Tangled Webs by Barb G Part One Setting the Lines Krycek unlocked his door and smelled the cigarette smoke. "You've changed the locks again," the smoker said, coming out of the bedroom. Krycek threw the useless set of keys onto the table. "For all the good it did me," he said. "Surely you weren't expecting to keep me out, Alex?" "What do you want?" Krycek asked as he leaned against the wall. "For one thing, to question you about your wardrobe. I don't like this at all," the smoker said. Krycek pulled back, but against the wall he couldn't escape the man's hand as it ran down his shirt collar. "You have a reputation to uphold." "Since when are you the fashion police?" Krycek snarled. The flannel shirt had more warmth than the tight black clothes the smoker liked him in, and the jeans were from before the smoker had known him. The smoker smiled at him for a heartbeat, and then cuffed his ear. It started to ring, and Krycek glared as he brought his hand up to protect the throbbing side of his face. "Did you want to get smart with me again?" Krycek shook his head. The smoker stepped closer, pinning him to the wall for a moment longer, and then walked away. "Go get changed." Krycek balled his fist, but went into the bedroom. He closed the door behind him, which probably angered the smoker even more, but he wasn't going to give the man a cheap thrill. He changed into a pair of black jeans and tucked in a new turtleneck. The room was colder with only the thin shirt, but he squared his shoulders and went back into the main room. "Much better," the smoker said. He put his hand up to stroke Krycek's cheek, but Krycek didn't stand still for it. He walked away, taking his spare gun from the kitchen draw and started to take it apart on the table. The smoker watched him, eyes narrowed, but Krycek wasn't his whore. Not anymore, at least. He had been, but that as before the smoker had disgraced himself to the consortium. It had been a long fall from favour, and to punish him once he returned to the flock, they took away all his toys, which included Krycek. The smoker had every right to discipline his behaviour if he stepped out of line, but it was a thin line. Krycek held him to the letter of it. "What do you want?" he asked again. "A simple job." Krycek checked the action, but the smoker put his hand over Krycek's arm. "No guns." "Where?" Krycek asked. The smoker gave him a slip of paper. Krycek pocketed it without looking at it. "Is that all?" The smoker turned to leave. "One last thing. How's Mulder?" Krycek's back knotted up. "I wouldn't know," he said. The smoker smirked at him. "Keep working on it, Alex. You might convince me next time." "You keep saying that." "One day it might be true." The piano wire bit into Krycek's hand as he tied it around the false arm. He tested the knot before wrapping it tight. He slipped his glove on and grabbed his keys. The address was in the warehouse district. He ducked as a patrol car passed and then relaxed. With all the budget cuts the city had to make, he doubted the next one would circle for an hour. He got out of the car and propped the hood up. The slip of paper said ten o'clock along with a license plate, but it was closer to half past before the right car pulled across the street. It would have been easier if he hadn't worn all black, but Krycek looked around from staring at the engine block and half-waved at the man in the car. He looked both ways before he ran across the street, and knocked on the window with his good hand. It would also have been easier to have just shot the mark. There was absolutely no one on the street, no witnesses and a thousand places to dump the gun, but Krycek had his orders. The man glared at him, but Krycek tried to look as harmless as possible. He ran his hand through his hair and pulled his jacket closer to his body. "Come on, man, it's freezing out here," he said. The man finally unrolled his window. "What do you want?" "Got a phone, buddy? I hate to leave the car to go find one." The man went to roll his window back up, but Krycek gripped onto the it. He yanked back, and snapped the glass out. The man tried to turn the car back on, but Krycek half-pulled him out of the broken window. He unwound the piano wire and wrapped it quickly around the man's throat. The cut glass pressed into his belly as he thrashed, but Krycek pulled the wire tighter. The man's eyes bulged, and Krycek waited until the body stopped jerking against the glass before he let go. Krycek left the wire embedded in the man's throat and kicked off his bloody shoes. He wrapped them in a plastic bag he kept in his trunk, and drove to Mulder's apartment. Mulder answered the door wearing nothing but sweats. He looked down and saw Krycek's socks, and then back up at his face. "Want a shower?" he asked. Krycek nodded. Mulder put his hand on the back of Krycek's neck. "I have to work tomorrow. Be quiet." Krycek nodded again. Mulder went back into his bedroom and Krycek started a shower. He washed using Mulder's soap and Mulder's shampoo before he toweled off. Mulder moved over to the second half of the bed, but held out the blankets for him. Krycek curled up behind him, back to back, and Mulder said nothing about the chilled flesh against him. Mulder nudged him awake. Krycek sat up on his elbows, bleary-eyed, and Mulder continued with his tie. "I bought you a tooth-brush so you'd stop stealing mine," he said. "Thanks," he said. "Am I going to read about your handiwork this morning?" "Warehouse district," Krycek said. "You going to be here when I get back?" He made his face. "No. I gotta go." Mulder leaned over him and kissed his forehead. "Don't be a stranger." Krycek didn't say anything as Mulder left him. The smoker looked up as Krycek returned. "Sleep well?" "You'll never know." "It's only a matter of time, Alex. We know both know that." Krycek sat down on the couch. He sprawled back, which spread his legs almost lewdly. "So tell me, why no gun?" "He stole a shipload of weapons from us over the fall, and we know he had a partner. This is our way of...encouraging him to come forward to return the stolen goods or you might have to visit him as well." Krycek put the flat of his palm against the inside of his thigh. The smoker tried to look like he wasn't watching, but when Krycek played with the seam of the denim, the man's mouth dropped open a quarter of an inch. "More grunt work," he said, and ran his fingers up closer to his ass. The smoker followed the motion, and he reached for his cigarettes. "Stop it." "Why? Does it remind you of past grunt work?" Krycek asked. He drew his hand up and down his testicles and sighed. "A thousand dollars." "No," Krycek said. His cock was only half-hard against his thigh, but it appreciated being stroked. "Five. Name your price." Krycek stood up and went to the door. "You couldn't afford it," he snapped. "Get out." "You forget yourself," the smoker said. He stood up and went to Krycek, who stood his ground. "I had you once, I'll have you again." Krycek met his eyes. "You can bugger my corpse to your heart's content," he said, softly. "But you will never have me." "I could make your life hell, boy." "What makes you think you haven't already?" The smoker left, and Krycek locked the door behind him. Mulder answered his cell phone, but Krycek hung up before the man could speak. At six he walked into the coffee shop and sat down next to him. "Your guy