Title: Tangled Webs II: Lying in Wait

Author/pseudonym: Barb G.

Paring: Mulder/Krycek CSM/Krycek Krycek/kitchen sink

Rating: NC-17

Status: complete, the end, their ain't no more

Archive: Yes, please

Series: Tangled Webs #2

Disclaimers: Not mine, but Chris Carter can have what's left of them.

Notes: Moonpuppy is the fastest beta in the west, and Devo and Sandy are this thing's grandmother. Thanks for encouraging me/threatening me to continue.
(see part 1 for warnings)(spoilers)

By Barb G

Krycek got off the bed stripped off his jeans and T-shirt and walked naked to Mulder's closet. "Spend the night," Mulder said from the bed.

Krycek shook his head. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have to do something."

"I thought you said that would be the end of it," Mulder said. His voice almost sounded plaintive.

Krycek borrowed a pair of Mulder's jeans. He knelt on the bed, and Mulder reached down and worked his fingers through the belt loops. "Don't go."

Krycek kissed him, but resisted Mulder trying to pull him closer. "I have to do this."

"Do what? Go back to him? You're free!"

Krycek shook his head as he pulled away. He put his socks on and slipped his shoes back on. Mulder moved up behind him and bit down over his shoulder. "Tomorrow?" Mulder said.

Krycek stopped for a moment. "My place," he said.

Mulder nodded, and lay back on the bed. "Krycek?" he asked.

Krycek looked back at him. Mulder shook his head and stood up as well, but went into the bathroom rather than finishing the conversation.

#

The smoker waited for him, but Krycek expected him to. He unlocked the door and helped himself to a glass of orange juice. "You still here?" he asked.

The smoker looked at him, and Krycek looked at him squarely, daring him to comment on the mark on his throat. "He got a bit...eager tonight, didn't he?" the smoker asked. He took a step closer and inhaled. "Don't bother answering, you reek of him."

Krycek brought his sleeve to his nose and inhaled. "I know," he said.

A flash of anger crossed the smoker's face, but it was gone a heartbeat later. The smoker broke away from him, and paced up and down the entrance way. Krycek smiled, thinking of all the nights he had done the same thing before forcing himself to bed with the bastard. "You could have been one of us!" the smoker snarled. "You are in, Alex. How can you be so thick as to deny what you are! Do you think you could walk away from this now? You cling to this...illusion you have and play house with a man who wanted you dead a year ago."

Krycek said nothing. The smoker backed him to the wall, but Krycek pushed back. They stared at each other, but Krycek broke away and put his glass in the sink. The smoker approached him again, but it wasn't to intimidate him this time. Krycek braced himself against the counter as the smoker put his hand over his shoulder. "Take your hand off me," Krycek said, but didn't look around.

The smoker obeyed. "Go out. Fuck Mulder all you want, I don't care. When you wake up from this, what are you going to do, Alex?"

"I'm going to bed," Krycek said and motioned the door. "Get out."

The smoker left him. Krycek changed the sheets and flipped the mattress over before he climbed in.

He woke up to the smell of cigarettes. He opened his eyes and winced at the light from the open curtains. "What do you want?" he asked, throwing his arm over his eyes.

"A job."

Krycek groaned. He rolled over onto his stomach. It took him almost six months to teach his body how to flip with only one arm to balance, but it was an automatic motion now. "Who?" he asked into the pillow.

"There was a time when the only question you would have asked was where, Alex," the smoker said.

Krycek raised his head. "There was a time where I greased myself up for you too. Times change. Who?"

"It's not a who. I need you to pick up a package from an associate tonight."

Krycek stretched in bed. Early in the morning was the worst for the phantom pains. The stretch worked his muscles until they throbbed, but he could almost feel an ache from a wrist that was no longer a part of him. He sat up. "Where?" he asked.

"We'll let you know."

Krycek reached down for his false arm. He struggled with it for a minute, but felt better with the weight attached to him. Without the constant reminder of his loss, he was prone to forgetting what he missed. Krycek stood up and dressed.

The smoker had brought him breakfast, and it mildly annoyed him that it hadn't woken him up. Krycek rubbed the back of his neck, "Anything else?" he asked.

"Late for a date?" the smoker said, snippily.

"And if I am?"

