Alex's face hurt too. He reached up to rub the faint bruise on his cheekbone
inflicted by Mulder that afternoon. Actually, this pain was welcome. He
rubbed a little harder, imagining Mulder's knuckles imprinting themselves once
again. He smiled to himself. You are one sick puppy, Alex. Nothing like
getting high on pain just because that's all you'll ever get from him. Alex
dropped his hand back down in front of him. He wished he could reminisce on
the time he spent in the prison cell with Mulder. In the dark, Mulder could
forget about what Alex had done, and he could forget about who they were, and
he could allow what they both wanted to happen. But now was not the time for
erotic daydreams. Not when he lay in a camp full of strange men he barely
convinced to help him. They thought he was a stupid, lucky American who had
escaped the prison unscathed. At least, they were willing to accept that story
for now, and that was all Alex cared about.
Tomorrow, he could sneak back to the prison, and give a proper greeting to his
old teacher. Alex made a habit of never burning bridges. That habit was
paying off when he found out that the man in charge of The Test was none other
than the good Doctor. Alex never knew his real name. Probably no one did
know. He was as anonomous as the Smoker. Alex grinned. He didn't have to
know the name to know the man. The Doctor was prominent in Alex's early
training, and he had a weakness for his young student. A little fawning, some
suggestive glances, and he would have that beady-eyed scientist on his knees
begging for Alex's cock. Easy. Sex for power was a game Alex enjoyed. He
always won. Except with Mulder, a little voice whispered. Alex's eyes
narrowed as he frowned. An anger line appeared on the bridge of his nose, and
then smoothed out as he tossed the errant thought to the side. Once his
position was established at the gulag, then he could make a few calls. Getting
a flight back would be cake. This trip to Tunguska was just a minor setback.
No big deal.
Alex snuggled into the rough blanket a bit more. Sleep flowed over him like a
gray fog. Suddenly, he heard one of the men creep up behind him. Then he was
grabbed from all sides! What the hell was this?! One man held his weakened
right arm, and two held his left arm out. Two more held his legs, while the
last man, the young one who spoke English, reached into the fire. He twisted
and bucked to throw them off, but there were too many. Why were they attacking
him?? He was supposed to be safe! Then he saw. A glint in the fire. A flash
of reflected flames along a sharp edge. Alex froze and stared in horror at the
white hot blade gripped in the young peasant's hand. His only hand. They had
all sacrificed their left arms to escape The Test, and now they thought they
would do him the same favor. They didn't know he had contacts. They thought
he was lost! They thought he was a stupid American that would only get caught
and used for the Test!
"NO!" he cried out. His struggles increased, but the knife wielder straddled
his chest, pinning him to the ground with his weight. Alex was frantic. He
couldn't look away. He could barely breathe. He thrashed his head back and
forth. When he felt the first burning, uneven cut, he couldn't contain his
screams. The heat of the knife seared his skin even as it cut deep into the
muscle. He could smell his own flesh cooking. The body above his shifted with
each butchering slice. High pitched screams and hoarse pleading filled the
air, and Alex realised it was himself. He felt lightheaded. The pain was
seperate. The night was cool. The stars were bright. The strong, calloused
hands holding him seemed gentle. Then a nails on chalkboard screech resounded
through his skull as the knife scraped across bone. His arm was twisted as
bodies moved for leverage. He heard a SNAP! Crunch!, and blackness swam over
him.
He woke a few days later on a soft bed in a well-lit, warm room. Books lined
the far wall. Some papers were stacked neatly on a nearby desk. A fire
crackled off to his left. Alex turned his head to the warmth, and caught his
first glance of the bandaged stump that was once his left arm. His mind went
numb as he stared at the empty space along his side. Sweat broke out along his
body as he slowly reared his head back away from the injury. His breath came
in short, hard gasps as he struggled to comprehend the missing limb. He could
still feel his fingers! There was an itch on his forearm, but there was no arm
to scratch! Alex squeezed his eyes shut and wrenched his head to the side in
denial. The sudden movement caused a ripping pain through his left shoulder
that was very real. He cried out, and froze in a grimace of pain and grief.
