He remembered very little of it.
Alex Krycek looked at the slick, dark oil coating his skin and began
to shake. He was
covered with it, almost as if it had somehow oozed out through his
skin, as if he had sweat
oil instead of salt water. A low moan forced its way through clenched
teeth, and he stared at
the white knuckles of his fists, wondering just what the hell had happened.
Before he had a
chance to do more than barely formulate the thought, the door flew
open. The loud crack it
gave on impacting the wall and the sudden burst of light in the dark
apartment made his
protective instincts kick in. He jackknifed into position, ready to
launch an attack at
whomever had come after him... or at least that was the plan. By the
time he realized that
his muscles had refused to listen to his instincts, the tall figure
was already standing over
him, both hands clenched around the butt of a pistol that, from his
perspective on the floor,
looked incredibly large.
"Freeze," the figure growled, and Alex flinched. Mulder. Of course.
Fucking bloodhound.
"Federal agent. You're under arrest."
"No shit," he muttered back.
The figure straightened and brought his weapon to bear more closely
on the dark figure
huddled on the floor. "Krycek?" Cautious disbelief colored his tone.
Light flooded the room
as his partner found the switch.
"Did you get him, Mulder?" she called out.
"Over here, Scully." The fierce hazel eyes never wavered. "It's Krycek."
Her swift intake of breath betrayed her own satisfaction. Dana Scully
stepped out from
behind her much taller partner and narrowed her eyes at the crumpled
body, surprised to
see that although his eyes were open he wasn't making any effort to
attack. As she trained
her own weapon on him, Mulder moved forward to search him, careful
to remain out of her
line of fire in case Krycek tried anything.
Alex watched his approach warily, but made no move to escape. His mind
was struggling
with a myriad of visions, none of which were particularly clear, and
none of which would
explain where the hell he was and why his body felt like it had been
beaten with baseball
bats. As Mulder ran his hands roughly across his body, slapping at
his torso, arms, legs to
find hidden weapons, a similar scene replayed itself in his memory.
Busy airport, bank of
phones away from the traffic flow. Caught by surprise, blows to the
body <for my partner>
and to the face <for me>... shoved violently against the phones,
Mulder's body pressed so
tightly to his own he couldn't fight, couldn't grip anything but the
edge of the booth, couldn't
bring his legs up to kick at him, only to wrap ineffectually around
his thigh, his own gun to
his stomach <for my father>, Mulder's strong forearm cutting off
his air <kill me then> the
smell of the other man's anger and his own fear, the tenseness of their
bodies fighting one
another to a standstill, the firmness of an erection crushed against
another <do it to me>
"What the hell?"
He gasped and returned to the present, trying to ignore the ache in
his groin. Mulder was
showing something to Scully now, a disconcerted look on his face. Alex
looked at Mulder's
hand, offered to his partner's inspection. Coated with slick, black
oil.
Mulder looked from the familiar slickness coating his fingers to the
wide, confused eyes of
his enemy. Krycek still made no move to try to escape, in fact, he
hadn't made any move at
all since he and Scully had come bursting into the room. If it hadn't
been for those big, dark
eyes and the movement of Krycek's chest under his hand, he'd think
the other man was
dead, he lay so still. As he looked further for evidence of the oily
substance he had last
seen on a diver named Gauthier, he noticed another indication that
Krycek was alive. Quite
an impressive hard-on. He shifted unconsciously, then forced himself
to complete his
inspection.
"He's clean," he finally announced, then looked at his fingers again.
"Relatively."
"What is that stuff, Mulder?" Scully obviously didn't trust Krycek.
She kept her weapon
leveled directly at his stomach.
"I'm not exactly sure, but it looks" he paused to sniff at the oil,
"and smells like the same
stuff that was all over Gauthier."
Blue eyes meshed with hazel, and silent communication flew between the
two. They knew
one another so well it was almost a form of telepathy. Scully holstered
her weapon, and
leaned forward to help him pull Krycek to his feet.
"You're coming with us." Her voice was stone cold.
"Like I have a choice," Alex returned weakly, then sagged between them
heavily. Mulder
looked across the unconscious man's bent head and grinned at his partner.
"Well, at least we don't have to shoot him to get him to cooperate,"
he cracked. At the look
on her face, his grin slipped. "Yeah, my sentiments exactly." They
kept close watch as they
hauled Krycek's unresponsive body to their car and manhandled him into
the back. As they
settled into the front seat, Scully half turned to keep an eye on their
captive. In the silence,
over the purr of the engine, Mulder completed his thought.
