Part IV Later, in bed, his head resting against Skinner's shoulder, Krycek said very
quietly, "You know, he's right Walter, I do owe him."
Skinner arched an eyebrow. "The man beats and rapes you and you owe him?"
Krycek said dryly, "Well, I killed his father, remember?" Not even to
Skinner could he explain his compulsory need to leave no debts behind once
this was over.
Skinner shifted. "Alex, what do you want from me? My blessing?"
There was a long silence and then, "I don't know," Krycek admitted softly.
"It scares me to realize just how much I want to ask you. Since—" he
cleared his throat, "since I got away from the Consortium I haven't asked
anybody for anything and that's the way I intended it to stay."
"Sounds pretty lonely to me," Skinner said calmly. "You can't have a
relationship without limits and trust and all kinds of uncomfortable
compromises, believe me after being married I know."
"Forgive me, but I do not really want to know about your marriage to
Sharon," Krycek retorted.
Skinner actually chuckled, "Hmm, you wouldn't be jealous by any chance,
Alex?"
"Me? Why should I be?" was the curt answer, and then suddenly Krycek
laughed. "Fuck, listen to us, we sound just like a—" he stopped and the
laughter died abruptly.
"Like a couple?" Skinner arched an eyebrow. "I think that's what we're
working towards, don't you?"
"I... don't know," was the slow admission. "I've never really been in a
relationship, if you mean the kind where you date and make dinner together
and all that shit."
"It's not shit, Alex. If it works, it's the best, the only thing that keeps
you sane," Skinner said quietly.
"If you say so," Krycek sounded openly skeptical.
"I do say so," Skinner said firmly. There was a long comfortable silence,
and then just as Krycek was drifting off to sleep, he heard Skinner's deep
voice say quietly, "and Alex... I know you're not asking my permission, but
for what it's worth I'll respect your decision."
Krycek didn't say anything, but his body relaxed, and although Skinner still
wanted to go pound Mulder into the ground, he knew that it had been the
right thing to say.
Skinner was working in the main room the next morning, thinking of Alex
Krycek. So much pain, and so much passion. A wry smile curved his lips, so
Russian.
The room was clean and far tidier than before the attack. Through some
miracle most of the computer equipment had survived and Skinner, Mulder and
Krycek had all chipped in to replace whatever had been lost.
Sitting by the workbench, Skinner was tinkering with one of the mines he
planned on burying along the perimeter later on. Although they hadn't heard
anything from Spender again, he wanted to be ready. However, he was also
aware of the patience and cunning of their enemy, and felt a small trickle
of ice down his spine. He knew that if Spender wouldn't forgive them for
their betrayal, none of them would ever live in safety again.
A soft sound behind made him look up and unconsciously his eyebrows knitted
in a frown. Mulder, and by the looks of him, ready for another
confrontation. Well fine, he wasn't too happy with his agent either.
He nodded curtly and said, "Hand me one of those will you, Mulder?" He
nodded at the beer he'd lined up against the wall. Mulder obeyed, popping
open the tab and handing it over. Skinner drank down, sighing in
satisfaction. "Ahh, nothing as good as a cold beer on a hot day."
Mulder said nothing giving Skinner a defiant glare.
There was a long tense silence and then Skinner said evenly, "What exactly
are you trying to accomplish, Mulder?"
"I... I want—"
A hint of steel crept into the deep level voice. "I know what you want," the
cold contempt drove the blood into Mulder's cheeks. "The real question is
how the fuck you have the stomach to demand what you do."
Mulder's hands clenched. "I don't have a choice," he said harshly.
Skinner gave him an incredulous look. "No choice?"
"No, I don't! Because you took it away," Mulder accused bitterly.
Skinner sighed and asked wearily. "Are we back to that again? I did not take
anything away from you." He took another swig of his beer. "This has nothing
to do with me, just with you and Alex. What did you really think he'd do,
Mulder? Fall into your arms and swear eternal love?" Mulder flushed again.
Although Skinner meant to keep his promise to respect Alex's decision, that
didn't mean he couldn't at least try and make Mulder back off. Bitter
experience had taught him that rage and yelling only made the younger man
more contrary and stubborn. Besides, he knew that he had to tread very
carefully. Krycek was wary as hell. However, that did not mean that Skinner
couldn't do a little manipulation of his own. Maybe he could make Mulder see
sense through logic. His mouth twisted into a grim smile. Mulder logical?
"I just don't get it," Mulder admitted reluctantly. "How is it that you and
Alex seem to have this... this connection? He beat you up, and nearly killed
you, and you beat him up and left him to freeze half to death on the
balcony. You should hate each other, instead he trusts you."
"We have a connection, as you call it Mulder, because we are the same."
Skinner slowly swirled the beer can around, hearing the dregs swoosh inside
the container and then settle again. "We've walked through hell and lived to
tell the tale."
Wadding up the can and tossing it into the trashcan, Skinner leaned back.
