I wish I knew how to believe
I Don't Believe in Trouble
Mulder:
The last time I saw him, I was already caught once again in the whirlwind of the
Conspiracy. My memory of him is inseparable from that chaotic time. The mass
deaths, the burnings, stand at the forefront, eclipsed only by my fear for
Scully. He was merely a side- note before I lost the thread of the mystery once
again. So why is it that I think back to his visit more often than I remember the
questions or the continued disappearance of Cassandra Spender or worry about the
long-term consequence of the chip Scully still carries and where it might lead
her?
I don't know what I saw. I don't know if I accomplished what I was sent to do.
But I saw something, and I suspect that was the point of the exercise. I don't
know why my belief is important to Alex Krycek, or the man who sent him. He
painted himself more as a freedom fighter than a conspirator. I don't know if I
believe him. But I'd be willing to listen.
Believe 2: Pain
I Don't Believe in Pain
Krycek:
Maybe the reason I kept him at gun-point when I explained the reason I needed his
help was that it was some how easier that way. Mulder stood still, nearly a
statue, in the perpetually dim light of his apartment. Do this for your truth, I
was saying. My posture, my face, it was all a carefully constructed facade to
hide the fact that inside I was asking, do this for me.
I took some sick thrill out of every time I drew him into my domain. In that way,
I could make him mine for that brief period of time. But always, always, I
would run away when it became too hard to resist his pull. He's got some odd
elliptical orbit that attracts stray bodies that aren't as careful: Just look at
the way Scully, Skinner, and even that cancerous old bastard circle `round and
`round.
I had come because I needed his help to throw a wrench in one of the Smoker's
projects. I still hadn't found a way out from working for the old man, but maybe
I didn't mind so much. My moral dipstick, as Mulder put it, may be wanting, but
the work I'm doing now assuages those trailing pangs of guilt that sometimes
assail me. Still, everyone who counts knows I'm his man and he can't afford to
oppose the Smoker directly. I wonder if he'll even be surprised when he learns
I've brought Mulder in to the picture as a cover for my activities.
Believe 3: Again
I Don't Believe There's Nothing Left but Running Here Again
Mulder:
Alex Krycek standing in my living room. In the dark. With a gun. It was almost
deja vu to two months before. Except I wasn't sprawled, dazed, on my floor,
denying everything. I heard him out without interruption. Maybe it's because this
behavior struck him as so unique on my part that he kept the gun between us the
whole time. He stood there and told me about a cloning project. `Another one?'
some corner of my mind wanted to know.
At first he said it like he was doing me a favor. I did my best not to betray any
interest. Then he said it like it was a mission imperative to the human race.
Perhaps it was, I don't know, but I wanted to know why he came to me.
"Why?" I asked suddenly.
I watched his brow crease slightly and realized that the question had no
relevance at that point in his narrative. I reached out, almost touched his arm,
but he started, shied away, and then the gun was focused all the more firmly on
me.
"Mulder."
I was sure he meant it as a warning, but I heard a sort of endearment in it. My
thoughts for the last two months had spun around wanting to know the truth from
this man. I couldn't, however, think of a way of phrasing a single one of my
questions that would gain me an answer I could count as truthful. So I ask him
why I should help him instead.
"I told you," he told me. "It's not for me. These men—with their planned
Armageddon—they have to be stopped. It's more important than your personal
feelings toward me."
He seemed awfully focused on that point, when I wasn't.
"I'll help you," I said, because maybe I believed there was something more
between us than the same old games.
Believe 4: Promise
I Don't Believe in Promise
Krycek:
I didn't know what game Mulder was playing. He promised to investigate the
facility. That was his word. Promise. It was so out of place, so oddly chosen,
that I almost opened myself up to ask him what he meant by it. I couldn't explain
why I believed him for it, either. His strange behavior had me nervous.
But I needed him. Mulder is like the magic key. Once he becomes involved, all
hell breaks loose. Forgotten Players appear out of the woodwork and begin
snooping around. Once Mulder becomes involved, well then, of course, the old
man would send someone to investigate. That would be me. So when I'm seen
skulking around the shadows, suddenly I have a legitimate reason to be there.
Sometimes the logic of conspiracies boggled my mind. And then other days, when I
had too much time for introspection, it seemed the perfect pursuit.