The smoker passed him his jacket. "Bundle up," he said.

~~~

Krycek drove back to the warehouse district, but this time to the more affluent side. He parked his car outside a locked parking lot filled with company cars, but saw the bounce of a flashlight through the window. He hated working with amateurs.

He walked around the building, but some slick had already neutralized the alarm box. He had made a neat job of it, too. Out of the seventeen identical wires running from the main box, only two had been snipped and put back into place. If he hadn't known were to look he wouldn't have seen the cut. He made his way to the employee's door, and the lock took him an extra moment to catch all of the pins.

The bouncing light was on the second floor. Krycek passed through the antechambers that held the lockers and deserted lunch room, but the coffee pot was clean and upside down on a towel. If there was a night-watchman, he got his caffeine intake somewhere else.

The floor of the warehouse had rows of shelves that went up twenty feet. Rows of carpet filled them, but Krycek took the metal staircase up to the second floor that probably led to the executive offices. He carefully placed his weight on each of the stairs; the metal ringing of his footsteps would give his location away faster than a gun-shot. He made it to the top just as the flashlight shone through an office with three walls of glass. He ducked around the corner, but not before seeing the red hair.

Shit.

He didn't know what she was doing here without Mulder, but he wasn't on orders to kill anyone so the smoker might not have known who would be there. He backed away as the flashlight turned the corner, but before he could duck into a custodian's closet, his phone rang.

The smoker had switched his phone to ringer. It stopped after the first one, but it was too late. He had chosen a dead-end hallway and the closet was locked. Scully started to run at the same time he heard the gun clicking off safety. "Federal agent, I'm armed," she said.

Krycek raised his hand and turned around before any awkward situation arose over his second hand stuffed in his pocket. "Scully," he said, and bowed his head slightly.

Her eyes widened, and her grip on the gun stopped shaking. "Where is it?" she demanded.

Krycek raised his shoulders, and his jacket lifted. She approached him and grabbed the gun, but threw it down the hall and motioned him against the wall. Krycek turned, docile, and couldn't stop the thought that he'd much rather her partner to pat him down.

"Where is Mulder?" he asked.

"What's it to you?" she snarled, but Krycek heard the small worry in her voice.

"Didn't he answer his phone?" Krycek demanded.

"Shut up!" Scully snapped, and dug her gun deeper into his skull. She pulled his false arm out of his pocket and cuffed it to his real one.

Mulder hadn't answered his phone. Shit again. Krycek banged his head gainst the wall, and then protested as she yanked on the cuffs. "Scully, listen to me. We--"

She pushed him against the wall, and he hit his head a second time. He hit the same place, and the pain started to throb from the point of contact. "Shut up before you resist arrest down the stairs," she said.

Krycek turned around. "Listen to me! Mulder is in trouble. We have to--" he stopped when the gun muzzle almost worked its way into his nostril. "Another word, Krycek. Go on, say it."

Krycek pressed his lips together and didn't say anything as she called for back-up. Game and set to the smoker. v He stepped down the stairs carefully, but this time he didn't care about his footfalls. His back knotted with Scully behind him; the stairs were steep enough that the fall would break his neck, but he would almost prefer the sudden death than going through central booking.

The black and white pulled up, and he banged his head against the roof as the cop forced him inside. Krycek cursed, but yanked his foot in to keep the door from slamming on it.

They filed his half-empty fingerprint file, but Krycek didn't flinch until after they had taken his picture. The cop cuffed him to a chair in front of a desk and he waited

An overweight cop finally sat down and rolled a form into the typewriter. "Name?" he asked.

"Alex Krycek," he said.

"Aliases?" the cop asked in a bored voice.

Krycek almost laughed. "No," he said.

The cop looked at him over his glasses, but Krycek kept his face impassive.

"Address?"

Krycek gave his real one. He wasn't going to live there any more.

They charged him with breaking and entering and carrying a concealed weapon. He waited for them to run his name through the system and find all his 'wanted in connection with's to come up, but the cop's face never lost his bored look. "Judge will set bond in the morning, Mr. Krycek. You may have your phone call now."

Krycek shook his head. There was no one to call.