last night didn't play very nicely with others," Mulder said. Krycek nodded. It was easier for Mulder to accept his occasional killing sprees if he could rationalize it. Luckily very few innocents tied themselves up with the smoker enough to need a killing. The ones that did, Mulder never found out about. "Can we not talk about this?" he asked. "What do you want to talk about?" Mulder asked. "I don't want to talk." "Ah. Well then that calls for two tickets to a knicks game where the only acceptable form of communication are low-level grunts at appropriate intervals and beer libations on the half-hours." It had been a long time since Krycek had been out. He nodded, and paid for his coffee. Krycek refused to buy tickets close to the court; he didn't want to risk the cameras being so close. Mulder took the banishment well, and although they lost the game, it had been nobly fought. Krycek half-dozed as Mulder went through his "basketball as a microcosm of the decline of the male psyche" speech. Finally, he reached over and closed his hand over the man's mouth and nose. Mulder fought him, but Krycek only released him when the cab driver looked suspiciously at them through the mirror. "Point taken," Mulder said. "Very well argued." Krycek smiled at him. He got out with Mulder in front of his apartment, and followed him up to his apartment. Krycek shut the door behind him and they kissed against it. It had been a month since the last time they had fucked, when Krycek had forced Mulder over a bed in a cheap motel. Mulder had been on a case in New York and Krycek flew out to join him there. It was safer than being together in Washington. This time, Mulder moved his hands down the small of Krycek's back. His fingers worked through the muscles on either side of the spine, and Krycek leaned against the cold door and closed his eyes. "Let's go to the bed," Mulder whispered. Krycek was content to let Mulder lead him. Mulder stripped his shirt easily, but used his hands to roam over Krycek's body. Krycek braced himself against the wall with his single hand as Mulder's lips joined his fingers. He never knew when the lips would graze him or if he would feel Mulder's teeth, but he didn't care. He closed his eyes and allowed it. Mulder's fingers lulled him into passivity, which ended as he felt Mulder's lips against his upper thigh. Mulder nipped him as he lowered Krycek's jeans, and Krycek stepped out of them. "On the bed," Mulder whispered. "No," Krycek said. He didn't move from the wall. "I don't think you heard me. On the bed, Krycek, now." "I heard you," Krycek whispered. "So, tell me. Do you want it forced against the wall or shall I make you get into bed?" Mulder growled into his ear. Krycek looked over his shoulder, sneered, and turned back to the wall. Mulder struggled with him, and he tensed when he heard Mulder flip the top of the lube with his thumb. Krycek threw himself backwards, but Mulder caught his good hand and twisted it behind his back. Mulder never put any pressure on his arm, but Krycek felt secure in the grip. "Don't struggle," Mulder warned him. "I swear I'll let you go if you do." Krycek nodded. "I won't," he said. Mulder awkwardly lowered his pants with his free hand and squirted a healthy dose of lubrication in his palm. Krycek felt a finger force its way inside him. "You're always so tight," Mulder hissed into his ear. "Tell me I'm the only one you give this to." "You're it," Krycek whispered. He forced himself backwards, but Mulder only moved away. "That was your last warning, Krycek." Krycek moved back to the wall and waited. Mulder slipped another finger inside him, and he felt the thrill in his knees as he felt Mulder move against the soft tissue inside of him. "Ready?" Mulder whispered. Krycek nodded, and Mulder's pelvis was against him for a moment. Mulder's hot breath touched against the back of his neck as Mulder entered him, but Mulder didn't seem to mind him straining ever so slightly against his shoulder. Mulder laughed, letting him know he knew, but he wasn't going to stop gripping onto his hip to hold him still for the fucking. Mulder was babbling again. Helpless, hopeless meaningless words tripped out of him, but the heat from the hand over his wrist and the thrusts against him didn't stop. Krycek couldn't keep quiet any more, but matched the words behind him with moans. He closed his eyes, moments away from coming when they both heard the applause behind them. Mulder pulled away, reaching for his slacks, but Krycek didn't turn. "Well, well, well. I hadn't thought you had it in you, Agent Mulder. It's one thing to fuck him, but another to fuck him like the whore he is." "Get out of my apartment," Mulder demanded. Krycek turned around, and without shame began to dress. "You may own his ass, but the rest belongs to me. Alex, downstairs." Krycek glanced to Mulder, but shook his head. The smoker wasn't wrong, Krycek hadn't asked if the man needed him again that night, and he was within his rights to collect his property. Mulder was furious enough not to look at him as he left. The smoking man was half an hour later. He hadn't brought a driver with him, and so Krycek had to wait on the hood of his car for the smoker to come down. "Tell me, did I come at a bad time? Or didn't you come at all?" the smoker asked, blowing a plume of smoke into his face. Krycek refused to even cough. He kept his face straight and said nothing as the smoker passed him the keys. "To the airport," he said. "We have a plane to catch in an hour." The streets were empty that late. "What is his appeal, Alex? You aren't even on first name basis. Those little sounds you make are quite endearing, my boy, why haven't you made them for me?" Krycek took another right and headed out of town. The smoker waited a few moments in the silence, and then smiled again. "Is it true love? Would you like to settle in the Hamptons and have a little garden in the back yard? Would you wear the apron in the family? Tell me, Alex." Krycek looked at him, shook his head, and went back to driving. "At least won't you like to know when is the next time you are going to see him?" Krycek bit his lip. The strength the silence gave him grew, and by the time he reached the airport, he was feeling smug with it. The smoker couldn't touch him, and he knew it. He got out of the car, and even brought the smoker's bags into the terminal. They passed a young couple with two children who waited at a bus stand. The blue sign said they still had another twenty minute wait, but they must have just missed the previous bus. The smoker walked inside the terminal, turned around, and waited for the door to close. "Kill them," he said. "What?" Krycek asked. The smoker hadn't surprised him like that in almost three years. "I said, kill them. Shoot them in the head, but kill them all." "They are nothing to you. Why would I kill them?" "Are you disobeying a direct order, Alex?" the smoker asked, innocently. The father glanced at his watch again, and exhaled sharply enough to stir his hair with the breath. The mother said something and put her hand on his arm, and he relaxed again. "No," Krycek said. "I won't." "You have no choice. I tell the consortium that you refused, and you won't be able to hide anywhere. They will find you, Alex. Boys ten years younger than you will be thrilled to have the great Alex Krycek to finish what the Russians started. Think about