Krycek stood in the doorway with a guarded expression, his eyes wide,
looking weary and strained.
Mulder sucked in a breath. "You sorry son of a bitch," he breathed. "It
was you, after all..." he trailed off.
Krycek regarded him, wondering if this was worth it. Mulder was looking at
him as if he were a ghost.
Mulder frowned and said accusingly, "Get in here."
Krycek sighed. This was a mistake. "Look, Mulder, I didn't have to come
here tonight. I—" He was cut short by Mulder reaching forward and grabbing
him by the front of his jacket.
"I said, get in here," Mulder repeated, pulling him inside and shoving the
door shut behind them.
He allowed Mulder to pull him in but he'd be damned if he was going to let
this get physical. Well, in a hopeless repetition of the usual pattern
before they had begun having sex, anyway.
Krycek put up his hand, twisting out of Mulder's grip and forcing Mulder's
arm up, to let go of the front of his jacket. Swallowing, he said, "You
made it pretty clear to me what you thought. What was I supposed to think?
How was I supposed to know you were fucking pining away over me?"
"You bastard. You let me believe you were dead, Alex! Do you have any
idea what that did to me? Do you? Did you even care? Wait," he slapped
his forehead lightly, "Of course you do—that's why you did it, right?
Another way to fuck me over."
Tightly, expecting violence, Krycek bit out, "I thought you'd be happier
with it, especially the way we left things. Come on, Mulder—all it was to
you was a mutual head-game and a cheap fuck. It was a joke to you, least
that's what you wanted me to think! How was I supposed to know it meant
anything to you? You never gave me any indication otherwise." He met
Mulder's angry, wounded gaze with a hollow glare. "Until tonight, anyway."
Mulder stared at him.
"And for the record, Fox, I did not deliberately lead you to believe I was
dead. Christ, I disappear for a while and you immediately imagine that I'm
dead and gone—I swear I had no idea you were sitting in here at night,
crying over the memory of our sordid affair."
"Well, what was with that final toss-off you gave me, huh? Some farewell— you actually let me believe that it meant nothing more to you than that. I
felt used." He snapped his fingers. "Wait, maybe it's because I was."
Mulder swallowed, hating the defensive tone in his words despite his attempt
to sound sarcastic.
Krycek retorted, "Hey, I gave as good as I got from you, remember? Hurt, did
it? Ashamed, were you? How the fuck do you think it felt when you did it to
me?" He stopped, breathing hard, aware of what he'd just unwittingly given
away. He hadn't meant to let it go this far. He looked down and closed his
eyes. This was not what he'd planned. But then, he knew it wasn't far from
what he should have expected.
Mulder stepped close again, this time seizing Krycek's shoulders and shoving
him against the door. "You bastard," he said, the emotions choking his
voice, "don't you ever, ever do that me again. You hear me? I thought
you were dead, Alex! And then to let me go on for hours, in that fucking
chat. It was humiliating."
"Mulder, come on. I had no way of believing that you would've been anything
but relieved and delighted to hear it," Krycek returned, bitterly. "I
didn't think you cared—"
Mulder surprised him by silencing him with a wild kiss, possessing Krycek's
mouth, fiercely invading it with his tongue. Krycek moaned against him,
pushing back against him and then moaning once more as he felt Mulder's
hardness beneath his sweats, rubbing against him.
As they broke off for air, gasping, Krycek managed, "I wanted to tell you, I
wanted to so badly. Fuck, Mulder, I would've given anything to know that
you wanted it, that you wanted me! But you never said anything, you let me
think you felt nothing, that it was nothing to you! What did you expect?
What was I supposed to do?"
Mulder stared back at him as he finished his breathless explanation, and
then sighed. And leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together.
"Goddamned mother-fucking son of a bitch," he whispered slowly, making it
sound like an endearment. "What the hell am I going to do with you?"
Krycek was shaking; Mulder could feel it as he stood there, leaning into the
man who'd managed to turn his life upside down on a regular basis since
their first meeting. Mulder was aware of relief, of the feeling of having
been granted a reprieve, a second chance. He placed a kiss on Krycek's
nose. Then stepped back. "Sit down. Did you bring the information?"
Krycek stared at him, unable to determine what Mulder's intentions were.
"Yeah, I did. Here," he reached into a pocket and brought out a disk. He
tossed it onto the table, where it landed with a slapping sound as it
whirled nearly to the edge but didn't fall off. "So, what? What now? Want
to shoot me? I really couldn't care less at this point. Maybe I ought to
just let you do it this time."
"I said, sit down. Come on, sit." Mulder didn't sound angry. He sounded
reflective, actually. Krycek moved past him, going to the couch. Alex sat,
his leather jacket creaking loudly in the surreal silence. He couldn't
believe he was taking this chance, after all that had happened between them.
Things would be easier if he'd just left it the way they were. But the
thought of Mulder crying over him had broken down his resolve. And the way
Mulder looked at him... This new look in Mulder's eyes was different than
before.
Mulder came to stand before him. Looking down at him, Mulder shook his
head. "What you did was an act of cowardice, Alex. The way you left things
with me."
"Was it, now? The way I see it, Fox, it was an act of self-preservation.
Imagine my very real fear after the way I left you that you'd be after my
scalp. Never mind that you'd had a taste of your own medicine. You always
were bad at taking it. You can dish out easy enough though, can't you?"
