TITLE: Bentropy Thirteen
NAME: Mik
E-MAIL: ccmcdoc@hotmail.com
CATEGORY: M/K
RATING: NC-17. M/K/? This story contains slash i.e. m/m sex. So, if you don't like that type of thing - STOP NOW! Forewarned is forearmed. Proceed with caution. Of course if you have four arms you can throw caution to the wind, or perhaps lend one to Krycek.
SUMMARY: Entropy - chaos. Bent - not straight. 'nuff said.
ARCHIVE: Only with my permission.
FEEDBACK: Feedback? Well, yes, if you insist...
TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: This is after everything, the season in the shower notwithstanding.
KEYWORDS: story slash angst Mulder Krycek NC-17
DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Alex Krycek, and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century Fox Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use...unless you count cheap thrills. Other characters belong to me...or someone else but they left them at my house so I'm playing with them.
Author's notes: I happen to think I have a great beta. I happen to think everyone knows who my great beta is. But I am dreadful about giving her credit for all her hard work. Shame on me. Thank you, Susan...the greatest beta in all betadom.
If you like this, there's more at https://www.squidge.org/3wstop
If you didn't like it, come see me, anyway. Pet the dog.
Bentropy Thirteen
by Mik
"No."
"What do you mean, no?" Skinner had actually achieved the award winning Mulder impatience tone and added his own fillip, a palm slapped on the counter between them.
The charge nurse matched his impatience, syllable for syllable. "Just what I said. No, I cannot tell you what room Peyton Didelphis is in, because he is no longer here."
"That's impossible," Skinner said. Which surely should have made it so.
"Evidently it is not," she responded, and without any sign of regret.
"He was beaten with a tire iron last night," I protested. "It's not as if he could just get up and walk out."
"As a matter of fact, that's exactly what it's like," she told me. "Mr. Didelphis checked himself out this morning, AMA."
"That's impossible," Skinner repeated.
She and I both looked at him. "Saying that isn't going to change the fact that he did," she told him. "Patients do stupid things like this all the time."
"Did someone come for him?" I asked. "Did he get a phone call? Visitor? Gift?"
"I don't know. I don't believe he was in any condition to drive himself." She glanced at the chart. "However, once they sign that release form, we have no way to stop them, unless they are not capable of making an informed decision."
"He'd been beaten severely," Skinner pointed out. "Surely he should have been considered incapacitated."
The nurse was tired of the subject. "Look. He signed the release. He's gone. That's all I can tell you." She snapped the chart closed and turned her attention to someone waiting behind us with the air of a person to whom we were now invisible.
Skinner and I backed away from the counter as others closed in around us. "He's not stupid, he's scared," I said to Skinner, as we stepped into the elevator. "He thinks he's running for his life. He said he had something to show me. He must have found something big." I stopped to recall how he had been, lying there in the alley. "He didn't have any files or other information on him when we found him. So it's just something he could tell us."
"Maybe whoever assaulted him took -"
"No, they would have killed him if they had what they wanted." I was sick. What had I dragged this poor kid into?
"He was pretty close to dead," Skinner reminded me.
"They would have made sure." I looked at Skinner. His expression said, whether he wanted to believe it or not, he had to agree with me. "This is something big."
"But what?" Skinner was rolling up the sleeves of his dark blue shirt, his one concession to the oppressive heat of the afternoon. "And why didn't he tell you when you talked to him last night?"
"I don't know," I admitted, "but we'd better find out before someone takes another whack at him." I fished my mobile out of my pocket as the elevator doors swished open into the lobby. "Maybe he can just tell me." I dialed his number, absorbed some information. Frowned. I tried the number again. Same results. I tried his work number. Got his voice mail. Tried his home again. And received the same results a third time. "Shit."
Skinner looked up from checking his watch as we went through the pneumatic doors. "What is it? No answer?"
"In a matter of speaking." I tucked the phone back into my jeans, grimly. "His service has been disconnected."
Skinner put a hand on my shoulder. "Don't read the worst into that, Mulder," he said, trying to sound soothing. "Maybe he just forgot to pay his bill."
I glared at him. "He's a computer nerd, for God's sake. People like him don't forget to pay bills. They pay them online the day they get them." I started walking faster toward the car. "He's gone. Tell me he's not terrified."
Skinner had to put on some speed to catch up to me. "Maybe his service is having technical problems, maybe it -"
"Maybe he's just trying to vanish," I snapped. "Come on." I tugged at the door handle. "Let me in."
He released the lock and went around to the driver's side. "What do you want to do? Do you know where he lives?"
I nodded and climbed into my seat. "I was there recently." I pointed. "It's just off - no." I lowered my hand. "There's no point in going there if he's gone into hiding. And if he is hiding there, I'm not going to run the risk of leading someone to him."
