The silence was uncanny, after so much noise. People didn't realize
how loud gunfire was,
until they were pinned in a crossfire, unable to move, unable to escape.
Wriggling until she
could peek out over his shoulder without lifting him into possible
danger, she saw the sheriff
holster his weapon and walk over to kneel by the body of the suspect.
The body wasn't
moving.
Her mind kicked into gear, and she gently rolled Mulder off of her,
settling his unconscious
body gently into a reclining position and efficiently ripping open
his shirt to ascertain the
extent of the damage. A swift, cursory examination determined that
the bullet had passed
neatly through his shoulder, below the collarbone, and no bones appeared
to be broken,
although he was bleeding heavily. That wouldn't account for the loss
of consciousness,
though. Wishing vainly for more light, she carefully examined his head
with her fingertips,
finding the small lump at his temple and the gash sluggishly bleeding
over her hand. He
must have cracked his head when he tackled her. She sighed. It was
a good thing her
partner was so hard headed. With the number of times he ended up knocking
himself out,
he could be in serious trouble if-
His hand shot up, catching hers by the wrist and forcing it down. She
stared at him for a
moment, startled by the action and the wild look in his eyes, then
murmered reassuringly,
"Mulder, it's me, Scully, you're okay. It's just a slight head wound,
but you've been shot.
You need to go to the hospital."
He looked at the petite redhead who had been touching his head so gently
and narrowed his
eyes. Shot? What the hell was going on here? And who was she?
Case closed. Killer killed. Mulder in the hospital. Scully doing the
paperwork. Everything
was as it should be except for one small thing. Mulder had amnesia.
Complete and total
memory loss when it came to any personal matters whatsoever.
He could remember how to speak, how to add, how to get dressed, and
how to analyze a
serial killer, but he didn't know anyone. Not even her.
Scully looked at the glowing computer screen on the desk in front of
her and bit her lip. It
wasn't his fault. It had been a traumatic case, one of several, and
Mulder was completely
stressed. He hadn't been sleeping for quite some time, his nightmares
making it nearly
impossible to get any rest, and her own abduction hadn't helped matters.
Reports indicated
that the amnesia was trauma and stress related, that it was highly
selective, and that he
wasn't remembering essentially because he didn't want to remember.
She understood, even empathized, with his not wanting to remember some
of the details of
his life. But her? Why wouldn't he want to remember her? Realizing
she sounded
self-pitying even to herself, she closed the report she'd been working
on and powered down
her computer. Enough was enough. He didn't remember her because she
was part and
parcel of the whole situation. He would remember in time. And she would
be there when he
did.
In the several weeks since the shooting, he had healed nicely, and was
ready to return to
work. There wasn't a reason in the world why he couldn't, except that
he still hadn't
regained his full memory. He knew the basics, remembered his FBI training,
and showed
phenomenal skill in the cases that Skinner had shown him to "ease him
back in" as well as
to jog his memory. Unfortunately, while his memory had jogged wonderfully
well when it
came to the work, he still didn't know anything about the last three
years, and couldn't
recall any of the personal memories of his life. No parents, no Samantha,
no abduction, no
little grey men. No Skinner, no X-Files. And no Scully.
He was sleeping better than he had in years. He just didn't know it.
Scully kept her faith, certain that once he was surrounded by the files
that had been his
obsession for so long, he would remember. It didn't work. He considered
the work odd, but
interesting, and they worked together well, but without the almost
magical connection they
had had before. After only two cases, the X-Files were shut down again,
as usual with no
indication from whom the order had originated. Scully protested, but
Mulder didn't.
Two months of Violent Crimes, and his arrest record was incredible.
For once, they got an
indication of what sort of agent he would have been if he hadn't been
distracted by his
obsession. Clinical, cold, brilliant. He smiled often, and cracked
punnish jokes, and
munched on sunflower seeds. If he missed Scully, he never mentioned
it. And he didn't
mention the X-Files.
He met Frohike for lunch one day, and didn't tell anyone how uncomfortable
he had been
with his friend's rampant paranoia. He stopped by and talked with the
Lone Gunmen, but
they didn't have much to talk about. No interesting alien DNA, no odd
government
coverups. The visit was a little uncomfortable on both sides, and he
soon left.
Scully worked away in the pathology lab, not complaining, not making
waves. She watched,
and she waited. And some nights , more often than she cared to admit,
she parked silently
across the street from his apartment building and stared at the darkened
windows,
wondering if he would ever remember, and missing him more than she'd
thought possible.