But Krycek wasn't sneering. He sounded dejected and beaten. And his knees
were shaking; he was still trembling all over.
Mulder didn't miss this fact. He stepped closer, nearly between Krycek's
boots, aware of the nudity and vulnerability of his bare feet. Staring down
at him, Mulder gave him a half-smile. "I mourned for you; I actually grieved
for you. You bastard." And he leaned down.
Krycek froze and almost flinched, expecting Mulder to hit him. But Mulder
was slowly climbing atop him, right into Alex's lap, assaulting his face
with inexorable kisses as he pressed him back against the couch. "I had a
feeling; I thought it was you, earlier tonight. You could have just told
me, you know," Mulder whispered against his neck, below his right ear.
Krycek brought his arm up awkwardly to Mulder's back, placing his hand
against the man's t-shirt. Mulder smelled fresh and recently showered.
Jesus. He tried to ignore the reflexive twitch of his cock and surge of heat
that bolted through him at having Mulder sitting in his lap. Krycek
chuckled, bitterly, without humor. "Come on, that really would've been
cowardly, to do it in the chat. At least I had the balls to come tell you
in person. For all I know, you could still finish the job for real. It
wouldn't be the first time you've given me good reason to think you wanted
to."
It was Mulder's turn to suppress a wince. "There are games, and then
there's cruelty, Alex. You got me back, okay? I admit it; what I did to
you wasn't—nice. But you got me. Even though I apologized. I tried to
tell you I was sorry. Maybe…" he paused, running a hand over Krycek's
cheek, making it difficult for Krycek to focus on what Mulder was saying,
the gesture was too tender, "maybe I paid for it finally with your stunt,
letting me believe you were dead. I believed it, I really did. So why'd
you come here? Why come back? Why not let me continue to believe you were
dead and out the picture? You might have been safer that way. Why come
here—unless you do care?"
Krycek debated telling him the truth. The tip of his tongue flicked against
his lips. Damn it, having Mulder sitting on him was not exactly helping him
to—what? What had he expected to achieve by coming here, anyway?
"What made you change your mind?" Mulder repeated, facing him squarely, not
letting go of him.
Krycek stared up at him. He slowly replied, "I thought, maybe, you really
did miss me. That there was a chance you cared, after all. You had no
reason to lie to a stranger; I figured you meant it earlier, online."
Mulder felt a sinking feeling at Krycek's words. "So, you didn't come here
tonight because you wanted to? You didn't maybe miss me?"
"Fuck!" Alex swore, angrily, his arm tightening around Mulder. "I would've
done anything, anything for you. All you had to do was ask, or just tell
me it meant something to you. I—" he looked back up into Mulder's eyes.
With Mulder still crouched on him, it was impossible to lie about it. Where
was the point? "I missed you. God, I missed you. I wanted it to be real,
Mulder." The very real pain in his voice was matched by the expression in
his eyes. That, and the despair.
With a moan, Mulder leaned into him again, kissing his neck. "Don't ever,
ever scare me like that again. Or I really will shoot you, Alex!" And
relaxed, slumping against him, holding him.
Alex wondered if maybe there was a chance after all to finally go beyond the
games. "Don't give me a reason to, and I won't," he promised, hoarsely.
"And don't think I enjoyed it, because I didn't. I imagined you celebrating
that I was finally leaving you alone, not bothering you anymore, that I was
out of your life."
That was too much for Mulder, to hear the sincerity in Krycek's voice as he
said it, on top of the recent grief he'd felt tearing through him earlier,
and he wept again, from relief and also guilt, as well as simple pain,
pressing his face into Krycek's neck.
Krycek was concerned at Mulder's tremors, the silent hot tears leaking down
the skin of his neck, and he sat there rubbing Mulder's back and just
murmuring soothingly, wondering what to say. "What do you want, Mulder?"
Finally, Mulder pulled back and said, "Stay. Just—stay."
With a sad smile, Krycek said, "Only if you forgive me, for that—that last
time. Mulder, you have no idea how hard it was to leave you there. I
didn't want to. I didn't feel I had any choice."
"It's a deal." And Mulder kissed him, stopped to wipe at his own nose, and
brush at his eyes. "Come on, let's take this in there." He motioned towards
the bedroom with a lift of his chin. At Krycek's hesitation, Mulder said
slowly, "You do want to, don't you?" It was rather hard to ignore the state
of Krycek's arousal under him.
"Of course I do. Just—this—might not be the best way to clear the air."
And he leaned forward, pulling Fox back into him, kissing him slowly,
sweetly, and more gently than Mulder expected. And then said sadly, "If
you'd rather not continue this, come the morning, I'm willing to play along.
But just for right now, can we drop the shit, the pretense and the fucking
games?"
Mulder frowned slightly. "I won't change my mind, I won't. But yeah, let's
drop all that. I need you, Alex." He gave into it, the intense desire to
just kiss the man he was virtually writhing on top of with the need to
remind himself that Alex was still alive. That it was real. "Why? What
is it to you? Really?"
"Because I lo—want you, I want you," Krycek said, against his lips, into
his mouth, "I want you."
END
Hit and Run 7: Epilogue
by Jami Wilsen
Remember that long, angsty and beautiful series called 'Hit and Run', by
Frankie and Lucy Snowe? If not, I suggest you read it at once! Absolutely
wonderful. Hot, delicious and very angsty. Anyway, I loved it so much that
I was finally driven to write an epilogue for it. So, without further ado:
