"Come on, Vic. This time the beer's on me... seriously," Mac said, trying to
wheedle Victor into going to the pub for a pint. The men had just closed the
file involving a very boring case of stamp forgery.
After the warehouse bombing, Li Ann and Jackie had transferred out of the
Agency and out of the team.
Now just Mac and Victor were left to carry on the partnership.
Victor smiled at Mac. "'Bout time too, you cheapskate..." He pushed the door
open and exited the underground entrance to the Agency.
"Hey, I bought the beer..." Mac started to say, but he was cut off by
Victor.
"...Back in '97." They carried their pseudo argument on all the way out to
Victor's truck. He had driven them into work that morning.
"Excuse me. Are you Alex Krycek?" The question came from a Hispanic male who
had popped out of the shadows. The man put a gun to the back of Victor's
head. "Hands where I can see them," he said to Mac calmly.
Both agents froze. Mac and Victor put their hands on the roof of the truck.
"I asked you a question... Are you Alex Krycek?"
"No," Victor replied. On the outside he was as calm as ever; on the inside,
he was petrified. He wondered what this joker wanted with Alex. "Never heard
of him."
"Listen, hombre," Mac started to say.
The unknown man, whose face only Mac could see, said, "Shut up," blandly and
then fired his gun, hitting Mac in the heart and killing him instantly.
Victor cried Mac's name as he heard the gunman say, "Your life is over,
Comrade Krycek. Spender says he'll see you in hell..."
Then Victor knew no more.
The gunman cracked Victor over the head, and he fell to the ground
unconscious. His head hit the pavement so hard that the back of his skull
split like an overripe melon. Blood ran from his ears and nose as well as
from the gaping wound at the back of his head.
The anonymous assailant was Luis Cardinale's brother, Jesus, hired by the
smoking man to find Alex Krycek. Jesus bent over and hit Victor in the face
several times with his gun. He didn't stop until he heard the left cheekbone
of "Krycek's" face crack, then break.
Cardinale stood up and said, "Good riddance, you piece of back stabbing
shit." Then he spat on Victor and murmured, "Maricon." Jesus aimed his gun
at Victor's swollen, bruised face, intending to shoot the man he thought was
Alex Krycek. Krycek had been a festering boil on the Consortium's ass for
too long; it was time to get rid of him once and for all. Cardinale blamed
Krycek for his older brother's murder.
As he stood there watching "Krycek's" blood spread out and pool, the doors
that Victor and Mac had come out of opened up again, and out walked two more
agents. Jesus looked back at the approaching men then at "Krycek."
"Hey you!" called one of the agents.
Cardinale looked quickly at Krycek again and then took off running. There
was no way the double crossing rat bastard would live anyway.
"Stop," they cried in unison, running toward the red truck. "Oh no!" Mr.
Murphy said. "It's Mansfield." Murphy touched Victor's neck and felt a very
faint pulse below his fingertips. "He's badly hurt," Murphy said. Pulling
out a cell phone, he dialled 911.
"It's Ramsey," announced Camier calmly. He stood up and went to where Murphy
was trying to stop the flow of blood from Victor's head. "He's dead."
Murphy looked up at his partner and frowned. In the distance, they could
hear the sound of approaching sirens.
14 days later:
"What in the hell do you mean 'He's gone'?" the Director shouted at the
doctor.
The doctor, well used to irritated women and not afraid of her in the least,
replied, "Last night Victor Mansfield was signed out of this hospital and
transferred to another."
"How and by whom?" demanded the Director. "Victor was on life support, for
Christ sakes. You can't just take a man from the hospital!"
The doctor snapped his file shut, weary of listening to the angry woman
before him. He decided that decorum wasn't working and that he was going to
have to put her in her place once and for all.
"Listen, lady," he said tightly. "One," the doctor held up his index finger,
"Victor Mansfield, as of yesterday morning, had all of his tubes except the
shunt draining the fluid off of his brain removed. The swelling in his
cerebellum had decreased enough for him to take over breathing for himself.
The only thing left to do is to wait and see if he wakes up. He may never do
so, and if he does, there's always the possibility that he could be
seriously brain-damaged ... or not... you never can tell with this type of
head trauma. Two," he held up the middle finger, "a man showed up hours
after Mansfield had been removed from the ventilator. The guy produced all
of the proper paperwork along with the legal notice granting him power of
attorney over Mr. Mansfield. He had an ambulance waiting out front, so we
made Victor ready to travel and signed him over. The brother wanted him
moved; there was no reason to stop him. End of story." The doctor put up his
ring finger. "And three, we did get a name. The brother's name was," the
doctor had happened to be closing up the Mansfield case file for the
computer when the Director confronted him, so he opened the file and said,
"Johnson Dougherty." He shut the folder. The brother had been given a copy
of everything Victor had been through from procedures to diagnosis to the
prognosis. "We needed the bed..." He said, unapologetic.
The Director stared at the handsome older man, wide-eyed. "You mean to tell
me," she said, shocked, "that you released an unconscious government agent
into the custody of a man whose name is essentially John Doe?"
The physician shrugged, "I guess so..." He looked at his watch. "Look,
Ma'am, I've got other patients to see." He tried to walk away, but the
Director stopped him by putting her hand on his sleeve.
"Look," she said, worried that the man who had initially tried to kill
Victor was the same one who signed him out of the hospital. "How do you know
this guy was even his brother? As far as I know, Victor Mansfield has no
brother, just a sister."
The doctor said to her, matter of fact, "I guess you didn't know your agent
as well as you thought did..." He saw the look on her face. Sighing, he
answered the question. "Because he was Mansfield's twin brother, identical,
that is. That's how I know." He shrugged off her grip and started down the
hall.
The Director stared after the doctor. She had really messed this up and in a
big way. Once again she had underestimated Victor. He had never even hinted
in all the years he had worked for her that there was a brother, and a twin
at that. Years of listening in and video taping had let the Director in on
many of Victor's secrets, but a twin brother was not one of them. She had
thought that she knew everything there was to know about the agent;
apparently she had been wrong. Her files told her that from the age of 12
on, he had lived with a foster family who adopted him at 14. The father
drank and the mother yelled, and between the two they had successfully
driven their son out of the house at 18 and right into the Police Academy.
She had tried to dig up information on Victor's earlier life, but there was
nothing. All the records had been burned when the courthouse was razed by
fire over twenty years ago, around the time Victor turned eighteen, if she
recalled her data correctly. And of course she did.
Funny how she let the early years' information just slide. Now Victor was
gone, had disappeared into the night. The Agency did not like to lose their
agents, unless it was to death.
Dead people told no secrets, missing agents still kept them.
Six months later: June 1999
CASCADE REHABILITATION CENTRE
"Good morning, Joe. Is today the day you're going to wake up?" Blair
Sandburg said pleasantly to the comatose man. He asked the same question
every morning, and one day he was sure that Joseph Dougherty's eyes were
going to pop open and wink at him. Blair put a in CD, Sounds of the Rain
Forest, and then pulling out his favourite novel, began to read aloud. Blair
Sandburg had been an anthropology professor at the university, but he had
been let go when he admitted on camera that he had lied about his thesis. He
really hadn't lied, but for the sake of his best friend and partner, he'd
sacrificed his career, which led him to another.
Blair was currently attending criminology classes in hopes of earning his
degree in criminal psychology. His expertise in anthropology was definitely
an asset to him for the classes. He was currently a member of the Cascade
PD, but his heart wasn't in the thrill of chasing down criminals as was his
friend and roommate's, Jim Ellison. No, he leaned toward the academic end of
police work and found his forte` was doing what he had been doing all along,
giving the department advice about criminals, their behaviour patterns and
their surroundings. You could take the brainy anthropologist out of the
university, but not the education out of the man.
To get away from it all, Blair volunteered at the Cascade rehabilitative
centre, where he read his boring reports and studies to the residents, most
of whom were bedridden and comatose, whenever he had a chance. They
certainly weren't in a position to criticise his dull words.
He had taken a shine to the patient in room 11, a thirty-ish man with deep
brown hair and green eyes. Blair only knew his eyes were green because he
had seen the doctor pull open a lid and shine a light into the reactive
pupils.
The comatose man had come to the centre under the cover of darkness one
night. Blair looked at the man named Joseph Dougherty and was always
reminded of his friend Jim. They were close to the same age, and Jim was
about as quiet as "Joe" was too. That analogy always brought a smile to the
younger cop's face. No one ever came to visit Joseph Dougherty, but every
month, the check came to pay for the expenses, and the office clerks sent
out detailed reports on Joe's progress.
Someone was keeping an eye on the handsome, sleeping man, but who? That
question, and others, like the identity of Joe Doe, as Blair called him, sat
in the back of his mind and needled him. Though he had made up a long and
complicated story about the mysterious man and why he was at the Cascade
centre, Blair had actually done nothing about trying to find out who Joe Doe
was. After all, it wasn't his place to. He had no right, but if Joe's real
name was Joseph Dougherty, then Blair Sandburg was Catholic.
So Blair put the puzzling mystery around Joe aside and tried not to let it
get to him. Joe's room got the early morning sun, whenever it chose to show
the its face in Cascade, the jewel of the Pacific Northwest. It was where
Blair preferred to be, even on rainy days. The room had large windows and
was the largest private room in the centre, and best of all, unlike some of
the permanently slumbering residents, Joe Doe did not snore. He slept
quietly, like a baby.
Over the call of a macaw Blair read Frank Herbert's Dune aloud. Two pages
into chapter six, Blair had the sensation of being watched. He raised his
eyes slowly from the page and met a pair of startling, big green eyes. "Joe
Doe" had emerged from his slumber.
"HOLY SHIT!" Blair shouted excitedly, tossing the paperback aside.
The shouting made Victor blink his eyes, frightened by the man's loud voice.
Victor, however, had no idea what his name was, nor did he recognise or
even understand why the strange man was shouting. Victor Mansfield or Joseph
Dougherty didn't even know how to go to the bathroom... yet. His wide eyes
followed Blair as the curly haired man ran to the door and yanked it open.
"Cherise," he shouted out loud and then started for the nursing station.
Cherise, a beautiful African American woman in her middle twenties, looked
up and smiled at Blair as he charged toward her desk.
"Cherise, good news..." he started to say.
"Blair. Don't shout; you're scaring Benjamin," she admonished.
Blair pulled up at the desk. "Sorry, Benny," he said to a man who was trying
not to cry. "He's up, Cherise," Blair said excitedly. "It's Joe. He's
opened his eyes!"
The RN smiled. She had worked here for over a year now and knew that Blair
didn't realise that sometimes the patients opened their eyes. It didn't
necessarily mean that they were awake. She put her chart away. "All right,
Blair," she said, trying to control his enthusiasm. "Let's go take a look."