Others weren't sure how real his memory loss actually was. Eyes watched
him, measured
him, kept lookout for slips in his story. But he seemed so sure. And
the memories didn't
come back. Finally, against the advice of some members of their little
fraternity, they
decided on a test.
Alex Krychek came through the back window, creeping through the darkened
rooms and
wondering at the silence. It was only a little after midnight. Surely
he wasn't asleep
already?
He moved like a shadow through the hallway, coming up beside the couch
and peering into
the shadows. The television was off. The couch was empty. And Alex
was completely
confused. Where the hell was Mulder?
Backtracking through the quiet hallway, he leaned his shoulders around
the doorway to the
bedroom and froze with surprise. Mulder was asleep. In his bed. Not
on the couch. The
sheets were draped smoothly across his legs, not tangled from some
nameless nightmare.
He looked... peaceful. Krychek stared at him for a long moment, then
holstered his
weapon. He'd never seen Mulder like this, so relaxed. His hair was
ruffled, a few dark
locks falling over his forehead, making him look boyish. His mouth
was slightly open, his
parted lips surprising Krychek. His mouth looked so inviting. Unaware
of his actions,
Krychek moved closer, staring at the figure sprawled on the bed.
He was nude. That fact suddenly hit Alex with the force of a freight
train, and he found his
breath coming faster. His eyes widened slightly, and he drank in the
details. He'd been
Mulder's partner for such a short time, only a few months. He'd known
he was attractive,
but it had been secondary to his actual mission. Just as it should
be tonight. But for some
reason his body wasn't paying any attention to all of his mind's "shoulds."
Long legs moved restlessly, drawing his attention to their sleek lines.
His eyes travelled
hungrily up from the well shaped feet, along the hair roughened length
of calf and thigh, to
the shadowed pelvis. His penis lay quiescent, nestled in a bed of dark
curls, well defined
even in sleep. Alex's throat felt dry, and he swallowed heavily, trying
to find some moisture.
His hot gaze left Mulder's groin reluctantly, following the planes
of his stomach, to the
broad chest, small firm nipples slightly erect in the cool night air,
fuzzy hair defining his
collarbone, silky skin flowing over his shoulders. One long arm bent
along- side his head,
his hand curving next to his cheek in a curiously innocent posture,
the other arm outflung to
lie along the side of the bed, his fingers splayed across the pale
sheets. Krychek's tongue
flicked out to moisten his dry lips, and he swallowed again. He moved
closer, until he was
standing right next to the bed, and bent over Mulder. His head tilted
as his eyes traced a
line along Mulder's throat, around his shadowed jaw with the slight
off center dimple, and
he had to fight the urge to run his tongue over the indentation. He
continued his perusal,
taking in the angled cheekbones, the relaxed mouth, strong nose and
feathery brows. Then
he froze, as he realized that the warm hazel eyes were wide open, and
staring right at him.
"Am I supposed to shoot you now, or are you supposed to shoot me?" His
sleep-roughened
voice felt like a caress to Krychek's ears, and he smiled in reply.
"Neither." God, did that come from him? He sounded so... needy.
"Then, what?" The deceptively sleepy eyes were taking in everything,
and Krychek felt an
almost overwhelming urge to show him what he felt. Then he thought
about it. Why not?
Mulder didn't know who he was, wasn't aware of their past history.
Why shouldn't he have
a little fun? If he was truthful, he'd been wanting to get in Mulder's
pants for months.
"I'm an... old friend."
Mulder's pupils expanded in the dim light. Alex was caught in the inky
blackness, drawing
closer still. Suddenly, one corner of that generous mouth quirked up,
and Alex smiled in
return, a feral smile, only partially masked by the darkness.
"A good one, I hope," came that sleepy voice again, "considering the
way you're looking at
me."
"A very good one," he purred in reply.
Krychek eased his black leather jacket off and sat gingerly on the edge
of the bed. Mulder
watched every move he made, curious, but not afraid. His instincts
were trying to tell him
something, but he couldn't figure it out. They'd been doing this to
him for months, and he
was frankly tired of trying. As long as this man made no move to hurt
him, he'd settle back
for the show and see what he had in mind. Something told him that they'd
never been
lovers. In fact, the only person he'd been attracted to since he'd
lost his memory was Agent
Scully. But she'd been reassigned and had made no move since to contact
him, so they must
not have been as close as his gut instinct told him they had. So he
wasn't trusting his gut
much these days. The warm touch of fingertips sliding along his shoulder
brought him out of
his reverie and he froze, wondering what would happen next.
"What's your name?" Softly. Curiosity still getting the better of him.