"Alex feels safe with me, Mulder, because he doesn't think he has to hide
anything from me and because I won't judge him for what he was."
"I don't understand," Mulder said flatly, "I know what he is. I know what
he's done."
Skinner shook his head, "No, knowing and understanding are two different
things." He gave Mulder a thoughtful look. "Alex was a whore, a Consortium
whore and a killer."
Mulder winced despite himself, pain reflecting in the hazel of his eyes. "I
know."
"Hurts doesn't it?"
He nodded mutely.
"But why does it hurt?"
Mulder shook his head, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"What I mean," Skinner said rather coolly, "is whom do you hurt for,
yourself or Alex? Because the thought of him with other men, many other
men makes you jealous, or because he didn't choose to be with them."
Mulder swallowed finally seeing what Skinner was driving at.
"I don't know," he muttered, ashamed and yet unable to deny his selfishness.
He couldn't deny that his first instinctive reaction was bitter jealousy at
the thought of his Alex with anyone else. Except, he thought embittered,
Krycek wasn't his Alex any longer; he was Skinner's.
Skinner nodded, unsurprised. "That's the price you pay for loving a man like
Alex Krycek, Mulder. All those ugly painful memories... They have made him
into the man he is." He spread his hands, looking down at the neat workbench
in front of him. "And they've hurt him, make no mistake about that. He hides
it well, granted, but the wounds are still there." There was something
distant in his eyes, "one of my best friends married a Vietnamese whore. A
lovely woman, Wei-Ling. Brad's the one who told me of the price you pay, but
he also said something else." He paused, "if you manage to get past the
first instinctive revulsion, the hurt. If you can help them heal, then
you'll have something very, very special. A woman like Wei-Ling, or a man
like Alex Krycek, they would never cheat on you, once they give their heart,
they would die for you," a crooked smile, "or in Alex's case, kill. Because
they have seen too much of ugliness they treasure what they have all the
more. They are capable of a kind of love we all dream of but seldom find."
"You really love him, sir." The 'sir' once again slipping out easily.
Skinner gave him a strange look, "Why is that so hard to believe?"
Mulder shook his head, "No reason I guess, but I've always thought of you as
such a white-bread straight arrow conservative guy."
Skinner smiled a little wryly, "Shows how little you know about me, Mulder.
I like to keep my private life exactly that, private. But you're right that
I don't go cruisin' for ass down on the Strip, nor am in to leather or BDSM,
I'm really a very vanilla kind of guy."
It was beyond strange to hear those words from the lips of Walter Skinner,
Mulder thought, wondering when he'd fallen through the rabbit's hole. "Yes,
sir," he said woodenly.
Skinner gave him another keen look, and a faint, almost sympathetic smile,
"It's rather like realizing for the first time that your parents actually
have sex," he said calmly. "It tends to shift everything around a bit."
Mulder felt a sudden burning resentment, akin to hatred, of this man who had
taken everything he had ever wanted from him, and now gave him a
condescending, superior smirk. He felt the need to hurt in kind, as he had
been hurt. "Are you sure you can give Alex what he needs then? As you say
you're a vanilla guy, and Alex might get bored and wander off."
"You couldn't be more wrong," they both started at the cool husky voice
coming from the doorway.
Krycek walked into the room, "Interesting conversation, can anybody join?"
he asked, folding his body and settling down at Skinner's feet, leaning
against his leg. He looked at Mulder, "it's exactly because I have something
to compare it to, that I love what Walter and I do in bed," he smiled up at
Skinner who let one large hand rest gently on his shoulder.
Mulder felt encased in ice. It was a knife through his soul the knowledge
that Alex had never smiled at him like that, never curled up around his
body, never leaned his cheek against his leg, rubbing lightly, not in an
overtly sexual way, more as if to give and receive casual affection and
intimacy.
"This is your revenge, isn't it?" He whispered between stiff lips.
Krycek looked up, "Revenge?"
"For the deal I made."
Krycek opened his mouth and then he closed it again, a strange expression
crossing his face. "I honestly don't know, I can't deny that yeah, a part of
me doesn't mind what you're feeling."
He gave Mulder a candid look, "The deal you made... I thought you were one
of the 'good guys' and good guys don't do what you did." He smiled faintly
and shrugged, "ah well, another illusion lost." He stretched sinuously,
deliberately rubbing himself against Skinner, trailing his fingers down a
powerful arm. Meanwhile green eyes watched Mulder, mocking silently.
Skinner gave Krycek an enigmatic look but allowed the touch.
Mulder's eyes narrowed. "If you don't mind, sir, I would like to speak to
Krycek in private."
Skinner opened his mouth to growl out a refusal when he felt the body
pressed against him tense. "Alex?" he asked softly.
A moment's hesitation and then Krycek shook his head. "I'll deal with it,
Walter."
It was with a sense of surrealism that Mulder watched as Skinner, Walter
Skinner, obeyed without a word, rising his hand remaining a moment longer
on Krycek's shoulder and squeezing gently before he said calmly, "I'll be in
the kitchen if you need me." And then he left, closing the door behind him.