"Too damned bad."
The tip had come from another thug, the man she knew had killed her
sister. He had given
them an address, an anonymous apartment in a quiet neighborhood, nothing
to cause the sudden blanching of her partner's face. She kept her question
until they were alone in the car. As she
started the engine and headed with controlled urgency deeper into the
city, he took a deep breath.
"Cancerman." His voice was thready, and shook slightly with hatred.
"You know the address, then."
"Yeah. And I know how to get in without anyone seeing us."
They had gone in cleanly, and gotten the man they had come for. But
she had a sinking
suspicion that while they may have caught a rat, they hadn't caught
the head rat... the one
truly responsible for Melissa's death.
She had examined their prisoner thoroughly, and could find no physiological
cause for his
unconscious state, beyond complete exhaustion. They agreed to hold
him at Mulder's
apartment, because they knew he would be killed if he was turned over
to the authorities.
Killed as the triggerman had been killed, in his own cell.
Now, in the quiet darkness of Mulder's apartment, she knew that getting
Krycek wouldn't
be enough. Something that had been niggling at the back of her mind
suddenly made sense.
"He's the fall guy, Mulder." She wasn't sure quite where the conviction
in her voice came
from, but she was certain.
"I know," her partner responded soberly. "He's not one of theirs any
longer... or he
wouldn't be running so hard to get away from them."
Grim blue eyes met hazel, and she felt her lip curl. "They want us to
do their dirty work for
them."
"I think so." He looked at the filthy, exhausted man sprawled on his
living room floor.
"He's still dangerous, but I don't think he's actively trying to get
to us. More apt to say
he's cornered, and dangerous because of that."
She knelt beside the still figure, noting the dark circles under his
eyes, the pale skin,
unkempt growth of beard. "He's been running for a while." She reached
out and tentatively
scooped some of the oil from his cheek. "He's not the one I want, Mulder."
She stood up
and looked at him steadily. "I want the one who was running him, the
one who gave him the
orders. The one who sent that creep to shoot Skinner. The one who really
killed my sister."
He looked back at her just as steadily. "And you'll get him." He gestured
at Krycek. "And
he'll help." She raised a weary brow at him in disbelief, and he gave
her a feral smile in
return. "Trust me."
She couldn't help but return the smile, then caught herself as a yawn
took her by surprise.
Squinting at her watch, she looked uncertainly at Krycek, then back
to Mulder.
"Go home, Scully. Try to get some sleep. As soon as he wakes up, I'll
call you." She stood
irresolute, and he shooed her toward the door. "I promise."
With one last glance at their only viable lead, she allowed Mulder to
usher her out the door.
"I hope you're right, Mulder. He'd better help us... or I may beat
it out of him," she
muttered to herself as she drove through the early morning darkness
toward home.
Krycek had roused enough to at least give Mulder some assistance as
the agent led him
into the bathroom.
"No way you're going in my bed looking like a refugee from the Exxon
Valdez, Alex," he
groused, pulling the oil soaked clothes from the other man's solidly
built body and dropping
them into a sodden mass next to the tub. "Into the shower, man."
The steamy water felt wonderful to Krycek, but had the unfortunate effect
of turning his
legs to limp noodles. Mulder nearly lost hold of him twice before he
gave up, swearing, and
decided to climb into the tub to hold him upright. Leaning him up against
the warm tiles, he
quickly stripped his own clothes off, taking care to toss them far
from the disgusting mess
Krycek had been wearing. At least the black leather jacket appeared
to have escaped the
worst of it. It was as if the oil had come from the inside... Mulder
shuddered at the thought,
then came back to the present as Alex began to slide along the wall
again.
"Damnit!" he yelped, hopping into the tub just in time to catch him
with his own body. A
splash of oily water caught him in the mouth, and he spat sideways
with disgust. "That
really is gross, Krycek."
"Tell me about it," Alex slurred. "Try puking the shit up. God, Mulder,
it was coming from
my eyes!" He sounded incredulous and revolted, but so tired there wasn't
much force
behind the words. Mulder made a mental note to ask him more about the
alien possession
when he was more coherent, then concentrated on getting him clean so
they could both get
some rest.
Mulder found his arms slipping around the slick waist of the shorter
man, somewhat taken
aback at his bulk. He hadn't looked this muscular in his suits, but
then, he hadn't really
noticed... or so he told himself. The seal brown hair was finally
starting to look clean, and
the water running from his relaxed legs was becoming clear. Mulder
reached out a hand
and snagged the bar of soap, then looked down at the creamy skin of
Krycek's shoulder.