The other man paused, then smiled, a sweet smile with a hint of teeth
behind it.
"Alex."
"Alex." Krychek watched him as his eyes narrowed, brow furrowing as
he tried to recall
the past. Trying to distract him, and needing to give in to the temptation
to touch him, he
lowered his head to the slightly salty skin of Mulder's shoulder. When
he met no
resistence, he raised his head and looked askance at the larger man.
Mulder looked back
at him, one brow raised, and smiled.
"And just how close friends are we, Alex?"
Krychek laughed quietly, and bent forward again, running his tongue
along the hollow of
Mulder's collarbone, nibbling the side of that delicious throat, licking
under his jawline,
stopping to suck lightly on his earlobe. He was rewarded with a quick
gasp from Mulder,
and raised his head again to see huge eyes staring back at him, now
more green than hazel,
pupils nearly swallowing the irises. This was too delicious. Mulder
had absolutely no idea.
Now Krychek could take his pleasure with him, then return to his controllers
and tell them
the honest truth, that Mulder was not faking his amnesia, that he was
absolutely no threat
to them any longer. And then maybe he would return. For a little more
pleasure.
Shrugging his thin black tee shirt off, he quickly shed his pants and
boots, pulling his briefs
off with his loose slacks. His shoulder length hair swung loose from
the band holding it
back, and Mulder's hand raised to finger the strands inquisitively.
Like black silk. Not the
least bit familiar. Yet, there were flashes... almost like memories,
but more impressions ...
Krychek's mouth closed hungrily over his, cutting off his musings and
startling him a little.
The raw need in the other man's lips took him by storm, and he found
himself responding
almost unwittingly. It was an odd experience. His mind was analyzing
the whole encounter,
trying to isolate the aspects that felt familiar and sifting away the
unfamiliar, intent on
restoring lost memory. His body was responding to the firm hands caressing
it, the hot
mouth plundering his, and the urgent movements of Alex's legs between
his own, and
paying absolutely no attention to his mind. Mulder felt intensely confused.
Krychek couldn't believe what was happening. Not only was Mulder allowing
him to touch
him, he was responding beautifully. He levered himself over Mulder's
body, rubbing his
straining erection against Mulder's stomach, his half formed erection,
the tops of his thighs.
Mulder was beginning to writhe underneath him, stimulated in spite
of himself by the hands
on his nipples, rubbing the long muscles down his sides, gripping his
buttocks then curving
around the front of his groin to cup his sac, fingers squeezing firmly
as they traced the veins
along his penis, flicked the sensitive head, coaxing a full erection
out of him. Krychek
grinned against the curve of Mulder's shoulder as he felt the other
man's hands begin their
own restless journey, running through his hair, pulling his head back
to lick at the side of his
throat, kneading his shoulders firmly.
Their hips began to rock together, the friction between their erect
penises driving them
quickly beyond rational thought. Alex tore his head away from Mulder's
hands, pinning him
down to the bed and running his open mouth the length of his torso,
finally stopping when
Mulder's slick penis rested alongside his jaw. Hardly pausing for breath,
he widened his
lips and took him in his mouth, savoring the salty taste of ejaculate
on the tip, revelling in
the moan his actions tore from Mulder's throat. Long fingers thrust
through his hair, pulling
him closer, as he began a steady rhythm, working his lips and tongue
around and along
Mulder's penis, first pumping the shaft with his hand while sucking
strongly on the tip, then
sliding his mouth down the length of him, caressing the flesh with
the inside of his cheeks.
Mulder was thrashing in earnest now, and Alex began to hum deep in
his throat. At the
same time, he pinned Mulder's hips with one arm and thrust the other
between his spread
thighs, working his hand along the sweat-soaked line of his buttocks
until he could thrust
first one, then two fingers deep in his ass, massaging him and sending
him over the edge.
Mulder's whole body arched, nearly throwing Alex off, but he held on,
riding out the storm.
Mulder pumped furiously into Alex's mouth, screaming aloud with the
sensations causing
his body to spasm, until finally there was no energy left to move.
Krychek lay for a moment with his head on Mulder's stomach, the other
man's hands
tangled in his hair. He couldn't stop the grin from spreading across
his face. Never, ever
would he have believed that Mulder would be so incredibly responsive,
especially with him,
of all people. Proof positive that Mulder had no memory of the past.
He felt Mulder take a
deep breath, his belly moving under Krychek's cheek, and smiled. Time
for some
satisfaction of his own.