"How the fuck did you do that?" Mulder asked in amazement.
"It's all done with kindness, firmness and a rolled up newspaper." Krycek's
smile died rapidly.
There was an uncomfortable silence and finally Mulder couldn't stand it any
longer as he said abruptly, "Why, if you hate me, did you let me fuck you.
And don't give me that shit about a bargain. You wanted me. You can't fake
something like that."
"I don't hate you," Krycek said calmly. "There is a part of me that will
always want you, Mulder. Hell," he smiled almost wistfully, "I was more than
a little in love or at least in lust with you for years."
Mulder bit his lip, tasting his own blood. To hear Alex admit it so
casually. The answer to all his dreams. The pain tore through him. "But?"
"I trust Walter." His voice turned dry, "I don't trust any easier than you
do, and what you did," his gaze did not falter, "tore that trust apart."
"Why the hell didn't you tell me, Alex?!" He felt completely devastated by
the calm words.
"Tell you what? That when you and your mother thought Bill Mulder was
working, he was actually fucking me and my sister? That the men who formed
the second government also liked some pretty strange entertainment? Would
you have believed me? Or would it have been just another lie from the
ratbastard?"
His eyes suddenly hardened. "Oh no, Mulder, I don't explain myself to
anybody, and that's how it's always been. There is an old Portuguese proverb
that goes something like, 'take what you want and pay for it says God.'
That's what I did. I wanted to kill your father, Mulder. I loved it! When I
pulled that trigger—" he stopped abruptly. "It doesn't matter."
Mulder sat very still. He tried to dredge up some of the cold anger that had
always filled him when he thought of Krycek killing his father, but God he
was so tired of hating. Of emotions that tore his soul apart.
Abruptly it hit him. "Your sister? Petya's mother?" A terrible suspicion
suddenly filled him. He went white as paper. "Alex?"
There was only silence and Krycek didn't meet his eyes.
One could accuse Fox Mulder of being many things but stupid was not one of
them.
"Oh my God!" Mulder sank down, suddenly devastated. "Peter's my half-brother
isn't he?"
There was no answer and when Mulder looked up, Krycek was watching him
steadily.
"It's the truth isn't it? Why the hell didn't you tell me?!"
Krycek knelt on the floor, a hand on Mulder's leg. "The truth is I didn't
want you to go off the deep end."
"I see," Mulder said icily. "Mad Mulder is carted off by little men in white
coats? Screw you, Alex! You had no right to keep this from me!"
Krycek stood up, "Yes, I did. You are nothing to Petya that is not just a
genetic accident."
Mulder stared blankly in front of him. God, he had a brother. A fucking
brother. The next moment a thrill shot through him. That meant that
Alex... "I want to see him you know," he said flatly.
Krycek nodded calmly, "I know you do. Wait a couple of weeks until I've had
time to talk to him and then you can come for a visit."
A brief hesitation as Mulder fought the need to see Peter Krycek now "I
guess that will be best," he said reluctantly.
"Yes, it will."
Mulder restlessly stood up and started to pace. "That's why you killed dad,
wasn't it? Not because of the Consortium or what he did to you, but because
of Peter and your sister."
"I shot him because he deserved it," Krycek said flatly.
For the first time, fury did not fill Mulder as he listened to the words.
"Yes," he said softly, "he did."
And with the acknowledgment came a strange peace. The man Bill Mulder was
had indeed deserved death and the genetic accident that made him a father
did not excuse the crimes he had committed or the lives he had destroyed.
Krycek stared at him, obviously stunned, and Mulder felt an insane laugh
bubbling up. "Is it so hard to believe, Alex, that I can understand what you
did? Why you did it?"
A moment's silence, and then Krycek said, "Yeah, it is, Mulder." He arched a
dark eyebrow, "Especially since you've made it your life's work to blame me
for everything wrong on earth, including the greenhouse effect."
Mulder gave him a half-hearted glare before he surrendered and actually
smiled. "Maybe I've been a little single-minded," he admitted.
"The word you're looking for is obsessed, Mulder."
They looked at each other and abruptly Mulder's smile died. "I've said it
before, and I'll probably say it a thousand times more, but I'm sorry, Alex.
I'm sorry for what I did. I would give just about anything to take it back."
He hesitated, "No, that's not quite true."
This was a time for honesty, so although he felt like choking, he said
softly, " I can't say that I regret everything. I don't regret learning the
truth about my father. I will go to my death remembering the feel and smell
and taste of you in my arms." In a whisper he added, "I don't regret falling
in love."
"Oh fuck, Mulder!" Krycek sighed as crossed the space between them and knelt
before Mulder, each movement graceful and assured. Slowly he reached up and
cupped Mulder's jaw, and then he bent his head for a slow, lazy kiss,
nibbling on the lower lip.
Mulder's heart stopped and then resumed again at double speed. All his focus
was concentrated to the smooth sweep of Krycek's tongue, the light nip of
strong white teeth. He closed his eyes as his breath shuddered out slowly.