Victor stared around the room. His gaze took in everything, though he didn't
comprehend what it was that he was seeing. His door opened, and he watched
as the dark-haired man and a pretty nurse came in, without even knowing he
did it. He smiled at the pretty lady in soft pink who had entered.
Cherise approached the bed and studied Victor's eyes. His pupils dilated
with light and followed her finger. Smiling, she patted his cheek gently.
Picking up the bedside phone, she paged the doctor on call. Once he came on
the line, she filled him in.
"Doctor Aames, its Cherise. Joseph Dougherty has woken up. No. His pupils
dilated and contracted spontaneously, and he could track my index finger.
He's smiled a few times, but I don't know if it's a voluntary reflex or
not..." She listened to the doctor, and while he spoke, she jotted down his
orders. "Okay, doctor," she said after a bunch of Œuh huhs'. "I will." She
hung up.
"Okay, Joe. You're going downstairs for a CAT scan. From that we'll be able
to tell exactly how you are doing." Cherise spoke to "Joe" just as if he
understood her.
One Month Later: July 1999
"A,B,C,D,E..." recited Victor slowly.
He had progressed quite a bit from when he first opened his eyes. At first
he couldn't even go to the bathroom on his own or talk or feed himself. It
had taken a while for him to be able to walk unaided again. Now one month,
later he was controlling and holding his bodily functions, able to walk
around his room and go the toilet with out supervision. He had learned to
vocalise all over again quite quickly, and the therapist attributed that to
the fact that "Joe's" ability was implanted firmly in his long-term memory.
The same for his muscle control, which was why he could still walk and had
picked up on the toilet training so quickly; he only needed to be reminded
of these things. However, the part of his brain that held his short-term
memory was damaged, the rehabilitative team needed to teach him to think and
learn, like reading and writing all over again. Victor had no idea what a
mug, cat or a shoe was, but with constant attention he was getting there.
Blair watched "Joe" progress daily. He was there every day to see what new
things he was learning. Blair had decided to do a study on "Joseph
Dougherty" from when he first came awake to however far he could progress.
Not even the experts knew fully how much Victor would get back of his former
self.
Amazed, Blair witnessed Victor's rebirth. He had started out as nothing more
than a full-grown baby; now the green-eyed man was advanced to a
pre-school/kindergarten level of mentality. Essentially, he was a five year
old in a thirty-seven year old's body. And like any five-year-old, he was
prone to tantrums and fits of stubbornness. Blair had a feeling that before
the amnesia, "Joe" had probably been a difficult, set in his ways, kind of
guy and still was.
No wonder Blair liked Joe; he was just like his friend Jim. Having said
that, Joe wasn't always bad. Most times he was sweet and loving, and like
any little boy, he had an affinity for men in uniforms. From firemen to
paramedics to a khaki clad soldier, he always smiled for a person in
uniform. And policeman—for some reason, they were his very favourites.
Whenever he saw pictures of them, a large smile would immediately cross his
face. He liked everything about being a cop, from the cars to the dogs.
Blair spent time every day talking and working with Joe. Though the
relationship was lopsided due to Victor's problems, Blair considered Joe his
friend. He exhibited a youthful exuberance, a naive curiosity about life
that Blair and the other professionals found refreshing. Joe's un-jaded view
of his surroundings brought smiles to the people who worked with him.
One afternoon Blair had talked Jim Ellison, his roommate and a cop, into
coming to the centre. Jim was attending a full dress parade for the newly
appointed police commissioner. Since Blair refused to accept a no, Jim had
no choice but to agree to drop in and show his uniform off to "Joe."
Jim walked into the day room, scoped out the various people and then rested
his eyes on Blair, who was sitting on a wooden chair next to Joe, who was
also sitting on a simple wooden chair with a cane perched near to him. The
eyes of the man next to Blair, whom Jim knew had to be Joe, lit up, and he
smiled directly at Jim. Jim turned up his hearing, and from across the room
heard Joe say, "Look, Blair, a policeman."
Blair smiled and patted Joe's shoulder while watching Jim approach. "I told
you I was a policeman."
"But you said you don't wear a gun..."
Jim couldn't help but feel special. The man before him was obviously in awe
of seeing a real policeman who carried a real gun. The brain damaged man
looked absolutely normal on the outside. One would never know by looking at
him that mentally he was only five years old. In fact, Jim felt a familiar
twinge that told him his body also found Joe Doe to be attractive. But it
could not be. Under different circumstances he would have been very
interested in dating Joe but unfortunately, beautiful or not, Joe Doe was a
fully-grown man with a child's mind. This meant that, body or not, Joe was
still a kid, and, as such, any type of relationship other than friendly
would be wrong. Jim sighed softly, with regret. He plastered a grin on his
face and removed his hat. "Hi, " he said, handing the police hat over to
Victor to let him try it on. "I'm Jim."
Still smiling, Victor looked up from the studying the cap, his eyes wide
with wonder. Perching the police hat on his head, Victor said, "Hi... I'm...?"
He looked to Blair for confirmation of his name.
"Joe," Blair prompted.
"Joe," Victor repeated. Somewhere deep inside, he knew that the name Joe was
not right, that it was not really his name. But he didn't know which name
did belong to him, so he went with Joe, sometimes even forgetting that one
too. Jim sat down next to Joe and pulled out his handcuffs for him to
examine.
Three days later: Monday afternoon
"Come in," Victor said slowly, replying to the knock at the door to his
room.
"Hey, Joe," Blair said cheerfully, shutting the door behind himself. "Look
what I brought." He held up his own police issue hat from his dress uniform.
A uniform he'd vowed to get into as rarely as possible.
Victor smiled, grabbed the hat and put it on his head. It fit more tightly
than Jim's had.
"I brought my camera." Blair pulled a Polaroid instant camera out from his
knapsack. He'd brought the camera and the hat thinking that Joe would like
to have his picture taken wearing the dark blue accessory. It was evident
that Joe liked the cap more than he did. "Do you want me to take your
picture?" he asked.
"Okay," Victor said slowly, losing his good cheer. He made a small face at
Blair's back then started to undo the buttons of his green pyjama shirt.
Blair turned around and looked up from having put the film into the camera
and saw Joe undoing the last button of his shirt. The young cop just stared
in shock when Joe pulled his shirt wide open, exposing his chest and
abdomen. But when he started to pull the cotton off altogether, Blair found
his voice.
"Hey!" he said, stopping Victor from taking the garment off. "What are you
doing Joe?" Blair asked, surprised.
Confused, Victor said, "You wanted to take my picture. Right?" His lower lip
trembled slightly, and he had a feeling that he had done something bad.
Blair could see that "Joe" was just two words away from crying. "Yes. But
why are you taking off your shirt?" He gestured then said softly, "Here, do
it up."
Puzzled, with his lip still quivering, Victor replied softly, "Because the
other man who takes my picture always wants me to be naked..." After saying
the word "naked," Victor looked down, suddenly ashamed.
"Joe's" demeanour, the look on his face while talking, frightened Blair.
"FUCK!" he yelled, immediately clueing in to what was going on. "What man,
Joe?" He grabbed Victor by the arms and shook him gently. "Who asked you to
take your clothes off?"
Victor's eyes filled with tears. He knew that letting those men look at him
naked was wrong, but the man had seemed so nice... at first. He didn't
understand at all. "Did I do something bad?" he asked, frightened of getting
into trouble. The tears welled up and spilled out over the dark-fringed
rims.
Blair realised what he was doing and stopped shaking Joe. He had made the
poor, confused man cry, and suddenly he felt like he had just stepped on a
kitten. He calmed himself down and then tried to settle Joe.
"Who takes your picture, Joe?" Blair asked calmly, even though inwardly he
was seething with anger, pissed off that someone who worked here would take
advantage of a brain-damaged resident like that. He knew that it had to be
someone working at the facility.
"I don't know!" Victor said, afraid of what would happen to him now that he
had forgotten and let the secret out. He sniffled, "I was bad. I did bad
things." The tears started all over again. He didn't understand; the man who
had taken his picture said that it was okay to be naked, that he was old
enough. But if it was really okay, then why was Blair mad at him? "Blair,
don't be mad at me. Please," Victor implored.
Feeling like the biggest shit-head in the world, Blair let go of Joe.
"No... no... I'm not mad at you." He tried to reassure Joe. "I'm mad at the
person who asked you to take your clothes off. Who did it, Joe? You can tell
me."
Victor swiped at his tears with the backs of his hands, trying to dry them.
He was glad that Blair wasn't angry with him anymore. "I don't know his
name. I can't remember," he lied.
Blair held several bunched up tissues to Joe's nose and told him to blow,
which he did. He knew full well that his friend was lying to him.
"I forget," Victor mumbled softly. He did, in fact, know the name of both of
the men. Grey was the man who took his picture, and the other was an orderly
named Sterling.
It was Sterling who took Victor away at night from the centre to Grey's
studio. Sterling and Grey had both terrorised Victor into not telling anyone
of their extra curricular activities. They had taken Victor to their
studio, and shown him a litter of puppies. Sterling had encouraged Victor
to pick out a puppy to play with, but after a few minutes of cuddling with
the dog, Sterling took the pup away from Victor and killed it, right in
front of the frightened man.
Victor didn't understand a lot of things, but he understood that the puppy
was dead and dead things got buried. Victor had been terrified and kept the
secret, fearing for his own life. He had no comprehension of what scare
tactics meant and had neither the skills nor the mental capacity yet to
understand that he was being manipulated and lied to. He thought that they
were telling the truth.
Which was why Sterling had picked him to pose for the pictures in the first
place. He could see that Victor was absolutely gorgeous, and he knew that he
and his partner in pornography could make a killing selling "Joe's" nude
image. The fact that "Joe" was brain damaged was even better because they
only had to coerce the man into doing what they wanted without having to pay
him. Victor was a target too sweet for them to pass up. Sterling had removed
Victor four times from the centre, and each time the photo sessions became
longer and more explicit.
"Okay," Blair said. It was clear to him that Joe wasn't going to say another
word about it. Brain damaged or not, Joe could be as stubborn as an ox when
he wanted to. "Don't worry, Joe," he said, picking up the phone at the
bedside.
"Ellison," came the terse greeting.
"Jim, its Blair."
"What's up, Chief?" Jim glanced at his watch. It was already 2:00 in the
afternoon.
"It's Joe. You better come to the centre." Blair tried not to sound too
urgent; he didn't want to upset Joe again. Jim immediately sat up straight.
He could tell by the tone in his partner's voice that something was not
right.
"What's wrong? Is Joe hurt?" Though he would deny it, Jim was very fond of
Joe.
"No... He's all right... Just come." Blair hung up, giving Jim no more
chances to talk to him. He took a few deep breaths then turned around and
said with a fake smile plastered to his face, "Jim's going to come to visit
you. Okay?"
Victor nodded apprehensively.