The door opened, and the Doctor calmly walked to his bedside.
"I'm glad you've finally awakened, Alexei," he said in a soft sinous voice in
Russian. The little man always reminded Alex of a snake with his slithering
voice and emotionless black eyes. Alex was all too aware of his own
vulnerability. He took hold of his fears and loss, and shoved them ruthlessly
to a dark corner. With his face somewhat controlled, he looked up through his
lashes, and purposely relaxed back into the pillows.
"I'm glad it's you," Alex said, "I thought that maybe one of those ignorant
peasants was attempting to be kind."
"I think you have suffered enough of their 'kindness'" the Doctor responded.
Then he stepped back and slid out of his long, tan, coat. Alex barely heard
the light steps as the man hung the garment from a hook on the door. He
adjusted the round spectacles on his hook nose, and turned to face Alex with a
smile that barely turned the corners of his mouth, and never reached his eyes.
"I can't offer you much, Alexei, but you may have all that I have to give, of
course."
"Of course," Alex said flatly.
The doctor settled onto the side of the bed. "Now, Alexei, there is no need to
be so despondent. I understand your anger, and you should be glad to know that
those gypsy dogs have been taken care of."
"Dead?"
"Absolutely. Their actions were unforgivable." A paper dry hand skittered
across his chest to the bandages. Alex tensed under the assault as he search
the face before him for intention. His good looks, his weapon, was marred.
What would this man want with him now? Did he have the same power over him?
The black eyes shifted back to his face. "You needn't be concerned, my beauty.
The symmetry is destroyed, but you are still very attractive."
Alex berated himself for letting his misgivings show, and he quickly adjusted a
blank mask back onto his face. The Doctor chuckled. "Oh, I am well aware of
the effect you have on me, but I could always forgive you of anything." His
eyes returned to the passage of light caresses his hand made down Alex's side,
over the pectorals, each rib, and across the flat abdomen. Alex's breathed an
inner sigh of relief. The man couldn't even wait until he was healed!
"I'm just as anxious to renew our aquaintance as you are, but I think it would
be better if I'm a stronger," Alex rasped. He lowered his lashes, and licked
his lips for emphasis. The cold eyes followed his tongue with open hunger.
"I agree. Actually, I only came in here to give you this," he explained as
bent over to the night table, and drew out a small box from the lower shelf.
After opening the box, he brandished a hypodermic needle before Alex. "It's
just a little something for the pain."
Alex shook his head. "No. No heroin." He was not about to step into that trap
again!
"Oh, dear Alexei, it isn't heroin. I wouldn't do that to you."
"No morphine, either. Too similar. Aspirin will be fine."
The shadow of disappointment crossed over the bald man's face. "If you insist,
but that will make things difficult for you."
"Yeah, well, I was never one to take the easy path," Alex replied.
"No, not you," he agreed. The needle was put away, and the Doctor fetched a
bottle of aspirin from the adjoining bathroom. After checking Alex's bandages,
he left without a word, and Alex let himself truly relax. Sleep and heal.
That was priority. He closed his eyes, and pushed off thoughts of his
impending show of gratitude for another day.
The next day, a guard came to check on Alex's progress. He was recovering more
quickly than would seem normal. No doubt Alex waas given some very advanced
medical treatment. Just one more experiment among the many, he thought. Alex
actually didn't mind being the doctor's guinea pig. Survival demanded he be
back on his feet. In addition, he forced his body and mind to cope without the
missing limb. A prosthetic arm arrived for him this morning, and he was trying
it on, but it would be weeks before the shoulder was healed enough to wear the
plastic limb longer than a few hours. Even now, it chaffed. He turned to the
nervously shifting guard.
"Tell the good doctor that I would welcome his company for dinner this
evening."
The guard nodded, and quickly backed out of the room. Alex smirked. The
guards weren't certain how to treat him. They knew he had been held prisoner,
that he had been questioned by the senior officer on his first arrival, but now
he was given a very comfortable room, and the Doctor gave him every courtesy.
What was his rank? Was he angry at them for the previous treatment? They
weren't sure, and so, they walked on eggshells around him. Good. He preferred
it that way, and this evening he would re-establish control over his old
teacher.