"Alex..." he wasn't sure how to finish that sentence.
Krycek shook his head as he pressed a finger against Mulder's lips. "Shh..."
he murmured, "don't say anything." His lips whispered along Mulders jaw, and
down his throat, as knowing, skillful fingers made Mulder moan and arch into
their touch helplessly, already so hard he ached.
"Alex...?" he opened his eyes to look right into jade-green depths. "You do
want me!" he breathed in triumph.
Krycek's smile was a bitter twist of his mouth. He pulled Mulder up with
him. "One last bargain, Mulder. You and me until Scully finds the cure."
Mulder stared at him, unable to believe what he'd just heard. "You can't be
serious!" he croaked.
Another smile, a shade more caustic this time. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
"Alex, you know I would never have gone through with what I said. I was
angry," Mulder mumbled, looking away.
"Do I?" Krycek said cynically. "Maybe. It doesn't matter."
Mulder thought it mattered a great deal. "You do believe me, don't you?" He
said urgently, "I would never really threaten Peter's life, not even before
I knew who he was."
"What I believe," Krycek replied evenly, "is that you'll do whatever is
necessary to get what you want."
Mulder paled. "You despise me," he whispered feeling the cool words strike
him.
A shrug even as he pulled Mulder along to the bedroom. "Why should I? I do
the same. The difference is, I don't pretend I'm being moral."
Listening to the sound of the door closing behind them, Mulder turned to the
man watching him with cool, distant eyes. He hesitated, as his brain
screamed at him to stop this now. But then Krycek pushed him against the
wall, pinning his body, one corded thigh sliding slowly between Mulder's
spread legs, the denim sliding slowly against the sudden burning hardness,
and Mulder was lost. His body caught fire and he arched, moaning and gasping
into the touch, almost screaming at the first feel of Alex's lips against
his skin as Krycek gently bit at his ear, hard, only to soothe the tender
flesh the next moment. Meanwhile long fingers started tracing the outline of
hard muscles as Mulder sucked in his breath.
"What... what about Skinner?" Mulder gasped, grasping hard, muscular
shoulders, pulling Krycek closer, rediscovering territory he had thought
lost forever.
A shadow of pain crossed Krycek's face, and then the eyes turned opaque. "He
knows, he understands," Alex sounded like a man trying to convince himself.
Hearing the well-concealed hint of pain, Mulder knew that the right thing to
do would be to tell Krycek to go. He opened his mouth to do just that. But
instead he found himself kissing Alex hungrily, going mad from the taste and
touch and fell. In the end, all he knew was that Alex was back with him
again. That he could touch and caress the supple, beautiful body in front of
him, that Alex was kissing him back and was pulling him towards the bed. He
even thought he could read a glimmer of pity for the insane need that shook
him, but even that didn't matter. He would grasp at the weakest straw, he
had fallen that deeply.
"I love you," he groaned, and waited in hope for the return of his words.
But none came, just soft touches, hot searing caresses, gasps, moans and...
silence.
Anger and desire shook him in equal parts. He wanted to punish Krycek for
not loving him. For being here, moaning and writhing in his bed. For loving
someone else, for the dark, blood-soaked past that rose like a specter
between them. He wanted to punish, yet pleasure the other man. To imprint
himself until Alex would never look at a bed and not see Mulder. Never touch
another body without remembering this night, this lover.
When the time came he was not gentle, thrusting deeply, using his body as
punishment, but whom he was punishing, himself or Alex he never knew. Krycek
more than met him, as lost in need as Mulder, head flung back, mouth open as
he breathed in harsh gasps that sounded like sobs.
Finally there was nothing but the silence that comes after. Lying in bed,
feeling the sweat slowly dry on his body, the sharp acrid musky scent of sex
filling his nostrils, the blood still thudding through him, he felt Alex
shift away and begin to leave. He knew the answer, and whatever remained of
his pride should have prevented him from speaking, but still he whispered,
the words torn from him. "Stay. Please."
Krycek didn't even turn his head. "No."
When Mulder spoke again, each word was a knife flung at the man he loved,
meant to hurt and maim. "Is it so easy for you then, to go from one bed to
another?"
Strangely, Krycek did not grow angry. "Easy?" he said slowly. "No, not easy,
but this," he nodded at the stained, rumpled sheets, and Mulder sprawled
naked across it, "has nothing to do with Walter."
"He's a more generous man than I!" Mulder spat.
Krycek laughed softly, "No, just a wiser one I think."
Mulder watched the light of the lamp by the bed paint soft shadows across
Alex's body, and he knew with despair that the fire of passion and need had
died and faded into the cold ashes of bitterness and indifference. "What
will he say when you come to his bed with the sweat and come of another man
on your skin... inside you?" he asked, and watched with a vicious
satisfaction, Krycek's flinch.
"Mulder, don't." He returned, kneeling on the floor still wearing only his
jeans, upper body bare, "Why can't you be satisfied with what you have?"