"What?" He shot me an incredulous look. "Don't tell me you think we're being followed. That's a little too paranoid, even for you."
"Is it? His assailant was waiting for him at the club. Even if someone had somehow overheard the conversation he and I had setting up that rendezvous, the name of the place was never mentioned. So, isn't it just possible that you and I were followed there?"
"Mulder, that's really reaching," he said, but with less conviction. "Okay, it's not yet four. What do you want to do, if you don't want to lead people to him?"
I shifted in my seat, trying to calm the storm of anxiety and uncertainty in my brain so I could think clearly. "Okay... what do we know? We know Krycek's alive and that he's attempted to contact me for some reason. We know that Peyton uncovered some kind of guilty information and someone else, possibly Krycek, found out about it. We know someone did a number on Peyton when he was on his way to giving that information to us. And we know there is every indication that he's running for his life."
"There are some indications," Skinner amended. "And we know that some of that information he's collected seems to relate to a child abuse agency."
I snapped my fingers. "Exactly."
He looked at me. "Want to go stir things up?"
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Mr. Jennings was 'too busy' to see us, at first. Badges and threats of additional subpoenas and search warrants had no effect on his schedule. But my loud promises to come over the counter and find him seemed to have some impact. Mr. Jennings appeared just short of a puff of smoke, looking aggrieved. "What is it now?"
Skinner shoved his badge in Jennings' face. "A moment of your time. Now."
Jennings backed up a step, as people were wont to do when Skinner chose to get in their face. "In my office. This way."
His office was suspiciously clean for a man who was too busy to see us. A single file sat in a bin on top of a filing cabinet and a battered spiral notebook sat center of his desk. He did not invite us to sit. He did not sit. He shut the door, pushed his glasses higher on his nose and said, "What's all this about? You've already broken laws, ethics and rights of privilege. What more do you want?"
"What about some truth?" Skinner suggested in a seemingly affable voice. Only someone who knows him as well as I did would hear that razor's edge of a threat.
"Oh, now I'm lying to you?" The slight squeak that ruined the effect of his sneer might have been indignation but I preferred to think it was guilt.
"Yes," Skinner responded. "So, now we're here for the truth."
Jennings' eyes narrowed. He looked from Skinner to me and back to Skinner. "You don't have anything," he decided after a moment. "Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, fishing."
Skinner smiled. Oh, man, Jennings was toast. "We know enough to be back here," he said easily.
Jennings weighed his options ... letting Skinner spread jam on him and have him for tea, or let go of whatever it was he had. Evidently, whatever he had held a bigger threat. He clamped his lips and met Skinner's eyes challengingly.
I decided to try a bluff. Jennings was a good enough liar. He even had his blink ratio under control, but since we'd been in the office, his eyes had gone twice to the notebook on his desk. It was worth a try. "Look, we know you left something out of the records you surrendered. Now, we're here to get it. And since it was covered in our previous subpoena, we are not breaking any laws, ethics or rights of privilege to collect it now."
He practically handed it to us then. Two more times during my speech, his eyes darted to the desk, and he licked his lips nervously.
Skinner caught it that time. He shifted his body weight slightly in the direction of the desk, and Jennings lunged forward as if to protect it.
Skinner blocked his path. "What's the matter, Mr. Jennings? Something you don't want to share with us?"
Jennings licked his lips again. "It's not relevant to your investigation," he said breathlessly.
Skinner's brow quirked. "You are familiar with our investigation?"
"Well, I ..." Jennings looked at me, and then at his desk. "You're looking for Alexei Krycek, aren't you?"
"Among other things," Skinner said. "Now, if you please ..." He put his hand out politely. "The information you neglected to give us last time?"
Jennings found the last vestiges of his spine and stiffened. "'Other things' were not defined in the subpoena," he protested. "It's not relevant -"
I moved in close, hemming him against the wall. "I'm very tired. I haven't had a decent night's sleep in some time, and that is relevant because I'm not really rational at this point and I am prepared to start breaking more than laws, ethics and rights of privilege. Now..." I held out one hand and was gratified to see him flinch. "Gimme."
Jennings inched away from me and, with an anxious glance toward Skinner, sidled to his desk. "I don't know how many laws you're violating right now," he said as if that should wound us. "It won't mean anything to you and since you cannot impose a threat of obstructing justice right here and now, I am not compelled to explain it to you." He lifted the notebook and revealed a three by five index card. "Get a material witness warrant if you want more than that." He flung the card at Skinner.
Because it was merely paper, it merely fluttered forward on the desk, thus ruining the effect of his speech and gesture, but we had the paper, and he had a good fright. Considering our work there complete, we picked up the card and left him.
"You threatened a civilian, Mulder, a potential witness," Skinner complained as we went down the stairs.
"I was irrational, I'm not responsible for my actions."