Pursing his lips in thought, he gave up on the idea of letting go of
Alex long enough to lather
up, and began to stroke the bar in circles along his chest, using the
friction of skin and chest
hair to bring up the lather. Alex's head lolled back to rest on his
shoulder, and he looked
down over the long column of throat, the well defined chest, to the
curve of ribcage and
stomach, the incipient erection, the whole of the now glistening body
nestled against his
own. His hand gradually slowed, the strokes becoming caresses. The
combination of crisp
hair and soft skin, and the soporific effect of the steam relaxed Mulder,
and his mind
drifted as his free hand wandered. Unbidden, his arousal grew as he
felt the lather under his
fingertips slip softly down the other man's body, outlining long muscles
under satin skin. His
breathing became ragged and his eyes unfocused. Krycek was too exhausted
to really be
aware of what Mulder was doing to him, but his body reacted to his
touch, nipples
tightening, erection stirring. Mulder breathed deeply, more aroused
than he had been in a
long time, then suddenly realized exactly where he was—and what
he was doing—and to
whom. His fingers went slack, the soap fell into the tub, and he nearly
dropped Krycek.
"Holy shit," he muttered to himself, eyes wide and fixed firmly on the
back of Alex's neck.
Hastily rinsing his charge off, averting his eyes from the distracting
signs of arousal, he
wrestled Krycek out of the tub and propped him on the toilet seat,
wrapping a large towel
around him.
"Don't move," he ordered, then shook his head when Alex didn't even
open his eyes.
It was almost like leading a sleepwalker when he came back to take Alex
to his bed. A
sleepwalker or a small child. The unaccustomed sense of helplessness
from a man he knew
to be a killer and hired thug disconcerted Mulder, but he shoved the
confusion to the back
of his mind to join the arousal still lurking there, and settled Krycek
under the covers. He
stood for a moment watching his one-time partner and erstwhile enemy.
"This war makes strange allies, Krycek," he whispered, then wandered
out to the
livingroom to take his usual place on the sofa. It was a very long
time before he fell asleep,
and when he did, the nightmares were replaced by something perhaps
even more disturbing. The soft, supple slide of leather over his skin. The musky warmth of
another body close,
lying over his own, close enough to touch but a whisper away. Hot breath
on his throat,
along his jaw, hovering above his lips. The sensations wove into the
dream he was living,
hastening his breath, tightening his body, speeding the flicker of
eyes behind closed lids.
Only a dream. Only a dream, to feel so soft. So close. So hot. So real.
Hazel eyes, pupils dilated in the darkness of the livingroom, flew wide
at the solidity of the
dream, and stared with dazed shock into deep emerald eyes surrounded
by a thicket of
black lashes, inches from his own. He could see the brown ring around
Krycek's irises, the
light reflecting from lips recently moistened by a quick tongue. The
other man wasn't
making any other moves, just holding himself there, poised above him.
One strong hand
was gripping the cushion along the back of the couch, the other was
digging into the seat
cushion next to his torso, between his bicep and his ribcage. Mulder
fought the sudden
trapped feeling of claustrophobia and returned his unwilling houseguest's
stare.
"For a guy who doesn't sleep much, you go out like a light when you
finally do," Krycek
murmured roughly. His eyes stayed fixed on Mulder's, the unwavering
intensity beginning
to rouse something in the agent that he'd thought he'd shoved deeply,
safely to the back of
his mind.
"I take what I can get." His own voice sounded unusually husky. Krycek
grinned suddenly
at him, a slice of white in the dark, and leaned even closer.
"Sounds familiar," he rasped back, and fastened his teeth lightly in
the sensitive skin at the
side of Mulder's throat. He reacted instinctively, trying to punch,
or kick, or slither out
from under the other man, but Krycek was surprisingly strong, and too
close for him to
effectively strike, sliding his hands immediately to twine with Mulder's
fingers, holding him
immobile. "Turn about's fair play," Alex growled into his ear, loosening
his teeth to nip
lightly at Mulder's earlobe. In response, Mulder employed a different
tactic, writhing and
bucking in an attempt to throw Krycek off. It did not have the intended
effect. He found
himself flipped onto the carpet in front of the couch, the coffee table
roughly pushed aside,
and pinned in place by the other man's bulk. His breath was coming
in short gasps now,
partly anger, partly fear, and partly, to his complete embarrassment,
arousal. Krycek
chuckled deeply in his chest, and ran his tongue lightly into Mulder's
ear, prompting a
shudder and another abortive round of bucking. "You got too close for
me to take you out
in Hong Kong. Just returning the favor... Partner."
