The sporty black car took the curves of the driveway with ease. It screeched to
halt in front of the looming building.
"It a waterworks, Tyler." Mulder gazed up at the odd skyline that the sprawling
structure before them created. The last time he'd been in a water treatment plant
it had been in search of the damned 'flukeman'.
"It's not the strangest place you've ever met Krycek." His informant reminded him
in a low voice. "Look on the bright side." She didn't kill the engine. As much as
she'd love to accompany her favourite G-man on the assignation, too many other
duties were pressing at her tonight. "It's a suitable spooky place to spend
Hallowe'en."
"Ha. Ha." His monotone seemed even flatter than usual tonight. Mulder shoved open
the car door. "You might want to wait around for a little while, Tyler, just in
case the bastard is a no-show."
"Just walk back to the street," she advised him. "A cab shouldn't be too hard to
find." Her tone reeked of ennui. "Canada may be the backwoods compared to home,
but I think a taxi is within the scope of their civilization, just barely."
"Yeah, right." Mulder climbed out of the car, gazed about, then slammed the car
door without a backwards glance. Tyler was a whiz at tracking Krycek when he was
out alley catting around but her social skills could almost as bad as his own
when she was in a hurry.
The Porsche tore out, spitting up gravel from its rear wheels.
"Fucking Canada again." Mulder pulled his long coat tighter against the cold wind
coming north off the lake. It seemed this damned country was synonymous with Alex
screwing around on his lover.
A non-descript grey door seemed the closest entrance. It was, strangely enough,
marked with a fluttering piece of paper. Mulder stalked over and yanked the sheet
down. In plain, block letters was written:
If you can see through the
The lock on the door was broken and it was cracked open.
"Son of a bitch." Mulder muttered, shoving the door wide and peering into the
darkness beyond. "I'M NOT IN THE MOOD FOR GAMES, KRYCEK!" He shouted as he
crossed the threshold. His on-again/off-again lover seemed to think ditching
Mulder and vanishing for months at a time was nothing but a joke.
"Games." Came a too-familiar voice from above. "Are the spice of life, Agent
Mulder. When did you get so old and tired?"
Cursing, Mulder ran for the nearest set of stairs. There was nothing like hearing
Krycek's husky voice taunting him to get his blood racing. In the dim light
Mulder caught a brief glimpse of his prey leaning on the railing of a catwalk.
The son of a bitch was playing more games than just hide and seek. Dress up
seemed to be the order of the day if Mulder was seeing correctly. It was hard to
mistake the distinctive red serge of a Canadian Mountie for anything else.
Feet thumped hard on metal and Mulder's brightly clothed target dropped one level
down, just as the angry agent reached the right catwalk. With a brief nervous
glance at the dizzying height he'd climbed to, Mulder wrapped his fingers hard
around the railing and practically slid back down one flight of stairs.
Damn but Alex looked good, lean, fit and better rested than he'd seemed in ages.
A kink Mulder didn't realise he possessed flared to life at the prospect of
peeling his lover out of that RCMP uniform. His mouth watered. "That was easy,
Krycek. Your edge is a bit soft tonight." Mulder took a step forward. He was
already picturing what it would feel like to hold the other man down and fuck him
while he was still wearing that blood red jacket.
Broad shoulders shrugged. "Maybe I'm not the player you think I am. Too much time
at the computer and not enough in the field, I guess." He smiled, thining his
usually plush lips. "No damage." Without warning he threw himself sideways
through an open door to an elevated storeroom, slamming the portal behind him.
Mulder cursed yet again and ran to grab the handle. The click of a lock warned
Mulder that he was just a second too late. "That's not going to stop me!" He
screamed, his foot lifted to kick at the door. It's not like these things were
designed to be vaults.
Three kicks in and the flat of his foot wasn't making any impression. Mulder was
just about to drag out his gun and start blasting at the lock when a whistle made
him whirl around.
"Don't even bother, Agent Mulder." This time the tease came from the floor of the
pipe-infested place. "Being too slow is the same as not showing up."
Mulder stared over the railing, amazed. How the fuck had Krycek managed to get
down there so fast? Mulder ran back to the stairs and down, taking them two at a
time. Hitting the bottom he got a brief look at his quarry.
The trick his lover was playing on him swiftly became even more complex than
Mulder had suspected. Alex's hair was suddenly longer. The other man's dark bangs
were almost falling in front of his gorgeous eyes. Mountie reds had somehow been
replaced by grey and green fatigues.
A revelation hit the Agent like a ton of bricks. Mulder would lay odds that if he
went back up and finished pounding his way through that door his original target
would still be there. Alex Krycek had some questions to answer.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"C'mon, Agent Mulder. If you don't play, you can't win." The taunt was called
over a shoulder as the man sprinted out of reach and around a corner.
Mulder tore after him.