The two men in the cell eyed him as he entered. One of them was a nervous man in a suit and the second was coming down from something as he kept to his corner and shook. Both of them left him alone.

Krycek sat down on one of the benches and tried not to think of Mulder.

He woke the next morning to his name. He opened his eyes, and saw Scully wearing the same suit she had on the day before. He stood up and the guard left them alone. "Where's Mulder?" she demanded.

"I don't know," Krycek said.

"Krycek, don't fuck with me. You tell me where he is or--"

"Or what?" Krycek demanded. He shook on the bars. "You've already fucked my life. What more can you do to me, Agent?" he asked.

"Just tell me where he is," she repeated.

Krycek sat down on his bench again and she left him. An hour later, he was called in front of a judged. He posted his own bail.

Scully met him outside the courthouse. "What do you want?" he asked as he tried to hail a cab.

"Why was he calling you?" Scully asked.

Krycek stopped. "What?"

"Last night. The phone call was from his mobile. Why was he calling you? How did he know your number?"

A cab slowed down, but Krycek waved it away. "My car is around the corner," she said.

Krycek followed her. She unlocked his passenger side, but as Krycek went to open the door, she dug her gun into his side again. Krycek tried to twist away, but the gun pressed against him harder. "Anything happens to Mulder, you asshole, and I will kill you. Do you hear me?"

He nodded, but the gun didn't move. Krycek lashed out, knocked it from her hand, and clicked the safety back on. She stared at him for a moment, but Krycek let the gun slide around his finger. He offered it back to her, and she snatched it back. "I could have shot you," he said.

"Get in," Scully snapped. She went around the car, and Krycek gave her directions back to his place.

They were silent for more than half the drive. "You never said why he was calling you," Scully said.

Krycek glanced over to her. "He was probably wanting to know where I was," Krycek asked.

"I don't believe you. How did he get the number?"

Krycek rubbed his forehead and he could smell the jail cell on his skin. "I gave it to him."

She stopped for a red light, but refused to look at him. "Where is he?" she asked, voice completely emotionless.

"The cigarette man has him," Krycek said. It was a guess, but a calculated one. The light turned green, but she didn't move, and Krycek said nothing to remind her. They sat through an entire cycle, and she gunned it just as the light turned yellow again.

His apartment was a mess. Krycek righted a lamp, but Scully didn't move from the door. "Where's Mulder?" she asked again. Krycek put the cushion back on the sofa and collapsed onto it. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "We have to go find him."

Krycek rubbed his face again. "The smoker will tell me when he wants me to know." he said.

"That's it? You're...." she couldn't find the word. Krycek looked up at her, and she silenced.

"In or out, Scully, but nothing is going to happen until that phone rings," Krycek said.

Scully almost walked away, but stopped at the doorway. She sat with him for the first half an hour, but then migrated into the kitchen to start coffee. Krycek went into the bathroom and had a fast shower He wrapped a towel around his hips and changed in his bedroom.

Scully didn't look at him. "That was Mulder's shirt, wasn't it?" she asked.

"Yes," Krycek said.

She nodded. Krycek took a cup down, and she backed away as he filled it with coffee. When the phone rang, Scully jumped.

Krycek answered it. "Where is he?"

"No hello, Alex?"

"Hello," Krycek managed.

"How was your night, Alex, meet any interesting people in your cell?"

"Where is he?" Krycek lowered his voice.

"I have him. I want you. Are you willing to trade?"

"You know I am."

"Good. Leave Scully. I call and she doesn't answer the phone, we are gone. Do you understand?"

"Where?" Krycek asked.

The smoker laughed. "There, Alex. You are finally asking the right questions."

"If you hurt him, I'll kill you," Krycek said.

"Plaza, twenty minutes. Your new gal-pal doesn't answer the phone after you're gone, and you never seen him again."

The smoker hung up.

Scully was dead against it, but she had no choice. Krycek grabbed his jacket and was out the door before she could argue. He drove to the Plaza, but was at least four minutes late. The woman looked at him; he had instinctively worn something that would have pleased the smoker, but it made the girl step back. "Krycek. Is there a message for me?" he asked.

She looked around her to call the manager, "Alex, my name is Alex. Is there something here for me?" he tried again.

She paused, and then reached under the counter and brought out an envelop. Krycek grabbed it and ripped it open. Room 1435. He ran to the elevator and pushed the button until the door opened.