Mulder tossed his head to the side, trying to get leverage to headbutt
Krycek and stun him.
That didn't work either. Alex tucked his head into the curve of his
shoulder and began to
lick and nibble the tender flesh along his neck and collarbone. The
friction between their
bodies and the unaccustomed attention to his erogenous zones was working
on Mulder,
hardening his erection and dampening his skin with sweat. "What the
fuck are you doing,
Krycek?" he managed to squeeze out from behind clenched teeth. The
younger man had
settled his body firmly onto Mulder's and was rocking slowly, rubbing
himself against him,
provoking a helpless moan from deep within him.
"It really has been a long time, hasn't it, Mulder?" Krycek responded
nastily, grinding his
crotch against Mulder's as if to remind the hapless agent just what
was happening. He
growled and lunged at Krycek, as if to bite him, and Alex shocked him
into stillness by
meeting the lunge, open mouthed, sliding his tongue between Mulder's
lips, thrusting in and
out in mimicry of full intercourse. Mulder's mind screamed at him to
bite the bastard, but
there was a kernel of truth in Krycek's taunts. It had been a very
long time, and this whole
situation was so completely out of his normal experience that he found
himself swallowed by
the sensations running over his skin. Without conscious volition, he
accepted the movement
of tongue over tongue, the lips pulling at his, suckling his lower
lip, plundering his mouth.
Everything felt hazy, as if he was still in his dream, and the world
narrowed down to the
heavy body moving sinuously over his, the hands pulling at his sweatpants
and undershirt,
the mouth that wouldn't stop moving over his. A muffled whimper escaped
and he found his
own hands clutching the soft smooth leather of Alex's jacket, pulling
him closer, peeling it
down his shoulders and off his arms. Hands fought one another as he
tried to unbutton jeans
and tear off a shirt that he vaguely recognized as his own, his hands
clashing with Krycek's
as the other man fought just as hard to strip him.
Alex won.
One brief, hard, victorious stare, and Krycek dropped his head to engulf
Mulder's erection,
fingers leaving Mulder's in order to steady the thrashing hips at his
chest. His quarry
gasped, and froze, then a throaty moan escaped. He smiled grimly to
himself as he felt long,
elegant fingers weave through his hair, no longer pushing him away.
He knew when to give
in order to get what he eventually wanted, and he was willing to compromise
if it got him his
way. And Mulder would pay for this pleasure... by giving him his own.
Mulder couldn't move. The sensations of tongue and lips and the odd
scrape of teeth on
aching cock were making his mind explode into colors he hadn't seen
in quite a while, and
never under these particular circumstances. Krycek knew what he was
doing. The rhythm
would speed up just enough to send him near the edge, then the little
tease would slow
down, pull away, ignore the hands urging him closer and explore the
sensitive skin of his
inner thighs, or roll his balls from side to side in the sac, or nibble
at the tender flesh behind
his balls. All the while his poor cock was screaming for attention,
and Mulder was not so
slowly losing his mind. What the fuck was he waiting for? An engraved
invitation? He didn't
realize he'd said that out loud until he felt the vibrations of Krycek's
chuckle against the
base of his cock. Pulling away with his mouth but continuing to milk
Mulder with his fingers,
rocking his palm against the straining muscle, he grinned up at his
victim.
"You could say please, you know." When Mulder stared at him as if he'd
lost his mind, he
dipped his head just long enough to take one short, sharp, hard suck
at the head of his cock,
squeezing the shaft strongly at the same time. Mulder couldn't quite
muffle the scream that
time.
"I'll take that as a request." Alex relented and bent to finish Mulder
off, bobbing his head
in a serious rhythm and massaging his balls and perineum firmly. Mulder
rocked in counter
rhythm, unable to do anything other than hold on to Krycek's hair and
try very hard not to
scream as he came.
It didn't work. Krycek nearly laughed at the full throated scream he
heard as Mulder
arched and climaxed, and the dull double thump of the upstairs neighbor
pounding on the
floor nearly made him lose it again. He concentrated on milking the
last of the cum from the
other man, wondering at his propensity for laughter during sex. The
sudden thought that he
hadn't had nearly enough of either in the last several months was enough
to wipe the smile
off of his face. He sighed, and pulled himself up to his knees to look
down at Mulder.