Carefully disentangling Mulder's fingers from his scalp, wincing when
a few hairs were
pulled away, he lifted himself up and surveyed Mulder's prone body.
Sweat gleamed off his
skin everywhere the dim light hit him, and he looked utterly replete.
Alex licked his lips,
tasting Mulder again, and surged up to lie on top the taller man's
body. Mulder looked at
him for a moment with an odd sort of confusion, and Alex leaned down
over him, opening his
mouth over Mulder's in a wet kiss, thrusting his tongue into the silky
depths and sharing
the taste with the source. Mulder shuddered once, then pushed back
with his own tongue,
taking Krychek by surprise and flipping him over so that Mulder lay
on top and Alex was
the one who was pinned. Alex looked up at the intent face staring down
into his, and
couldn't believe what he found himself saying.
"Fuck me." It was more plea than command. Mulder leaned down to kiss
him, tonguing him
deeply in return, and Krychek dropped his knees to the sides of Mulder's
hips, silently
giving him easy access. Mulder raised his hands to Alex's knees, pushing
them upward to
open him up for entry, then paused. Something was nagging at him, something
important,
something he should remember. For an instant Dana Scully's face swam
in front of his eyes,
and he got even harder than before. He hadn't thought that was possible.
Krychek
responded to the slide of the tip of his penis between his thighs with
a whimper, and Mulder
focused on what was happening now. Or rather, what _wasn't_ happening.
For an instant, he
looked down at Krychek, and Alex finally broke through the haze of
passion to realize that
Mulder hadn't done this before, and wasn't sure what to do next.
Krychek cursed under his breath, then reached down between their bodies
to grasp
Mulder's penis and draw him closer. Shifting his knees so that they
rested in the hollows of
Mulder's shoulders, he placed the tip of Mulder's penis against his
opening and rocked.
Instinct took over, and Mulder finally, finally gave him what he was
craving, pushing slowly
and steadily into him. Once he was all the way in, he stopped, giving
Alex a chance to adapt
to the feel of him. He really was large. But Alex was having none of
it. Thrusting his hips
forward, he began a steady rocking, and Mulder moved in counterpoint,
enjoying the tight
heat and the unusual position. The analytical part of his mind that
was still working on the
memory problem divulged the information that this was a first, that
he hadn't had sex with a
man before, then Krychek began to clench his ass muscles like a fist
around Mulder's
driving penis, and all attempt at rational thought was buried by the
intense need to come.
Ignoring the wrenching moans that Mulder was wringing from him, Krychek
concentrated
on the incredible sensations radiating from their joined bodies, and
the rush of adrenaline
that was making practically every hair on his body stand on end. Peeling
one hand away
from Mulder's slick, hot chest, he lowered it to his own aching penis
and began to stroke in
time with Mulder's thrusts. The combined sensations were a sensual
overload, and he
climaxed explosively, spraying between their bodies so fiercely that
he nearly blacked out.
The rhythmic contractions seizing his body clenched Mulder in their
grip as well, and the
added pressure sent him over the edge.
When Krychek came back to himself, Mulder had slipped out of him and
was laying,
spreadeagled, taking up a good two thirds of the bed. His abdomen and
chest were covered
with Alex's come, and his entire groin was coated with a mixture of
both their semen.
Krychek thought he'd never looked so incredibly beautiful. Unaware
of the satiated smile
on his own mouth, he closed his eyes and slept.
The images were solidifying. Finally, with a mental sigh of satisfaction,
all of the pieces
were starting to fall together. Mulder lay for long moments in the
darkness, images flashing
past his eyes like home videos. When it became too intense, he rolled
quietly from the bed
and went into the bathroom. He stared at his reflection, taking in
the swollen lips, the marks
made by greedy hands on his chest, neck, thighs, arms, the dried semen
caking his torso
and chest and groin. For an instant he thought he was going to vomit,
then he controlled his
stomach and wet a washcloth with steaming water. As quickly as he could,
he washed all the
visible evidence of his recent encounter from his body. His mind, after
it's intensive work,
seemed to have shut down, and he was going through the motions by rote.
Two images kept flashing in front of his eyes, making his hands tremble
and churning his
stomach. Krychek, helping the bastards take Scully, taking his partner
away from him,
giving her to the torturers. And Krychek again, dressed in black, putting
a fatal bullet in his
father's head. He blindly turned out the bathroom light and waited
for his eyes to adjust to
the darkness. Still naked, not turning on any other lights, he made
his way into the bedroom
and pulled his Glock from its holster. Turning to the sleeping form
of Krychek, he steadied
himself.
"Alex." Just loudly enough to be heard.
