Title: Safehouse

Author: laurel

Author's Website:

Status: NEW - Standalone

Size: 56k

Category: Drama, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Pairings: Skinner/Krycek

Rating: R

Gossamer Category: ~ Slash

Summary: Alex comes under Walter Skinner's protective custody

Notes: This was supposed to be a short h/c piece with redemption thrown in but kept getting longer.

Spoilers: Up to season five. Some ideas borrowed from later episodes.

Warnings: Some disturbing images of aliens in this part.

Archive: Okay to WWOMB, anyone else just ask first.

Alex Krycek was tired, body and soul. No, beyond tired. More like exhausted. He was tired of running, tired of hiding, tired of killing. Adrenaline was no longer a drug he was addicted to. Instead it was sapping what little strength he had left.

In this twisted game he was a minor player, a pawn in the chess set of life. How fitting that he was thinking in terms of chess analogies since it was the old man who had taught him to play.

He lifted his weary arm and knocked on Mulder's door. He'd been in this apartment countless times before but usually without permission. This time he waited patiently for a reply.

The door flew open and he was treated to the furious face of Fox Mulder. Golden eyes bored into his and a strong hand clutched his throat.

"Mulder, please, I'm not here to cause trouble." Alex held up his hands in surrender. "Please," he choked out. "I swear."

Mulder looked into Krycek's dark green eyes. They were dull with fatigue. There was desperation in there too, a pleading he'd never seen before. He relaxed his hold.

"What do you want here?" Mulder's voice was tight with anger, the usual monotone raised in high emotion.

"I have information for you."

Mulder snorted contemptuously. "I smell a trap, Krycek. Not to mention a rat."

"It's not. I promise."

"Let's hear it."

"Let me go and we'll talk inside. I'll tell you everything."

Mulder let him inside reluctantly.

Alex sat down heavily on the worn leather couch. The material molded to his tired frame and he relaxed fractionally.

"Don't get comfortable," Mulder growled.

"I'm tired."

"Things are rough all over. So, let's hear it rat."

They were interrupted by a knock on the door.

"No one followed you, did they?"

Alex shook his head. He frowned, wondering if he hadn't been careful enough.

"Don't move," Mulder warned. He flung the door open while keeping an eye on his guest.

Walter Skinner nodded at him. "Mulder."

"Sir." He gave a curt nod.

"Can I come in?"

"I was in the middle of something, but sure."

Skinner's eyes glowered when he saw his agent's other guest.

"What the hell is he doing here?"

"He hasn't told me yet."

Skinner's large hands curled into fists. Alex jumped up but was rooted to the spot by those dark brown eyes.

Mulder glanced at Krycek and saw the fear in his eyes as they flickered from Skinner to Mulder, then around the room, looking for escape.

"Sir, he says he has information for me."

"How about if I pound it out of him for you?"

"I don't think that's necessary. Look at him. He's run himself into the ground."

Walter realized Mulder was right. Krycek looked terrible. He'd seen Alex beaten up, tired, unshaven, but the way he looked now made Skinner pity him. Gone was the cocky grin, the mischievous eyes, the flirtatious glance. He still remembered how the man had looked when he first started at the bureau. Those awful suits and slicked hair had belied Krycek's dangerous beauty, his treacherous heart.

Krycek had lost a lot of weight, a good fifteen or twenty pounds. He was slumped but still edgy. Where before his body had been a muscular, fighting machine, it was now thin and bony. His pale skin was sickly, like prison pallor. His eyes were full of fear and hurt like an abused child's, the skin beneath bruised with shadows of exhaustion. His hair was uncombed and dirty. His face was thin, the cheekbones sharp, several days growth of beard covering his cheeks and small chin.

But his eyes were the worst. They looked haunted and defeated. There was no smirk on his face or in those expressive green eyes.

"Yeah, so what is it?" Skinner said, trying to sound gruff.

Alex looked at his former boss warily, looking down at his boots when Skinner caught his eye. He was afraid to sit down, even though his legs were trembling with exhaustion. Skinner crossed his arms in front of him. Alex took a step back, waiting for the punch to
explode in his guts, taking his breath away.

He was struck again by how small he felt compared to the big man before him. From the first time he entered the bureau he entertained fantasies about Walter Skinner. He imagined staring into his intense chocolate brown eyes and watching them light up with laughter or smolder with lust. He dreamed of what those big hands could do, even though he knew the man was married. He longed to burrow into the comfort his huge expanse of chest could offer.

He loved big men, the feeling of being dominated, yet at the same time protected. And everything about Walter was big: his chest, lush with hair; his large hands; his massive arms; his thick cock which Alex imagined as a battering ram when erect; his lightly furred thick thighs, his long elegant feet. Seeing him that one time in the showers at the F.B.I. gym had given him enough mental images to create sexual fantasies for years.

Alex wouldn't admit this attraction to himself, only late at night in his empty bed when he couldn't sleep. His lovers, as he loosely called them, were one-night stands, sometimes anonymous and most times Alex was the dominant one.

He was tired enough to finally sit down as Mulder and Skinner stared him down. "I can give you everything you've ever wanted Mulder. What you both want."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Skinner spit out with barely suppressed venom.

"The consortium. I can hand them to you on a silver platter," Alex said softly. He cradled his prosthetic arm in his right. He rubbed at the sore spot where the prosthesis covered the stump. On top of that he was feeling phantom pain. It had been much worse the last few weeks. He reminded himself that he deserved whatever pain he endured.

"Go on," Mulder commanded.

"I have everything here. May I?" He gestured to his leather jacket.

Mulder nodded.

Alex could feel the golden eyes boring a hole through him. He withdrew a large envelope, unfolded it and took out the contents. He spread out blueprints on Mulder's coffee table and placed several carefully written notes on top of it. His fingers trembled as he arranged the notes neatly.

"This is everything."

Mulder looked at all the papers and questioned Krycek with his eyes.

"It's a blueprint of the building they use. These are schedules of the guards they have watching the place, inside and out. This is a layout of the meeting room." He pushed the papers around. "This," Alex's breath was strangled, "is the combination to the safe."