"Don't worry, Joe. He's just going to ask you a few questions. It's not
right that someone asked you take your PJ's off. That person is in trouble.
Not you." Blair patted Victor's back. "He just wants to get to the bottom of
things."
Victor nodded again, unsure if he could keep the secret from his favourite
friend, Jim.
Victor's door opened and Blair, who had been pacing out in the hall, stopped
and turned to look. Jim had been in the room talking to Victor alone for
over an hour. He shook his head at his partner's inquiring stare. Blair
grimaced. Jim had managed to get some information out of Joe but nothing
really important.
"How is he?" Blair asked, concerned.
"All right," Jim replied. "He's building with his Lego right now. Let's go
for a walk."
They started down the hall toward the employees' lounge. Jim filled Blair in
on the way. "All Joe would say was that 'it was lots of times.' He's not
sure how often he left the centre. Only that a man comes in the night and
takes him for 'a ride in a car.' They go to a 'brick building' where another
'scary man' has him take his clothes off and takes his picture."
Stirring the coffee they'd just poured, both sat down at a small table near
the window. They were alone in the lounge.
"Joe said that they told him if he told the secret, then they would kill him
the same way they killed a puppy he was playing with. It seems to me that
taking him out at night would make sense. Minimal staff working, Joe's
supposed to be sleeping, he doesn't need medical attention at night anymore,
so who's going to miss him?" Blair nodded his head, and Jim continued, "He
talked about a brick building, but that could be almost anywhere in downtown
Cascade; every second building is brick. These bastards have Joe frightened.
They kidnap the poor bugger, take him away, strip him naked and get him to
do God knows what, and then keep him silent with threats. They've got a good
scam going." Jim's lips formed a line of disgust.
"Well, we were lucky to get what we did out of Joe then. I know how
determined he can be." Blair smiled at the thought of Joe being stubborn.
"I could look into the employee angle. There are about fifty male employees
working here, at all different shifts..."
"It might not even be someone who's on duty," Jim interrupted.
"I agree," Blair said, taking back the conversation. "How about I try to put
together a list of employees and possible suspects? It's a place to start,
and you..."
"And I'll try to find out who Joseph Dougherty really is. It's about time we
found out where he came from. Someone's paying his bills."
Jim posted a photo of Joe Dougherty over a computer network that linked all
of the law enforcement agencies in the country as well as the RCMP in
Canada. Underneath the snapshot the simple caption read, "Do you know this
man? If so, contact detective James Ellison, Cascade Police, 555-1990, local
1605."
Now all he could do was wait for someone to come to him. He went over Joe's
insurance paperwork and rehab. admission forms again, but everything led to
post office boxes and fictitious addresses. Whoever was looking after Joe,
he or she did not want to be seen or found.
In the meantime Blair went through the list of employees and compiled a list
of men who had worked only the night shift and were single or divorced. He
included the casual help in that list too. He eliminated support staff as
they only had keys to storage closets. It had to be a therapist or a nurse
or even a resident doctor. Only they would be able to come and go unnoticed
in addition to having keys to every locked door in the facility.
Blair had already tried to get hold of the security tapes, but there was
just too much footage without Joe giving them specific dates and times to
look through. They would study the tapes at a later date when and if they
had to. Blair gave his list to Jim, and the two of them began culling out
the names even further.
Three Days Later: Thursday
"Excuse me. Fox Mulder. FBI." Mulder showed his ID to a very impressed young
receptionist. "I'm looking for Detective Ellison," he said to her.
The receptionist gave Mulder a large smile. "Right through those doors," she
said, "second desk on the right."
Jim, over a good cup of coffee, had explained to Mulder that "Joe Doe" had
been hurt badly in some sort of an accident of which nobody seemed to know
the particulars. He no longer knew who he was or what he had been. Jim
stared Mulder in the eyes and said, "He's got the mind of a five year old,
which is why whoever took pictures of him naked is a goddamned snake. It's
not legally wrong to take pictures of Joe, but it is sure as hell morally
wrong. At the very least, taking Joe off the premises can be construed as
kidnapping and forcible confinement." After that he explained that there was
no evidence of Joe having taken his clothes off for photos, only his word,
which was clouded by trepidation and fear.
Mulder in return had played it very cool. Telling the detective only that
Joe's real name was Alex Krycek and that he was wanted for questioning in
connection with the disappearance of a federal agent. Mulder assured Ellison
that the agent had eventually been returned alive, but the culprits were
never caught. He, of course, left out the part about how Krycek was somehow
allied with a rebel faction of aliens fighting against colonisation.
Mulder also didn't mention that the last time he and Krycek had been
together—on a dark night in an equally dark apartment—they had made
love, not just sex, but love. Mulder had given himself over completely to
Alex, and Alex had done the same in return. For a few short hours, four to
be exact, Mulder had forgotten everything and revelled in being the sole
object of affection or rather obsession of another. The fact that he was
fucking and falling in love with his enemy was no less perverse than the
sweet, kinky acts that Krycek had allowed Mulder to perform on his person.
Lover or not, in love with him or not, Krycek had walked out on him in the
end, claiming that he only wanted to keep Mulder safe and Alex Krycek in his
bed would cause harm that might harm him whether they liked it or not.
Mulder had been hurt beyond belief by Krycek. Everyone he loved left him,
sooner or later. Krycek, at least, had been somewhat merciful by leaving
sooner. Mulder had never felt about any of the women in his life the way he
had and still did about Alex Krycek. Mulder had seen the posting on the
cops' notice board and come running; convincing Scully that he needed no
back up as this was merely a fishing expedition. Mulder fully intended to
take Krycek into his custody, kick the shit out of him as usual, then cut
him loose. He hated the man, but he certainly didn't want him to be murdered
by what was left of the Syndicate. Of course, he wouldn't let Krycek know
that he was going to let him go; He intended to let the cold-hearted Russian
squirm on his hook first.
While Mulder talked of Krycek, Jim detected a rise in Mulder's heart rate,
his breathing increased slightly, and a faint flush colour his cheeks.
³Little wonder², Jim thought inwardly. ³Joe or Krycek is a very attractive
man. Obviously Mulder found him to be so too.²
Try as Jim might to suppress his feelings, he found himself attracted to Joe
(or was it Alex?) more and more each day, a fact that in itself made him
sick to think about considering Joe's mental state.
In the course of their conversation Mulder never even thought to bring up
the fact that Krycek only had one arm, and Ellison, of course had no reason
even to ask. Joe had two healthy arms.
"Well, I guess we should head over there," Jim said, standing up.
For the trip over to the centre, Mulder had chosen to follow the cop in his
rental car. All the way there he mulled over what Ellison had told him. Not
for one minute did he buy the brain damaged/amnesia angle. He was sure that
Krycek was faking everything; after all, he did have a target on his
forehead. A lot of people would like to see him six feet under.
Mulder stood in the doorway and stared at 'Krycek', who was sitting in a
chair staring out the window watching some chickadees play in a large
birdbath. The bright sun shone in on him, enveloping his pale body and
creating a halo effect. Mulder's heart was thumping wildly at the mere sight
of Alex, unguarded and seemingly at peace.
Standing right beside the FBI agent, Jim picked up on the agent's crazed
heartbeat. He stared at the seemingly serene man and noticed that his pulse
had pushed up a few notches too.
Victor, still grinning at the pretty birds, turned and saw his friend Jim
standing on the other side of the room with another man. He had never seen
the stranger before, but he smiled at him too, nevertheless. Lifting his
right hand, he gave Jim a small wave then waved again, shyly, moving only
his fingers, at the stranger who was staring at him with a funny look on his
face. He stopped smiling, however, when the stranger's face changed to an
angry grimace.
Mulder thought that Krycek was mocking him with that smirk of his and with
the wave. He strode purposefully across the room, and before anyone could
stop him, Mulder grabbed "Krycek" by the upper arms and, digging his fingers
in painfully, shook him roughly.
"You smug son of a bitch!" he hissed into the startled face before him.
"What did I do?" Victor asked, tears forming in his eyes.
"Agent Mulder. What in the hell are you doing?" Jim demanded angrily.
"What's going on?" Blair asked, coming in to see what all the commotion was
about.
Suddenly Mulder stopped shaking the person he had thought was Alex Krycek.
He stared into those beautiful green eyes, the tears magnifying them. Then,
without letting go, Mulder said, surprised, "This guy has two arms."
"Yeah. No kidding, Dick Tracy," Blair said, ready to pop the man, FBI agent
or not, in the nose for scaring Joe.
"Shit," Mulder said still shocked.
From behind, Mulder heard a husky, "I'll say."
He whirled around and saw Krycek standing not more than five feet away from
him. And he was training a gun directly at Mulder's heart.
"Lay another finger on my brother, and I'll kill you," he hissed.
Jim, Blair and Mulder all snapped their heads back and forth between Joe and
Krycek.
Mulder broke the spell. "Krycek, put the gun away," he instructed.
Krycek holstered the weapon and, ignoring all three men, went straight to
Victor and pulled him into a tight embrace. Victor returned the hug. Alex
pulled back and wiped away his brother's tears with his good hand.
"Don't cry, Victor. I'm here now. No one will hurt you again."
Victor's face broke out instantly into a smile upon hearing his name, his
real name, knowing instinctively, from somewhere in the deep recesses of his
brain, that it was his.
"Do you know who I am?" Alex asked Victor gently.
"Yes," replied Victor, amazed the he did, in fact, know the man before him.
"You're my brother... Alex... Alexander."
Victor blinked once, twice, then hugged his brother tight to him again.
"My twin," he said, smiling over Alex's shoulder at Jim and Blair. He turned
his gaze to the man who had grabbed his arms and had been angry with him and
gave him a small, shy smile too. He was pleased with himself that at least
he had not forgotten the one person he had known his entire life.
"That's right. We're twins, you and me." Alex turned his gaze away from his
brother and furiously blinked away the wetness in his eyes. He stared out
the window and saw small birds frolicking in the birdbath. Alex knew that
Victor had probably been sitting and staring out this very window at them
before he arrived. Victor had always been such a nature boy while Alex
considered himself a city rat. He pulled back out of Victor's embrace, his
mask of non-emotion firmly back in place.
"How did you know to come here, Krycek?" Mulder asked from behind.
Alex reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a thin, glossy magazine
that was folded into quarters. He held it out to Mulder without taking his
eyes off of his brother's face.
"This," he said, letting the magazine go so Mulder could take it. "And to
see why my brother's face is plastered over a cops' data base system." As
soon as Krycek had seen the sleazy publication, he knew that something was
wrong. He had found it in a seedy porn shop while laying low in Seattle. He
had been thinking of coming to Cascade to visit Victor. The nude photos of
his brother made him decide that it was time to go and see what was going
on.
He'd hacked into various police information exchanges, data banks and the
like; something he did with regularity just before going north to Cascade.