Flushed skin, utterly relaxed muscles, slightly open mouth with that
luscious lower lip wet
from being bitten, shell shocked look in the dilated hazel eyes ...
yeah, it had been good for
him. Krycek thought for a moment about his planned escape, then glanced
at Mulder's
watch on his wrist and decided he had enough time. He wrapped his hands
around Mulder's
wrists and propelled the taller man to his feet.
"C'mon, foxy, time for bed."
"Don't call me that." The soft voice lacked it's usual sharp edge when
someone called him
the hated name. Krycek grinned. Guess maybe getting the top of his
head blown off, in all
senses of the word, disarmed the normally cutting tongue of Agent Mulder.
He pushed his
unsteady burden onto the bed, and followed him onto the blanket. Mulder
looked at him
distrustfully.
"I don't sleep here," he declared.
"I'm not planning on sleeping," Alex responded with a wicked smile.
Mulder's eyes
widened, and he stared thoughtfully at Krycek. As he watched, the younger
man reached
into his side drawer and pulled out a small foil square and a small
bottle of astroglide.
"Your last one have a problem with being dry?"
Mulder blushed slightly. "Not so much that as, well, she wasn't very
big and I'm, uhm ...
why the hell am I telling you this?"
"Good point," he grinned. "It was just down my throat, you don't have
to tell me you're
kinda large."
"Shit," Mulder groaned, and rolled to get off the bed. Before he could
complete the move,
Alex was on top of him, his chest pressed firmly against Mulder's back,
legs entwined with
his, voice whispering hotly in his ear.
"Not so fast, Mulder. Not so damned fast." He wedged one long thigh
between the
swimmer's thighs underneath him, and angled his own erect cock to lie
between the barely
spread asscheeks. "I won't hurt you. I just want to be in you. Just
the once."
"No." Mulder tried to be forceful, but the entire situation was turning
him on all over again.
It looked like it was going to be a night for firsts.
"Yes." He popped the lid on the lube bottle and squeezed some of the
slick fluid onto his
palm, still keeping one hand on the back of Mulder's neck. At this
point, he wasn't holding
him that tightly, and the agent could have escaped. Other than a slight
movement of his
hips, what might be interpreted either as an attempt to get comfortable
under Alex's weight
or a small thrust into the mattress with a newly erect cock, Mulder
wasn't going anywhere.
Krycek grinned to himself again. Before Mulder could change his mind
and make a serious
move to escape, he gently worked a finger into his ass, pushing past
the ring of muscle and
pulling up into a rolling motion, scraping against his prostate.
Mulder was hooked. Literally. The sensation screaming through his mind
at the Krycek's
touch inside of him demanded something more. He found himself thrusting
back against the
other man's hand. Krycek did laugh, then, a softly triumphant bark.
Mulder couldn't have
cared less.
A second finger joined the first, stretching him, opening him, forcing
a moan from deep in
his chest. "What do you want, Mulder?" Krycek whispered into his ear,
bearing down with
his hand. Mulder groaned, but couldn't, or wouldn't, answer him. He
felt the pace increase,
the gentleness giving way to urgency, and the whispered question came
to him again out of
the darkness. He heard the tear of foil, and glanced up over his shoulder
to see Alex
tearing open the package one-handed, holding the corner with his teeth,
eyes gleaming at
him. His thoughts were screaming at him, and the pressure was building,
and he wanted
something, anything, everything, and he needed it now and if he didn't
give it to him soon —
"Give it to me!"
"My pleasure," Krycek bit off, and pulled his hand back sharply with
a final rake across
Mulder's prostate. Pausing just long enough to roll the latex down
over his own hard cock,
he carefully placed the head against the small hole and bore down hard.
Mulder bucked
suddenly, trying to throw him off. "Too late. Damnit, hold still!"
Krycek thrust his left hand
through the thick hair at the back of Mulder's head, and guided himself
the rest of the way
in with his right hand. Mulder seemed to be frozen, not making any
further attempt to get
away, and Krycek gradually worked himself into Mulder . When he was
finally fully within
the tight confines, he rested against Mulder's sweaty back and panted
lightly. It felt
incredible, hot and tight and... god, he loved virgins.
Mulder buried his face in the pillow and tried to ignore the signals
his body was sending to
him. He couldn't believe he'd given himself away like that. What the
flying fuck had he
been thinking? As his thoughts began to chase themselves in ever more
frantic circles,
something happened that rendered his attempts to remain unresponsive
moot. Alex started
to move. Slowly. In little circular movements. Up. Down. In. Out. Over.