Mulder sat up, "Because it's not what I want." Unable to stop himself, he
ran his fingers along the smooth planes and beginning stubble. Krycek
remained still and submissive beneath the touch for a moment, before he
pulled away.
Rising again, when Alex looked down at the man on the bed, there was no
expression on his face. "This is all you may have, Mulder, do you
understand?"
And to his shame, Mulder heard himself whisper, "Yes..."
Skinner sat in the darkness, watching the surveillance monitors. Since
Garrett's attack had taken them by surprise, Skinner had doubled security.
He had set up a schedule that ensured someone was always screening the
security cameras. He would not easily rely on technology alone again. And
yet, even if there had been no need, he would probably have found himself
here or somewhere else just as long as it wasn't in bed, thinking of what
was going on just a few doors away.
Absently keying in a command, one camera zooming in and sweeping across an
empty street, Skinner's mouth turned grim. It had not been easy keeping his
temper in front of Alex and even more Mulder. But he was playing for high
stakes and he could not afford to lose.
"I should have known you'd be here," a soft husky drawl whispered in his
ear, and he felt a light touch of lips on his jaw.
Mouth relaxing into a crooked grin, Skinner pushed his chair back and
stretched. "Old habits."
"Good habits," Krycek said easily, hooking his foot around a nearby chair
and pulling it up beside Skinner's, straddling it, elbow resting on the
back. "Unlike your thoughts."
Skinner gave him a swift look. Although the voice was casual, the body
relaxed, he could see the watchfulness glimmering deep in green irises.
"Well, this is not exactly an ideal situation, is it? We know that Spender's
planning something, and—"
"Walter."
A single word, spoken softly, but there was something in the quiet voice
that made him flinch.
"I know what I said, Alex, and I'm keeping my word. But I'm not inhuman, you
know," he said as quietly.
"I know." Krycek looked down. "Why do it?"
Skinner waited until his continued silence forced the younger man into
looking at him. Then he lifted his hand, ignoring the tiny stiffening, the
flinch before Krycek stilled beneath the large fingers stroking down his
neck, cupping his jaw. "Because you're worth it," Walter Skinner said
deeply.
For a moment there was nothing but naked pain in the emerald eyes before
long dark lashes trembled and hid them. "That's bullshit, and you know it."
"Do I?" Skinner leaned back. "Have you ever talked to anyone about this
image problem you've got?"
"Fuck, I never knew you had a sense of humor, Walter," Alex murmured,
startled laughter running through his voice.
Skinner said blandly, "There are many things you don't know about me." It
was with secret satisfaction that he saw the slight shift, the grim
defensiveness smoothed from the lines of Krycek's face and body.
"I realize that," Krycek said softly, "and I'm looking forward to finding
out all of them."
Again Skinner had to hide his satisfaction. It was the first time Alex had
ever spoken of the future. However, careful not to spook the man beside him,
all he said was, "That won't take long. I'm a very uncomplicated man."
"You?" Krycek arched an eyebrow, "actually..." he continued slowly,
thoughtfully as if he'd just realized something, "you're a hell of a lot
more complex than I ever realized."
"I—" but whatever Skinner was going to say was interrupted by the arrival
of Byers who had the next watch. Giving the two men a curt nod, the slim
brown-haired man pointedly looked at them until Skinner stood up catching
Krycek's eye, his own glimmering in amusement as Krycek rolled his eyes.
"Good night, Byers," Krycek said cheerfully, stepping a little closer to
Skinner and letting his hand slide slowly down one powerful thigh.
Byer's flushed and ducked his head, mumbling something unintelligible and
breathing a sigh of relief once Skinner and Krycek were gone. He liked
Mulder, he really did, but sometimes things just got a little too weird
around him.
Sex and pain. Violence and need, one bleeding into another, blending into a
red-hot darkness. And always he watched Krycek rise from the bed without a
look backwards. Watched him move, silently, ghostly through the door, and
then heard the muffled sound of a door opening and closing. He knew that in
the other room Skinner would turn over, open his arms, and settle Krycek
against his shoulder. That they would sleep entwined, two bodies mingling in
the darkness, finding comfort and security in the touch of each other.
He knew that he could easily drive himself to insanity imagining Alex and
Skinner together, but it didn't stop his fantasies, or rather, nightmares
Mulder lay in his cold empty bed, knowing what he had lost, body and soul
aching for what he would never have; the trust of Alex Krycek.
Once he had believed that it would be enough to have Alex in his bed, to
know that Alex wanted him. Now, he knew just how wrong he had been. He came
to understand that he would never, could never, be satisfied with the pale
imitation of lust and need. Not when what he really craved was love and
trust.
Each day he died a little inside as he was reminded of what grew between the
man he loved and the man he worked for, and whom once he had respected and
trusted as he did few others.
It wasn't that there was much to see. A brief glance, and light brush of
fingers in passing, that was all, and yet no one who saw them could remain
unaware of their emotion. The warm smile whenever Krycek caught sight of
Skinner, the gentle look that touched Skinner's eyes when he looked at Alex.