that." Krycek swallowed. He looked at the family, and then back at the smoker. "But...?" he asked, sincerely hoping that there was a but. "I think you know." Krycek looked at the family one more time, but nodded. The smoker smiled and turned around. "We won't be taking that trip after all." Without being told to drive anywhere else, Krycek brought the man back to his apartment. Within moments of walking in the door, the man had him in a parody of the position he and Mulder had taken. Only this time the arm behind his back wasn't for comfort and Krycek deliberately bit his tongue to keep the painful cries inside of him as the smoker mounted him. He was already greased and mostly open from Mulder, so at least he wasn't torn too badly. He accepted the man into his body with all the fight of the promised corpse, but had to leave the room when the smoker left him against the wall and climbed into the bed. He paced for almost twenty minutes, but he was naked and he would have to go back into the bedroom to dress before he left. Finally, Krycek squared his shoulders. He had puked up black oil until his stomach felt like it had collapsed. He could survive this. He kept to his quarter of the bed, but the smoker moved up behind him and began rubbing his limp cock against the small of his back. Krycek looked up at the alarm clock, but groaned when it was only four thirty. Two and a half hours left to go. He sighed and tried to pull away from the man an extra inch. He woke the next morning to with a sore shoulder. He sat up to test it, and noticed he was alone in bed. The smoker was in the shower, but Krycek dressed rather than joining him. "You try me," the smoker said, coming out of the bathroom. "Do you think I would forgive you your lapses?" Krycek didn't look up from taking the loaf of bread down from the cupboard. If he concentrated on the individual motions required to drop the bread down the toast slot, open the fridge door, find the butter and everything, he could almost drown out the smoker. Not that the man would let him. The smoker slammed the door and threw Krycek up against it. The cold touched his bare back, but he looked off to the side and down rather than at the man. "Look at me!" Krycek kept looking away. The smoker finally had to grab his chin and force his face forward. Krycek strained against the fingers, but the smoker only dug deeper. The pain started to break through the wall of numbness Krycek had built, and he stopped fighting. The smoker relaxed, and to fuck with his mind, Krycek leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. He drew his tongue across the cheek, but was silent as the man grabbed his hips and thrust against him. His toast popped up, and Krycek stared at it. He hated cold toast, but doubted he could get out of the hold any time soon. He tried not to make the wince too noticeable as the smoker thrust into him again, but he was anything but excited and the body grinding against him was painful. He held a finger to the smoker's lips and pushed him back slightly. The smoker fell over himself to obey, and Krycek dropped to his knees. He had felt the bulge when it was against him, and the smoker was hard enough that when Krycek freed his cock, it bounced up and slapped his belly. He must have been jerking off in the shower. Krycek started to suck. He forced himself to pantomime the signs of arousal. It didn't work until he started to make the soft sounds in the back of his throat. He manufactured it, but the smoker bought into it. He grabbed the back of Krycek's head and forced himself. Krycek caught the man's come on his tongue, but stood up and spat it out into the sink. He rinsed his mouth out, spat again, and then buttered his toast. The smoker was furious at being dismissed, and tried to grab the back of Krycek's hair to yank his head back, but his hair was too short and his grip kept slipping. "You don't want to play this game, Alex. You are going to lose." "Are you done with me?" Krycek asked. He swallowed with difficulty, and waited passive under the smoker's anger. The smoker let him go, furious, and left the room. Krycek followed him out. "I asked if you were done with me," he repeated. "No! Not tonight, not ever again. You're mine!" "You can't do this," Krycek snapped. He tried to feel angrier, but couldn't. The smoker grabbed him and pulled him to the window. Krycek lived in a good neighborhood, and the streets were starting to fill with young children and their nannies. "Tell me, what colour do you like. Red? Blue? How about that green shawl over there. Fuck around on me, Alex, and I'll order you to kill them all," the smoker said, and shot them all with his finger-gun. Krycek wordlessly didn't fight the hand that held him to the window. "There is a meeting at five o'clock tonight. I expect you to be there." Krycek nodded, and flinched as the smoker backhanded him. "Answer me. I am tired of this deaf-mute game that you play." Krycek bobbed his head, but then cleared his throat. "Yes... sir," he managed. The smoker patted his cheek and the door closed as Krycek slipped the cold toast into the trash. He had lost his appetite. The players all looked at him as he entered the room. There were a couple new young ones that stood around their keepers. One of them looked like a gap-commercial, while the other one looked like a skater. He felt old and expendable just looking at them. The smoker pretended to notice him and snapped his fingers, so he heeled. He tried to think of others his age what had joined him standing towards the back of the room, but one by one they had stopped attending the meetings. He felt even older. The boys reminded him more of yapping terrier pups than actual assassins. Once the second part of the meeting began and the players dismissed their flunkies, Krycek waited in the ante-chamber for the smoker to finish. Mulder would be home, and Krycek almost left the waiting room to go find a phone, but gap-boy and skater stood in front of him. Krycek looked up, annoyed, but gap-boy didn't move. "You're blocking my sun," he said. The skater actually looked out the darkened window. "You're Krycek, aren't you?" gap-boy asked. Since they had put the smoker on the "look but don't touch" order, the man had stopped bringing him to the meetings. "I am. Who are you?" "Shinu," the boy said. Death in Japanese. Cute, but it didn't impress him. "Never heard of you," he said. "Who is your daddy?" Shinu reacted like he had been slapped. He pulled out a ceramic knife and tossed it from hand to hand. He must have thought he was in a fighter's crouch, but there was no weight on the balls of his feet. "Take that back." "No," Krycek said. He stood up faster than the boy expected and hit him hard in the chest. The boy fell backwards, and Krycek stepped on his hand. He heard three fingers and possibly a thumb break, which made it easier to retrieve the knife. "Pretty," he said as he tested the edge. Gap-boy gasped in pain, and his skater friend stared at him as he tossed the knife so that it embedded itself an inch into the wooden bench. They didn't bother him after that. The smoker chastised him in the car, but the man was smiling. "You put him out of commission for a month," he said. Krycek let his false arm hit against the glass. "He'll survive," he said. The smoker put his hand on Krycek's upper thigh, and Krycek tensed. "If you thought I was defending you, you're wrong," he