Two days after I talked to him, I watched from a distance as he waved his
credentials all over and around the facility I had pointed him to. I watched as a
network of eyes-and-ears woke up in the sleepy little town and began to scurry
around. Watching the flurry of activity, I almost had the urge to say, "I made
this." I enjoyed pulling strings and knowing I changed reality.
When Mulder was done for the day, my own sources informed me that the facility
had already begun clean-up. I was ready to do my own work. I gathered my supplies
and headed to a location along the margins of the facility where I'd spotted
cover almost all the way up to the perimeter fence. Most of their personnel would
be directed toward close down by now.
I was on the look out for other agents, but I nearly choked when I saw Mulder
leaning against a tree waiting for me.
Believe 5: Chance
I Don't Believe in Chance
Mulder:
He was slipping between the shadows behind the facility when I found him. I'm not
sure what sense drew me to him, but I knew he'd be back there, then. My part was
played, I knew, but I wasn't quite ready to go home. I didn't want to leave it up
to fortune to decide if Krycek would ever let me know whether he had succeeded
due to my efforts. I didn't want to wait for circumstance to bring him to my door
again.
"Krycek," I said. He looked at me with dark eyes. Was he afraid of something? It
seemed unlikely.
When he asked me what I was doing there, I told him the truth. That I was going
with him. His lips set for a moment, and I thought he was going to resist. But he
shrugged and made a fast dash under the fence, leaving me to follow, or not.
Of course, I did.
He walked purposefully, assessing room after room, lingering in some and
dismissing others. I could see that this place was grinding to a halt. The rooms
we looked through were dead; however, there was a whole wing we avoided after a
glimpse of men scrubbing and packing assorted glass and stainless steel fixtures.
I watched Krycek work. I was fascinated. I blamed it on the adrenaline high I was
riding. Mostly we went into offices, but there were labs too. The vats didn't
strike me with same horror that they did the first time I saw them. But then I'd
seen so much worse since.
We only ran into one guard. And I was the one who saw it coming. I let Krycek
continue fingering through the filing cabinet, and silently took up a position by
the door. When he stepped through the door, I hit him with the butt of my gun,
catching him as he began to fall. Krycek turned at the noise and watched me
quietly drag the man to a corner. He turned away to finish pulling out a
selection of papers as I reassured myself that the guard's pulse was strong and
steady.
Believe 6: Sense
I Don't Believe You Can Resist the Things That Make No Sense
Krycek:
It made no sense for Mulder to be there.
He moved silently by my side through the institutionally-lit hallways. My
shadow. The comfort of back-up. He observed everything I did, surely cataloging
it all, but for once he asked no questions.
I picked up papers, tissue samples, and even a small collection of digital video
recordings, the tapes labeled by date but marked in no other way, stuffing them
all into a small pack I carried with me. Anything that I thought might be of use
to my employer. I don't have the scientific background to know what will truly
pay off, but I've done this often enough that I've picked up good instincts for
it.
We left the way we came and there was no sign of pursuit. Mulder pointed the way
to his car and took me with him as he drove out of town. I watched the last glow
of city lights fade in the rear view mirror. Our car coasted alone down the dark
highway. I've been a passenger in a car while Mulder drives so many times before
that I felt all our history between us at that moment, silence and darkness of
the road thick and familiar about us. Suddenly the pleasure I'd hardly admitted
I'd felt at having him follow seemed distant and illusory.
The road ahead was straight, almost hypnotically so. Two lanes of concrete
heading ever forward and I had to force myself to look away. Which is when I
discovered he was looking at me. What light that filtered into the car was from
the moon hovering somewhere above us. In that near darkness I could barely make
out the outline of his profile, the slight reflection of light off his eyes, and
a hint of his teeth.
"What?" I asked, but my voice came out in a hoarse whisper.
He remained silent. It seemed like maybe he was fighting something and in the
end it turned out to be too much to resist, for he suddenly pulled off onto the
side of the road and threw his rental into park.
I opened my mouth to speak, to question him, but the silence around us suddenly
seemed so thick that I could get no sounds beyond my throat. He was looking at
me again. In the darkness I could see little of him beyond the intensity of his
eyes, yet still I could feel the will of him pulling at me even as we sat in the
stillness. And then he leaned in and brushed his hand along my cheek. I jerked,
startled, and regretted it immediately, afraid he'd pull back. But he didn't. He
only touched me more firmly, and this time I didn't shy away.