He paused in front of the door, but it opened before he knocked. "Alex. So good of you to join us."

Krycek went to push his way past, but the smoker blocked his way. "No hello kiss?" he asked, sounding amused again.

The smoker parted his lips and stuck out his tongue. It was crude, but punishment suitable for his misbehavior. Krycek kissed him, letting the man's tongue move around his mouth like a slug. The taste of cigarettes coated his teeth as the smoker backed away and let him enter the room.

Mulder twisted against the duct tape crossing his wrists. Krycek went to him, but the smoker grabbed his false arm and pulled him around. Krycek looked at the hand holding him and then up to the smirk on the man's face. "On your knees, Alex, let's see what else that mouth of yours can do."

He could hear Mulder's frantic breathing behind him, but he didn't turn around. "Let him go," he said. "I'll be your whore when he's gone."

The smoker grabbed his T-shirt and yanked. The cloth split, but the man didn't let go of the tattered edges. "I have given you so many second chances, Alex. So many that I have lost count. What makes you think I will give you another?"

Krycek heard Mulder behind him, and he suddenly shook his head. "Get your hands off me," he said.

The smoker just laughed at him. Krycek batted his hands away, and the man took a step back out of shock. "Alex, what are you doing?" the smoker demanded.

Krycek stepped away from him. He went to Mulder, but the smoker put his hand on his shoulder. Krycek pulled his gun and used it to push the smoker's wrist off him. He pressed the gun between the man's eyes, and the smoker stepped away. "Don't ever touch me again," he said.

"Do you realize what you are doing?" the smoker demanded.

Krycek nodded. He had forgotten his knife at home. "Undo his legs," Krycek ordered.

"You must be joking."

Krycek pistol-whipped him. The blow wasn't hard, but the smoker stumbled back. Krycek pressed his gun down on the soft spot of the smoker's temples. "Do you see me laughing?" he asked.

The smoker pulled out a pocket knife and opened it. "You're a dead man, Krycek," he said.

"I know," Krycek said, but his hand was steady on the gun. The smoker cut the last of tape, and Krycek offered his hand to Mulder to help him stand. Krycek didn't turn his back to the smoker, but took the knife from the man's hand and then shut the door behind them. Krycek sawed through the tape over Mulder's wrists, and Mulder yanked off the gag.

He went to say something, but the elevator doors opened. Krycek walked out to his car, and ignored Mulder trying to find the words to use. He didn't want to talk about it. Mulder went to the other side of the car as Krycek unlocked his door, but Krycek turned the engine and drove off rather than unlocking the passenger door.

He didn't look back. He drove until the tank of gas gave out and stopped for a night at a cheap hotel. He gave a false name and paid cash, but two hours later, the door burst open.

Krycek's gun was under his pillow, but he didn't reach for it. There was no point in giving them a reason. He put his single arm behind his back, but the blow to the head knocked him out.

He woke up chained by his good hand to the door of a moving van. He rattled it to test the welded ring, but it wasn't going to let him go. He looked around, but the three men in the van ignored him. Enforcers. He wouldn't get any pity out of them, so he kept his mouth shut and nursed his head-ache back to the city.

He didn't recognize any of the men who waited for him in the white room. They wore lab-coats, but he knew that most of the instruments on the tray were for show, but the stoked portable forge in the room made him sweat with forced-forgotten memories.

"Sit down, Alex," the first man said. He motioned the bolted down gurney on the floor. "We have your handler's story, but I'd like to hear your side."

"I disobeyed him," Krycek said. He watched as an assistant put a poker into the forge and then noted something on a clipboard he carried.

"He told me that. I told you, I want to hear your side."

Krycek watched the iron slowly changing its colour to a deep red. "What did he accuse me of?" he asked.

The man put his arm around his shoulder. "Alex...do you go by Alex?"

"Krycek," Krycek said.

"Krycek, then. Tell me what happened or we will have to start with the encouragement early. Do you want that?" the man asked. He kept his voice level, but Krycek wasn't seduced by it. His chances of walking out of the room was almost non-existent, so he told him about Mulder's abduction.

"He had you arrested?" the man asked. Krycek nodded, but the man's assistant covered the poker handle with an oven mitt and passed it over.

"Yes, sir," Krycek said. He pulled away as the poker moved towards him and suddenly there were two very strong men holding him down by the shoulders. He looked around him, but there was no escape from the poker as it came close enough to his eye that the skin around it went tight.