said. The man's hand moved up. "You still kicked his ass." "What, worried that your boy toy is getting long in the tooth?" Krycek snarled. "I'd take experience over youth any day," the smoker said his finger tired to slip between Krycek's thighs, but Krycek slammed on the brakes. "Get your hand off me." "Don't do this Alex." Krycek tensed his thigh muscles. A car came in the opposite direction, but Krycek didn't move. "Drive." "Fuck you." The hand tightened over his cock. Krycek bit back a cry, but tightened his hand on the steering wheel. The pain shot through him, but he gritted his teeth and took it. Eventually the hand moved away. Krycek remained parked for a moment longer. "Keep your hand off me while I'm driving," he growled. "Temper, Alex." Alex drove home. The smoker punished him for his willfulness, but the bleeding stopped when he was in the shower. He still had a large bottle of antibiotics over the sink from the last time the smoker owned him and he downed a couple just in case. The doorbell rang on the third night. Krycek was alone and he stood up gingerly to answer the door. "What are you doing here?" he demanded. Mulder blinked, but stepped past him into the apartment. "You made me worry." "What do you want?" Krycek asked. "Alex..." Mulder began, but Krycek narrowed his eyes. "Krycek. Are you in trouble? I can help." "Good. Get out before he comes back. You can't help me." He opened the door, but the smoker stood on the other side. Krycek stared at him, looked to Mulder, and just stood there. The smoker grabbed the back of his neck. Krycek swore as the man pushed him back against the wall, and winced as he felt one of the nails break skin. "Sniffing after my property again, Agent Mulder?" "Just get out of here, Mulder," Krycek said. He winced again as the nails dug deeper. Both of them heard the gun's safety click off. "Let him go," he ordered. The smoker laughed. "You are going to shoot me over a whore?" "Let him go, you bastard, or I won't let the cancer have a chance." "Mulder, what are you doing?" Krycek demanded. "You're coming with me." "Mulder—" Krycek began, but then looked at Mulder's face. The smoker was still amused by this all, but the entertained look to his face ended as Krycek pulled away from the hand holding him. "Alex, you aren't going anywhere," he snapped. Krycek shook his head. Mulder took his arm and pulled him out the door. "This disappoints me, boy," he said. Krycek nodded, but Mulder slammed the door. Krycek pulled away. "Are you trying to get me killed?" "You told me he couldn't fuck you." "Yeah? Well now I'm telling you he can." Mulder shook his head. "Did you want to go back to him, then?" Krycek thought about it, but shook his head. "Coffee?" Mulder asked. "Yeah," Krycek said. The coffee house was warm, but Krycek didn't take off his jacket. "So why?" Mulder asked. "I didn't have a choice," Krycek said flatly. "You always have a choice." "Not all of us." "What does he have over you?" Mulder asked. Krycek looked around him, but he didn't see anyone in the shop besides customers. "I disobeyed a direct order," he said. Mulder waited, not soliciting for any other information. Krycek sighed, and looked up. "He ordered me to kill a family. I refused. If he tells his bosses I'm fertilizer." Mulder nodded, once. # He came home late, but the smoker was waiting. Krycek groaned as he sat down next to him on the couch. "He fucked you?" Krycek shook his head. "But you wanted to." "It would have hurt too much." "And did you think I would hurt you any less?" "I came back, didn't I?" Krycek said. The smoker pulled his head down, and Krycek took him in his mouth. Krycek covered his teeth and kept from gagging, but that was all the smoker wanted from him. The smoker wouldn't touch him, and Krycek's lips went numb before t he man came. He swallowed, wiped his mouth, and went into the bedroom. The smoker didn't follow. A week later the phone rang once, but by the time the smoker picked it up, the line had gone dead. Krycek glanced up from the movie, but the smoker went back to his files and ignored him. It was time. Krycek swallowed and still tasted the smoker's come in the back of his throat. He put his head back down over his folded arms and exhaled in relief. All he had to do was pick a fight. He got up and the smoker caught his wrist. Krycek stared at the hand like it was something dead and pulled away. The smoker stood up and followed him to the door. "Where are you going?" he demanded. "For a drive," Krycek said. "Excellent. Where are we going?" "I've already blown you. I want tonight off." "Was that call was from Mulder, whore? The phone rings and you come in your pants." "Since when did you give a damn about where or when I come?" he demanded. "Where will you meet him?" Krycek looked away, but the smoker grabbed his wrist. "I said, where will you meet him?" "Are you going to beat it out of me?" Krycek asked. "If I have to." Krycek bit his lip. He inhaled, sharply, and then shook his head. "Outside of his apartment," he said. "Then let's go." "No." The smoker grabbed his arm. "Do you need a refresher course in obedience?" Krycek pulled away, and went down to the parking lot. He refused to look at the smoker as he drove, and parked in front of Mulder's apartment without getting out. "Go get him." "No." "Get him, Alex, or she is going to have a very bad night," the smoker said, and motioned the college girl walking down the street with a backpack. "I said no. I'm sick of being your bitch." "Kill her." Krycek kept his face hard for an instant, but then shook his head. He stared down at his feet, and the smoker put his hand on Krycek's thigh. To get away from it, Krycek opened the door. The woman looked up, startled at the sudden movement, but she froze as she saw the gun. She was still a few hundred yards away from him, but before she could turn and run, Krycek shot her, four times. She fell to the ground, blood exploding through her white sweater, and Krycek looked back through the windshield at the smoker. He looked back to the body and fired one more shot. The smoker pursed his mouth, but as Krycek walked over to the body to dispose of it, the smoker drove past him in the van. Krycek waited for it to turn around the corner before he offered his hand. "You can get up now," he said. The woman wiped some of the false blood off her cheek and pulled off her wig before she let him help her up. Mulder was a moment later and he gave her a wet cloth. She took the envelop of money from Krycek, and a moment later a car swung around to pick her up. "Let's go inside in case he comes back. Are you sure that's the end of it?" Krycek looked up to where the van had gone, but shook his head. "He's not going to risk dead bodies piling up. He can't afford investigations, and innocents cause too much stir." Mulder leaked a story of a missing nursing student to a newspaper, but with the vague description and without any proof of foul play, the story made it to page forty-seven. He called in sick for the rest of the day. Krycek had curled up on the side of the bed, but looked up as Mulder came into the room. "What's wrong?" he asked. Krycek shook his head. "It's cold in here." Mulder left for a moment, and as he came back into the room, the furnace kicked in. "You look like shit," he said, and joined Krycek on the bed. Krycek rolled onto his back. "You're supposed to get into my pants with that