I was unable to look away from his eyes even as he brushed his thumb across my
lower lip. I could feel my breath, short and rapid, as it puffed against his
strong digit, and had to wonder when my heart had begun to beat so fast.
Then, oh so slowly, he drew my face toward his. He stopped when our lips were
barely a breath apart. When he spoke, his lips brushed against mine.
"Will you?" he asked.
My answer was easy. It had been brewing inside me for years now.
"Yes."
Believe 7: Silence
I Don't Believe in Silence `Cause Silence Seems So Slow
Mulder:
I felt like I'd captured his answer in my mouth. Swallowed it. Made it mine.
Made him mine. So I kissed him. Closed my eyes. Put our lips together, and
tasted him to the depths. He moved under my hands and the combination of
confusion and enthusiasm I felt in his response couldn't have been more perfect
if he'd tried.
Suddenly, it had to be now. Right now.
I pulled back and climbed out of the car. In an instant, I was around the
vehicle, pulling his door open, and offering my hand. When he took it, I pulled
him to his feet. Outside, I could see his face more clearly in the moonlight and
wanted him all the more for it.
So I found myself kissing him again, pressing him up against the passenger side
of the car. My body found a rhythm against his. His response was nearly as
frantic as my own as he kissed me back and his body flexed in counterpoint to
mine. I was hard, achingly so, and each movement attested to the fact that he
was equally kindled. I was moving desperately fast but couldn't will myself to
slow down. But I realized I want more from him and began to struggle for
control. My movements became a bit more languid, a bit more teasing. Just a
bit.
I drifted from his mouth, nibbling along his chin for a moment before pulling
back. I had him splayed against the car door, panting and desperate.
"Mulder—"
He started to speak, but I pressed my fingers across his lips.
"Shhhh..." I whispered to him.
His head tossed from side to side in response, but he remained silent. I smiled
and kissed him for it.
Believe 8: Tension
I Don't Believe in Energy If Tension is Too Low
Krycek:
Mulder was wild before me. I couldn't for one moment think I could begin to
explain what was going through his head. I understood the language of his body,
though, and was drawn in where I'd resisted every time before. It was as if all
the tension that constantly sparked between us had suddenly ignited, and things
that were never possible before suddenly were. And I had no doubt he'd have what
ever he wanted from me right now, here on the side of the road.
His movement caught me by surprise as he pulled, half dragged, me up onto the
hood of the car. He kept me under him and his mouth roamed all over my neck and
jaw and anywhere it could reach. I thrust up beneath him grinding our groins
together. Yes. Wonderful. Apparently, he thought so too because he bit gently
into the skin of my neck with a slight groan. And I was already doing it again.
How could I possibly resist?
Somewhere he found the time to undo my jeans and yank them down. My underwear
followed. The hood of the car was warm and rumbling gently under my bare
buttocks. The sensation distracted me enough for him to pull away and begin
fumbling with his own pants. I watched breathlessly as they fell open and he
revealed himself to me. I wanted...I needed...I....I...
I gasped as I felt two slick fingers press into me. Thank god he was prepared
because it seemed I could do nothing but lie there while he readied me. It was a
strange feeling of weakness. I felt drained. I felt energized. I felt like I
was...his.
That scared me so much, I couldn't help but moan, but even to my own ears it was
a moan of nothing but pleasure.
He was in a hurry and soon he was pressing into me. I felt him filling me up and
suddenly my lassitude snapped. I writhed under him, unable to get enough of him.
My harsh breaths echoed his short deep strokes. As I arched up off of the hood of
the car, I rubbed my face, catlike, against his wrist where it was braced near my
head. There was something so desperate about the whole thing. I didn't know
whether I wanted to laugh or cry.
He leaned forward, bending me nearly in two and his lips closed on mine. His
strokes came faster now, hitting my prostate each time. I was riding up against
the windshield with each thrust. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him
in more frantically. He moved faster and faster and as the tongue in my mouth
became less directed, I could tell he was close, and that was just perfect
because I was...there.
I locked tight, holding him deep inside me as I sucked desperately on his tongue
and rubbed myself in little twitching movements against his belly, prolonging my
ecstacy, and then I could feel him filling me with liquid warmth.
We stilled. He lay limp over me and the cool air dried damp skin where it was
exposed.
Believe 9: Panic
I Don't Believe in Panic
Krycek:
The miles were sliding by once again. Next to me, he watched the road perhaps
more intently than was necessary. His clothes were rumpled, his hair in disarray.
I absently ran a hand through my own hair. Though I doubted the effort made me
look any less freshly-fucked. The silence between us was my choice as much as
his. I was floundering. I'd lost the script several pages back. On the one hand,
I was dying to ask for an explanation. On the other hand, how exactly does one do
that?
Besides, whatever he might say, it would be either too much or too little. Quite
possibly both.
I must have been staring at him for something like ten minutes, but he never
looked my way. I was falling into a trap, one I had been trying to avoid.
Deliberately, I turned to look out the passenger side window. I watched the
darkened landscape fly by, letting it lull me. I paid more attention as we passed
a junction. A filling station and a convenience store, tightly closed for the
night, stood at the cross roads. I almost dismissed the place until a flicker of
movement caught my eye. In the side mirror, I watched a car pull onto the road
behind us.
"Mulder," I said, nodding my head at the rear view mirror.
He saw it. I saw his jaw tighten. I kicked my bag under the seat. I had no doubt
about who was following us. There was only the one road away from the facility.
Traveling north, we were guaranteed to cross this place. They'd hustled to get
people here. Our intrusion, it seemed, had produced more of a reaction than I'd
expected. They wouldn't have bothered unless they had a really good reason. I
briefly wondered which of the items in my bag was the real prize.
Mulder was speeding up in reaction to the menacing loom of the vehicle behind us.
Ordinarily, I might have been less concerned. But with Mulder here...and already
feeling so strangely out of control myself...I had a feeling of foreboding. And
his rental would be no match in muscle or speed to their old Plymouth Nova.
I watched as if from very far away as the chase played out. I was struck by the
idea that none of this night was real. Mulder swearing and sweating beside me
seemed as far away as another continent. The looming headlights might as well
have been a universe away.
The sound of grinding metal on metal snapped me out of my trance. I could see
that Mulder was struggling to guide the car as we were forced to a halt. Just as
our pursuers were becoming confident in their victory, Mulder slammed on the
breaks. We were too far in the side-brush to recover, but our pursuers coasted a
few hundred yards ahead before they came to a stop. My clever Mulder. He'd bought
us a sliver of time. I realized all my panic was for him.
Now it was time to move. Mulder reached over and ran the back of his knuckles
along my cheek. Before I could say anything, he turned away and was opening his
door.
Believe 10: Fear
I Don't Believe in Fear
Mulder:
The night was too dark. Up the road, I heard a door slam, and then a second. I
gestured for Krycek to go east. I took off across the road to the west, hoping
the glare of our headlights would hide our move from the approaching men. I went
crashing into the underbrush. I stifled a curse, aware I was already making too
much noise.
It was too deserted out here to expect to get away on foot. My best hope was that
our two pursuers did not know they were chasing more than one man. Beyond gaining
a little time and maybe a little surprise, I had no plan.
I decided I'd run far enough and ducked down behind a fallen tree. I crouched,
waiting and listening. Thinking. I'd complicated things beyond belief today. And
then this. I glanced at my watch. I'd give them three minutes, then assume they'd
followed Krycek instead. I pulled my gun, prepared it, and lay it against my
knee, finger on the trigger, ready.
I strained my ears to hear anything in the quiet which only made the silence seem
all the more insulating. So my memory filled it with the remembered sounds of
Krycek's pleasure on the hood of my car. A wave of vertigo swept over me as I
thought of that. Disorienting, but so good. I didn't know what I thought I was
doing with him. What I was feeling. But I knew one truth. I wanted to do that
again. Soon. And again. Any involvement with him seemed both insane and perfect.
My three minutes were up.
The cars were deserted. I listened for a moment but decided I was alone. Parts of
a plan came to me. Moving quietly and quickly, I disabled the thugs' car. I heard
shouting, then cursing, just inside the tree line. Panicking, I ducked down in
front of the Nova, counting on the darkness to hide me.
I heard footsteps on asphalt, followed by scraping and cursing. I knew that
voice, I realized. Krycek. Silently, I lowered myself onto my belly so I could
see what was happening from under the car. I was just in time to see one of the
thugs shove Krycek onto the road. I felt my heart rate pick up.