He looked up at Mulder and Skinner, his heart pounding in fear yet he felt oddly at peace.

"It's got just about everything in it, discs, tape recordings, documents, phone numbers of their contacts, everything you need to bring them down and expose every last conspiracy. I'm afraid that includes what your father did."

"I don't want to hear you talk about my father," Mulder bit out through a throat that was clenched in anger so tightly he could barely speak.

Mulder quickly crossed the room, ready to throttle his enemy. Alex shrank back against the pillows. Only Skinner's strong hands pulling Mulder back saved Krycek. Skinner watched as the traitorous former agent sagged with relief.

"Mulder, let's just hear him out."

"Why would you just hand over this information, Krycek? You rat bastard, you killed my father, you've hindered me at every turn, you beat Skinner up with the help of your low-life friends, you helped kidnap Scully..."

"I helped you too, Mulder."

"Oh yeah, big deal. You've always hurt me more than you've ever helped. I've never been able to figure out your agenda. You're just like cancerman and the rest of them. One hand gives me answers, the other hand takes them away. Remember Russia? You were going to leave me in that camp."

"Of course I remember," he replied softly, rubbing what was left of his arm.

Mulder blinked. He felt a touch of pity for his former partner. No one deserved what had happened to Alex that night in the woods.

"Look I know what you must be thinking. I'm a dead man anyway, Mulder. I want to repent while I still can. This is everything you'll ever need. It's not a trick. And for the record I wasn't going to leave you in that camp. You should have trusted me. I was trying to protect you. It's not a trick."

"How do I know that?"

"You have to trust me."

"I trust you as far as I could throw you."

"I understand how you feel, but I can't tell you any more. Take it or leave it." Alex held up his hands in defeat. "Just believe what you want. The information is there." Alex got up to leave.

"Where do you think you're going?" Skinner stood in front of Krycek, his solid immovable body blocking the way to Mulder's door.

"I'm really tired. I want to go home."

"If you have a home, it must be a rat hole," Mulder said.

"Please let me leave. I can't tell you any more."

"If you're telling the truth and Mulder finds this information, you're going to need protection."

"That's true but no one can protect me. I'll take my chances."

Again he tried to go around Skinner. Skinner blocked him. Alex sighed. He looked down at his shoes, avoiding Skinner's stern eyes.

"You need protection, Alex," he said gruffly but with a gentle, concerned undertone.

"But, sir..." Mulder protested.

"Agent Mulder, check out this information thoroughly. I want to know every single move you make. Krycek, you're coming with me."

"Where are you going to stash him?" Mulder asked his boss.

"My apartment."

Alex's face grew alarmed and even paler, his chest hitching as his breathing grew shallow, on the verge of panic.

He still vividly remembered the night he was squirreled away for protection in Skinner's apartment. Some kind of safe house that had turned out to be. He assumed he would be brought to some nondescript house in a commonplace neighborhood, flanked by agents, not Skinner's high in the sky condo.

Alex felt weak, the nausea roiling in his stomach. If he threw up it would be nothing but bile. He'd barely eaten in the last month. His knees buckled and his vision blurred until waves of light swam before him. He saw Skinner between the lines and the man's alarmed face before he passed out. He fell to the floor beside the coffee table. His arms barely had time to rise up to brace himself.

"Jesus, did you see how white his face got?" Mulder gasped.

"Help me turn him over, Mulder."

Skinner knelt down, gently turning Krycek over, careful of his arm. Krycek was pale as death. Sweat dampened his face. The full pink lips entranced Skinner. He saw Mulder's eyes and didn't like the question raised in them.

"Let's get him on the couch," Skinner said hastily.

They lifted him up and set him down carefully.

Skinner looked down at the unconscious man, alarmed by how fragile he appeared. The traitorous double agent was frail and sickly. A sick little rat that Skinner was afraid he was going to have to look after. He actually pitied him. No, more than that, he wanted to protect him from Spender and his thugs. He wanted to kiss those soft pink inviting lips and nuzzle every inch of Alex's body until he was rewarded with soft sighs and moans. He wanted to see his deep green eyes light up with desire, his sweet angelic face flush with want and need.

In short, Walter S. Skinner had gone temporarily insane.

"Sir, are you all right?"

"Yes Mulder. Go get a blanket, would you?" Skinner's voice was more irritated than usual.

Mulder hesitated then went to his bedroom and found a worn flannel blanket. He handed it to Skinner to throw over Krycek's body. He didn't want to give the bastard even a moment of kindness.

Skinner shook out the blanket and covered the still body. Without a word he got a glass of water and set it on the table. He retrieved his cell phone and made several calls, barking out orders. He shoved the file at Mulder. "Get on this right away," he ordered.

Skinner watched Alex's eyes flutter open. It was like looking into the bottom of the ocean. He fell under the charm of Alex's spell briefly but shook himself with an angry twist of the head.

"Here, drink this," he ordered gruffly.

Alex sat up and took the glass of water in a shaky hand.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"As soon as you feel better we'll go."

Alex's eyes widened in fear again. His body trembled, causing the remaining water to slosh in the glass. Skinner steadied the glass.

"Don't worry," he said soothingly, ignoring Mulder's glare. "You need protection from Spender. You'll be safe. From me too," he added.

Alex relaxed a little and looked at Mulder apprehensively. "What about him?"

"Mulder won't lay a finger on you. Right, Mulder?"

Skinner's eyes bored into his agent's.

Mulder sighed. "Yeah, all right. But as soon as he's better and if I catch him alone....." He didn't finish the thought.

"Mulder, that's enough. I know what Krycek has done. Or what he's allegedly done. But if he helps us maybe we can all put the past behind us."

Alex looked at Skinner with stunned eyes, mouth gaping open. He abruptly shut it. Mulder looked just as shocked.

"Mulder I am sorry about your father. I didn't want that to happen but I couldn't stop it. You have to understand-"

"I don't want to hear one more word out of your lying mouth. Shooting you would be too good for you."