"Mulder, that's not for you to decide," he chided.
"Sure it is. I'm a psychologist. I know rational and I ain't it." I held out my hand. "Let me see that card."
He pulled it from his breast pocket and gave it a quick glance. "He's right. It doesn't mean anything to me. It's just a string of numbers."
I took it from his hand and looked at it a moment. "It's a phone number."
He looked over my shoulder. "Too many numbers."
"No, those first two are a country code."
"Going to call it?" he asked, unlocking my door.
"No." I handed it back to him and opened my door. "No, you're going to use your resources to find out who it is we're calling, first." I worked my seatbelt into place as he climbed in under the wheel. "Well?"
He had turned the ignition, but was just sitting there, staring over the wheel.
"Let's go," I insisted.
"Patience," he said quietly, still staring.
Sure enough, not three minutes later, Jennings emerged from a back door, looking left and right and trotted to his car.
I looked at my watch. "It's not lunchtime," I observed casually.
"No," Skinner said thoughtfully. "It is not."
"And it would be a stretch to call it quitting time," I added. Jennings was backing out of his space. I turned my head to watch him.
"Yes, it would be." Skinner pushed the car into Drive.
I looked back at him, smiling. "Are you pondering what I'm pondering, Pinky?"
He let the car roll forward smoothly. "Why, yes, I am, Brain," he said, with a perfectly straight face.
"Then let me drive." I released my seatbelt. "I've tailed suspects faster on foot than riding with you."
"Mulder?"
"Yes?"
"Hold on." He stomped on the gas and we actually achieved a little fishtail as we pulled out into the street.
Jennings was definitely on the move, but he didn't seem to think about the possibility of being tailed. He wasn't even checking his rear view as he traveled. Skinner was by no means erratic, but he was definitely determined not to lose him this time.
"You know where he's going?" I said, bracing my hand on the dash. I was tingling from my scalp down. Something was going to happen at last.
"Do you?" Skinner asked, waving at the pizza delivery driver we cut off.
"I think so. He's taking us right to him. I can feel it." I know I was bouncing my seat in excitement. "Right to him."
"He's in a hurry to get somewhere," Skinner agreed tightly as he maneuvered through the beginnings of rush hour traffic. "What if he is? What are you going to do?" He shot me a quick glance. "What if it is Krycek?"
"What do you mean, what am I going to do? I'm going to see him. I'm going to ask him what the fuck's going on."
"That's all?"
It was my turn to look at him. "Well, I'm not going to be dragging him to bed straight off, if that's what you're asking."
His voice was somber, bordering on sad. It might even have been gentle. "Are you so sure he wants to see you?"
What kind of question was that at a time like this? "What are you talking about? Of course he does. He was asking for me at the club, wasn't he?"
"Then why all this cat and mouse business? Why not just come to you? He must know you're here by now." He jerked into another lane sharply, and followed Jennings on an unexpected left turn.
"He did come to me, remember?" My fingers were digging into the upholstery of the dash. "Only you were there, as well. He might not be so keen on reestablishing an acquaintance with you. If you recall, you shot him."
"Obviously, I did not shoot him," he pointed out dryly.
"Yes, but the intent was there." Still, he had a point. Had Krycek in point of fact asked for me at the club, or just informed Mich that my arrival was imminent? No, he wanted to see me. He came to me that night in that motel room, after all. I was sure of that. "Maybe he can't get to me right now," I rationalized. "Maybe he's being watched ...or detained...or..." I gave up. Maybe I was reaching.
"Maybe he and Peyton Didelphis ran away together," Skinner suggested. There was no sarcasm in his tone, only in his words
"What do you want from me?" I snarled. "We've stirred things up. That's what we wanted, isn't it?"
He took his eyes off the traffic to look at me. His gaze was heated but his face was impassive. "Yes. It is."
"Good. So long as we're clear on that," I said coldly and twisted around to watch traffic again. Bastard. What did he think I was going to do? Come to that, what did I think I was going to do? My first impulse if I opened a door and found Krycek on the other side, would be to smack him right in the face. But my second impulse? Probably to grab him and never let him go. Or shoot him. I really didn't know.
"Mulder," Skinner said after a few minutes of silence. "I'm sorry. I can't help feeling I have a stake in this now, and -"
"It's okay." I waved his apology off. A swift look snuck in his direction made me reach impulsively to touch his thigh and squeeze. "Really. It's okay. If situations were reversed, I know I'd be – hey..." I leaned forward, staring ahead. "I know this street. I know this place. I've been here before."
He was slowing down to pass the parking lot Jennings had just pulled into, but he gave me a quick look. "Recently?"
I nodded, feeling as if Fate had just sent me a karmic sucker punch. "Yeah, you could say that. The night you got here."
- END Thirteen -