The taller thug was laughing. "Should've known it was you," he said. "You have a
way of turning up in the middle of a shit-storm."
Krycek spit at him. I saw he was bound.
"The tapes are here," the second thug called from the vicinity of my car. He was
at the passenger side, I deduced, since I could see the driver's side clearly
from here.
"You know what that means?" the first thug asked Krycek. "That means I get to
kill you. On your knees."
Krycek resisted, but the thug grabbed him and pulled him off balance. He fell to
his knees. I felt like a blow had just been dealt to my stomach. I gripped my
gun, knowing there was no way I could allow this to happen.
The truth of what I felt for Krycek was suddenly staring me in the face.
The fear I felt as the thug cocked his weapon nearly paralyzed me. I'd lost track
of the second thug, but there was no time to worry about that. I raised my
weapons, elbows braced against the concrete and fired.
I gasped in relief as I saw him spin away. I'd only managed to hit him in the
shoulder, but it was enough for his gun went clattering away across the ground.
Krycek was already on the move, barreling toward my car. I was on my feet as
well. I saw the second thug now, struggling for the gun he'd put away to look in
Krycek's bag. Krycek plowed right into him without stopping, knocking the man to
the ground. I was at the driver's side of my car now. I started the engine as
Krycek threw himself awkwardly in through the open passenger-side door. The tires
squealed as I peeled off, nearly hitting the injured thug. I reached across
Krycek and tugged his door closed.
One gun shot echoed after us, but it seemed a feeble gesture, especially in the
face of my relief.
Believe 11: Prophesy
I Don't Believe in Prophesy, So Don't Waste Any Tears
Krycek:
He drove without stopping until we reached the interstate.
They'd bound me with duct tape, holding my arms, both real and fake, paralyzed at
my sides. I felt desperately vulnerable, even with Mulder to watch over me.
Mulder finally chose a well-populated exit. He parked in the parking lot of a
chain motel. It was nearly two am and quiet. A part of me didn't want to admit
how bothered I was by being bound, but I found the voice to ask him to help me.
To that, he replied: "Why do you think we stopped?"
He pulled a small pair of scissors from the first aid kit in the glove box. He
set about cutting through the layers of tape binding me. He was practically
sitting on my lap as he did it. He touched me far more than was necessary to
merely release me. Small, nearly accidental caresses on my stomach, my arm, my
hip. He moved slowly. I shivered. I wasn't sure whether to blame it on his
fingers or my slightly dramatic realization that I was at his mercy at that
moment. His. And then both my arms were free, but he didn't stop touching me.
Without pretense now, he continued to trail his hands over my body. He shifted
slightly and then he really was sitting on my lap, straddling my thighs and
settling in. His fingers slipped under my shirt, running up my belly and then to
my chest where they roamed and teased.
For a moment, I thought he would take things further, but then he sort of just
collapsed on me as if utterly drained. He sighed and the breath tickled against
my neck. I couldn't see his eyes but I decided to take the chance and wrap my
arms around him.
"I thought I'd lost you," he gasped. It sounded like an admission wrung out of
him.
I didn't know what to say to that so I just caressed his back. I felt his lips
against my neck. A gentle kiss, and then more words, just mouthed there against
my flesh. I wished he didn't say them. The bitch of it was, I felt it too, but I
wasn't blind to the truth.
I didn't have to be prescient to see that things would end badly. It was
inevitable. He had to know it too, or at least he would once he got over his
relief. As I held him tight, all the reasons why this couldn't be piled up before
me. Some were my fault; some were his; and others just were. Every time I tried
to see my way past one, ten others reared up before me. My thoughts chased around
and around but always ended up with one of us dead or in prison. He was strong
and perfect in my arms. It felt so right for something that was so wrong and I
just barely managed to hold back the tears. This would just have to be enough.
He lifted his head and found my mouth with his. His kiss was thorough and swept
my dark thoughts away. I smiled at him, feeling such a tenderness for him.
"Get us a room," I told him.
