the loofa from her and gently began to wash her back. His other arm wrapped around her to stroke her stomach as he pressed soft, wet kisses along her collarbone. She squirmed delightfully against him.

"Pack your bikini, baby, we're going to Cozumel," he said, smiling as he kissed drops of water from her skin.

"What happened to your declaration that we weren't going unless Krycek professed his undying love to Mulder?" She turned in his embrace, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him thoroughly, running her fingers through his hair. "I hope you're right about Krycek, Pendrell. If he hurts my partner I'm going to rip his arm off and beat him with it."

Sean laughed. "That's what I love about you, Dane. You're so subtle. I'll have you know, Scully-Pendrell, that I just tried to call Mulder. Guess who answered the phone?"

"Krycek?" her brow lifted as she ran a hand down her husband's chest. "At 8 o'clock in the morning?"

"Mmmm hmmmm," he murmured as he nuzzled her neck. "And he did not sound awake. After a thorough examination of the evidence, I'd say he spent the night."

"Really?" she purred, rubbing slick and catlike against him. "And did you talk to Mulder?"

"No, Alex said he was still asleep." He worried at her earlobe with his teeth. "He won't hurt Mulder. I know you want answers from him, Dana. I promise, as soon as we get home we'll sit him down and make him talk. I don't think he would have gone to see Mulder if he wasn't willing to do that."

She smiled. "I want answers, yes. And I want Mulder to be happy. And I want you to stop talking, Mister."

They stayed in the shower until the water ran cool. Pendrell dressed and went down to check them out of the hotel. Scully was drying her hair when the telephone rang.

"Hello?"

"Dana, it's Charlie." Her brother sounded upset. She could hear Bonnie shouting excitedly in the background. "Who is 'Special K' and why is there a pony in my front yard?"



END