Mulder watched and wondered if it was possible for the pain to get worse,
and each day the answer was, yes.
His only consolation and his greatest torment remained the nights when
Krycek came to his room and his bed. In silence, he undressed. In silence,
Mulder received him. Words were seldom exchanged, just soft moans and
wordless cries that spoke of need and want. But not love.
Never love.
And when Mulder tried to whisper them, they were thrust back into his throat
by hungry forbidding lips.
Leaning over Krycek, Mulder watched as long black lashes trembled and rose,
baring green eyes. Cat eyes, he thought. "You want me," he gasped.
His only answer was a bittersweet smile. "Yes," and then Krycek leaned up
and kissed him, deeply, hungrily. "Oh, yes..." he sighed into Mulder's
mouth. But it was not enough, it could never be enough, and gentle caressing
hands turned suddenly cruel, as if he could, somehow, force Alex to love
him. As if through passion he could flay the layers of protection and
finally reach the vulnerable core at the center of Alex Krycek. Yet, though
Krycek's flesh and skin molded themselves easily, wantonly in his hands,
strong muscles met and returned each thrust, each searing caress, still he
could not reach what he wanted, it remained quicksilver-like forever out of
his reach.
Afterwards, sitting up in bed, watching Krycek dress, Mulder said with a
bitterness he did not even try and hide, "I don't understand, Alex, how you
can do this."
Krycek half-turned. "Because you were right and I do owe you," he said
calmly, "because you risked your life at the Consortium getting the data I
need for Petya and because you saved my life when you shot Garrett."
"And you always pay your debts?" Mulder asked harshly.
Krycek nodded composed. "Yes. I don't have many rules or morals, but the one
thing I always do is pay my debts, and this one is easy." An odd smile
shaped his lips.
Sickened, Mulder stared at him. Suddenly he understood what Krycek meant. "I
see, you whore for me and you make love to Skinner?"
Krycek turned and gave him a steady look. "You're the past. A past I want to
forget." Mulder flinched at the quiet implacable words.
"And Skinner?"
An unnamed emotion shaded his face for a moment, "I don't know," Krycek
smiled a little wryly, "you don't have to tell me that I could seriously
screw up his career and his life, and trust me I would never do that. Walter
is—" he broke off.
"He's what?" Mulder realized there was a kind of horrible fascination in
sitting here listening to the man he loved explain just how he loved another
man.
"He is the first man who has ever looked at me and seen just me. Did you
know," his eyes lit in soft memory, "that for a long time Walter just held
me at night? I offered that first night, and every night since, but he said
no. He told me he would wait until I wanted him." A shake of his head, "he
was prepared to wait just to give me a choice. Do you understand, Mulder? He
gives, he doesn't just take."
Unlike you. The unspoken words hung in the air. You who grasped greedily and
selfishly for what you wanted. Who never thought of what I wanted or
desired. Who saw only yourself, your needs, your wants and not the man you
say you love.
Feeling sick, Mulder whispered, "Well, you don't owe me a damned thing." His
heart and soul screamed at him to stop, to hang on to whatever little he had
of Alex, but his brain overruled them both for the first time. "Alex, I do
love you, and I would never..." he broke off, "I never thought," he admitted
bleakly.
A wry, sardonic smile, "That's your problem Mulder, you never think. You
just charge off blindly."
Mulder nodded wearily. "I mean it, Alex, I know what I said in the heat of
the moment, but you don't owe me anything, and," he took a deep breath, "I'm
through forcing things on you." He bit his lip, "this was the last time," he
heard the aching loss in his voice. "Don't come here any more."
Krycek stilled and then turned. "Do you mean that?"
Mulder nodded again. "Yes," his voice was harsh rasp, "I'm as sick as you
are of this. I thought—" he broke off. "It doesn't matter what I thought."
Krycek came back and sat down on the bed. Reaching out his hand, he tilted
Mulder's head so he could look deep into hazel-gold eyes. "You thought what,
Mulder?"
"I thought I could show you what you were missing..." Mulder whispered.
"Oh, Mulder," Krycek sighed wearily and when he bent his head for a last
kiss, it was strangely gentle. "You're a fool. How could you ever think a
few fucks could change my mind or re-build trust?"
Telling Alex not to come to his bed any more was the right decision; Mulder
knew that. So why did it hurt so much? He felt like an addict whose drug had
been withheld. Like the sickly-sweet fumes of an opium pipe, Alex's offer of
his body was as addictive and as ultimately destructive.
Unfortunately Spender's threat hung heavy over them all, adding to the
already tense situation. Although they had heard little from him, none of
the six men cooped up together had any doubt he would try again.
Sitting on guard duty late at night, Mulder was absently watching the
monitors, thinking of the two men sleeping just a few doors down the
hallway.