The baby-faced version of his lover appeared down a corridor between greasy,
unknown machines. Mulder grimaced and gave chase. Several twists and one torn
sleeve later he turned a corner suddenly and came face to face with this version
of Krycek.
Too-innocent green eyes went wide in surprise and Mulder's quarry tried to back
away only to find that the Agent had a grip on the front of his jacket.
"What the fuck is going on?" Mulder demanded. There was no way this was Alex.
Christ, Alex had never looked this young, not even when they'd first met. Mulder
shook the kid, rattling him, and then he pulled the body tight to himself again.
"Who are you?" Mulder couldn't stop himself from grinding into the lean form. He
wanted to bite the kid, to find out if he tasted as fresh as he looked.
"You're fast, for an old guy." Arms flew up, knocking Mulder's grip loose and the
kid turned on his heel. After only three steps, he caught a dangling cable. Like
a monkey, he went up the cable in a few breaths. The young man then scrambled
onto a perch high above.
"KRYCEK!" Mulder roared, frustrated beyond belief. "WHAT'S GOING ON HERE?"
"It's spooky, isn't it?" Leather creaked, underscoring the statement.
Mulder twisted. Short hair, brown leather jacket, gloves, jeans, and the age
looked right. Mulder could swear it was his lover. Then again he could've said
the same of the Mountie, and even the kid had fooled him at first glance. Of
course his body was ahead of his mind, as was normal when Krycek was involved.
Mulder's erection was throbbing painfully and he couldn't say whether the kid
he'd just groped or this older, more genuine version was responsible for his
arousal.
"What is this, Alex?" Fuck it was hard to speak. His throat was constricted and
he couldn't catch his breath.
"Trick or treat." Shoulders shrugged. "Beats chasing after wolfmen and enchanted
pumpkins, don'cha think?" He moved, keeping his distance, when Mulder took a
step. "What were you expecting, a Batman costume and apple cider?"
"Who are those guys? Or was that you in the Mountie gear?" Mulder tested,
attempting to edge closer. His fingers were open, ready to catch and hold.
"Shouldn't the question be, Agent Mulder... who am I?"
A quick pullback into the shadows made this one vanish too.
"God damned. Son of bitch. Dirty rat bastard." Mulder pulled out his Sig and
stormed after the last apparition. "The next head that pops up better be you,
Krycek, or I'm going to blow it wide open."
"Look up... waaay up." Perched on the top of tractor of some kind, this one was
cloaked in a long, black coat that pooled around him like a cape. Black gloves
and heavy-framed sunglasses made him look like a piece of the darkness that had
just taken on this form. "Here's the deal, Agent Mulder. You get to pick."
The Mountie ghosted out of the shadows to the far right. "One way or another you
get to play with someone tonight."
"The question," brown leather jacket guy appeared and leaned against the tractor
expectantly. "... is, who do you want to play with?"
"And it doesn't have to be your Krycek." The kid's voice had an innocently
provocative lilt Mulder hadn't ever heard his lover use. "Not if you don't want
it to be." His entire expression sparkled with mischief.
Mulder's skin was itching so badly right now that he felt like he was about to
jump out of it. "Will you tell me if I pick right?" He wasn't sure who to aim the
question at.
"Fuck Mulder, I should think you'd clue in." The Mountie's right brow arched and
a seductive smile curved his lips. "Once we get into it."
"After all, no one is quite like Krycek... except Krycek." The kid finished with a
lick of his lips. "More's the pity."
Mulder let out a hissing, annoyed sigh. His gaze flicked over the possibilities.
The one that looked like he belonged in 'the Matrix' was a possibility but the
leather jacket demanded consideration. Of course, that damned uniform was just
twisted enough to be his lover's idea of a joke. Only the kid could be dismissed
out of hand as being Krycek. A loud, hungry part of Mulder's libido couldn't help
but wonder what it would be like to feel that lean, young body bucking underneath
him. Fuck. He wanted them all. "And do I get an explanation of where the rest of
you came from."
"Greedy Fox. We knew you'd ask about that." An evil laugh escaped the cyberpunk.
"It's your a fifth option."
"But if you ask for that. You leave here alone." The normal-looking one stated in
a bland tone. "Because none of us are in the mood to play second fiddle to a file
of documents tonight." He tossed a stuffed, string-secured folder down onto the
dusty floor.
Mulder stalled, his eyes feasting on the wealth laid out before him. "Can I ask
you questions to pick out who I want?"
"Simple ones, but you may not get the answers you want." A gloved hand brushed
the dust off the heavy red fabric of his jacket. "One each would be fair, I
suppose."
"Dating game."
Mulder had to swing around to catch which of them had made that observation. It
was the leather jacket. "When was the first time we kissed?" He demanded of that
version of Alex.
"We didn't kiss the first time, you bit me." A huff of amusement accompanied the
statement.