opening line?" he asked. Mulder put his hand down over Krycek's groin. Krycek closed his eyes and sighed as Mulder gently stroked his cock through the denim. Mulder worked his hand under the shirt, and Krycek groaned as the flat of Mulder's hand worked against his belly. The first of the heat from the register moved over him, and he arched his back, offering himself more completely to Mulder. Mulder's fingers pressed his ass over his denim, but Krycek flinched. "He's been tough on you," he whispered. Krycek felt his body tense. Mulder pulled away for a second, and then went back to stroking his cock. "Sorry." Krycek shook his head. Mulder moved over him and kissed his throat before he gingerly settled his weight down over Krycek's body. Krycek wrapped his legs around Mulder's hips and heard him hiss. Mulder bit into his throat gently, but Krycek held Mulder's head to him. Mulder sucked on his skin and moved against him, awkwardly, but the friction between them made Krycek flush. He squeezed his thighs and dug his ankles into Mulder's ass. Mulder began to grunt against his throat, and Krycek tilted his head back. He hadn't made-out since high school, but he came hard against Mulder's body. Mulder was a moment later, and then collapsed against him. Mulder pulled away from him after his breathing calmed down. "I'm sorry," he said. Krycek opened his eyes. "For what?" he said. "This," Mulder said, and touched Krycek's throat. Krycek moved his hand up and traced the mark. "Don't be." Part Two Lying in wait 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 announced. Krycek 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 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 disconnection. 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 four walls of glass, and he ducked around the corner, but not without 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 obviously did know who was there. The ringing stopped after the first time, 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, docilely, 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. Mulder was at his place, or at least he was supposed to be. "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 against 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 on 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. "I said, listen to me! Mulder is in deep trouble. We have too—" 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 to the smoker. He stepped down the stairs carefully, but this time he didn't care a bout his footfalls. His back knotted at being Scully behind him; the stairs were steep enough that the fall would break his neck. He would almost prefer the sudden death than going through central booking. The black and white pulled up. Scully didn't help him in and he banged his head against the roof as the cop forced him inside. Krycek cursed, but yanked his foot to keep the door from slamming 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, but one of them was a nervous man in a suit and the second was coming down from something and he kept to his corner and shook. 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 suit she had on the day before as she stood next to the guard. 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 over. What else can you do to me, Agent?" he asked. "Just tell me where he is," she repeated. Krycek sat down on his bench again. An hour alter, he was called in front of a judged and 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?" he asked. "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. 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. 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 stepped out, but then closed the door behind her. She sat with him for the first half an hour, but then migrated into the kitchen to start some coffee. Krycek went into the bathroom and sponged off. 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 last night?" "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, and 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, You'll 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 envelope. 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 stayed in his mouth as the smoker let him enter. Mulder twisted against the duct tape crossing his wrists, and he tried to pull the tape over his mouth off. 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 pushed the smoker's wrist off of 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 a place to start. He didn't want to talk about it. Mulder went to the other side of the car as Krycek unlocked his door, but he started it 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. 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. "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 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. He nodded to the same assistant, and the man 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, but suddenly there were two very strong men holding him down by the shoulders. He looked around him, but there was no escape as the poker came close enough to his eye that the skin around it went suddenly tight. "And you are fucking this Mulder." "Yes, sir," Krycek said. The poker moved downward over his throat, and Krycek threw his head back to avoid contact. The hands pressed down 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 cauterized the wounds 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 Mulder in a year." The poker came within an inch of his skin, and he 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 instead. 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. His face was angry for a heartbeat, and then noticed that his shirt wasn't opened, it was torn. His eyes widened slightly, but then he nodded and touched just below his clavicle. Krycek let his shirt fall open slightly, and saw the way the way gap-boy stared 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 ramains 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. 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. Part Three Mastering Deception Okay, it's a death story, but it's not who you think. Just be warned, some icky stuff ahead, but it's really deserved. Krycek ran after him, but missed the elevator. He took the stairs down and got to Mulder as he unlocked his car door. "It's not how it looks," Krycek said. Mulder's face was dark. "I doubt that." "It was business, Mulder." "Who was paying whom?" "Mulder—" Krycek began, but Mulder grabbed him and threw him against the car. Krycek hit hard, but he didn't move away from where he had been thrown. "Just like old times," he gritted out as his lungs tried to inhale. "You want it like old times?" Mulder hissed as he pressed his hands into Krycek's throat. Krycek exposed his throat, trusting Mulder enough not to keep the pressure on too long. Mulder broke away disgusted. "You're a whore, Krycek." "I'm an opportunist," Krycek said as he rubbed his throat. "And this is an opportunity." "Men go their entire lives without fucking an opportunity, Krycek," Mulder said as he unlocked his door. He went to open it, but Krycek didn't move away from the door. Mulder said nothing for a long set of heartbeats, but then pulled away far enough so that he could draw his finger down Krycek's cheek. "It's not going to work, Krycek," Mulder said. "What's not?" "Making me angry." Krycek rubbed his throat, feeling