Once again he marveled at Skinner's skill in breaking through the walls Alex
kept around himself. Hazel eyes narrowed thoughtfully as Mulder wondered if
it really was a simple as Skinner had made it sound that night in the
kitchen. Somehow he suspected there was far more.
Mulder had never been able to read Walter Skinner; he had always found the
AD an enigmatic personality. Yet the one thing he had never doubted was the
older man's intelligence or, come to think of it, ability to manipulate
people, Mulder suddenly thought grimly as he recalled several times in the
past when he'd found himself outmanouvered and manipulated into doing what
Skinner wanted.
Surely, Alex would see through that—wouldn't he?
He wished that he could talk to Scully and he badly missed her calm common
sense. In her absence he actually found himself confiding in Frohike who
wandered into the room. Like all the Gunmen, he was used to working during
odd hours.
Offering to share some Mexican take-out and a beer from an all-night
take-out place, he stayed to keep Mulder company.
"I really don't get it," Mulder brooded. "What the fuck does Alex see in
him? The man has all the charisma and warmth of a rock."
Frohike who had been more than a little startled by the developments, drank
down some more beer, and then shrugged. "Don't ask me, I mean it's not as if
Skinner's my type y'know? Too few X-chromosomes for one, and too little hair
for another."
Mulder stared down at his can. "I just don't get it."
Frohike chewed on a burrito. "Wanna know what I think?"
Mulder shrugged, and taking that for a yes, Frohike said, "I think he trusts
the big guy. I mean Skinner is pretty uncomplicated, y'know? You hit him and
he hits you back, but he doesn't spend years plotting revenge. You try and
kill him, and he'll attack you, but it'll be like in a stand-up fight. I
think Krycek likes knowing where he has Skinner."
Mulder took another bite of his spicy burrito, tasting the melted cheese
dribbled on top of the filling. "Maybe," he said gloomily. "That's great in
a friend I agree, but a lover? There has to be something more, and...
Walter Skinner?" he grimaced.
Frohike shrugged, "Yeah? I could be wrong, but it seems to me Krycek wants a
friend more than he wants a fuck."
Mulder stared at his friend, feeling as if someone had suddenly opened a
door. Shit, how could he have ever forgotten? He was supposed to be a
brilliant profiler and psychologist, so why the hell hadn't ever tried to
understand and analyze Alex instead of just reacting blindly.
Safe House, Washington, DC
"We've got a problem," Krycek announced flatly coming into the living room.
He was looking extremely grim.
"What is it?" Skinner looked up from his notebook, alerted by his tone.
"Spender."
That got everyone's attention. "I finally got hold of an old friend who
knows some of Spender's people. He says Spender is still truly and royally
pissed."
"Shit," Mulder muttered.
A dry smile crooked Krycek's mouth, "I couldn't have put it better myself."
The room fell silent as they all thought of Spender and just what the man
was capable of.
"He'll never give up, even if it takes ten years," Krycek admitted wearily,
sitting down in the sofa.
"So what do we do?" Mulder asked.
"Kill him," Skinner said flatly.
Mulder stared in mingled astonishment and horror at his superior.
Krycek however shook his head, "I've already thought of that, but it's not
an option unfortunately."
"Why not?" Once Mulder was over the shock, he began to warm to the idea.
"Because," and Krycek gave him a sarcastic look, "if we do, we'll have the
rest of the Consortium after us like that!" he snapped his fingers. "No, we
need to make a deal with him."
Skinner almost winced. Another deal, "What do we possibly have to deal that
he would be interested in?" he asked.
Krycek looked weary, almost defeated, "That's the problem," he admitted, "I
can't think of anything right off the bat, well," he glanced sideways at
Mulder, "nothing that either of us would be willing to trade."
Mulder shuddered, "No way, Alex."
Another silence and then Krycek said broodingly, "If only we had some
evidence Garrett was working for Spender as long as he claimed, that would
have really pissed off Sharpe and the others."
"Actually..." Skinner suddenly said, "Alex, would Garrett be the kind of
guy who liked insurance?"
Krycek looked up suddenly alert, "Insurance was his middle name, why?"
"Because when my friends from Langley went through the bodies they found a
safety deposit box key taped inside, ah, his body."
Mulder winced, "You have got to be joking?! He kept it there?"
Skinner nodded.
Krycek suddenly jumped from the sofa, "Fuck! You might be on to something,
Walter."
"Yeah, but we still don't know where the box is kept," Skinner pointed out.
"Not a problem, it would be the Chase Manhattan," Krycek answered absently.
Both Skinner and Mulder stared at him. "How do you know that?" Mulder
demanded.
Krycek gave him a cynical look. "Even trained operatives tend to talk after
sex."
There was a moment of silence, as there sometimes was after one of Krycek's
comments, and then Skinner broke it, "How do we get to it, you can bet
Spender's got people watching this place. Scully?"
Mulder shook his head, "He's probably watching her as well, besides she's
working, and trust me you don't want to be the one to tell Scully she has to
break off to go retrieve a box that may or may not contain something
important."