Believe 12: Reality
I Don't Believe Reality Would Be the Way it Should
Mulder:
Carefully, slowly, he undressed me and then undressed himself. He laid me down on
motel sheets and made love to me in a motel bed. Afterwards, he stroked my damp
hair back from my eyes with a trembling hand. When he kissed me it was with more
tenderness than I'd ever ever imagined. Finally, exhausted, sated, I drifted off
to sleep in his arms.
When I woke up that morning, it was to the sounds of him moving about the motel
room getting dressed. Sleepily, I pulled myself up until I was sitting with my
feet on the cold floor.
"Alex?" I asked.
He froze. Some strong emotion passed over his face before he could control it. It
wasn't happiness. It was the first time I'd called him by his first name in
years.
His voice was gruff, gravelly with early morning and perhaps emotion, when he
told me: "I have to get going."
I sat, processing that. It wasn't as if I'd expected he'd be free to stay
indefinitely. Not if I really thought about it. But I'd thought he'd stay a
little while longer. I yawned and blinked up at him. Finally, I nodded. He nodded
back, fully dressed now.
I ran fingers through my hair, not wanting to say goodbye just yet.
"When will I see you again?" I asked him.
He stared at me, and suddenly I saw the pain in his eyes without disguise. He
just shook his head. I knew what he was saying, damn him, but I couldn't let go
just like that and for a moment I hated him for accepting it so easily.
"No," I said, denying everything. "We'll find a way."
And then his calm was gone and I saw it wasn't at all easy for him. He took three
quick paces to the bed until he was looking down at me. I felt disconcerted in my
t-shirt and boxers, all mussed from sleep, now that he stood before me neat and
clothed. He gestured wildly.
"Jesus, Mulder. You always believe everything is going to turn out right, don't
you? That's why you're so frustrated every time they win. Well, you know what?
The world's not fair. And it doesn't care about you." He took a deep breath
before going on. "The truth is, even if there was no history between us and no
conspiracy to rip us apart, you are an FBI agent and I am a known felon.
That's a reality. As soon as the wrong person found out, you'd lose your job and
I'd go to prison. But we'd never get that far. There are people out there who
would kill me the instant they found out I was with you. And others who would
kill you too just in case I knew anything and told you. And the thing is,
Mulder, they can. It's no trouble for them."
He trailed off. I knew it wasn't me he was yelling at, but the unfairness of the
whole situation. I stood up and wrapped my arms around him, pressing his head to
rest on my shoulder. He let me, but he wasn't quite done yet.
"Or you might remember all the reasons you have to hate me. And that I couldn't
take."
Believe 13: Fantasy
But I Believe in Fantasy If You Just Understood
Krycek:
There. I'd told him the thought that had been running through my head since he
first kissed me. I waited until he denied it, as I knew he would. I needed this
little bit of something to carry me through even if I knew it wasn't true.
So many unbelievable things had happened in the last twelve hours that I could
almost believe the way he led me back to the bed was a dream. That it was in a
reverie that I let myself be led. Just one more time, I promised myself, to
remember for later.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and I stood before him. He was touching me,
caressing me, cupping me through my jeans. I'd wanted him since I'd first woken
up this morning. Wanted him since I found him curled up next to me. Wanted him as
I'd yelled at him. Wanted him as he'd held me and told me it was alright. God, I
wanted him.
His fingers began working on opening my pants. I had to steady myself with my
hand on his shoulder as the room tilted a little before me. Jesus. Was I holding
my breath? He had me in hand now. He massaged me and my fingers crept to caress
the back of his neck.
He smiled up at me and then leaned forward to taste the tip of my cock, a little
fastidious lick. I jerked at the sensation, the sight almost as arousing as the
feel. His smile grew into a grin. Then his lips were on me, soft, caressing,
opening, opening, taking me in, and oh god...I gasped out my delight. My hand
convulsed at the back of his neck, tangling in the hair there. His arm wrapped
around my legs, holding me steady for him. It was all him. Him choosing a rhythm,
him demanding each response from my body, and I had no power to resist. I tried
to hold on, but each movement of his tongue, each stoke, was demanding a
surrender from me. I was surrounded by the warmth of his mouth and drowning in
it.
I felt the pleasure and heat uncoiling within me and realized quite suddenly that
I was teetering on the edge. I tried to push him away but god damn if he wasn't
set on taking all of me that he could. He pulled me tight, taking me deep, and my
world shattered in a haze of pleasure. He held me steady through it all.
Trembling, I sat on the bed next to him, my pants still open. I looked over at
him. His cock had slipped through the slit in his boxers and was erect and
leaking. He was flushed and breathing quickly. Dilated pupils gave him a sort of
dazed look. I gasped a little when I recognized the state he was in. That this
man could be on the brink of coming from sucking me...it made my world a warm
and fuzzy place.
"What do you want?" I asked him. My voice was husky and I wondered if I'd been
shouting. I was ready to touch him, suck him, fuck him, whatever he asked.
"Give me one chance to prove that things can be different."
I stared at him. I never could think quite clearly in the afterglow. I did not
believe we had a chance, but it was a fantasy I could hardly help indulging in
just now. Nor could I deny him. I told him a phone number, knowing he'd remember
it. I told him he could only use it once.
He looked me in the eyes, and god was he beautiful aroused like this. "Thank
you," he whispered, and I reached for him, wrapping my fingers around his
erection. I kissed him and he arched into my hand and was then shuddering in my
arms.
I held him thinking about the chance he'd wrung out of me until it was time for
me to leave. I prayed it wouldn't get one of us killed.
Believe 14: History
I Don't Believe in History
Mulder:
Five minutes after he walked out the door, I resolved that I would not give up on
him easily.
I checked out and headed back to my car. I was just pulling out of the parking
lot when I noticed something rolling around on the floor at the passenger's side.
I stopped to investigate. The tapes from Krycek's bag were strewn across the
floor. I found some of the papers where they'd slid into the back. I smiled. I
knew he hadn't meant to leave them, but it was kind of sweet that during his exit
everything else had slipped his mind.
I drove all morning in my dented rental car. I went straight to the Lone Gunmen
and borrowed a camera. At first I was torn between horror and disappointment. A
girl, perhaps nineteen years old—no older—was restrained in a hospital bed.
In the first tape, she was implanted with a series of metallic chips. I skipped
to a tape in the middle of the sequence which recorded various tests and
procedures being performed. The final tape documented the hideous demise of the
girl who already looked like a corpse even before her final seizure. The crime
was horrible, no doubt, but I could not gather from these tapes the nature of the
experiment, and the facility in question was already shut down. I felt powerless
with the evidence of such inhuman cruelty and no one to punish. It was only as I
began a careful review of the intermediate tapes that I realized their true
importance didn't lie in what they showed, but whom. A series of men in
expensive clothing visited the girl periodically. U.S. Senator Stephen MacHenry,
Department of Energy Undersecretary James Dinley, and FBI Deputy Director Carlton
Moss were among other familiar faces that paraded across the screen, checking in
on the process of the experiment.
I had in my hands a way to grant some justice to this poor girl.
I also had a way to gain a chance at some happiness for myself.
I went to Scully and told her I had a source. I took one of the tapes with me.
Together we went to see Skinner. I told him I needed to arrange immunity for my
source and then played him the tape as well. After seeing the contents he was
more than willing to make the necessary arrangements for more of the same. They
were less enthusiastic after he learned the source was Alex Kycek, but I got my
deal.
There was another deal to be made. Well, two, actually. But I would need to
find Alex first.
Nothing is set in stone.
Believe 15: Truth
I Don't Believe in Truth
Krycek:
I agreed to meet Mulder in a diner in Maryland. I arrived early and sat in my
car, debating whether I should go in or not. The last week had been bad enough. I
hadn't been able to get him out of my head, and I wasn't sure I wanted to see him
again. It would only make it harder. So I sat in my car, regretting the decision
to come, regretting the promise I'd made to him.
A rap on the window startled me so badly I jumped. See what he does to me? I'd
lost track of my surroundings. Dangerous. But it was only Mulder, opening the
door now to slide in next to me. He grinned at me. Of course he'd noticed.
He told me all about the deal he'd arranged with the FBI. I opened my mouth to
say—something. But I was too amazed to put together the words I was looking
for.
"Mulder..."
"There's something else." He pulled a file folder from under his coat. Seemed
he'd been busy.
He scooted over next to me to open it across both our laps. He deliberately made
sure our thighs touched, I'm sure. It was wonderfully distracting, as was the
brush of his hand as he spread the papers out.
"What is this?" I asked.