Alex hung his head and didn't reply.

"Get him out of here."

Alex stood up gingerly, pushing away the warm blanket reluctantly. He walked ahead of Skinner all the way to his car, his body tight, waiting for the punch or kick he was sure he'd feel at any minute.

The car ride was silent and uneventful. He suffered a dizzy spell as he got out of Skinner's car. He held onto the door, waiting for it to subside.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, just a little dizzy."

"Do you want to sit down a few minutes?"

"No. I'll be fine."

He dreaded going upstairs so he walked slowly, not only due to the fact that he felt weak but he wanted to prolong the inevitable.

The elevator ride was swift and quiet. Skinner jingled the keys in his hand until he found the right one. He led the way inside. Alex moved away from him immediately, tightening his muscles Unconsciously.

Skinner tossed his keys on the hall table and hung up his trench coat.

"Come on," Skinner ordered.

Alex reluctantly followed. Skinner showed him the guest room and bathroom. The room was small but decorated in such a way as to give a feeling of welcome and comfort. The quilt covering the bed was a rich blue and the woven rug was multi colored. The whole effect was cozy yet masculine with several hardcover books on the bare table that served as a desk, a wall sconce and several landscape paintings that matched the dcor in slashes of the rich earth, trees in full leaf and blue sky.

The bathroom was small but efficiently arranged with a large mirror and medicine cabinet and shelves that sprouted towels.

"I'll get you sheets and a blanket. The bathroom's stocked if you want a shower."

"Okay," Alex replied in a small voice.

"You can make up the bed?"

"Yeah."

"Good. I've got calls to make."

Alex took off his leather jacket. He unzipped his jeans and slid them down his legs. He'd had to buy new clothes he'd lost so much weight. He sat down to take off his socks then swept off his navy wool sweater and white tee shirt. He ran his hand over his ribs. He was getting to the point of skin and bones.

He was unbuckling the prosthesis when Skinner suddenly walked in without knocking or announcing himself.

Alex turned to the side, hiding what was left of his arm. The fake arm slipped off, landing on the soft bed. Alex looked down at the floor, unable to look at Skinner directly.

"I thought you could use some clean clothes." He laid them down on the bed. "I know they'll be too big but it's all I've got."

He avoided looking at Alex's arm. He'd seen the startling sight of his arm ending abruptly but didn't linger to look at the scars. He wasn't disgusted by the sight but turned away to give Alex at least a little dignity. He didn't want to embarrass him further.

Alex nodded and mumbled a thank you.

"Try and get some sleep. It's going to be a busy day tomorrow and we have to get an early start. Don't even think about sneaking out. I have agents posted outside."

Skinner closed the door behind him. Alex hugged his thin body then got up to turn on the shower. The hot water rushed over his head soothingly. He wrapped himself up in one of the oversized towels and took a good look in the mirror. He looked like shit and felt worse.

The clothes were all too big. The briefs were slightly baggy and so were the sweatpants but when he pulled at the drawstring the waist band drew comfortably closer. The tee shirt was huge on him, definitely one of Walter's. The socks were about the only article of clothing that fit.

He crawled into bed, tugging up the loose pants and prayed for sleep.

Skinner was on the phone and his computer for the next hour. If Krycek wasn't lying and Mulder was able to finesse the information that would topple top secret government executives a lot of planning needed to be done.

He didn't hear a single noise from the guest room after the squeak of the bedsprings as his guest settled onto the mattress. He pushed his glasses back up and squinted against the computer screen.

When he finally went to bed he was exhausted. He thought of Krycek lying in the bed just down the hall. He thought of kissing those pretty pink lips, of having that warm wet mouth wrapped around his cock. He imagined Alex in his arms, firm and muscled, pale skin smooth as velvet against his own.

He couldn't imagine him the way he looked now-pale sickly skin stretched over bones and the look of impending doom in those green eyes shadowed by bruises of exhaustion.

A pearl of worry sat in the pit of his stomach. He was worried about Krycek. Walter shook his head, annoyed with himself. It took a long time for him to fall asleep.

*

During the next weeks, Skinner worked long days that him coming home exhausted and worked into the night, barely stopping to eat dinner. Sometimes Mulder and Scully joined him at the table and the three of them hunched over files and the laptop computer until midnight.

On those nights Alex studiously avoided the presence of the agents and opted to stay in his room the whole night.

He spent his days flipping through the books and magazines in Skinner's library or attempted to watch the afternoon soaps and talk shows but nothing held his interest. Often he would just sit on the couch and stare at the walls, trying to quell the thoughts in his head. He was under constant surveillance and the agents assigned to watch him would come into the apartment on a regular basis to check on him.

The members of the consortium were slowly rounded up. One had jumped from the roof of his hotel to his death. Another was found hanged in his opulent house. Of course the suspicion of foul play was thoroughly investigated. Unfortunately Spender disappeared.

Of the people who were arrested no one could venture a guess as to where he'd gone into hiding. Skinner was kept busy presiding over daily meetings, speaking to politicians, judges, lawyers for the few witnesses they managed to find, content to be a cog in the machinery that would crush the syndicate.

Every night Skinner made himself take a little personal time, whether that meant a decent meal or watching the sports channel and losing himself for an hour out of the day. He made a little small talk with Alex, checking on how his key witness was doing. The answer was always the same. He was always fine. But the dark circles under his eyes belied the fact that he wasn't getting enough sleep. The tines of his fork would scratch a pattern in his plate but would barely bring any food to his mouth. His bodyguards never reported any problems with him. It was unusual for him to be so quiet and co-operative.

The nightmares were most disturbing though. They usually began at two or three in the morning. The first time Walter had woken to screaming and crying he thought Krycek had been attacked by his vengeful employer.

He'd stumbled into the guest room gun in hand, to find his witness screaming his lungs out, face wet with tears and a sheen of sweat, tangled in the sheets, his one arm flailing as if warding off an attacker.

It had taken Walter several minutes to wake him up. He finally slapped him awake, shouting his name. Krycek had looked stunned as if he didn't even remember where he was.

"I'm sorry I hit you. I couldn't wake you up."

Alex nodded and wiped the tears away. He felt Walter's weight press down on the bed. "Here."

Walter passed him the glass of water and a wet washcloth.

Alex got his trembling under control and wiped away the sticky film of sweat from the back of his neck, face and throat.

Skinner returned the glass to the cup holder in the bathroom and rinsed out the cloth.

"What was the dream about?"

"I was in the silo with that.thing."

"Do you dream about it a lot?"

"Yeah. I dream about all sorts of bad stuff," he admitted.

"Try and get some sleep."

Alex was used to it by now, waking alone and afraid, so he wrapped his arm around himself and rocked gently until his heart stopped pounding. He left the lamp on and tried to fall asleep.

The second night the nightmare occurred, Walter woke him again and tried to talk to him. Each night the cycle was repeated.

At this point, Walter was frustrated by the lack of sleep he was getting. He was also concerned about the obvious terror that Alex was experiencing. He'd had his share of nightmares and so he sympathized with his former enemy.

He tried to be patient. He gave Alex a mild sleeping pill he'd picked up at the pharmacy. He doubled the dose and even tried herbal tea and hot milk. He was ready to implore Scully to prescribe something for him.

After working long hours with barely any breaks for three weeks straight and listening to Mulder gloat daily as the evidence they'd uncovered led to snowballing arrests as well as confirming Mulder's theories on the collaboration with the aliens, Walter's patience was pushed over the edge.

Krycek had told him haltingly of the terrors of the silo, locked in with the alien oil, waiting for death. One recurring dream was of the group of one-armed men sawing off his arm with a white-hot knife. Walter winced at the image of Krycek helplessly pinned down and enduring that mutilation and pain. It gave Walter some restless nights. But there were other dreams as well. Spender chasing him down a long corridor that led to nowhere; a prison dream where he screamed from behind bars while hands clawed at him from behind; faceless aliens chasing him with torches; Mulder and Scully exacting tortuous revenge. There were some nights when he wouldn't name his dreams, too afraid to even speak about them. Those worried Walter most.

Skinner had gone to bed after his guest, his head pounding and his eyes burning after reviewing an endless stack of files. This night proved to be the breaking point for Skinner. They had the consortium in a vise and they were squeezing hard. The pieces were all falling into place. Catch one chain-smoking fearless bastard and it was all over. It was only a matter of time before they found him, the biggest piece of the puzzle they were fitting together.

It began at its usual time, just after two o'clock. Walter was jolted awake by the unholy screaming. There was no way he could just ignore the man and fall asleep again.

He slammed the door open to see Alex screaming and crying. His voice was hoarse but he didn't stop. It took a hard slap that rocked his body to wake him.

He looked at Walter stunned, his wary eyes wide with fear and shimmering with unshed tears. The assistant director loomed over him, shirtless, his wide shoulders blocking out much of the light coming from the hallway, inspiring new fear in him. Already the bad dream was dissolving.

"I'm sorry," Alex whispered. Tears spilled over and made their way down his cheeks. He was trembling and cold so he ducked down into the comfort of the covers.

Walter sat on the edge of the bed, frowning as Krycek shrunk back from him, his right arm coming up defensively.

"I'm not going to hit you. What was the dream about?"

Alex didn't respond. He put his arm down and curled up on himself. Walter sighed.

"This has got to stop. I've tried everything I can think of to get you to sleep through the night. I wake up to your screaming every night and I'm barely getting any rest as it is because of this investigation. If you don't go to sleep and stay asleep I will make that slap feel like a caress."

Alex flinched. He stared at Skinner wide eyed.

"I can't help it! Do you think I like it or something?" His hoarse voice cracked.

"I don't care. Just knock it off," Walter growled.

"I hate you and I hate it here! I'd rather be in prison."

"You'd be dead inside of a minute."

"Good! I'd be better off."

"Do you have a death wish?"

Alex didn't answer. Walter had only to look into his tortured eyes to see the answer.

"What happened to you?" he asked quietly, his voice gently pushing. "What is haunting you? You've told me all about the horrible things that have happened to you. I really can't imagine anything worse than losing your arm."

"Trust me, it is."

"Tell me."

"I can't."

"You know, I've seen a lot of shit in my time, like Vietnam for instance. I saw my friends get blown up, shot, stabbed, you name it. Honestly, nothing could shock me."

There was only silence from Krycek.

Walter sighed and tried a different tactic. "Look I can see what's going on with you. I saw a lot of guys with death wishes. There's a certain look they would get in their eyes. Sometimes they would take crazy risks to try and get themselves killed. Some people called them heroes, some just called them crazy and the medics called them suicidal.

I'm not blind Alex. I see how much you eat at dinner. The agents guarding you keep me informed of what you do with yourself all day long. Staring at four walls doesn't construe a good state of mental health. You have nightmares every night. You barely sleep. It's pretty obvious to me that you don't care whether you live or die. Why is that?"

"All I wanted was to give you the information you needed to put Spender and his gang of old men away forever. That's all. I don't want you to play father confessor and I don't need you to take care of me. I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

"Yeah, well you're doing a lousy job of it," Walter growled. "Look at yourself. You let yourself get run down, tired. You used to be a strutting, cocky brat. What the hell happened?"

Alex looked into Walter's eyes. They were concerned and serious, full of sympathy.

"Okay, but if I tell you, you'll think I'm even more of a bastard than you already do. Not that I care about your opinion," he added quickly.

Alex pushed up the pillows behind his back. Skinner switched on the bedside lamp and sat in the easy chair to the right of the bed.

Alex glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and forgot to breathe. His sculpted arms rested on the arms of the chair. Arms that Alex wanted to feel around his body. The light cotton drawstring pajama bottoms were flimsy, barely hiding the thick muscular thighs. He couldn't even look at the broad chest covered with its thick nest of curling hair without thinking about rubbing his face to find the warm, naked skin beneath.

Alex felt a flush break out on his entire body as his gaze traveled upwards to rest on Walter's face. The dark eyes behind the glasses were unreadable.

He bent his head and bit his lip but began to talk.

"Okay, a couple of months ago, I was doing a job for Spender. I got a file he wanted. I went to a lot of trouble to get it. He told me it was personal information that couldn't get in the wrong hands. I checked it out before handing it over. It was blank. There was nothing on it. I thought I had the wrong disc but it turns out it was a test.

"He found out I'd taken a look at it. I wanted to copy the disc so I'd have some ammunition against him. Boy was I a sucker. He just wanted to see where my loyalties lie. He suspected that I'd leaked information to Mulder. He wanted to make sure he knew
which side I was on.

"I was really pissed. I ranted at him and called him every name in the book. He just smiled at me and blew smoke in my face. He said if I ever disobeyed him or struck out on my own again, he'd hunt me down and kill me.

"I was furious, full of rage. I went out and got blinding drunk. Of course that didn't solve anything."

"It never does. I've tried it myself."

"It just made me more determined than ever to fuck with his plans. I thought to myself, screw him. I've protected Mulder before, I've helped Mulder before. I could just go back to being the lackey, return to the fold like the proverbial black sheep and just pull out the rug from under him. I got the chance to do it soon enough."

"How?"

"I found a lab of his. Inadvertently. I wasn't supposed to know about things like that.

"I breezed in, gave them some bullshit story and flashed an identification badge. It was expired already but they let me in. I told them to call Spender and inform him that his number one thug was being delayed by some righteous prick. It's amazing what you can make people do. Really incredible what peer pressure can do. I just took it up a notch to make the little lemming open the door.

"Anyway it was a high security area I wanted to get into but I didn't have the proper authorization so I snuck around, pretended to inspect the place.

"I got a chance to slip into one of the labs I was after. One of the doctors had gone for a cup of coffee and let's just say he needed a long nap after I added something to it that wasn't coffee creamer. With his fingerprints and his key I could get in. Blustered my way into the inner sanctum and the rest is history."

"What did you find?"

"You don't want to know."

"You've got my curiosity piqued."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

Walter gave him a look that brooked no argument.

"All right. The lab was conducting experiments on women. They were fooling around with genetics. They had alien DNA and were trying to perfect a type of hybrid."

"You saw all this? Did you manage to smuggle any kind of tangible evidence from there?"

"No. There's nothing left of the place."

"What do you mean?"

"I found this room, kind of like a hospital ward with only one big room. Every bed in it was full. These women were guinea pigs, all pregnant. They were sedated and looked about ready to explode."

"What did you do?"

"I went into another lab and saw their mistakes."

"Mistakes?"

"Hybrid embryos that hadn't gestated or were deformed."

"Dead babies?"

"I'm not sure you'd call them that. Some of them were pretty gross. Let's face it, not all aliens are cute like E.T. but these were monstrous. Some of them had brains that had developed outside their heads. None of them looked human. I found another room that contained several corpses too."

Alex stopped and hugged himself again, shivering at the memory.

"Whose bodies?"

"Women. They were covered up of course but I guess whoever ran the morgue area was on a coffee break. They were just lying there on gurneys covered up with sheets.

"A few of them had their abdomens ripped open. I'm not sure why. Either the doctors had performed caesarians or maybe the babies killed them."

"What?"

"Yeah, I know, sounds weird. Like something out of a bad horror movie. I saw this one alien baby with wicked teeth coming out of the sides of its mouth. It was dead of course, preserved in a jar."

"Jesus. What else?"

"Isn't that enough?"

"I suppose so."

"It made me sick to my stomach. There were dozens of these freaks. The doctor I'd knocked out came back so I had to kill him. I stuffed him in one of the drawers in the morgue. No one else came in but while I was there, one of the women started moving around. She was only half awake but she told me it was the third time they'd made her pregnant.

"She begged me to kill her, said she couldn't live like that any more. I figured if I could get her out of there, maybe she could have the kid aborted if it was going to turn out like the rest of them.

"She said no. The more often they screwed around with her DNA the stronger the chance she'd die. She managed to tell me that some of the test subjects that had been around long enough developed cancers that metastasized very quickly. None of the women had ever escaped and the only way to get out was in a body bag."

Walter kept silent. Alex finally looked up and saw the pained expression on his face. "Go on," he encouraged gently.

"I came back with enough explosives to blow a sizable chunk of a city block away. I gave the guard another bullshit story about the doctor I'd killed and said I'd be back and to get the place in tip top shape for a surprise inspection from Spender. I figured that would have everyone distracted and busy. No one would report my presence. So when I went back, I planted the explosives, drove about two, three miles away from the facility and bam, nothing left of it."

Walter looked at him with eyes that were nearly black. Alex looked up frightened at the intensity he found in their depths. He shook slightly at the violence evident in Skinner's clenched fists and swallowed hard.

"I did what I had to. Don't you understand? I know I killed innocent people. I'm not a psychopath no matter what Mulder thinks. Socially backward, sure, but I do have a sense of right and wrong. What he was doing was wrong. The whole project was wrong, no matter the intentions. Those women were innocent people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. As for those doctors, shit, they're butchers, they're mad scientists, not doctors who help people, who took the Hippocratic oath. I had no choice. I had to kill everyone and everything in there."

When he looked up again into eyes that were as bleak as his own, he gave a strangled sob. His breath was caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat.

Alex rocked on the bed, his knees drawn up, his head tucked in and down where his arm rested on his knee. The sobs were interrupted by whimpers and muffled cries as he struggled to stifle his crying.

Walter got up from the chair and paced nervously. He could handle tears coming from his ex-wife and emotional outbursts from the likes of Mulder but not from Krycek.

He was supposed to be a cocky rat bastard, a cold-blooded killer and thief, not a fragile, crying, frightened human being.

He hesitated before sitting at the edge of the bed. The crying didn't lessen, the sucking breaths sounded painful, his trembling had increased. He took Alex into his arms, all huddled into a safe, little ball and gathered him close.

The comfort only seemed to further increase Alex's distress. He hugged Skinner tightly with his arms, almost to the point of bruising. Skinner took him into his lap and wrapped his body around Alex, arms and legs hugging him protectively until the crying lessened. He whispered soothing, gentling words in his ear until Alex shuddered less and the crying was almost non-existent.

Alex whimpered and cuddled closer, so exhausted he was asleep in his arms in minutes. Walter uncurled his arms and gently laid the bedcovers over Alex. He brushed away the tears from his face with a wet washcloth. Walter thought about his dilemma for only a moment. If he went back to his own bed, he would have to get up and wake Alex again. On the other hand if he slept in the same bed he would shake him and stifle the nightmare more quickly. He didn't think Alex would have another nightmare. Hell, he was probably too exhausted to have another one. Walter shrugged his shoulders and slipped into the bed. He wrapped his arms around Alex and pulled him close until Alex murmured sleepily and curled into his warmth.

Walter found the man too warm but didn't protest the heat. He found that little slice of skin between pajama pants and tee shirt and stroked the velvet skin he found there. He was glad he'd gone shopping for clothes. He certainly didn't fit into Walter's wardrobe and the outfits he'd bought, from jeans to shirts all fit him snugly but comfortably.

He was hot as though he suffered from a fever, but he snuggled closer under the covers and covered Walter's body with his heat. Walter groaned at the contact of Alex's legs wrapped around his thighs. Alex slept unaware of Walter's discomfort. Walter made sure not to touch his naked skin again, keeping his hand over Alex but covered by the sheet.

When Alex woke the next morning, he was tired but felt better than he had in ages. He found that he couldn't move, then realized why. There was a heavy weight on top of him. A big bear of a man lying on him, one arm holding him around the waist, one leg wrapped around his, effectively pinning him down. He could wriggle a little but he couldn't slide away from the warm weight or push the limbs away. Walter's breath tickled his ear, the slow deep breathing relaxing him and making him drowse.

The distant, muffled sounds of traffic, a helicopter in the distance and the sound of a telephone ringing somewhere in the building reached his ears. He licked his lips, dying for a drink of cold water and his bladder was close to bursting but he didn't want to leave the warm comfort of Walter's arms even if he could.

He closed his eyes and let himself escape into the refuge of sleep.

When he woke again it was to find Walter awake and studying him.

"Hi," Alex rasped in a sleepy voice.

Walter rolled away and Alex curled onto his side. "Morning. Guess I fell asleep here."

"Yeah," Alex agreed.

"I'll go start breakfast."

"I'll help," he offered.

"Want to get cleaned up first?"

"Yeah, I need the bathroom like now. I think I'll take a quick shower."

"Me too."

Walter stretched his arms out and craned his neck, rolling it back and forth. There was a crackle of bones and tendons snapping. He gave a satisfied grunt then rolled his neck to ease the stiffness. He glanced down at Alex who was buried under the covers, only his face visible now. Alex looked up at him and Walter smiled. Alex, taken aback, lowered his eyes until they were covered by the fringe of eyelashes. A faint blush crept up his cheeks. Walter smiled again, more widely this time, and went to his own bedroom.

Alex stayed in bed a few minutes longer, enjoying the warmth left behind, the faint scent of Walter that lingered on the pillow. He rolled around, reveling in the comfort of the sheets, startled at the thought of how afraid and sad he would be when he would have to leave the comfort of his temporary home.

Walter served up fluffy scrambled eggs and bacon to Alex, enjoying the sight of him actually eating instead of poking at his meal with a fork. He slid a slice of toast on the plate too, waiting to see if it would remain untouched. He smiled as Alex took a bite, the grape jelly staining his lips until he licked it off. He poured some orange juice and began to eat his own breakfast.

They ate in silence. The only sounds were the rustling of Walter's newspaper and the click of the spoon as another cup of coffee was stirred.

Alex retreated to his room. Walter couldn't think of anything to say that would keep him downstairs with him. He puttered around the condo, sweeping at non-existent dust and straightening items that were already at a precise ninety degrees angle the way he liked things kept.

He had allowed himself a rare day off, a day in which he wouldn't even think of a sinister shadow government or aliens. He refused to ponder Mulder or Spender, or anything else that consumed his entire life. Instead he would concentrate on the virtual stranger in his house.

*

Alex listened to the radio half-heartedly, the lonesome voice of the singer pulling him deeper into his own black mood. He was getting maudlin, remembering his own stolen childhood, regretting the moments he had lost his own humanity and the fervor in which he had tried to retrieve it. He stared at the ceiling, juggling his own role of double agent against the players he was up against, like so many tennis balls floating in the air, pausing for brief moments that defied physics before they tumbled down all around him.

He snuggled into his bed, trying to re-capture the feel and scent of Walter's body. But the sheets were cool now and whatever scent had been imprinted in the cotton had fled.

Walter knocked on the door. "Can I come in?"

"It's your house," Alex replied.

Walter poked his head around. Alex looked bleak. Although he was good at hiding his feelings with the face blank as a mask, his eyes failed him and gave him away.

He sat on the edge of the bed. "Why don't you come downstairs? We could do something."

"You're not working today?"

"No. I needed a day off. We could play cards or watch some television. How about a walk outside? The fresh air will do us both some good." Each suggestion was met with a blank disinterested look. "We could play chess. Do you play?"

Alex laughed bitterly. "Yeah, the old man taught me."

"I assume you mean Spender."

"Yeah." Alex sighed. "He lived his life as a chess game, only the board was filled with pawns."

"And he was king?"

"You got it."

Walter slapped Alex's thigh lightly. "Come on, let's have fun."

"Fun?" Alex asked incredulously.

"Yeah, even I know how to have fun. Just don't tell my colleagues or subordinates that. Old stone face has a reputation to uphold you know."

Walter winked at him.

"Why are you in such a good mood? What's gotten into you?"

"I refuse to think about work today, period. So we're going to have fun even if it kills us."

Alex shrugged. "Whatever."

"You are going to drop that attitude like a hot potato and come with me."

Alex sighed, making the sound as loud and put-upon as he possibly could. "Yes sir."

Walter searched Alex's sparse wardrobe in the closet and dresser drawers and selected a pair of blue jeans and a navy sweater. He threw them on the bed, adding a cotton tee shirt and navy socks.

"Here, I've picked out your outfit so you don't even have to think about what to wear."

Alex gave him a dirty look. He hadn't been outside in weeks, save for a few breaths of fresh air stolen on the balcony.

He got dressed as ordered and went downstairs to meet Walter. There were two agents following them, keeping a close eye on Walter and their witness. Walter had tried to brush them off but one call from the deputy director and that idea was quickly quashed.

Two agents were still posted outside the condo where they would remain until the relief team showed. The two agents trailing them stayed close, keeping in phone contact with Walter as he negotiated the mid morning rush hour traffic.

The first stop was a park. Walter did everything but take Alex's hand to drag him along.

"The air and exercise will do you good," he argued.

Alex scuffed his feet as they walked along the trail, kicking at the occasional stone, showing his displeasure with every step.

Walter was tempted to grab his ear to pull him along.

They sat on a bench near a spraying fountain and fed pieces of muffin to the birds gathered around them. After the last crumb was tossed, the birds flew away to seek tidbits from other passersby and the men moved along.

They had lunch at a nearby outdoor cafe. The sun beamed down warmly in the mild spring air. Alex picked at his food, a roast beef sandwich and fries. Walter helped himself to one of his fries and Alex slapped his hand away.

"Didn't think you were going to finish them."

"Well, I wasn't but you should ask first," Alex rebuked him, clearly still in a pissy mood.

"Can I have a fry?"

"All right. "

Walter rolled his eyes. "Eat some more. You're too thin."

Alex shrugged. "Not your problem."

"Eat," Walter ordered, sliding the plate towards Alex. "Come on, two more bites of your sandwich and a few more fries. I'll buy you dessert."

"Bribery?"

"Whatever works."

Alex picked up the sandwich. Walter divided the remaining fries into two piles, one for himself and the larger one for Alex. Eventually the plate was clean. Walter nodded in satisfaction. He ordered apple pie for both of them. Alex ate it without much prodding.

Walter racked his brains in the lull following the meal, sipping at a cup of coffee and cleaning up the little crumbs and filling left on the plate from the pie, trying to figure out what to do next. He thought of the batting cage but wasn't sure how functional Alex's fake arm was. He didn't want to go to a matinee movie or anything else that prevented conversation or interaction.

When they were finished, Walter drove aimlessly for a bit. His passenger seemed to like the ride. His face was up against the glass as if trying to soak up all the sights. They passed an arcade and Walter turned the car around, heading for it. It would be perfect.
There was even a rock-climbing wall inside.

Alex frowned as he realized Walter was stopping in front of the arcade. "The arcade palace?"

"Yeah. Why not?"

Alex followed, dragging his heels like a petulant boy. The place was fairly quiet at that hour, with a few college-aged teens standing mesmerized in front of the video games and two couples challenging each other on the rock-climbing wall. Two teenaged girls were watching the boys playing the video games, suggestively sipping their Cokes through straws and tossing their long hair.

Walter brought Alex to a machine and filled his hand with quarters. He began to play, soon getting into the game. Walter figured he had a competitive streak in him. He wouldn't be a man who lost easily. He was a player through and through, even if it was a
game.

Walter was soon out of quarters and he went to watch Alex. He checked out the score and whistled in appreciation.

"You're good."

"They used games like this to improve our hand-eye co-ordination."

Walter didn't have to ask whom. Alex was a consortium child, born of parents that had come out of the hardship of Eastern Europe to the land of milk and honey and found it by way of the syndicate. He was recruited as a teen when he had shown promise and intelligence.

He told Walter his history briefly and tersely, in a low monotone. Walter's eyes darkened and Alex could see his frown in the reflection of the screen. He stopped playing and turned around.

When he looked back at the game, he had lost. "Game over" kept flashing over and over.

"I was going to get more quarters but maybe we could do something else instead."

"Climbing walls? No thanks, I have a healthy fear of heights."

"You seemed to hang quite well off my balcony."

"An experience I wouldn't wish to repeat," he replied mildly.

Walter grinned. He took Alex's hand to lead him away from the game. Alex looked down at their joined hands and shook his head. Walter was in quite a strange mood today. He was tempted to cut him with his little jack knife to check the color of his blood.

They went to the far wall where a trampoline stood before a Velcro wall. They were outfitted by the clerk and stepped gingerly onto the trampoline, testing out the tension and elasticity of the material. Walter loosely held Alex's arm as they bounced lightly up and down. They were both wary at first, not wanting to fall off, uncertain of the unfamiliar sensation. It took a little while and a lot of courage on the first try. Walter went first as Alex refused to do anything as undignified as jumping at a Velcro wall and sticking to it like a bug on a windshield.

Walter took a deep breath and slammed against the wall. He grinned like a kid when he stuck to the wall successfully. Alex stared as Walter laughed.

"Come on Alex, it's fun."

Alex gave a tentative bounce, then gained momentum and leapt high in the air as a burst of adrenaline shot through his veins. He jumped up and launched himself at the wall as they'd been shown. He stuck to the wall beside Walter and giggled at the childish glee he felt.

Alex was in high spirits when they left the arcade. Walter left with his wallet a little lighter.

They stopped at a deli for supper and Walter smiled happily when Alex ate every spoonful of chicken noodle soup in his bowl and every bite of his sandwich right down to the pickle garnish.

"Are we going home now?"

"Yes, but not for long." There was a mischievous glint in Walter's eye. "The night is young."

Alex was curious now and pestered Walter about his plans but Walter held out until they reached home and told Alex to change clothes.

Alex's excitement deflated. Walter was taking him to a nightclub. He'd made no secret of his sexual orientation from day one and Walter was taking advantage of it now. But he felt far from sexy with his clumsy arm. He hadn't regained much of his lost weight and the dark circles surrounding his eyes were still evident in his pale face.

He sat down on his bed, half dressed and dejected.

Walter knocked on the door. "You ready?"

"I'm not in the mood for clubbing."

Walter opened the door. He was dressed in charcoal slacks with a silky knit black top that hugged his torso. A thin gold chain around his neck caught the light.

"How long does it take you to get dressed?"

He ignored Alex's bleak look and marched to the closet. There wasn't anything too dressy in there so he settled on a pair of black jeans and a black shirt with subtle threads of silver woven into the material. Black socks, boots and the black leather jacket completed the outfit.

"I'm not in the mood," Alex repeated softly as he looked down at the all black ensemble.

"What will it take for you to get in the mood?"

Alex looked up. Walter's tone wasn't flirtatious or joking. He was genuinely interested in doing whatever Alex requested so they could go out for the evening.

"Anything within limits of course. I don't want to break any laws nor do I have a million dollars."

Walter's tone was light but still not mocking. He sat on the edge of the bed and regarded Alex patiently.

"I can have anything?"

"Within limits."

Alex frowned, thinking hard. "A hug?" he asked in a voice barely above a whisper. He flushed pink with embarrassment.

"That's it?"

Alex nodded.

"Easily done."

Walter dragged Alex closer and pulled him into his arms. Alex was surrounded by Walter's warmth, the silky material of his shirt rubbing his face as he buried himself in the embrace. Alex held Walter tightly and sighed, feeling the arms tighten their hold. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, taking in Walter's cologne and his own scent, something musky but clean. He could feel and hear Walter's heart beating, the contraction of muscles bunching up in his back. Walter's head tucked against his and rubbed against him comfortingly.

Alex could have stayed in that position indefinitely, but Walter pulled away gently, still keeping his hands on Alex. He cupped his face and told him to get ready. Before he let go of him, he ran his thumb down Alex's cheekbone in a whisper-light caress. Alex held still, waiting for Walter to do something further. The thumb tickled under his jaw and Walter pulled him close and kissed his forehead.

Alex looked disappointed and Walter chuckled at the puzzled expression.

"If I kiss you on the mouth I may not be able to stop myself."

Alex blushed and ducked his head.

Walter kissed his bent head. "Time to go. I want to see you dance."

*

The moment they stepped inside the club, all eyes turned to the newcomers. The heads tossed back and forth from Walter to Alex, as if following a tennis match.

In Walter, every daddy fantasy was dreamt of and crushed just as quickly as Walter's eyes and hands remained firmly on Alex. Alex, even in less than his prime physical condition, drew many stares. But his world revolved around Walter. Walter was the sun and everyone else merely planets.

He held onto Walter's hand as Walter parted the crowd. Alex was shy at first, not used to the club scene after a long absence, uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

After a tour of the place, still half empty at that hour and Walter showing him off like a prize, buying him a drink, chatting with him amiably, acting as if he were the only man in the room, perhaps in the world, Alex's shyness fell away and he grew bolder, pulling
Walter onto the dance floor, not caring whether anyone stared at his arm, only that Walter danced with him.

He found a surprisingly graceful partner and they lost themselves in the beat of the music, the rhythms of their bodies stepping in unison as though they had practiced together all their lives.

They were both damp with sweat when a weary Alex surrendered to exhaustion and they found a booth to slip into. They crammed behind the table, thighs pushing together in the small space. A sheen of sweat made their shirts stick to their chests. Alex's face was flushed, a smile on his face. Walter looked down at him, tempted to lick away the drops of sweat pooling at his collar bone. Instead he waved a waitress over and ordered fresh drinks.

There was a lull in the conversation but the silence wasn't uncomfortable. Alex concentrated on the swirl of bubbles in his glass as the club soda fizzed around the straw. Unconsciously he leaned back until he was against Walter. Walter dropped his arm uncomfortingly around Alex, thinking he needed reassurance or perhaps he was trying to shyly ask for another hug.

Alex startled when Walter embraced him and Walter backed away.

"Sorry," Alex apologized. "I didn't realize what I was doing."

"That's okay."

Walter chastised himself, quickly cupping his hands around his own drink and watching the bubbles dance in the glass.

Alex touched his arm. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not. I thought you wanted a hug that's all," he explained quickly.

"I wouldn't mind another."

Walter pulled him closer immediately and Alex nuzzled into his neck, finally settling into his shoulder. Walter leaned down and smelled Alex's hair. It was slightly damp with the exertion of dancing, but the scent of the conditioner drifted upward, a clean, fruity odor that emanated from the shiny dark mass.

He pressed a kiss on Alex's head, then, as Alex's face nudged into his collar bone, kissed further down his skull until he reached the space between collar and hair. He licked at the little bit of skin that was visible and Alex shuddered at the contact.

Emboldened, he kissed and licked until he reached the side of his neck. Alex turned his head and sighed, allowing Walter to nuzzle at the tender skin there.

Walter had to be careful now. He didn't want to move too fast. He didn't want to simply bed his prime witness because it was convenient and he was lonely, or Alex was starved for attention. He wanted to do this for their mutual pleasure and the tentative feelings he could sense growing inside of his temporary captive.

He pulled away and Alex gave a whimper of disappointment and frustration. He didn't like that sound so he held Alex loosely, ignoring the tilted head begging for a kiss. Instead he rubbed his bald head against the silky softness as if to placate him.

But Alex seemed to like that and rubbed in return, managing to plant a kiss on his scalp. Walter frowned but Alex just laughed and planted another kiss, ready to swipe the tip of his tongue into his ear. Walter evaded him and slid out of the booth, holding out his hand in invitation for another dance.

Alex obliged happily. He wanted nothing more than to invade Walter's personal space, even if it had to be on the dance floor. As if the god of twinks everywhere heard his prayer, the DJ played a slow song and he melted into Walter's arms. He entered that safe circle and laid his head on Walter's shoulder with a little sigh.



### The End ###