Alex faced the mirror again. The dusky peach colored plastic looked horribly
false next to his own soft, tawny skin. The straps across his chest itched.
It seemed heavy and cumbersome. He hated it. Alex quickly stripped the arm
off, and tossed it onto the bed where it lay with the fingers curled in like a
dead beetle. It was terrible to look at, but Alex had to face reality. His
only choice was to accept this new tool just like a new knife, care for it,
embrace it like a friend. Yes. Thinking about it like that was better. It was
a tool- an extension of himself, and it really was a fine piece of machinery.
With more surgery, compliments of the fine Doctor, and time, he would gain the
ability to move the fingers, and bend the elbow at will. Still, it was just a
tool.
Looking at the mirror again, Alex traced the scars imbedded in his chest and
stomach. There were only a few. Mulder never even gave them a glance, but
there was no way he would overlook the newest disfigurement. His hand smoothed
over his left shoulder and down to the scabbed and bruised stump. Black,
bristly, stitches scratched his fingers, and he suddenly felt an itch on his
missing elbow. Alex cursed, and jerked his hand away. His plans, at one time,
were to take over from the Smoker, and be the new problem solver- the killer
and a player. Falling for Mulder was not part of the plan. Okay, well, he
would work that out. Maybe he could protect Mulder somehow. Having the Smoker
try to kill him didn't fit well with his plan either, but that was okay too.
If he couldn't have the old man's cooperation, then he would take it. Losing
an arm completely obliterated the whole strategy. It was pretty hard to be a
menacing assassin when you couldn't even tie your own shoes. Alex sighed. A
new plan then.
He still wanted to be a player. That meant taking over for one of the old men.
They were all about ready to keel over, but he knew most already had potential
successors in line. He closed his eyes, and visualized each heir. The Smoker
kept tabs on them all, and so, Alex had been privy to a great deal of
information. His bow mouth curled as the target was chosen. Bonita
Charne-Sayre. Officially, she worked for the World Health Orginization, but
she was well supported by the English gentleman, and Alex suspected that she
was his lover. Well, he could fill that space very nicely. The well manicured
man exerted a great deal of influence over the group. He gained his power from
money and secrets, and Alex knew he himself could wield those commodities just
as well. So, Dr. Karn-Sayre had to be diposed of. How?
"Lovely," said a voice behind him. Alex whirled to find the Doctor standing in
the doorway with his hands clasped. "You are still a work of art, Alexei."
"Thank you." Alex smiled. Here was the answer. Give the Doctor what he wants,
and he'll give you anything you ask for. Alex licked his lips in anticipation
of the knowledge he could gain and use from this man. The slight doctor,
misinterpreting Alex's expression, smiled in response. He shut the door behind
him as he strode towards the young man.
"I missed you, Alexei. No one really knows me like you do."
Yeah, I bet. They probably all cower and compliment your brilliance, don't
they? They're terrified of you. Alex said nothing, but he straightened, and
smugly stared down at the bespecled scientist. Originally, Alex had planned
for them to eat first, and let the doctor ramble on about the Test- dropping
tidbits of useful information along the way, but now was a time of ever
changing plans. Alex was angry- at himself, at fate, at the world, and he
loved to fuck when when he was angry.
"Get on your knees," he growled.
The bald man froze in his tracks, and Alex noticed a tremor pass over his whole
body. Slowly, he sank to his knees as Alex stalked towards him. He carefully
removed the doctor's glasses, and tossed them onto the desk. The black eyes
were wide and dialated, and he could hear the older man breathing heavily. A
prominent bulge distorted the front of the tan trousers. Alex own cock was
still comfortably sleeping, but that was easily rectified. His body never let
him down. He stepped even closer to the kneeling man, and rubbed his hand down
denim to massage his balls. He tilted his head back, and imagined Mulder
watching him- hazel-grey eyes lowered and hazy, the full mouth red and
glistening. He could almost hear those sinful moans. A tingling in his balls
spread and grew into a shiver that passed over his body. His breath became
laboured, and his dick swelled to strain at the confining jeans. He pressed
the palm of his hand over his burning hot member, and hissed. He continued
roughly stroking his crotch and inner thighs. It was always rough with Mulder,
except for that night in the cell. God! It was always so good with him! Alex
rolled his head back and forth, and moaned loudly. He heard shifting at his
feet, and imagined Mulder kneeling there, ready to take his throbbing cock into
that plush, wet mouth.
"Beautiful, Alexei." The voice skated across his senses like dead leaves on
the sidewalk. Alex slitted his eyes and peered at the scientist who stared
back at him like a man who'd been lost in the desert, and suddenly found a
waterfall. Alex felt his lips pull back in a mockery of a smile. He lifted
his hand from his crotch, and swifty slapped the kneeling man across the face.
The doctor reeled back with a grunt.
"Keep your eyes down," Alex snarled. Then he flicked open his button fly,
releasing his angry red, weeping cock. "Suck it!"he snapped.
The thin man scrambled to eagerly swallow Alex down to the root. Alex shouted,
threw his head back, and rocked his hips. He wanted to get back to thinking
about sex with Mulder, but knew that would be a mistake. This was business,
and the man before him wanted things a certain way. Instead he made himself
remember that this man was the one who ran the Test. This man had caused so
much misery, and he had ordered the Test on Mulder. Mulder was whipped, and
captured, and experimented on, because of this man. This man hurt Mulder.
Sudden rage flooded through Alex's brain. He pulled out of the warm, sucking,
mouth, and grasped the man by his throat. "You fucking, little prick! You
think I'll come for you? You think you can have the priviledge of tasting my
cum?" Alex drew back his hand, and slapped the doctor hard enough to send him
sprawling. Then he struggled for a moment to regain control. Adreneline
pumped through his body, and blood pounded in his ears and in his dick. The
thin doctor lay where he'd fallen. The man's eyes were wild with excitement,
his face was flushed dark red with Alex's handprint, and wetness darkened a
small spot on the tan trousers. Alex nodded. Good. He hadn't gone too far.
"Take your fucking clothes off," he rasped. Alex turned, and grabbed the desk
chair to sit upon. He slipped off his shoes and socks, and then, stood to
slide off the jeans. When he turned back to the doctor, the man was naked on
his hands and knees, head down. He took a minute to look him over. Alex
hadn't seen his old teacher in quite a few years. The man was still in
relatively good shape. The body was thin, but muscles shaped his arms and
legs. The only real sign of age was the graying hair scattered about on his
chest. The man's weight shifted from one hand to the other. Impatient fuck!
Alex thought, and sweeped his foot out to knock the man's arms out from under
him. The doctor landed on his elbow and chin, but Alex hadn't even paused to
watch. He was already across the room fetching a condom and lube from his
jacket. He turned back to see the thin man leaning into his folded arms with
his ass pushed out in the air. Alex tossed the lube onto the bed, and threw
the foil packet to the floor where he toed it under the doctor's face.
"Put it on me," he commanded in a deep, husky voice. The doctor licked his
thin lips.
"Of course," he answered smoothly, "I'd forgotten. How callous of me."
Alex felt his eyes and nose wrinkle up in anger, but the scientist didn't
notice as he slipped the condom over Alex's erection. Alex clamped his hand
into the man's shoulder, and wrenched him around to face the bed. The doctor
almost last his balance again, but caught himself by grabbing the mattress.
"Stand up, and lean down on the bed." Alex quickly slicked up his throbbing
cock, and leaned forward. Shit! That wouldn't work. He almost fell on his
face on top of his old teacher. Well, Alex, looks like you're not done
learning yet. He braced his weight on his feet, and patted the slim back in
front of him.
"Are you trying to make this difficult?" he barked, "Show yourself to me."
Alex smiled when he heard the catch in the man's heavy breathing at his
command. G-d Damn! But the old lizard just loved to be ordered around! Alex
looked down at the spread cheeks and exposed hole in front of him. He leered
back up at the bald head, and then, spit right into the puckered opening. He
was rewarded with a jump and an indrawn gasp. Then he guided his cock, and
thrust all the way in up to his balls. He felt the loud groan and shudder
beneath him. He paused, and then drew back slowly only to shove forward even
harder.
"Oh! Beautiful Alexei!"said a strained whisper.
Alex grabbed the man at the nape, and forced him further into the coverlet. He
set a rhythm of brutal thrusts and grunts. Alex ignored the thrashing and
bucking man beneath him. He was probably having trouble breathing, but Alex
didn't care. The little fucker deserved it! He felt tendrils of energy
crawling down his spine to gather in his tightening balls. Finally, he let up
on the pressure into the man's neck, and wrapped his arm around the trim waist.
Heaving gasps assaulted his ears, but he could feel the doctor's slippery
cockhead tap against his forearm. He pulled their sweaty bodies firmly
together.
"Fuck your fist, bitch!" he grated.
Alex watched one quick, finely sculptured hand encircle the dark erection,
slick with it's own juice. Mulder had hands like that- piano hands, surgeon
hands. Two sure strokes, and the good doctor's cum coated the dark blue
blanket. Alex groaned as tight sphincter squeezed his cock like a vice.
Lights flashed behind his eyes, and he also shuddered in orgasm. They
collapsed onto the bed. Alex rolled to one side, and stripped the condom from
his softening penis. He lay still to catch his breath, and then, he rolled to
see the doctor had crawled all the way onto the bed.
"You haven't changed much, Alexei. Just as good as I remember. Better maybe."
The thin lips parted in a tightly controlled, but real smile.
Alex smiled back. He despised this man, but he respected him too. The Doctor
was with the group almost from the beginning, and Alex had to admire the pure
cunning and ruthlessness it took to stay alive that long. Plus, the Alex owed
much of what he knew about human weaknesses to the teachings of the 'good
Doctor. They were equals for now, but Alex saw recognition in the small black
eyes that one day soon, Alex would be given this man orders. The thin man
nodded.
"I don't need my glasses to see your ambition, Alexei." The doctor sat up with
a wince. "We have work to do on that arm of yours. I will enjoy your company
while you stay, and when you are ready to leave, I will give you a contact in
St. Petersburg."
Alex gave a wry grin and a chuckle. "Are you reading minds now, Doctor?"
The doctor stood, and crossed the room to gather his clothes. "I simply know
the best moves to benefit myself. You, Alexei, eventually, will either be in
command or dead. You have already escaped death several times, and so, I
believe you are destined to be giving orders very soon."
"What if you're wrong?"
"Then, like I say, you will be dead, and no one will know that I was assisting
you."
Alex stared at the thin, bald man as he dressed. "What if I betray you?" Alex
asked.
The doctor slipped on his glasses. "I have no doubt that you will, but then,
that will be the point when you have truly become my master, and not just here
where we play."
Alex slowly nodded, and the doctor quietly left the room.
Two days later, Alex was on his way to Krasnoyarsk for the final bout of
surgery on his arm. Before leaving the prison, he wrote up instructions for
his contact in St. Petersburg. The man was retired KGB, but the doctor assured
Alex that he would cooperate. Alex sent the request under the assumed name of
Arntzen. After all, there was no need to leave a trail for the English
gentleman to follow back, and find out who ordered poor little Dr.
Charne-Sayre's death. As a side bonus, he would also have the man clean up the
evidence of the black cancer imported into America. The Smoker would be
grateful to have his mistakes removed from FBI investigation, and he would be
unlikely to reveal the duplicity of one Alex Krycek.
Alex settled back into his train seat with a satisfied smile. The last detail
would be the assassin himself. Alex was all too eager to test himself with the
new arm. He wondered, could he kill just as quickly?
A Minor
Setback
by Katail
The crackle of the fire soothed him. He lay so close that his cheeks and nose
tingled from the licking heat, but the night all around was too cold and dark
for him to want to move away. He was exhausted from running through the
tangled ungrowth. His right shoulder ached from the landing he made when he
rolled from the truck bed as it raced down the rutted road. He only hoped
Mulder had found as safe a sanctuary as he had. Alex snorted. The determined
FBI agent had probably driven that stolen truck all the way to St. Petersburg,
and was probably crammed in an airline seat awaiting his flight back to
Washington.