"These papers are no good to me as evidence. It's data from an analysis of the
black oil done at that lab two week ago, but it proves no crime and is unlikely
to ever do so. The researcher noted in the margin—see here—that he felt
this test revealed new information and forwarded it up the chain of command. I
remember something about the black oil. The Consortium is competing with the
Russians in the black oil research, isn't it?"
I agreed. He slipped the pages back into the folder but didn't move away.
"It would be in their interest to see that this data doesn't reach the Russians,
wouldn't it? Possibly enough to guarantee your safety...?"
I stared at him, stunned. In one short week he'd changed all the rules.
Apparently I was gaping at him open mouthed. I realized this when he took the
opportunity and leaned forward to kiss me. I let him have his way with my mouth.
When he pulled away, I said: "That could work."
He snorted, and kissed me again. I decided I must be half crazy, but it seemed
like I was going to take the chance and try working out this thing with him. It
seemed really easy with his tongue in my throat and his hands on my body.
"You had one other concern," he murmured.
"Yes?" The word, barely more than a whisper, caught in my throat as he ran his
hand along my thigh. I had no idea what he was talking about just then.
He reached up, catching my face in his hands. His expression turned serious. "I
might never forget the things you've done. But Alex. They don't matter now." He
looked earnestly into my eyes as he said it and I felt my heart beating so fast.
"All that matters is what we do from here on out." He meant it. The warning was
there. I could still fuck it up, but he was trusting me not to. With a smile, he
added: "Maybe you can help me find the answers I'm looking for."
"I don't believe..."
"In what?" he asked. "Truth? Justice? The American way?" He smiled. "You don't
have to. Just believe in me. Believe that I need you."
I stared into his eyes. I already believed in him. I had for a long time. That
was a truth.
I tried to convey that with my eyes. Maybe I succeeded because he smiled and
nodded his head. The only question left was: where to from here?
"So...?" I asked.
"So come by my place tonight," he told me. He kissed me goodbye. Very very
thoroughly. With a pat on my cheek, he got out of the car, leaving the file that
might very well be my salvation.
Believe 16: Destiny
I Don't Believe There's Destiny With Someone to Accuse
Mulder:
He was sleeping peacefully. In my bed. I had spent most of the afternoon clearing
the room out. Now I didn't mind a bit because it seemed so absolutely right that
he was sleeping in my bed.
I'd woken up a few minutes ago. I just wasn't used to sleeping long. I'd felt one
moment of incredible dislocation. The only time I slept in a bed was when I was
out on a case. But then I remembered and I looked to my side and he was there and
everything was alright.
I sat up a bit in bed, stretching muscles that were a bit sort. It was a really
good feeling. The movement must have disturbed Alex because when I looked down
again, he was blinking up at me.
"Morning," I said.
He looked dubiously at the window and shook his head. Normally I wasn't much of a
morning person. Didn't look like he was either.
"Close enough for morning sex?" I asked.
He perked up at that. Yes, it seemed he was as focused on the subject as I was. I
suspected it was one thing that would always work with us.
What I had done was given us a chance. That didn't mean I wasn't scared. We were
now free to try to make our own way. Knowing myself and, I think, knowing him, we
probably wouldn't make it easy on ourselves. I'd never been very good at
relationships but maybe after all the obstacles we had to overcome to get here,
anything else would seem easy.
I kissed him languidly. His strong fingers slowly massaged my back. The best part
about morning sex was that there was no hurry. He was naked. I was naked. There
was no question where this was leading. And we had all morning.
I told him the truth: I hadn't forgotten the things he'd done. But the last
couple of years, dark as they'd been, had done wonders for my priorities. Last
night felt like a promise of all the possibility that lay between us as lovers.
Now I was eager to fulfill a little bit more of that promise.
I also couldn't help but think of the wonderful possibility of a partnership of
an entirely different kind, given the connections Alex had with those willing to
resist what was coming. That was something else we were going to have to talk
about soon.
I pulled him closer to me, luxuriating in the feel of the full lengths of our
bodies aligned. He practically purred as I began to nuzzle down the line of his
jaw. I felt his hand trail in a long caress down my shoulder, my spine, my
buttocks, to catch the blanket laying across our thighs and throw it up over our
heads. I couldn't help but giggle into his neck as it floated down over us.
I believe...we might just have a chance.
The Believe series
by Hiro
Believe 1: Trouble