the heat from Mulder's fingerprints. "You don't say." "You are a bastard, Krycek," Mulder said. "I know," Krycek said. Mulder stared at him, but tugged on the door. Krycek stood away, and Mulder opened the door. "You're going to get yourself killed," Mulder said before he got into the car. "And let me guess, you aren't going to care," Krycek said. Mulder looked up just before he closed the door. "Oh, I'll care," he said, and drove away. Krycek bent his head, but then realized he was cold. He had followed Mulder down wearing nothing but jeans and he suddenly flushed, feeling more than naked with his stump exposed. He took the stairs up rather than risk any of his neighbours seeing him. Chris glanced up from the coffee pot as Krycek let himself the apartment. Chris studiously studied it rather than looking at Krycek as he entering the bedroom. He left the room once he had dressed. "That was Mulder?" Chris asked. Krycek moved behind him and parted the longer hair on the back of Chris' neck. He kissed the nape, and then blew on the spot. "Yes." "Was he pissed?" Krycek ran his hands up Chris' thighs. "Do you care?" he asked. Chris pushed against him as the toast popped up, but Krycek wasn't hungry. He forced Chris down to his knees, tired of playing the martyr. Chris resisted slightly, but Krycek was insistent. He couldn't hold Chris down and undo his jeans at the same time, but Chris took the hint and unzipped them himself. "Very good," Krycek whispered. Chris took him in his mouth, but it was obvious he was an amateur at it. Krycek coached him through it, but gave the smoker's tricks off as his own. It took Chris a bit to start improvising, and Krycek was finally able to close his eyes and pushed the thought of Chris out. The texture of the hair under his palms wasn't right. It was too long and too coarse. The sounds weren't right either. When Mulder wasn't talking he was silent as if he were conducting an experiment. He closed his eyes and pulled from his stored memories what it should be like, and linked his hands behind Chris' head to set his own pace. Chris started to gag, and Krycek squeezed his eyes shut as he forced himself to come down Chris' throat. Chris stood up, but Krycek moved away before they kissed so he wouldn't have to taste himself. "You working today?" he asked. It was the right thing to ask. Chris glanced down to his watch, swore, and left. Krycek took his gun apart and began to clean it when someone knocked on the door. He stood up and answered it without his spare. It was the man from the interrogation room. "Did you have a doctor look at that when you returned?" the man asked. Krycek didn't move from the door. "Only when the arm was being fitted." "The stump healed without complications? Any phantom pain?" Krycek rubbed his false wrist. "In the mornings." "You fascinate me, Mr. Krycek. Your handler had never had an assistant he kept for more than six months before you, yet he hand-picked you from the very beginning. Why?" Krycek turned around. "Beats the hell out of me," he said and went back to the kitchen table. The man shut the door behind him. "I asked you a question, Mr. Krycek." "And I answered it." "How is Agent Mulder?" "I haven't asked lately." "Mr. Krycek. I suggest you start taking this seriously." Krycek turned in his seat. "We aren't talking," he said. "He seems to find my willingness to fuck my handler as one of my many character flaws." "It's time to kiss and make up." Krycek put his gun back together again. "You're asking me to betray him?" Krycek asked. "And if I were?" Krycek just looked at him. "I have a hard time believing that your old handler would take this behaviour from you, Mr. Krycek." Krycek forced himself to lower his eyes. "So you're my new one?" he asked. "No. We have decided to leave you independent." Krycek looked at him. "No handler?" "None." "Do I thank you?" "No." Krycek nodded. "We want to see you tonight." Krycek nodded again. There were men who sat, and men who stood behind, and Krycek would always stand. The second half of the meeting started, but Krycek remained for it. Chris glanced at him, raising an eyebrow and Krycek nodded. The smoker saw him do it. The second half of the meeting was much more informative, but Krycek was almost disappointed to find out that Mulder was not the topic of any of the items. It could have been because he was there, but he doubted it. None of the men looked up at him. They were moving the Brazil operations underground, and an official had to be eliminated in Mexico because he beginning to reluctantly take the bribes. Krycek tensed, waiting to be assigned to the job, but they voted on an outside contractor. There was no reason for Krycek to be there other than to listen in on the next phase of plans. He had thought that his involvement with Mulder would keep him from the higher levels, but it only kept him from sitting down. At the end of the meeting, the smoker walked past him again. Krycek slowed as he approached Chris, but as the smoker went to say something, he was called back. Krycek glanced behind him to the two men who called him, and they looked at him deliberately and then turned back into the meeting room. The smoker met his eyes for the first time and smirked. Krycek focused on the sweat that covered his skin as Chris worked against him. He gritted his teeth, but he was able to stretch out on the bed enough so that he could move his free hand down to jerk off. Chris collapsed against him, and Krycek forced his body into a shudder. He came in his hand and pulled away from under Chris. Chris' skin against his own annoyed him, but Chris moved away as he disposed of the condom. Krycek scraped the blond hair off Chris' forehead and sighed. "What?" Chris asked. "Nothing." Chris rolled over to his side. "Tell me," he said as he drew patterns on Krycek's back. Krycek turned his head. "I need a favour." Chris sat up. "Name it." Krycek reached for a pair of jeans and struggled with zipping them up. Chris followed him out. "It's not really a favour, more like a job." "You want me to do a job for you?" Chris asked, shocked. Krycek shook his head. "It's not that kind of job. I need information from my ex-handler and I don't have anything that he's interested in left to trade him." Chris nodded. "When?" he asked. Krycek kissed his forehead. "I'll let you know," he said. Chris left. Krycek waited long enough for him to be gone before leaving the building himself. Mulder answered the door in a pair of baggy sweats. "What do you want, Krycek?" "Alex," Krycek said. Mulder stared at him. "It's my name. I'm taking it back," Krycek said, simply. "What do you want, Alex?" "You." "No, you don't." "Mulder, please," Krycek said. He looked around the empty hall and then past Mulder's shoulder. "Just let me in." Mulder's face didn't lighten up. Krycek looked around the hall one more time. "If that's how you want it," he said. He turned to go, but Mulder grabbed him, dragged him inside the apartment, shut the door and locked it. "Mulder—" "Shut up," Mulder growled. He backed Krycek up to the wall, and Krycek ran his hands under the sweatshirt. Mulder's skin was hot under his fingers. "Just shut up." Krycek shook his head, not saying anything. He went to drop down to his knees in front of Mulder, but couldn't move from the hands pinning him to the wall. "No, you don't." Krycek inhaled through his nose as Mulder's hand clamped over