What he'd found had made him glad that he had. Imagine his surprise to see a
picture of his brother staring back out at him. He knew it was Victor, not
himself in the photo. No one else could ever really tell them apart; even
their mother had confused them now and again. But Alex knew when he was
looking at a picture of himself, and this time he was not.
Mulder, Jim and Blair turned their backs to the twins and quickly thumbed
through the second rate skin mag, named a very generic, "Northwest Men."
Partway through, the three men read the heading. "Joseph—Taming the
Frightened Beast." There were four pages of photos, including the centre
fold featuring Victor. The photographer had snapped Vic's picture in various
states of undress using the usual standard poses. There was one of Victor
fingering his own stomach—of sensual fingers touching his chest.
The centre fold showed him completely nude and stretched out provocatively
on a fake animal skin bedspread. His body was thin but still beautiful, and
the photographer certainly knew what he was doing. He had captured Victor's
essence perfectly by displaying him on and around animal print material.
They had dressed him in a leopard thong and a skimpy loincloth, making him
look like a quasi-Tarzan character. The photos were actually very good
quality considering the publication they were in.
What actually bothered all three "reviewers" of the snapshots was the look
on Victor's face. His eyes were large and frightened looking, even when he
was giving the camera a smile. Mulder thought that he looked as if he wanted
to be anywhere but where he was, getting his picture taken.
Jim's heart sank. He was disgusted that someone would take advantage of an
innocent like Victor. He said as much quietly to Mulder and Blair, and both
agreed. Mulder and Jim examined the other men in the photo spreads quickly;
though all were young men, none appeared to be under the age of 20. Some
looked like they were in pretty rough shape, as if they were drug addicts,
and were only posing for the pictures to earn some quick cash.
"Probably are junkies," Jim said blandly when Mulder mentioned it. "I'll try
to find the photographer through this," he said, pocketing the distasteful
literature.
The trio turned back just as Alex was getting up off his knees. He stepped
close to Jim and said in a throaty rasp, "My brother would never pose nude.
Now on the other hand, I might, but never while lying on a bed of fake zebra
skin." Alex licked his lips provocatively, and then, smirking, he turned
back around to face Mulder.
Jim felt his face flush slightly. He had heard Mulder's heart rate increase
again, noted the pinched expression around his eyes and mouth, then it
dawned on him; Mulder was jealous. Not that anyone but a Sentinel could pick
up on the very subtle signals, but it was obvious to Jim that Mulder did not
like it that Alex was flirting with him. Jim stepped back a pace and pulled
himself together.
Alex stared at Mulder and vice versa, before Mulder said, "You've got a lot
of explaining to do, Krycek."
The Russian shrugged his shoulders. "So do you, Mulder. I should've known
I'd find you here. Laying your hands all over my brother too."
This comment made Mulder blush, but Jim broke up whatever it was going on
between the two by saying, "Truce. Okay, you two? You can discuss your
personal baggage later."
"All right," Krycek said slowly.
"Yeah," muttered Mulder.
To Blair they sounded like two scolded schoolboys.
"We need to talk," Jim said, plucking at Alex's arm to get his attention.
"Joe... er... Victor won't say a word about the pictures. About who took him
and where. He's frightened; all he would tell me was that they told him
that they would kill him if he told. They killed a puppy just to prove the
point. Blair only found out about all of this by accident."
Alex made a face, flicked his eyes to Mulder quickly then trained them back
on Jim. "They?" he said. Ellison nodded. "So there is more than one person
involved."
"I'm pretty positive about that," Jim replied.
Mulder felt shut out of the conversation; he didn't like that at all.
"Let me talk to Vic," Krycek said.
"Blair?" Cherise, the RN, said, interrupting the conversation.
"Yes."
"It's time for Joe's dinner," she said.
"Victor."
"Pardon me?" Cherise said, turning to the voice that had spoken from behind
her. Her eyes opened wide when she saw Krycek, and she did a double take
from Krycek to Victor. She became aware that not only was she staring but
her mouth was literally hanging open.
"His real name is Victor. But I'd appreciate it if you kept that to
yourself." Alex stepped up to the young woman and charmed her right into
secrecy.
Jim and Blair stared at Victor's twin in awe.
Blair studied Krycek, hoping to pick up some pointers from the man who had
managed to thaw the normally icy demeanour of the RN He and Cherise were
friendly at work, but no co-worker had successfully asked her out. Blair was
no exception. Jim had been sure in the beginning that Alex was gay. He was,
of course, judging from the way Alex had flirted with him just minutes
earlier and from Mulder's reaction to it, but now Jim was no longer sure; he
stood there surprised, watching as Krycek sweet-talked the beautiful dark
skinned woman. Jim began to suspect that Alex probably swung both ways.
"Okay, I'll keep that under my hat," she said in a voice Blair hadn't heard
before. "Its still time for him to eat though." Cherise reached out to take
Victor's hand.
Victor pulled out of her reach and turned to his brother, looking for
permission to go with her.
"Alex?" he questioned.
Krycek smiled down at his twin. His brother was asking him if he should go;
as was common with twins, Alex's name was all Victor needed to say. Krycek
was secretly pleased that the ability to communicate without words had not
been lost in the assault on Victor.
"You can eat in a bit, Victor. I need to talk to you first. Okay, little
bro?" Alex rubbed the top of Victor's head affectionately, then bushed a
shock of deep brown bangs out of Victor's eyes. He knew that were Victor his
normal self, he would've protested the little brother remark. Alex was,
after all, only a minute and a half older. Victor had always been anxious to
follow his brother, even out of the womb.
As Mulder watched the twins, it struck him that Alex Krycek, traitor,
assassin, murderer and all around bad guy had a soft spot, a vulnerability,
namely his brain-damaged twin brother. Who Victor was, where he'd come from
was a mystery, a puzzle Mulder intended to solve. He wondered if Krycek had
kept his twin a secret from the Consortium too. Had he not, the old men
would have found a way to turn Victor against Alex. Then again, perhaps they
did know, and that was why Victor had been hurt in the first place. Maybe
Spender had caused Victor to be damaged on purpose as a means to control
Alex and bring him back under the control of the Syndicate. Whatever the
circumstances surrounding the two, Mulder was determined to find them out,
one way or another.
"Victor. I need you to tell me about the men who took your picture."
"He said he would hurt me... bad... if I told," balked Victor.
Putting a hand on either side of Victor's face, Alex said, "You're safe now,
Victor. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again. I promise." The two brothers
smiled at each other.
Jim studied Alex's prosthesis. The technology behind it was amazing. It was
hard to tell which hand was real and which was not. One had to look very
closely to see the difference.
"It's Grey. He always comes at night," Victor said softly, lowering his
eyes.
"Good boy," Alex said patting his cheek. "Go eat your supper now."
Blair helped Victor to stand up, and turning to Jim, he said, "Grey Morris.
He's a casual RN who usually fills in on the night shift. I've met him once
or twice; I'll find out when he worked last and when he next works. Come,
Victor, let's go to the dining room." Cherise and Blair tried to lead Victor
away, but he wouldn't budge.
"Come on, Krycek. Let's go. We need to talk," Mulder said, watching Blair as
he tried to make Victor come with him.
"Don't go, Alex. Please," Victor said, pouting. Cherise gave them a look of
exasperation, and then moved off, leaving Blair to try and coax the
reluctant Victor. "Now, Victor, it's time to eat. You need to build up your
strength." Blair said practically.
"Don't wanna eat!" was the petulant reply.
"You his therapist?" Krycek asked Blair suspiciously. He narrowed his eyes
at the younger man and wondered why Victor didn't want to go with him.
If Krycek intended to intimidate the young cop, it worked. Blair was uneasy
under the Russian's hard glare.
"N... No...," he stammered. "I'm a cop who volunteers here, but I can tell you
what you need to know," he said quickly.
Alex pulled Blair aside and said, "I know what the doctors reports say; now
tell me, what are Victor's chances of making a full recovery?"
Licking his lips, Blair replied honestly, "His prognosis is pretty good.
With a lot of hard work and therapy he will regain most of what he lost, but
Victor will never be 100%. The Victor you grew up with is gone forever."
"Fuck," Alex muttered under his breath. He went to his brother and kissed
him on the forehead. "Go and eat, Braht, you must be hungry."
Nodding, Victor said, "Okay."
Blair said over his shoulder, "Don't worry; I'll keep an eye on him." Then
to Jim he said, "I'll phone you later about Grey." Jim nodded, and he,
Mulder and Krycek left the centre.
Jim parted company with Mulder and Krycek in the parking lot. He took the
magazine and went back to the station to try and track down the publisher
and the photographer who'd taken the pictures of Victor.
"I'll phone you later," Jim said to Mulder. "As soon as I hear from Blair."
With a last, quick, backwards glance at Alex, to which the Russian responded
by winking at him, Jim was gone.
Mulder, instead of taking Alex out for supper, went through the
drive-through of a fast food restaurant, and they ate in the car on the way
to Mulder's motel room.
"You can stay in my room, Krycek. Tomorrow I'm hauling your ass back to D.C.
Until then, I'm not letting you out of my sight."
"Lucky for me," Alex mumbled huskily.
"What?" Mulder asked.
" I said, lucky for me," Alex reiterated.
The FBI agent blushed. "Listen, just because we used to screw...that doesn't
mean we're going to this time. We're over."
"Okay, right," Alex said, staring out the window.
"What do you mean by that?" Mulder snapped.
"You're over me; that's why you were on a plane right after seeing Victor's
picture on the computer. You thought he was me, didn't you?" He turned and
studied Mulder's profile. "Not to mention you were jealous when I flirted
with Ellison."
Swallowing hard, Mulder turned and, looking at Krycek, said, "I said we were
over and done with; I didn't say I don't still have feelings for you."
Krycek laughed. "Get over yourself, Mulder. If there weren't something still
between us, you wouldn't be all gung-ho for me to stay in your room. You
could have put me in the county lock-up for the night instead."
"Something I can still do, you know." Mulder's eyes were back on the road.
"We are not going to screw." He stated again, this time with less conviction
than the first time he had said it.
"Keep telling yourself that, G-man," chuckled Krycek as he popped a greasy
French-fry into his mouth.
Mulder's phone rang just as he pulled into the parking space in front of his
room.
"Mulder," he said tersely into it.
"It's me, Ellison."
"What's up?" Mulder stopped Krycek from getting out of the vehicle.
"Blair phoned. Grey Morris last worked on Saturday night... I know," he
said when Mulder muttered an epithet.
"...Alex will have to talk to Victor again to see if he took him on another
field trip that night. Morris isn't scheduled to come in again until next
Thursday, the graveyard shift. We can pick him up then and rattle his cage.
His address is a fake, and his pay checks are deposited automatically. I
don't have a good enough reason to search his bank records for an address.