Krychek stirred, opened his eyes. The satiated smile was still in place.
It lasted until he
realized that Mulder was no longer lying beside him, that he was pointing
his gun at his
unprotected stomach. Krychek made an abortive move to roll away from
the threat, but
Mulder flicked off the safety, and he froze. As Mulder squeezed the
trigger the first time,
he grabbed at the blossoming pain in his abdomen, too shocked to even
scream.
"That is for Scully."
Startled, terrified dark eyes searched Mulder's, unable to believe this
was really
happening. As Mulder levelled the gun one more time, pointing it directly
between
Krychek's eyes, the last words he heard were, "This is for my father."
Mulder stared at the corpse on his bed, the remnants of brains splattered
across the
pillows, blood running freely and soaking the sheets. He lowered the
gun and slowly walked
into the front room. So far there hadn't been any indications that
his neighbors were
alarmed. The apartment above his was unoccupied, and the tenants who
lived below were
away on vacation. His bedroom was in the middle of his apartment, so
he didn't have to
worry about shared walls. With any luck, the people around him would
attribute the gunshot
to a television program turned up too loud. Dimly, he realized that
he had committed a
felony, and was in the process of covering it up. Another part of his
mind reminded him that
this was the only way Alex Krychek would ever be brought to justice.
Wandering to the couch, he slumped down and picked up his cellular telephone.
Punching in
a number he hadn't used in months, he was relieved to hear Scully's
alert voice on the other
end of the line. Apparently she hadn't been sleeping too well either.
"Scully?"
"Mulder?" Her voice sounded incredulous. "Is that you? Are you okay?"
"Yes and no. How fast can you get here?" He couldn't disguise the urgency
in his words.
"Um." She sounded sheepish. "Two minutes? I'm, uh, right outside your
building."
"Great." He didn't waste time finding out why. "I have... a problem."
"Be right there."
By the time she got up the elevator, Mulder had managed to wrestle Krychek's
corpse
back into it's slacks. The rest was too difficult. He answered the
bell before the first ring
died off, and pulled Scully into the living room. To her intense surprise
and delight, he
caught her up in a bear hug before releasing her and leading her to
the couch.
"All right, Mulder. What's this about?"
"I remember, Scully. Everything." Her eyes lit up, but she kept silent,
sensing he wasn't
finished. "But I found out because ..." he gulped, and she looked at
him quizzically. Taking
a deep breath, he let it out all in a rush. "Alex Krychek came here
tonight and I didn't
remember who he was and next thing I knew we were in bed together and
we had sex and
then all the memories came back and I just about vomited but instead
I got my gun and
killed the son of a bitch and now his corpse is in my bed."
She looked at him in complete shock. Whatever she had been expecting,
it hadn't been this.
"Do you know what this means?" Her hushed voice finally broke the silence.
"I go back to sleeping on the couch?"
"Mulder!" She almost screamed at him. He shrugged a shoulder and looked
at her
apologetically. Now she knew he remembered everything, even his sick
sense of humor.
"What do we do now?"
"Well, I've been thinking about that." She looked at him expectantly,
and he grimaced at
her. "I know where Cancerman lives."
She got up without another word and walked into his bedroom. He waited
for what felt like
an eternity before she returned. Looking at him with calm blue eyes,
she asked, "So I take
it we bring him a present?"
Krychek was overdue. He should have reported in hours ago. The man who
held the secrets
let himself into his cold apartment, as barren as he was himself, an
accurate reflection of his
personality. Walking slowly into the bedroom, he flicked the lightswitch
on and froze. Alex
Krychek's dead body lay half dressed across his unmade bed. From the
placement of the
bullets, it appeared that Mulder had his memory back.
He continued his walk to the side of the bed and picked up the telephone.
A quick dial,
some softly spoken words, and a disposal team was on its way to take
care of the detritus.
Another casualty in a shadow war. He looked at the corpse for a moment,
then returned to
his front room to await the others. Mulder remembered.
It was time to begin the game again.
The End
Krychek
by Brenda Antrim
The bullet barely missed her skull, whistling as it passed her cheek.
The next instant, a
solid male body, much larger than her own, hit her sideways and landed
on top of her.
Muffled by his bulk, she could hear the exchange of fire, the thump
thump of bullets
striking flesh, the harder slump of bodies hitting the pavement. Scully
reached up to push
him off of her, trying to see what was happening, make sure they were
out of danger.
Mulder gasped sharply when she pushed at his chest, and she stopped
immediately,
guessing from his reaction that he'd taken a hit.