The reminder sent a flush of blazing heat through the Agent. "That's not what I
asked." Mulder countered, eyes narrowing to absorb every detail of the beautiful
man before him.
"Under the bridge, just before you left. The second time we fucked." He absently
traced one leather-covered finger over the fender of the small tractor.
Mulder raised his eyes. The one on the roof had dropped down to sit cross-legged.
He looked like a fantasy come alive. Snug black accentuated every angle even as
it attempted to cloak the body in mystery. "Why did you kill my father?" He had
to ask. Mulder asked some hybrid of that question constantly and had never got
the same answer twice. The answer didn't even matter anymore except as a tool
used to test the other's mood.
"Not saying that I did, but if I did... it was likely because," he paused. "the old
man was twisted, sadistic bastard who was about to spill his guts and ruin your
life." The smile that accompanied those words was vicious.
That brutal nastiness shot straight to Mulder's cock, impossibly enough,
hardening him even further. His underwear was going to be ruined before the next
ten minutes elapsed. His breath hissing out, Mulder turned to the kid. "How old
are you?" A spike of perverted pleasure shot through him. He almost wished the
answer would suggest what he was pondering was illegal.
The question earned a bark of laughter. "My driver's licence says twenty-one." He
evaded. One hip thrust forward and the kid gazed up through lowered lashes. "How
old do you want me to be, Mister Mulder, Sir?"
Only the one in the uniform remained. Mulder's fists were clenching as he turned.
None of his questions were earning the results he expected. All that was
happening was he was hyping himself up, considering the possibilities that lay
before him. He spent the last carelessly. "Do you love me?"
A fleeting look of sadness crossed the man's face. "If I said I did, would you
pick me?"
"There's a car outside that door." Black cloak billowing, the one on top of the
machinery jumped down, landing hard beside his doppelganger. "The keys are in the
ignition. Who are you taking, Agent Mulder?"
Mulder gunned the engine and his eyes dared to leave the twisty driveway long
enough to glance sideways at the choice he had made. Maybe he'd made a mistake,
but Mulder was certain there would still be a heady satisfaction filling him
before the evening was over.
"Promudobl'adsksya pizdopro'ebina!" Alex Krycek's foot slammed out, denting the
fender of the equipment he stood beside. "Da nu ego na khuy." His fist was next.
The action left a smear of blood behind.
"STOP IT, ALEX!" Mack Stinger jumped in to grab at the other's arm, careless of
both his dress uniform and his own safety.
The two identical men struggled briefly but the result was Krycek pinning
Stringer to the tractor with his prosthetic arm hard across the RCMP officer's
throat.
"You're the one that set the game up." Mack whispered out in a strangled voice.
"What did you expect? That'd he'd spin in a circle and sniff you out?" Stringer
was using all his strength to keep his throat from being crushed. "Please, Alex.
Calm down."
"He didn't even try."
The complaint was hissed out in a tone of voice that made Stringer's balls want
to climb up inside his body and hide. He didn't know which was worse, staring up
and seeing his own terrified image reflected back at him or the possibility that
Krycek would take off those damned glasses and all sanity would be gone from the
man's eyes.
"Let Mack go, Alex." A brown leather covered arm insinuated between them and
Krycek was slowly levered backward.
Stringer gulped down a breath of air and tried to make his legs hold him up
again. What the hell had taken Mansfield so long to interfere?
Another fountain of Russian obscenity threatened to spew from Krycek's lips but a
single finger halted it. "It's alright." Victor kept the distance between them as
narrow as possible. His forehead tipped to rest against Alex's. "Mulder will get
bored of his prize soon enough and he'll be looking for you again by the end of
the week." Mansfield's calming touch drifted, tracing over Krycek's cheek. He
eventually threaded his fingers into the short hair by Alex's ear. "In the
meantime you've got us." The kiss he bestowed on his look-alike had an almost
magical effect.
Krycek's tense shoulders rounded off and he leaned into the support, inhaling the
familiar aroma of well-oiled leather and his beloved, Victor.
"My place?" Stringer suggested hopefully. Mansfield's apartment gave him the
creeps. They always had to spend an hour dismantling surveillance equipment
before they could relax, and those damned partners of Victor's were forever
letting themselves in by picking the lock rather than knocking.
"That'll do." Victor caught at Krycek and led the way toward the back exit,
whispering soothing endearments as they walked.
"Come on Baines." Stringer grabbed at the baby of the group.
The young soldier grinned. "Personally, I'm glad it worked out this way." The kid
stated. "Mulder may have his precious file but we've got Alex."
Milk and cookies time.
CJ's Hallowe'en trick
by Carla Jane
Mississauga, Ontario, Canada
trick and bag me...
you'll get your treat. A.
CJ toddles off in search of chocolate, still chuckling.