We'll just have to wait him out. If he is not tipped off before hand,
he'll show up."
"All right. Any luck on who took the photos or publishes the rag?"
"No, not yet. But I'll keep digging." The silence stretched out as Mulder
listened. When the other man began to speak again, he jumped.
"So I take it you're going to stick around and catch this slime, even though
you have your suspect?"
While Jim was talking, Mulder looked over to Krycek, who sat passively
listening to the one-sided conversation. He was drawing pictures on the
slightly fogged over window with his index finger. Krycek wiped the design
he had been making, off if the glass hastily, then turned slowly to return
Mulder's gaze.
"Yeah. I'm staying. I want to catch these slime too." Jim spoke some more,
then Mulder hung up.
Krycek said casually, "So..." He was smiling seductively. "...We're going
to hang out until the photographer and his accomplice are caught."
"Yes, and once we do have them, you're going to D.C. with me. Now let's get
inside." Mulder stepped out of the car and went to his door. The second he
had it unlocked, Mulder knew that his resolve not to touch Krycek was all
talk.
For the last forty minutes of the drive to the hotel and even during the
phone call, he had been silently reciting, 'You will not sleep with Alex
Krycek.' In retrospect, it seemed to be a rather useless chant that had gone
out the widow the second that he had turned to look at Alex while talking on
the phone. He had seen what the Russian was tracing in the fogged up glass.
It was a perfectly symmetrical heart with the initials FM + AK written in
block letters inside it.
Krycek had sensed that he was being watched and had swiped his hand through
it to erase it before turning to face Mulder, but Mulder had seen Alex's
juvenile ode to love anyway. The drawing of the heart was what had made
Mulder change his mind. He had already seen Alex's soft side as he
interacted with his brother. Now he was revealing his vulnerable side, and
Mulder had witnessed his romantic side, a facet Alex obviously did not want
the FBI agent to see. He could not control the compulsion to leave a
finger-painted trace of what he felt for Mulder behind.
Mulder stepped through the door, spun and, grabbing a handful of cotton and
leather, he yanked the surprised Krycek through the entrance. He kicked the
door shut and an instant later slammed the Russian backwards against it
violently. Mulder pushed his whole body up against the pliant Krycek's and
pressed his mouth to Alex's. He crushed the full lips beneath his own in an
animalistic kiss that was anything but tender. Mulder stuck his tongue into
Krycek's moist mouth, and when Krycek returned the probing, his cock jumped
enthusiastically.
Alex had known that this was going to happen. He had only been in the room
for a few seconds, and kissing with Mulder for all of that time, but he did
manage to notice that there was only one bed in the room. He smiled around
Mulder's eager tongue. The agent was so transparent at times.
Finally, it was Krycek who broke the seal of the kiss by pushing Mulder away
from his mouth, although not far enough for the two men's bodies to be
separated. Panting heavily, Alex said, "I need to shower first. I've been
on the road for a couple of days. I'm way too funky."
Mulder pulled Alex to him and nuzzled at the Russian's soft neck, running
his tongue over the raspy whiskers along the length of his jawbone.
"Mmmm..." he murmured. "I like it when you're a little ripe."
Krycek smiled up at the ceiling as Mulder started to give him a hickey.
"YesŠ. Well, ripe's one thing, Mulder, rotten is another." He giggled
suddenly when Mulder caught him off guard and poked long fingers into his
ribs. Krycek managed to extricate himself from Mulder's octopus-like arms
and strolled toward the small bathroom, stripping off his clothes and
dropping them like a trail of breadcrumbs.
Mulder stared after Krycek, enthralled by the view of his bare ass. His cell
phone gave an irritating and ill-timed ring, pulling the agent from his
one-man show.
"Mulder," he snapped. "Oh hey, Scully..." he said, softening his tone.
Krycek, now standing in the doorway between the bathroom and the rest of the
motel room, smiled at Mulder. He carefully placed his prosthesis on top of
the suitcase stand and then said, "Tell the little woman I said hello."
Then he blew a kiss at Mulder and shut the door.
Mulder listened to Scully talk, and he tried to reassure her that all was
well. As soon as he heard the water start up, all he could think about was
getting off the phone and into the shower with Alex. Maddeningly, Scully
would not be rushed, and by the time he had finally got off the cell, the
water had shut off. He tossed the phone aside and stripped off his suit and
shoes. Mulder poked his head inside the steaming room and watched Alex. The
Russian was wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist and was bent over
the sink. He had wiped a circle in the fogged up mirror and was studying his
image. As if coming to a decision, he picked up a disposable razor.
Stepping up behind the contemplative Russian, Mulder grabbed his right wrist
and slowly pushed the hand down. He kissed Krycek's neck and said, "No.
Don't shave... yet..."
Krycek grinned at his own, obscured reflection in the mirror then rested his
eyes on Mulder's dark head. "Okay," he agreed huskily.
"Give me two minutes to freshen up," Mulder asked, twisting the pitted hot
water tap on.
Alex sniffed the air around Mulder and, wrinkling up his nose, said, "I
think you need more than two minutes, G-man." He ran the tip of his finger
over the length of Mulder's nose. Laughing lightly, he left Mulder alone to
shower.
Mulder stepped over the edge of the tub, and clearing the steam from the
mirror, he stared hard at himself.
ŒWhat the hell am I doing?' He asked himself, then answering his own
question out loud, he said, "I have no idea." Mulder opened the door and
stood in the entranceway. All of the lights were out in the room except for
a small bedside lamp.
Krycek lay flat on his back with his hand tucked comfortably under the back
of his damp head. He to look at Mulder, who appeared like an apparition
surrounded by an unearthly mist.
"'Bout time you finished," he said, relaxation enveloping him as he lay.
Mulder walked to the end of the bed and stood there and stared at Alex.
Krycek was splayed out casually, very nude and very desirable.
Mulder raked his eyes over the Russian's perfect physique. Alex's large cock
lay placidly, for the moment, against his left thigh. Even the absence of
his left arm could not detract from the slightly younger man's ethereal
beauty. Just the physical image alone attracted Mulder, and it was easy for
him to set aside all the bad things that Alex had done, especially since he
had betrayed the Consortium, sacrificing his only safety-net to work with
the rebels in an effort to stave off colonisation. He licked his lips
provocatively and flung the thin towel aside, his semi erection evident
already.
"I must be crazy," Mulder said. "Falling back into bed with a bastard like
you. You're going to chew me up, swallow me down and then regurgitate me. I
just know it."
"Is that your idea of foreplay, Mulder?" Krycek asked, sounding slightly
amused as he stroked his cock lasciviously. "Otherwise I might not think
you're interested."
"Oh, I'm interested. I'm far more interested than I should be," Mulder
replied, kneeling on the end of the bed between Alex's feet. He crawled up
between Krycek's open legs, stopping only when his mouth met Alex's. He
kissed the man below him deeply.
Their tongues met, but just the tips, exploring each other like two moray
eels performing a mating dance. Krycek groaned into Mulder's mouth as he ran
his five fingertips from the small of the agent's smooth back to his
shoulders and then back again. Alex wrapped his right leg around Mulder's
legs and did the same with his right arm around his shoulders, then he
flipped him over so that Alex was on top. Looking down into excited hazel
eyes, Krycek hesitated for a second, then he licked Mulder's closed lips.
He kissed him gently then sucked Mulder's lower lip into his mouth.
"Mmmm... you taste good," he murmured. Alex released the tender lip and
proceeded to kiss his way down Mulder's torso, lapping at one nipple then
the other, raising them in sweet sensitivity. He licked his way down to
Mulder's navel, and once he got there, he reached up and pinched the erect
nipples. Krycek stuck his tongue inside the deep depression and rimmed it
erotically. Mulder thrust his hips upwards gently in an unconscious demand
for something more. Krycek grinned while his mouth was still involved with
the sparsely haired navel. He bit gently, then moved on when Mulder, using
his hands, urged his dark-haired lover lower. Alex inhaled Mulder's familiar
scent then ran his tongue over the crown of Mulder's dripping cock.
"Yesss..." Mulder said under his breath.
Alex had heard him though.
Krycek gave a few cat-like licks into the moist slit then sucked Mulder in
swallowing him down whole. Mulder thrust his hips up again and wrapped his
fingers tightly into Alex's silky hair, which, due to its shortness, was
already dry. It was so short that Mulder's fingers barely found purchase
amongst the strands. Alex sucked hard while moving his soft lips over the
finely veined shaft. He brought his right hand up to join his mouth, and
without missing a beat, he straightened out his pointer finger along the
length of Mulder's cock and sucked it into his mouth too. Satisfied to its
wetness, he took his fist away altogether along with the dizzying pleasure.
Mulder protested the absence, but he was too far-gone to argue.
Alex put the moist tip of his finger directly at Mulder's delicate opening
and probed gently.
"Ohhh, Alex," Mulder whispered, pushing down so that Alex's finger sank in
to the first knuckle. Krycek then pushed his finger in all the way and
smiled when Mulder's moans were no longer coherent. He pulled his mouth away
from Mulder's cock, which earned a round of 'Pleases,' and kissed at
Mulder's taut inner thighs. Alex rubbed his whiskered cheeks over the
tender, creamy flesh as he nibbled, licked and finally bit. He took his time
and paid close attention to Mulder's balls, running just the very tip of his
tongue over the raised crease that divided the heavy sac in half. All
through this, Alex continued to slowly finger fuck Mulder with just the lone
digit; between the sandpaper kisses and getting his ass fucked, Mulder was
ready to explode.
"Alex," he said breathlessly. "Stop... I want to make love to you."
"Okay," Alex said, his lips still wrapped around one testicle. He pulled his
finger out slowly and got to his knees. "Hang on," he said, and getting off
of the bed, he padded over to where he had dropped his jacket. Alex rummaged
through one pocket then another, and finding what he was after, he dropped
the well-worn leather to the ground. Back on the bed, nestled on his knees
between Mulder's legs, Alex held up his find.
"Vaseline for chapped lips?" Mulder asked, squinting at the small tube in
the dim light.
"Yup," Alex said as he unscrewed the cap one handed.
"That stuff is not water soluble," Mulder commented casually. Reaching down,
he stroked his ebbing erection to life.
"Well, it's the best I could do in a pinch." Unexpectedly Alex reached out
and pinched the skin on Mulder's abdomen to accentuate his words. Mulder
gave a small yelp but did not stop fondling his cock.
"It's a holdover from my last cold," Alex said, grinning wickedly. "Give me
your hand."
Mulder held out his free hand, and Alex squeezed a healthy dollop from the
small, half-empty tube. He squeezed some more of the clear gel onto the side
of Mulder's penis and replaced his lover's hand with his own. He began to
slowly stroke the gel over the large organ. Alex moved up Mulder's body so
that he was straddling his slim waist and Mulder's cock was positioned
behind him.