"And you are fucking this Mulder." v "Yes, sir," Krycek said. The poker moved downward over his throat, and Krycek threw his head back to avoid contact. The hands pressed down against him harder, but the poker never touched his skin.

"Since when, Krycek? How long have you been compromising us?"

Krycek tried to swallow with a dry mouth. "I have never compromised you."

The man took the poker away, but only to reheat it. "Are you thirsty?" the man asked.

Krycek looked up, surprised. "Yes," he said, waiting for the catch.

"Bring Mr. Krycek a glass of water," the man asked the same attendant who tended the poker. He left the room for a moment, and brought back a paper cup half full of luke-warm water. Krycek's throat was suddenly so dry that even the waxy taste to it was good. The attendant took away the cup and a moment later passed the man back the poker.

"I don't believe you, Krycek. You are fucking an FBI agent and you are telling me that you have never said anything that let your boyfriend know our plans?"

Krycek strained away from the poker again, but with a nod from the man, the two heavies standing over him ripped open his shirt. The man took in the straps and the beginning of the plastic arm. Krycek stared at him; he must have seen the edges to the scars from the burns from where the Russians had cauterized the wound after hacking off his arm. He looked up, daring the man to say something about it, but the questioning continued. "Answer the question."

"I've been too close to Mulder," Krycek said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "I haven't had official contact with him in a year."

The poker came within an inch of his skin, and Krycek watched the flesh turn pink. There was no escaping it, so he stopped trying to pull away. He relaxed in the grip that held him and regulated his breathing. Experience taught him not to breathe too much in or out so that when the pain split him, his lungs wouldn't torture him as well.

The heat withdrew from him. "And how long has the smoker been fucking you?"

Krycek opened his eyes. "What?" he asked.

"It is a simple question, Krycek."

He didn't want to lie, but he needed time to formulate a near-truth. He glanced to the door again. "Thinking fast won't help you. Tell me when he started fucking you."

The poker was a couple feet away from him, but Krycek took a deep breath any way. "A week and a half," he said.

"You knew he was under orders not to."

"We had an...arrangement," Krycek said, letting the bitterness creep into his voice.

"And that would be the airport situation." Krycek stared at him. "We know a lot more than you think, Mr. Krycek. And I would appreciate you being more co-operative. Why didn't you kill that family?"

"I can't," Krycek said. He stared at the poker, waiting for its touch, but it went back into the forge.

"I suggest you try," the man said, mildly.

"Mulder," Krycek said.

The poker dropped down another inch over his chest, and Krycek tried to pull away. The men pushed him down harder, and he kicked out. It was close enough that the slight body hair began to singe. He shook his head, desperately, but bit his lip to keep from begging. He looked up, waiting for the pain, but the man was studying him. The poker went back into the forge and the men holding him let him go.

"Good day, Mr. Krycek," the man said, and he and his assistants filed out.

It took a dozen heartbeats for Krycek to pull his shirt back together and stand up from the gurney. The door opened as he pushed on it, but there was no one in the halls. He kept to the balls of his feet, expecting an ambush with every step, but the only man he passed looked at his ripped shirt and said nothing.

Gap-boy stopped him in the foyer. The boy's face was angry for a heartbeat, and then noticed that Krycek's shirt wasn't opened, it was torn. His eyes widened slightly, but then he nodded and touched just below his clavicle with splinted fingers.

Krycek let his shirt fall open slightly, and saw the way the way gap-boy looked at the exposed flesh. Krycek motioned the door, and gap-boy followed him out.

Krycek motioned the door, and gap-boy nodded.

They stopped outside a bar. "Can you go in here?" Krycek asked.

Gap-boy glared at him and pulled the door open himself.

Krycek followed him in.

Gap-boy was Chris with no last name yet. He pulled down his collar long enough for Krycek to see the puckered pink scar. Krycek nodded, and Chris finished his beer and carefully put the bottle down. "I missed," he said. "Haven't missed since."

Krycek nodded. He put his false arm on the table, and Chris glanced to it. "What happened there?" he asked, carefully.

Krycek rubbed its wrist. "I wasn't careful," he said.

"They say..." Chris said, and then stopped.

Krycek laughed, but it was almost soundless. "What do they say?" he asked.