his mouth. "So, am I supposed to take you in now?" Mulder growled, but didn't move his hand for Krycek to answer. Mulder's free hand traced a line down Krycek's chest and worked its way into his jeans. "You've been losing weight again, Alex," he said. Krycek pressed his lips against Mulder's palm, but jerked back as Mulder yanked down his zipper. "Oh, you'd like it gentle? Tough shit, Alex. You should have thought about that before you drove away from me." Krycek's eyebrows almost touched, and he twisted to get away from the hand over his mouth, but Mulder's finding Krycek's erection through the jeans drained all the blood from his will. He stood still for it, almost hyperventilating through his nose. He wanted to beg Mulder to drop to his knees, but Mulder bit down on his throat and Krycek stopped fighting. Mulder obviously had been waiting for that. He dropped down to his knees in the next instant and the cold fresh air was shocking enough on his lungs that the feeling of Mulder's mouth was distant. Krycek twisted, digging his nails into Mulder's scalp. He parted his legs as much as he could without sliding his jeans down his thighs. For the first time since the airport, Krycek didn't have to pretend or force himself. He pushed back against the wall hard enough to strain his muscles, but Mulder reached up and took his hand, lacing their fingers together. Mulder didn't tease him, but pulled away long enough to suck on his finger. Krycek tensed as Mulder pressed against him, and as the finger slowly slipped inside him Mulder took him deep down his throat. Krycek came, flushing. Mulder backed away long enough to wipe his mouth, and then stood up to wash. Krycek stripped off his clothes in the meantime and lay down over the bed. Mulder joined him, reaching for the drawer before he lay next to him. Krycek rolled onto his back. Mulder kissed him, and settled his weight between Krycek's legs. Krycek looked at him, waiting for the kiss, but Mulder hooked his arms behind Krycek's legs and pulled him up. Krycek closed his eyes at the feeling of the cold lube, and he hissed softly as Mulder slowly moved inside him. The stress on his legs was almost enough to hurt, but Mulder moved gently enough so that it never came close to actual pain. He had already come twice that night, but didn't mind taking the ride with Mulder. Mulder tensed as Krycek reached up with his single hand to pull Mulder to him. Krycek shifted, and Mulder slipped out of him long enough for him to turn over. He didn't climb up to his knees, but Mulder parted his legs and pushed back inside. Krycek hugged the pillow to his chin and loved the feeling of Mulder's entire body moving against him. His cock woke up again, and Mulder moved so that he could hold it. "Alex," Mulder whispered. Krycek turned his head so that Mulder's mouth was right next to his cheek, but Mulder apparently just wanted to say his name. Mulder grunted, burrowing his face into the short hair on the back of Krycek's head as his body shuddered. Mulder went to pull away, but Krycek protested. "Stay with me," he asked. "What about..." Mulder worked his thumb against the base of Krycek's testicles, but Krycek yawned hard enough to crack his jaw. "Too tired." Mulder lay back. "Whatever you want. If you wake up in the middle of the night in a turgid state, you have my expressed consent to have your evil way with me." "Turgid?" Krycek asked, but was asleep before he heard Mulder's answer. He woke up the next morning to Mulder kissing the back of his neck. Krycek burrowed his face into the pillow, and the sounds of their breathing and the wet kisses drowned out the sound of the street from the window. The morning was cool, but Mulder moved the blankets back over their shoulders. Mulder moved his hands down to Krycek's hips, but Krycek pulled away and Mulder let him go. Krycek went to the bathroom, but Mulder didn't join him until the shower started. Mulder was better at bracing himself against the shower stall, so Krycek moved up behind him. Mulder bent at the waist, and Krycek wrapped his arm around Mulder's lower belly. Mulder threw his head back as Krycek entered him. Mulder was beautiful under him, braced to accept him. His head was bowed, but Krycek suddenly wanted to see his face. Everything fit the way it was supposed to. "Tell me he meant nothing," Mulder said. Krycek shook his head; Mulder knew he hated talking, but he cleared his throat. "He meant nothing," Krycek said. "Then why?" Mulder asked and then flinched as Krycek moved against him roughly. Krycek didn't answer him, and Mulder gave him the reprieve. Krycek focused on the sensations, and it was enough to pull him over. Mulder had brought himself off and straightened up. They didn't say anything as they finished the shower in the luke-warm water, Krycek reached for the towel when Mulder stopped him. "Then why?" he asked again. Krycek paused. "It's a means to an end, Mulder," he said. Mulder looked at him, but then glanced to his watch. "Be here tonight." "I—" Mulder put a finger over his lips. "I said, be here tonight. Your only response is 'yes'." "Yes," Krycek said, obediently. Krycek's hair was still damp as he entered the office building. Chris had met him in the parcade, and Krycek put a hand on the small of his back. Just outside of the office, Krycek had a sudden attack of conscience. He tried to ignore it, but he was asking Chris to be a whore. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. Chris nodded. The smoker looked up at them both. Krycek paused for a moment, and then turned to Chris. "Wait for us outside," he asked. Chris glanced at the smoker, but nodded and closed the door behind him. "What do you want?" the smoker demanded. He had deliberately not watched Chris leave, but it made Krycek smile. He sat down on the desk. "What do you want, Krycek?" the smoker repeated. "A trade." "You have nothing I want." "Don't I?" "He belongs to someone else." "It would be a personal favour," Krycek said. "It didn't take you long to put your thumb in his pie, Krycek." "Are you interested or not?" Krycek said, standing up. "And if I am? What do you want in exchange?" "Was Mulder the topic of your private meeting?" "That's all you want to know?" Krycek nodded. "In that case, no, he wasn't." Krycek tightened his mouth, and let the smoker feel a moments satisfaction at his expense. "A deal is a deal, Krycek. Send in your friend and excuse yourself." "Yes, sir," Krycek said. He opened the door and motioned Chris inside. Chris looked at him, and Krycek drew his finger across Chris' jaw. "Enjoy yourself." Mulder had ordered a pizza and rented a couple videos. Krycek found it odd to be spending a night sprawled out on the couch with a full belly and laughing at Mulder as he threw popcorn at the television over the malicious representation of federal agents in the media. Mulder's words, not his. Krycek finally had to distract him the only way he could. He undid Mulder's jeans, which slowed the rant slightly, but when the blow-job didn't end it entirely, Krycek reached for his beer and pressed the length of it against the underside of Mulder's cock. Mulder yelped and threw him off the couch, but Krycek amused himself on the carpet until Mulder had to get down and take over the task at hand. The movie ended without either of them noticing it, but when it switched to a snowy-screen and started crackling, they both jumped. It