Mulder looked into Alex's eyes. From the position they were in, he knew how
they were going to make love. He divided the slick balm between the first
two fingers on both of his hands, and reaching around Alex's firm ass
cheeks, he fingered the opening, leaving some of the lubricant there. He
penetrated Alex with first one finger, then the finger next to it, as far as
the first knuckle, just past the fingernail.
Alex, who had been looking down watching his lover, closed his eyes and
leaned his head back. He stopped massaging Mulder but did not take his hand
away. With only one arm, perched the way he was, Alex needed to hold
something to keep his balance. Mulder pushed in the tips of the index and
middle fingers on his left hand so that now he had all four fingertips
working together inside Alex, stretching him wider. He sank in two fingers
all the way and scraped the pair of them over the Russian's prostate.
"Ohhh, Fox... Fuck me," Alex whispered huskily. He opened his eyes again, and
looking directly into Mulder's, he said it again, "Fuck me."
Mulder pulled out his fingers, and grabbing Alex's waist, he positioned his
lover over his dripping cock. Alex held the base of Mulder's penis and
slowly lowered himself. He squirmed around until the whole head was inside
of him, then Alex had to stop and take a few deep breaths to adjust to the
intrusion.
"Okay," he said softly, and Mulder, still holding Krycek's hips, took over
and pushed Alex down until he was fully immersed deep within the Russian's
warm depths. After another few seconds of transition, Alex used his powerful
thigh muscles to control his own rise and fall, fucking himself with
Mulder's rigid cock. Mulder balanced Alex by keeping hold of his waist, but
he let Alex choose the rhythm. Fox stared up at his lover, captivated by the
vision; Alex's head was thrown back, his body language oozing pleasure.
Alex's cock was thick and weeping from the un-circumcised head. Mulder
couldn't believe how incredibly beautiful the Russian looked just then,
sitting atop him while his hips slowly undulated.
The dim lighting cast a warm glow over Alex's ruddy skin, making him
resemble one of Raphael's angels. Mulder could have stayed in that moment
forever, looking up at his imperfect—in more ways than one—lover. Fox
thought that Victor's beauty was in his perfection, his outer shell
completely unmarred but hiding his diminished brain capacity. Alex, on the
other hand, had an incredibly sharp mind whose outer packaging was flawed
many times over. But it was Alex to whom Mulder was always drawn. He always
had been, even when he had seen the two Krycek boys together Mulder's eyes
had immediately gone to Alex; he had been around the block a few times, and
it showed. Mulder like slightly used things.
Alex increased his rhythm, pulling Mulder out of his musings. Alex knew his
orgasm was close, so he grabbed his own cock and began to masturbate himself
Pulling his head back up, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times, then
smiled. "I'm ready," he said huskily.
Mulder pushed up brutally and shoved Alex down at the same time, penetrating
the Russian as deeply as he could. "Come for me, Alex. Come on me," he said
lewdly.
Groaning from the dirty talk, Alex jerked himself to an explosive orgasm.
He cried out, "Fox," and sent out spurt after spurt of hot seed over
Mulder's chest and neck, even hitting the agent's chin and bottom lip.
"Oh fuck yeah! Alex!" Mulder hollered, with one last forceful push upwards.
He could feel Alex's tight, inner ass muscles spasm, and seconds later he
was being sprayed by hot cum. Mulder erupted, sending jets of hot jism deep
inside of his lover.
Alex collapsed on top of Mulder. He wrapped his arm around Mulder's neck and
nuzzled him; unable to resist, he returned the hickey Mulder had given him
earlier. Mulder ran his fingertips over Alex's back, wishing that things
could have been different between them.
Sighing heavily, Alex finally rolled off, and reaching over his side of the
bed, he came up with the towel he had been wearing earlier. Always the
considerate lover, Alex handed the towel to Mulder and waited his turn.
Once they were cleaned up and settled under the covers of the queen-size
bed, Alex started to tell Mulder the story—the real story—of who he was.
"My parents were married very young back in Russia. They met at university
when they were both 18. Each of them was brilliant. My mother was studying
virology and my father astrophysics. They came from privileged homes, and
due to the political climate at the time, both were on very unstable ground.
The Krushchev regime was all powerful, and didn't like scholars or the
wealthy. My parents didn't have a hope, especially with two strikes against
them already.
"In 1961, a certain cigarette smoking man came calling and encouraged them
to defect. He bedazzled them, fed them lines of bullshit pandering to their
ideals. He promised them the world; a better life in America. He gave them
shit."
"When they arrived in New York City, they found out that they were really no
better off in the new country. Instead of being under the Krushchev regime's
control, they were under the thumb of another dictator, Spender. Oh, things
like living conditions and food selections were improved, but that tumor of
a man kept them working in a secret lab for days at a time, with very little
time for themselves." Krycek rubbed tiredly at his eyes.
"In 1964, June, in New York City, me and my brother came into the world,
which was too bad, too, because now those bastards had hostages to force my
parents to find the answers to the questions the Syndicate was asking. There
were plenty of scientists in the same boat as my parents. My father, when we
were around five, began to question some of the experiments he was asked to
do, in fact, he became quite vocal about his desire to leave the Consortium
labs altogether.
"One night, tired of his complaints and threats, they killed him. Blew him
up right in his own lab. They claimed it was an accident on his part, an
experiment gone wrong. That cancerous bastard came to our apartment and told
my mother that Father had mixed the wrong chemicals together and that they
exploded on contact with each other." Alex turned to face Mulder, who did
the same.
"My father's speciality was astrophysics, not chemistry." He made a face
then turned his eyes upwards, studying a non-existent shadow on the ceiling.
"My mother and he had made a plan in case something like this happened.
Victor and I weren't registered when we were born, so it was easy for my
mother to get fake papers made. She fled to Montreal and changed her name
and ours. Our birth certificates are real; just the information is a lie.
According to the Canadian government, Victor and I are citizens, born in
Montreal." He said the name Montreal the way a French Canadian might. "My
mother got a job teaching prospective Canadian citizens the facts about the
country and never thought about germs or viruses again." He smiled.
"Mansfield was the name she took when she ran. It was the one I grew up
with; that's why Victor still carries it."
"Where does Krycek come in?" Mulder asked.
"Krycek was my mother's maiden name. Arntzen was my father's. By the time I
was 12, my mother was dead from ovarian cancer." Alex's tone took on a sad
note when recalling his mother. "Victor and I were split up. They sent him
to one foster home and me to another. I ran away from it when I was 14. By
then I was well practised in the arts of survival." His voice was bitter,
and Mulder wondered what he meant by survival. "I found Victor again when we
were 16. He wanted to run away with me, live the life I was living. His
adoptive dad was mean, but Victor was my anchor to reality, telling me that
I wasn't all bad, so I talked him into staying in the house until he was 18.
That way I thought that he would have a chance at a decent life, one he
deserved. He went through the Police Academy as was his dream. Then one day
after a stellar career, it was all taken away from him. Some dirty cops had
set him up to take a fall. Victor went to prison on a bogus drug charge.
Luckily he was segregated because he was a cop or else he would have been
the most popular tart on the block."
"I bet," Mulder agreed.
Alex spoke on, "Then he was recruited out of his prison cell by a shadowy
Canadian government agency."
"Canadian spies?" Mulder interrupted, incredulous.
"Yeah, who would have thought it?" Alex shrugged. "Anyway, he went to work
for them righting wrongs, being happy again. No one was supposed to know
what he was doing. But I knew. He didn't tell his adopted parents or even
his kid sister..." Alex wasn't too thrilled about the sister bit; as far as
he was concerned, he was Victor's only family. "But Victor told me anyway. I
know everything there is to know about him." Alex faced Mulder again, "and
he me..." He swallowed hard. "...or at least he used to."
"You mean he knows about the conspiracy?" Mulder asked.
"No. Not that. It's not safe for him to know. But I've told him everything
else, all the bad things I've done." A look of genuine regret passed over
Alex's face. Mulder could see it clearly. "Victor's the good twin working
on the right side of the law. Me? I'm the cliched bad one."
Krycek abruptly turned away from Mulder's eyes, but the agent kept on
studying Alex's profile.
"Victor is the only one who's always loved me no matter what..." A lone tear
slipped out of the corner of Alex's eye and slid down his cheek where it
hung in stasis on the tip of his earlobe. "...and look where that brotherly
love got him ...beaten to a bloody pulp with his head split wide open on a
cold and dirty sidewalk. They didn't even have the courtesy to kill him
instantly; no, they left him a retard instead!" More tears followed, and
Alex brushed at them, angry that he was crying, angry that he was even
telling Mulder his personal business in the first place and embittered that
he only had one hand with which to erase the embarrassing drops of saline.
Mulder could see the guilt and tears in Krycek's face and hear it in his
words as he told of his brother's "accident". He reached out and pulled Alex
to him, pushing the Russian's head into the crook of his neck. He let Alex
release his regret while silently comforting him. Mulder, after all, had
some experience with siblings and the feelings of guilt that went along with
them.
A few short minutes later Krycek pulled himself from Mulder's protective
arms. He sniffed then wiped at his runny nose with the back of his hand.
"You must think I'm a pussy crying over my brother like that," Alex said.
"No. I've cried many nights over my sister," stated Mulder, pushing his
personal feelings aside.
There was silence between the men for a few moments. Finally Krycek said,
"Victor's partner was murdered, and so was he, almost. All because someone
thought he was me."
"Do you know who did it?"
"Yes. Jesus Cardinale, Luis' brother. I've been pursuing him for some
time. I have evidence that he's the one. When I find him, he's a dead man,
" vowed Alex "In the beginning I joined the Syndicate looking for revenge
for what they did to my father," Alex said out of the blue. "Look where it's
led me..." He gestured with his eyes toward his scarred stump.
"It led you down a path you never thought you'd find yourself on and to
me... to us... tonight," waxed Mulder sagely.
"Down a path Lucifer himself would have been afraid to follow." Snorted
Alex pessimistically
"What's the difference? We're here now. That's what's important," Mulder
whispered, propping himself up on one elbow and looking down at Alex. He ran
his finger over the Russian's dry lips and then down the length of his
strong jaw, finishing his exploration by rimming the outer circle of his
elfin ear. "I'm going to regret this, Krycek." Mulder was referring to
falling back into bed with Krycek and into the old habits that went along
with him.
"I only want to help my brother," Krycek said honestly. "I've stayed away
too long, and now look what's happened to him. I'm going to find out who's
exploiting him. Victor doesn't know better any more. He doesn't know how
to say no. Mulder, when I catch those bastards..." His jaw clenched up
tightly, and he was unable to finish what he was saying.
"I know. I want to help Victor too," Mulder said. "Even though you're going
to hurt me in the end... Again."
Alex raised his arm and wrapped it around the back of Mulder's head.