"The consortium had it cut off because of you and...Agent Mulder."

Krycek let his arm slip under the table. "They say that, do they?"

"Is it true?"

"No."

"What happened?" Chris asked.

Krycek took a sip of beer. "We don't know each other well enough for that, yet," he said.

Chris looked away, flushed. "Are we?" he asked.

"What?"

"Going to know each other well enough."

"Depends on whether or not you buy the next round," Krycek said.

Chris jumped up to get it, but they got into different cabs. Krycek rubbed the spot that the poker had almost touched, and Chris nodded without arguing. He was suddenly exhausted, but as the cab pulled up to his building he saw his lights were on. "I've changed my mind," he told the driver. The driver nodded at the change of address and brought him to Mulder's place.

It was deserted. Krycek stripped off the tattered remains of the shirt and curled up on Mulder's bed. He didn't know what he would do if the key turned in the lock, but he never found out. He changed into another one of Mulder's shirts and left his own on the bed.

He unlocked the door and stared at the unordered newspaper with the blue-tie. Another meeting. He cursed.

The smoker ignored him, but so did the skater punk. Chris went to stand by him, but Krycek glared him and then looked to the table of men sitting, and Chris backed away.

The meeting progressed, but it was nothing but an administrative meeting about projected expenditures for the next fiscal year. Krycek kept his head up, but he was bored with it. The men sitting occasionally glanced at him, but he didn't know which one ordered his presence.

The meeting finally ended, but the smoker walked past him without even a nod of recognition.

Krycek glanced to Chris, but followed the smoker out. "I admitted nothing," he said.

The smoker glanced to him. "You've won, Alex, congratulations."

"I didn't..."

"Go to hell, Alex," the smoker said. He looked over at Chris once and walked away.

Chris walked up behind him, but Krycek flinched out of the hold. "My place?"

Chris nodded.

#

Krycek brought Chris a beer and collapsed next to him on the couch. "Your handler?" Chris asked.

"Ex-handler," Krycek said. He began playing with Chris' blond hair. "I don't think he'd want to piss on me, now."

"Were you...uh..." Chris asked.

"Him more than me. You and yours?"

"A couple times. More out of boredom than anything."

Krycek studied Chris. He would be the exact opposite of what the smoker saw in him. Blond, tanned, and wide eyes that didn't lose the innocence despite the pretty blade he kept in his sleeve.

Krycek took Chris' hand and worked his finger-tips up Chris' arm. Chris looked at him, cautiously, but Krycek caught his chin and kissed him. Chris tugged at his shirt, and they were awkward between the false arm and the splints, but Chris managed to hold down his hips and Krycek had to drop down to his elbows to keep his balance.

He closed his eyes, enjoying it despite himself. The animalistic pleasure of having Chris against him and not have to fake his enthusiasm was a welcome change from the smoker. He winced as the splinter scraped against his skin. He couldn't jerk himself off, and Chris only had one usable hand.

He swore, trying to move his hips, but Chris wordlessly protested. Krycek gritted his teeth and took it, each thrust catching him just slightly off. He needed to jerk off, but forced himself to wait.

Chris finally dug his nails into Krycek's hip and came, shuddering. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he repeated, but Krycek pulled away before Chris could catch his breath and squeezed his eyes shut as he wrapped his fist around his cock. His body flushed but he ran his hand down the length once and came against his chest and the carpet. He collapsed down into the wet spot as Chris stood up and walked to the bathroom.

He cleared his throat and pushed to his feet, but ran the tap for cooler water as he heard Chris washing off.

Chris came out of the bathroom. "Got something to eat?" he asked.

Krycek motioned the fridge.

Chris spent the night, but most of that was in front of the television. Krycek went to bed early, but didn't move as Chris joined him. Chris nudged him once, but then turned around and slept on his own side.

Krycek woke to a knock on the door. Chris got up to answer it, but Krycek pulled him back. "Stay here," he said, and struggled with his a pair of sweats. It was easier to manage without his arm on.

Mulder stood at the door. He stared at his stump for a moment, surprised. Krycek did nothing without putting the false arm on, but he frowned as Krycek blocked his way in.

"Now is not a good time, Mulder," he said.

"I thought--"

"You thought what, Agent Mulder?" he asked.

"Alex?" Chris called.

Krycek met Mulder's eyes, daring for him to respond. Mulder turned around and walked away.

It wasn't quite the response he was looking for.

=30=