took less than a week. Krycek had expected it to take a few more days, but he was summoned to the offices on Thursday. "Your little friend has put in a request to be transferred," the man who had interrogated him said. Krycek stood up. "To the smoker? You can't be serious. And you are going to approve this?" The man spread his hands out. Krycek nodded and stood up. He went home, and wasn't surprised at seeing Chris waiting for him. "Alex—" Chris began. Krycek looked around. Chris' jacket was draped over the couch, and there were several empty bottles on the coffee table; he had been there a while. Krycek didn't say anything, but brought Chris back a beer and motioned him to sit down. "So you hit it off?" he asked, needlessly. Chris nodded. He drank half the beer, and then wiped his palms onto his jeans. "No hard feelings?" he asked. Krycek almost had to smile at the awkwardness of the situation. "No, no hard feelings." Chris drained off the last of his beer and stood up to go. "May I use the washroom?" he asked. Krycek nodded. Chris was gone for a couple minutes. "So, tell me, Chris. When did you decide to play this for your favour?" he asked. "You had him, Alex. You let him go." "Did he promise to take care of you? Take you to the top with him?" "You don't have a handler right now, and you belonged to him," Chris argued. Krycek bowed his head, slightly. "I suppose you're right," he said, and stood up. He opened the door for Chris and handed him his jacket. "Bundle up," he said. Chris smiled an embarrassed apology and left. Krycek unwrapped his sandwich and sat down on a bench. The park was crowded with innocents, and Krycek sat alone watching them. It was calming to think that people could live their lives and have their only concern be about rent money or improperly installed car-seats. "Sheep, aren't they?" the smoker asked. Krycek offered the man half of his sandwich, but he refused it. "Walked into that one, didn't I?" he said. The smoker nodded. "You did." "Where are you registered? Am I invited to the reception?" "Chris was everything you were, Krycek. Bright, amoral, obedient. When you offered him to me on a platter, what was I supposed to do?" Krycek took a bite and said nothing. "You have no friends here, Krycek." Krycek nodded. "I'll find something else." "You always do. I've been told to tell you that there is no point in you coming to the meeting tonight. There is nothing that involves you." The smoker stood up and lit up a cigarette. "It was nice knowing you, Krycek," he said. Krycek saluted him with his sandwich. Scully saw him first. She obviously thought about not pointing him out, but she finally nudged Mulder. He waited for her to point out his location before he ducked back behind the fountain. Mulder was there a few moments later. "What are you doing here? Outside the FBI building, are you suicidal?" he demanded. Krycek sat down on the edge. Mulder joined him. "Alex?" he asked. Krycek moved his thigh so that they almost touched. "I have something I've got to do tonight," he said. "Another opportunity?" Mulder asked, bitterly. "Yes. But not like that." "Alex?" "If this works, it will be the end of it," Krycek said. Mulder moved closer to him, but then remembered they were in public. "Alex?" he asked again. Krycek stood up. "Good-bye," he said. "Alex—" "Mulder, don't," he said and walked away. Krycek waited until almost seven before working the lock. The chain was on, but Krycek snipped it with bolt cutters. The smoker was in the shower, but the apartment was empty. Chris hadn't officially been transferred yet, and he was probably meeting with his handler for the last time. Krycek deadbolted the door, and waited in the bedroom for the smoker. The man looked surprised for a moment. "I had thought I made myself clear in the park," he said. "You had," Krycek said. "Then if you are here to beg, you'd look better on your knees. I might take you back, if you accept being below Chris." "That's very generous, but I'm not here to beg," Krycek said. "What are you here for then, Krycek?" the smoker asked, and then went back to toweling off his hair. Krycek took another step. "I thought I might gloat for a bit and then kill you," he said, calmly. The smoker froze. "What?" he demanded, but dropped his towel as Krycek pulled out Chris' ceramic knife. "Gloating's over," Krycek said. The smoker tried to run, but Krycek grabbed him and threw him to the bed. He would only allow himself one cut; anything more would be classified as a crime of passion. He didn't think the smoker and Chris had a passionate relationship. Krycek slit the man's throat. He knew from experience that the man's bedroom was soundproof, so did nothing to stop the man's screams. He had to climb onto the body to keep it pinned down; he needed his hand for the knife. The man's threats turned to bloody gurgles as Krycek moved the blade slowly enough so that it grated against the neck bone. The smoker stopped struggling under him. The sheets turned red as the blood spread across and was absorbed into the satiny mattress. Krycek stopped the blade and realized he had been panting. He backed away so that his knees wouldn't touch the bloodstain, and he stabbed the knife down into the smoker's chest so they would be sure to find it. He glanced down, but he had been careful. He adjusted the collar to his jacket and left the apartment unlocked. An hour later, he strolled into the meeting. The consortium watched him as he walked over to the smoker's chair and sat down. No one questioned him. He stood up at the end of the meeting, and was called back. "Mr. Krycek," his interrogator called. Krycek stopped. "What happens to the boy?" the man asked. "It's my decision?" Krycek asked. "Not usually, but in this situation I'll make the exception." "I'll take him on," Krycek said. The man nodded. "Done. Congratulations, Mr. Krycek. You have officially been erased. Don't go back to your old apartment." Krycek nodded. "Have Chris sent up to my office," he said. The man nodded. Krycek put his feet up on the desk. He would have to air out the office on another day, but for a moment he enjoyed sitting in the last of the smoke scent. He closed his eyes and relaxed until he heard the door open. Chris walked in, looking shell-shocked. "You're late," Krycek said. "I'm sorry," Chris said. Krycek looked at him. "I'm sorry, sir," he repeated. Krycek nodded. He kept Chris in the silence, and Chris broke first. "How did you—" he stopped and cleared his throat. "When did you plan this, sir?" he asked. "You were outclassed from the beginning. If I catch you trying to rat your way away from me, I'll take you out myself," Krycek said. Chris lowered his eyes. "Yes, sir." Mulder answered the door wearing sweats again. "Want a shower?" he asked. Krycek nodded. Mulder put his hand on the back of Krycek's neck. "I have to work tomorrow." Krycek nodded again. blgeiger@telusplanet.net

Title: Tangled Webs Author/pseudonym: Barb G. Fandom: XFiles Pairing: Mulder/Krycek CSM/Krycek Krycek/kitchen sink Rating: NC-17 Status: complete, the end, their ain't no more Archive: Yes, please E-mail address for feedback: blgeige-@telusplanet.net Series/Sequel: Final Chapter to Tangled Webs Other websites: slashcity.tv/barb 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. Summary: Krycek sits down. Warnings: Spoiler space back to top

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