"I never wanted to hurt you, Mulder. It's just the way things were. I love
you, Fox." He pulled Mulder's head down for a kiss as if to seal his
declaration. They broke apart, and Alex, expecting no reply and receiving
none, rolled over, taking Mulder's left arm with him and leaving the stunned
American to turn out the lights and contemplate the sincerity of Krycek's
words long after the Russian had fallen asleep.
The Next Morning: Friday
The next morning Krycek and Mulder went back to the centre to see Victor.
Alex was nervous about leaving his brother alone for too long. When they
arrived, Jim and Blair were both there already, waiting for them. Jim
immediately noticed that the demeanour between the two men had changed. The
rift between them had been repaired, making Jim wonder if the "wanted
fugitive" was just a wanted lover.
Jim had searched the police database for the names Alex Krycek and Victor
Krycek. And nothing came up, absolutely nothing. It was if both men didn't
exist in the cyber world. Jim shrugged the mystery off; he had enough real
crime on his plate to take care of.
Alex said good morning to the two off duty cops as he crossed the room and
went immediately to his brother's side. "Do you remember the language,
Victor?" Alex asked his brother in Russian.
Victor stared at Alex, puzzled, concentrating on the confusing words. Then
suddenly the jumbled sentence made sense to him. In fact, for some reason
he didn't understand, the words were as clear to him as if Alex were talking
in English.
"Yes..." he replied slowly, in Russian. "Yes... Alexander..." he said again.
"...I remember. But how?" he added, his speech a little more confident now.
Mulder smiled at the twins and listened as they conversed in the difficult
language. Head injuries were complicated, and no one could ever accurately
predict just what a survivor of a head trauma would retain once they
regained consciousness. He turned away and called Jim and Blair aside. They
sat at a small table in the corner of the day room.
"This morning over breakfast Alex and I cooked up a plan... I know I know..."
he said affably, holding up his hands to placate the look of incredulity of
the two other men's faces. "Listen, if we don't work with Alex on this, then
he'll just go around us. Believe me, there's no stopping Krycek from finding
these bottom feeders."
The two cops exchanged glances, then with a small sigh Jim said, "Okay. We
want to see this through to the end too. What's the plan?"
"Well, we know that Grey Morris will be in again Thursday night, but how
about we arrange it so he comes in a day or two early, and we try to entice
him, but instead of Victor, Alex will be here. Victor can go to my hotel
room with Blair... or back to your place even."
"Sounds good, but what if it doesn't draw him out? Maybe he's not doing
anything while on duty. He could wait and come in on nights he's not
working," Blair said thoughtfully.
"True," Jim concurred, casting a quick glance over his shoulder to the
Krycek twins. "He's probably indulging in his extra curricular activities
off duty. After all, his time has to be accounted for. On a weekend, when
he isn't working and the staff is down to a skeleton crew, Morris would find
a better opportunity to slip in and then out with Victor, unnoticed." Blair
clapped his hands together. "So let's assume that Morris's probably not
doing his thing on nights that he's actually working. That leaves the most
probable time to take Victor off of the premises either the night before or
the night after a shift. I vote for the night after; that way he can make
sure Victor is healthy, with no tests planned, and that he is in his room."
Blair shrugged. "You know, be sure that the coast is clear, stuff like
that."
Mulder contemplated the idea.
"I think you're right. Alex wants us to wire him and then follow him to
wherever Morris takes him. Krycek will trick him into a confession, and we
kick the door in, and you," he turned to Jim, "can nail whoever else is
there with him with kidnapping, forcible confinement and whatever else you
can think of."
"Sounds simple enough..." Jim said. But he knew, as well Mulder and Blair
did, that sometimes even the most rudimentary of plans had a way of getting
complicated and out of control.
"Did you get any more on the magazine?" Mulder asked, changing the subject.
Jim looked up from the cup of coffee he was holding in his hand and staring
into, said, "Yes and no. The publisher, Marvin Duncan, is a local yokel who
claims that 'No models are under the age of 18' blah blah blah. He knows the
photographer who shot Victor's pictures only as 'Sterling'. But that's it.
Sterling gets paid in cash and only gives the rag copies of the negatives to
print from. He keeps all of the originals. Sterling shows up every two or
three weeks with some pictures. I quote the publisher, 'Sterling specialises
in beautiful, wounded-bird types.' Mr. Duncan says that Sterling has the
Œsame pay as you deliver' deal with other lower class porn mags too. And
that he shoots women as well. Which leads me to believe that he's probably
got inside sources all over the city, in its hospitals, clinics, rehab
centres, etc."
"Or that our casual employee Grey Morris works in more than one medical
facility," Mulder put in.
"Morris that bastard... hair bag... ball of puss...." Blair sputtered
angrily.
"Yeah, he and Sterling are real gems," Jim echoed.
"I've got an idea," Mulder said after a brief silence.
"What?" Jim and Blair said at the same time.
"Why don't we get Grey in here tonight or tomorrow instead of waiting for
him to come to us. Let's see if Blair's theory about him sneaking in the
following night proves to be true." He looked expectantly at Blair.
"I'll get on that," Sandburg said, standing up and walking away.
"I just thought of something," Jim said.
"I'm listening," Mulder replied, his eyes on Krycek.
"What about Alex's arm?"
Mulder shrugged. "Hopefully he will keep it away from a too close inspection
until we get there."
On that Friday night, Blair managed to hack in and juggle the computer
schedule. The head RN saw that she was going to be short staffed for the
graveyard shift and called in Grey Morris to come and work at the last
minute. Alex had been wired and then changed places with his brother, while
Victor went to spend the night with Blair. Morris showed up for work that
night, and even though Victor was not his charge for the shift, the RN poked
his head into Victor's room when he thought the damaged man was asleep and
read his chart.
Morris approached the bed and ran his fingers through Alex's hair, but other
than that, nothing else happened. Blair's theory looked like it was going to
pan out.
For the next night, Saturday, Alex would once again be in Victor's room
while Mulder and Ellison sat out in Jim's truck keeping surveillance on the
back, employees' entrance and exit. Victor had once again gone home with
Blair, who kept him entertained with old movies from when Victor was young,
like The Bad News Bears and Benji and lots of popcorn. Before going to the
truck, however, Jim again used the bugging equipment loaned to him by the
drug squad and wired Alex.
First he tore strips of paper tape to hold the wire down to Alex's freshly
shaved chest. Jim turned up his sense of smell and subtly inhaled the
Russian's fresh scent. Alex had just shaved, and his essence was of coconut
shampoo and a matching soap. As he fastened the small black wire, Jim's
sense of touch was also alert and working in hypersensitive mode. All it
took was the soft brush of his fingertips across Alex's chest for him to
feel the smooth, firmness of his flesh. The stimulation of his visual,
olfactory and tactile senses were making his body rebel against Jim's mind
as he told himself that he would not get an erection from being so close to
Alex. Too bad his body was not listening to his brain.
Alex, who was sitting in a chair while Jim knelt in front of him to do the
wiring, looked down and watched as the detective smoothed out the last piece
of filmy white tape to firmly hold the wires between his pectorals. He
smiled slyly at the sight of Jim's nostrils flaring and then again when he
felt the feather light caresses of the cop's fingertips over his chest as he
fanned out his fingers. The cop was not as discreet as he imagined. Alex
grinned again and continued to stare down, watching the nervous policeman
work.
Suddenly aware of being watched, Jim looked up. Brilliant blue eyes met
vivid green, and after a second of staring into each other's faces, Alex
leaned down and pressed his lips to Jim's. He gently pried Jim's soft mouth
open and gave him his tongue, which the veteran cop readily accepted.
To Jim's extreme pleasure, Alex continued to kiss him deeply. Suddenly, the
kiss was over with.
Alex pulled away and said with a husky tone, "That's for helping Victor. He
said that you were friends."
Jim stared at Alex, both stunned and pleased about the kiss. Finally he
found his voice, and he replied, "Victor's a good kid. It's not right what
happened to him."
"You're an all right guy too, Ellison... for a cop." Alex chuckled and,
standing up, he started to do up the buttons of the pyjama top Blair had
brought him. The shirt was Jim's, and it was too big and much too long in
the sleeves. Alex hoped that the dark navy flannel would suffice in hiding
his left arm and hand. Hopefully the bad guys wouldn't look too close before
the cavalry arrived.
At around 2:00 am Sunday morning, Mulder and Jim's patience paid off. Grey
Morris pulled up to the handicapped parking space next to the security door
and parked. The two men watched as Morris looked both left and right then
punched in the code to get into the building.
"Alex, he's coming," Mulder warned.
"Okay, stay frosty and watch my back," was all Alex said sleepily in return.
Mulder heard Alex groan, probably from stretching he thought, then heard the
rustle of blankets, then there was nothing but the sound of Alex's even
breathing.
³Obviously faking being asleep², Mulder thought. A few minutes later the
cops heard the click of the door then the telltale sound of a bedside light
being turned on.
"Hey, Victor..." a soft, effeminate voice said. "Can you wake up for me,
buddy?"
Mulder had to hand it to Alex; he imitated his brother perfectly, right down
to the speech patterns. Mulder guessed there was a definite advantage to
having an identical twin.
"Mr. Morris... what are you doing here?" Alex asked, timid-voiced.
"It's time to go get your picture taken. So come on, let's get going,"
Morris said impatiently. Mulder and Jim could hear the rustle of clothes;
they assumed that Morris was in the process of putting Alex's jacket on for
him. "Here, slip your foot in," he said tersely. "Hurry up!"
"I don't want to go... I'm tired," Alex whined.
There was some sort of a commotion, the sound of a slap against bare skin,
and then Alex grunted, mumbling out a faint, "Ouch."
"Come on, Joseph. I'm tired of fighting with you all the time; get your crap
together, or I'll hit you again!"
Both Mulder and Jim couldn't believe what they were hearing. On top of
everything else the bastard was hitting Victor. Mulder was a little bit
worried for Alex, but he knew from personal experience that the Russian
could take a slap. After some more bullying, Alex and Grey Morris stepped
out of the secure building. Jim couldn't believe how easy it had been. He
had been listening in the whole time, and not once did another worker cross
paths with Morris as he led Alex out.
Once in the car, Alex kept fairly quiet, asking only the odd leading
question. He did not want to give himself away, but at this time of night he
knew that Mulder and Jim could not tail them too closely, so he kept up
enough dialogue to let the two men know where he was going, or rather, the
route that he was taking.
"Where are we going?" Alex asked finally.
"To the usual place," Morris said, less antsy now that they were on the
road.
"But where's that?" Alex tried again.
Grey turned and looked at Alex, then, sighing, he said, "That's right, your
memory's still pretty shitty. We're going to Sterling's apartment near the
pier."
"Which apartment. The big brown one?" Alex was fishing for details now, his
imitation of Victor's childlike tone uncanny.