Around. Every
muscle in his body tensed. It felt incredibly good. Against his will,
he felt his cock harden
again, and groaned. "Slut," he whispered fiercely, to himself. There
was a strangled
snicker from behind him.
"Don't... be so hard... on yourself," Krycek managed to get out.
"Fuck you," Mulder groaned in return.
"Too busy fucking you!" Krycek laughed back, and Mulder grinned in spite
of himself.
Then the pace of the thrusts increased, and neither man had the breath
for talking.
The orgasm was intense for both of them. Krycek came first, thrusting
in as hard, as far as
he could, once, twice, a third time. The unaccustomed sensation of
cum surging inside him
triggered Mulder's second climax of the night, and he whimpered as
he thrust into the
tangled sheet beneath him. Eventually, they stilled, and Krycek wearily
withdrew.
Disposing of the condom in the small wastecan next to the endtable,
he rolled over and
looked at Mulder, sprawled, satiated, on his stomach.
"You have a great ass," he felt compelled to say.
"Thanks." Mulder mumbled, finally unburying his face to look at Krycek.
"I think." They
stared at one another for a long moment. Alex found himself pulled
into that lethargic stare,
leaning over and moving closer, until he could open his mouth over
Mulder's in a deep,
exploratory kiss. Mulder didn't pause, just pushed up with his tongue
to pursue his own
investigations. Krycek ran his hands up along the strong column of
Mulder's neck, tilting
his head to allow deeper access. As he lost himself in the kiss, he
barely felt Mulder's
hands on his wrists, pulling his arms above his head, pulling him closer.
click
The cold metal felt completely out of place around his wrists.
"What the fuck-!" He tried to pull away from Mulder, only to find himself
handcuffed to the
brass rails inset in the headboard. As he was adjusting to this reality,
Mulder rolled
somewhat awkwardly out from under him. Krycek looked from his cuffed
hands to his
erstwhile lover.
"You were on your way out the door, Alex." Mulder smiled sweetly at
him with a hint of
teeth. "We can't have that. You're our last best hope for victory over
Cancerman."
"What the hell do you think I am? Babylon 5?" Krycek hissed.
Mulder lifted himself from the side of the bed and bent over to pat
his ass, putting a sting
into the pat. "Nah, just our own resident rat. But you also have a
very nice ass."
"Thanks a hell of a lot," Krycek muttered into the pillow as he heard
the sound of the
shower begin. It was going to be an uncomfortable night.
Now he remembered why it had been so long since he'd gotten laid. Complete
and utter
lack of trustworthy bedpartners.
Scully didn't quite know what to make of the glowing smile on her partner's
face when he
opened the door. After all, it was only six thirty. And Mulder wasn't
usually a morning
person.
"Did you have any trouble with Krycek last night?" she greeted him.
If it was possible, the
smile glowed even brighter.
"Nope. He thought about escaping but changed his mind. He's in the bedroom."
He
gestured with his head and closed the door behind her.
"Well, is he going to cooperate?"
"I thought I'd leave the persuading up to you, Scully." For some reason,
she didn't quite
trust the very innocent look in his eyes. He tried to look sober, but
it didn't quite come off.
Quirking one brow, she dropped her coat on the side chair and strode
into Mulder's
bedroom.
Oh.
Perhaps there was a reason for Mulder's unusual good cheer. Krycek was
lying in the wet
spot.
Scully felt a grin stretch her lips. Yes, they would find the truth.
And this man would help
them. Because if he didn't, she wasn't going to unlock the handcuffs.
She was going to keep
him here until he agreed to help them bring down Cancerman, avenge
her sister's death and
find Mulder's answers. And if he needed persuasion, well, she was a
doctor. She knew
secret doctor things. And she would use them on him.
After all, he had a very nice ass.
Mulder heard the muffled thumps and exclamations through the closed
door and smiled
serenely to himself as he began to make coffee. There was time. Scully
needed to blow off
some steam. Krycek needed to be convinced. And he needed the rest.
He settled gingerly
into the couch cushions and let his mind wander as he listened carefully.
The screams were
getting louder.
This bizarre partnership could be one hell of a lot of fun.
MY end to apocrypha, with the Ratboy screaming for utterly different
reasons than in the original
Slick
by Brenda Antrim
More than four days had passed since he had walked out of a quiet restroom
in the busy
airport in Hong Kong, declaring to Agent Fox Mulder that he felt like
a whole new man. He
had escaped from his captor, hunted down those responsible for his
initial escape, and
murdered six men and two women.