Grey clicked his tongue. "Are you stupid?" he said with impatience.
"Sterling lives in the big, red brick building, right next to the farmers'
market." He frowned.
"Oh... yeah, I forgot." Again Alex sounded sullen.
"Apartment 9 D," Alex said slowly, looking at the innocuous front door while
waiting for Sterling, presumably, to let them in.
"That's right," Morris said. "You say that every time." He was out of
patience with the beautiful man. Morris was out of patience with the whole
dammed scheme. He was tired of taking all the chances while Sterling
collected the rewards. In his opinion, Sterling did not pay him enough to
keep this up. The photographer, to appease him, had promised him that before
the photo shoot, he would let him get naked with the green-eyed man and have
a little fun with him. Real fun. Morris adjusted the bulge in the front of
his pants just as Sterling opened the door.
Once inside, Alex walked all around and took note of the cheesy sets. One
particular set and props made Alex take notice. There was a large, four
poster bed surrounded by a sea of red satin. The red satin sheets were
accented with white satin pillows. Red voile hung off the posts even. In
fact, the colour red dominated the entire set. But what made Alex
suspicious was the video camera set up at the foot of the large bed. He
looked closer and noticed that there were handcuffs attached to each thick
wooden post. Suddenly Alex knew that if Mulder and Jim didn't come in time,
he could be in real trouble. Grey came up behind Alex and pushed him face
down onto the bed. Alex flipped over quickly, but Morris leapt right on top
of him
"What are you doing?" he asked nervously in Victor's voice, hoping that
Mulder would get that something was going on.
"I thought that we would get a little closer tonight," Grey said, trying to
kiss Alex on the mouth. "Have you ever been with another man?" Grey licked
up Alex's cheek instead.
"No. I don't understand what you mean. Stop that, please. I don't like it,"
Alex said.
"Ohh, Joey, you're going to like what we do together." He kept trying to
capture Alex's lips underneath his own.
"Please, no. I wanna go home!" Alex wailed, trying to keep his head moving
to avoid the kisses and the disgusting lips. But he did not fight too hard
just yet because he wanted to give his back up time to get here.
"I don't care what you want, Joey. We're in charge here. You do what you're
told to or else we'll hurt you like I did the puppy."
"Get his clothes off," Sterling said, focusing in the video camera.
Alex snapped his head in the direction and scowled at the pornographer, no
longer concerned about keeping in character. He could feel Morris's hard-on
through the man's jeans, and all he wanted to do was get the hell off of the
bed. But the large RN would not be thrown off. In fact, even though Alex was
struggling, the man had managed to work Alex into a better viewing position
into the middle of the bed. The satin pillows accentuated Alex's dark, good
looks.
"Mulder, I need you now!" Alex yelled.
Not understanding what Alex was yelling about, Grey, excited by the fighting
man below him, grabbed two handfuls of flannel and yanked open the pyjama
shirt. He saw the wire and froze.
"What the fuck?" he said, looking to his partner for an answer.
"Shit, he's wired. Let's get the fuck out of here," Sterling yelled. He
abandoned the camera and turned for the door, but as he did that, the wood
frame shattered, and in ran Jim, followed by Mulder.
"Freeze!" Ellison yelled authoritatively, and both men did. He took out his
cuffs and cuffed the men together. After patting them down, Jim instructed
them to turn around and face Mulder and Alex.
Mulder kept his gun drawn and trained on the men. He fingered the handcuffs
and said in a very casual tone, "Jim, I do believe we have these scumbags
dead to rights. What were you going to do, Morris? Hold Alex down and rape
him on film?"
The men looked away, and it was enough of an answer for the lawmen.
"Mother fuckers were going to rape Victor then sell the photos. I'll kill
you..." Alex hissed, lunging for Grey Morris. Luckily Mulder grabbed the
enraged Russian and held him back.
"Stupid shit-heads," Jim said to the pathetic men. "This isn't even Joe
Dougherty, it's his brother, and there is nothing mentally deficient about
him."
"Ellison?" A male voice sounded out in the hallway.
"In here," Jim called out.
Two plain clothes cops from vice walked into the apartment.
"Miller, Washington. These are the two scum I was telling you about. Take
them in and book them for everything we talked about. And tack attempted
rape to that list of charges." Jim removed his cuffs, and the cops used
their own, then they led the men out.
"We got 'em," Mulder said. "We got 'em."
"Alex, I'll have to take a statement. Do you want to come to the station
tonight?" Jim asked.
Alex turned his face into a mask of vulnerability and said to the cop,
"Tomorrow. Okay? I'm just too tired to think tonight."
"Okay," Jim agreed, thinking that the poor guy did look done in after his
ordeal.
Jim took Alex and Mulder back to his apartment just so Alex could check in
on his brother. Victor was sleeping peacefully in Blair's bed, and Blair was
sacked out on the couch. Alex kissed his brother's forehead then went back
to the motel with Mulder.
"Ohhh, Alex," Mulder groaned, satisfied. His orgasm had left him feeling
boneless and weak limbed. He rolled off Alex and lay beside him, their
sweaty thighs still in contact with each other.
"Mmm. Mulder, that felt great." Krycek handed the hand towel over to Mulder
then reached over his lover and switched the small light off. After a few
minutes of silence Alex spoke, his plea cutting through the darkness. "Let
me go, Mulder," he said simply.
"I can't, Alex. I need you to help me. I have to know what happened to
Cassandra Spender, who killed Jeffrey Spender. You know the truth, and I
need you to expose that truth."
Krycek sighed. "I think you know who killed Jeff Spender... Listen, Mulder,
I need to be with my brother right now. He needs me. I promise that I'll
come back to you... eventually. I always do."
"No, Alex," Mulder said firmly. He pulled Alex close to his chest and
spooned in behind him. "Let's not talk about it until the morning. I want to
fall asleep with you in my arms and not think about anything but how good
you feel there." He kissed the back of Alex's neck and shut his eyes.
"It is morning," replied Alex, sleepily.
"Then let's talk about it in eight hours."
Krycek's internal clock woke him up four hours after he and Mulder had
fallen asleep. He silently slithered out of the warm bed and padded to the
bathroom, where he dressed quickly. It was a talent born of many such
occasions when he wanted to get away from whatever anonymous lover he had
just slept with. The only difference was this time, he really didn't want to
leave. Like Mulder, he could have stayed wrapped up in those arms forever.
But he didn't have the luxury of forever; he had responsibilities to Victor
and to himself. And if he were dead, who would look after Victor? No, he
had to take care of his brother's needs before even thinking about what he
really wanted.
Under the bright glare of the bathroom light, he scribbled a note on the
motel's stationery. Alex snuck out of the bathroom and went over to where
Mulder lay, still sleeping peacefully on his side. He bent down and kissed
the agent softly on the lips then dropped the note on the nightstand.
Always portable, forever mobile, Krycek took up his knapsack and walked out
into the grey, misty rain of a Northwest mid-afternoon.
As soon as the door clicked, Mulder rolled over and turned on the lamp. He
had awoken the second that Krycek had got up. But he had chosen to pretend
to remain asleep, to let his lover leave him yet again. He picked up the
note and read the large, loopy text.
I didn't want to leave you this way. But I was sure you wouldn't let me just
walk away again. I don't want a certain smoking man to know about Victor,
let alone ever find him. I can't linger here; it's not safe. Spender would
use my brother against me, and I've done enough of his dirty work for him. I
can't be allied with him again. I promise you will see me again; I just
don't know when. I owe you for helping Victor.
Love,
A.
Mulder dropped the note and pinched at his sore eyes. It was time to get
back to the real world, back to D.C. He hoped that this time Krycek was
telling him the truth, that they would see each other again. Just as he was
stepping out of the shower, Mulder's cell phone rang out. It was Blair,
looking for Alex.
"He's gone," Mulder said dully.
"So's Victor," Blair said, frightened for his friend.
"What? What happened, where'd he go to?" Mulder said urgently into the cell,
thinking that the Spender had found Alex's twin.
"An hour ago an ambulance picked Victor up and took him. The right forms
were presented to the duty nurse. She had no choice but to release him. One
of the papers said he was being transferred to another centre in Washington,
D.C. But when I started to check it out, everything came back a big dead
end. I'm worried, Mulder." Blair said honestly.
"It was Alex. He took his own brother. Victor will be safe now; don't
worry." Mulder knew that Krycek wouldn't risk Victor now that everyone knew
where he was.
One Week Later: Moscow
"Victor, this is Auntie Olga." Alex smiled at his aunt, a woman in her late
fifties.
"Hi," Victor said to the smiling woman shyly.
"Hello, Victor." Olga wrapped her arms around her nephew and hugged him to
her large bosom tightly. She pulled back and held the silent twin at arm's
length. Olga spoke to Krycek while studying Victor's face. "The last time I
saw you was in a picture; you were both ten years old." Olga turned to Alex.
"Don't worry, Alexander, Auntie will look after him for you." She led Victor
away and settled him at a small table near a sunny window. She gave him a
home-made oatmeal cookie and half a glass of milk.
Krycek had brought his brother to Moscow and to his father's sister, Olga,
because he knew that the Consortium thought that all of his connections to
the old country were gone; that all of his relatives were dead. The twins'
aunt had been married several times, and her name had changed with those
failed marriages. The records were bad, and Olga's connection to the Artzen
name was long since severed. Olga Yagudin was a schoolteacher who retired
early and lived on a humble but adequate pension left to her by her late
third husband, an officer in the Russian military who had died while trying
to rescue survivors of an earthquake in a faraway Russian province. An
aftershock caused rubble to fall and crush him.
"He will need help with school," Alex said. "Teach him both in Russian and
in English."
"Don't worry, Alex. We'll get along just fine. Won't we, Victor?" Victor
grinned at his aunt as he pushed in some more cookie. "I look forward to his
company."
"I'll write and send money under the usual name." Though he had not actually
laid eyes on his aunt for many years, Alex had spoken to her on the phone
and via mail. Auntie Olga had proved to be very valuable in providing
information about the habits and routines of the Russian army. He pulled out
a wad of American money and handed it to his aunt. "This should see you
through the next couple of months."
Olga took the money without hesitation and shoved it into her ample bra.
"I expect it will, Alexander." Pleased to have family again, she patted
Alex's cheek. "Come, have a sip of vodka with me, and tell an old lady about
your adventures in America," she said.
Alex poured a pair of vodkas and sat down. His aunt thought that he was
still working with the American government. He thought about all of the
strange cases that he knew Mulder and Scully had worked on, and deciding to
entertain his aunt, he changed it to him and Mulder. Pleased not to have to
think about aliens and the possible demise of the human race, he started
telling his tale.
"Well, Auntie, this one time there was this Cher loving mutant..."
Blunt Force Trauma
by Demi-X
Prologue: December 1998
Take care, G-man.