There was more silence and then Mulder said thoughtfully, "What if we use
one of Frohike's friends? He can come as a pizza delivery guy," he grinned,
"There are certainly enough of those coming and going every day. He dresses
up as one, goes to the bank gets the box and returns."
"Not bad," Krycek admitted after pondering Mulder's suggestion for a moment.
"The question is, can he be trusted?"
"I don't think we have much choice at this point," Skinner asked dryly.
After some more discussions they all agreed upon the plan, and Frohike, when
briefed, was very enthusiastic and even offered to do hit himself. An offer
they refused as diplomatically as possible.
The small odd-looking man Frohike had introduced as 'my friend Bob,'
returned safely two days later with a padded envelope. "That was the only
thing in there," he said brightly. "So, is anyone gonna tell me what's going
on?"
Skinner gave him his best AD 'look' and growled, "No!"
The man blanched, "Oookay, man," and scuttled out.
Krycek chuckled softly, "Very nice, Walter, you'll have to teach me how to
do that sometime. Do you strip paint off fence posts at fifty paces away, as
well?"
Skinner gave him another look, Krycek gave him an innocent grin, and stern
brown eyes, softened. "Only for practice," he said, and then turned back to
where the Gunmen were huddled over the computer. "What have you got?"
Langley looked up, "It's encoded," he grinned, snagging and opening a bag of
pork rinds, "well you'd expect as much, but we'll crack it."
Two days later there were no smiles, just intense frustration and the ripe
smell of unwashed feet and stale coffee, candy bar wrappings and empty chips
bags lying around.
Frohike rubbed his eyes wearily, "I want to meet whoever encrypted this, the
guy is a wizard."
Krycek who had come in to look over his shoulder said, "Better hope you go
to hell after you die then."
Startled the small man looked up, "What do you mean?"
"Because that's where I sent him two years ago," Krycek said
matter-of-factly.
Although none of them actually flinched there was some careful moving away
from Krycek, and much clearing of throats and shuffling of feet.
Skinner, unmoved by the words said dryly, "Before you shot him, you didn't
by any chance ask him about his encryption system?"
Real amusement lit moss-green eyes, and Krycek shook his head, "Sorry,
didn't have time, things were a bit frantic, and I doubt he'd have been very
cooperative." He glanced back at screen. "None of the passwords I gave you
worked?"
"No, sorry, not a one." Langley stared in intense frustration at the screen.
"I can't believe this!" Gloomily he added, "If we don't find the password,
we might never crack this." He sounded like a sulky child.
Krycek straightened abruptly and turned away.
"Alex?" Skinner said quietly, alert to the change.
"Try," Krycek cleared his throat, "try, typing, 'Bill Mulder'"
Mulder who was just coming through the door froze.
Frohike's busy fingers were already flying across the keyboard and then a
yell of triumph shattered the air. "We've got it! We've fucking got it!"
Everyone immediately clustered around the monitor staring at the information
scrolling past.
"Holy cow!" Frohike said in awe.
Lincoln Memorial, Washington DC
"You think he'll show?"
"He'll be here. Calm down Mulder," Krycek said coolly, leaning against the
rail.
Mulder shot him an irritated glance, wondering if Alex really was calm or
just putting up a good front.
They both saw the stooped figure at the same time but waited for him to come
to them.
The old man stopped and looked at them. Standing side by side, united
against the enemy, against him, and he allowed a faint smile to shape his
lips. He took out a cigarette and lit it. "I am here."
It was Krycek who broke the silence. He dug inside his jacket and came up
with a small disc that he handed to Spender. "This is a copy of a disc
containing incontrovertible evidence that Garrett was working for you. That
he betrayed his masters on your order." A wolfish smile, "they won't like
it, Spender, they won't like it at all. You know the rules as well as I do."
Unmoved, Spender took a deep drag of his cigarette. "He always was a fool."
Krycek looked at him, "A needy fool, a fool you took advantage of and used."
Spender smiled coldly, "You've always been too emotional, boy, that's your
weakness."
Mulder almost laughed, Alex Krycek too emotional? But then he supposed that
compared to Spender, a white shark would be too emotional. He said evenly,
"Even if you kill us, it won't stop the information from reaching your
enemies. I can have the entire contents of this disc out on the 'net in less
than ten minutes. What do you think your 'friends' in the Consortium would
think about that?"
If they hadn't been watching him so carefully they might have missed the
slight trembling, a flash of fear so swiftly gone it was uncertain it had
ever been there. But it was enough and Krycek laughed softly, mockingly.
"That's right, Spender, just think, all the guts of the Consortium spilled
across the internet, all courtesy of Spender."
"What do you want?" The level voice ignored the taunting.
"You dead," Krycek said flatly before Mulder could say anything. "But for
now, back off. We'll keep the disc as insurance and in return you never
contact, never touch either us or the people around us ever again."
Spender looked at Mulder. "Is this what you want?"
Mulder nodded grimly. "Yes. I just want you out of my life, Spender." There
was no regret, no hesitation in his voice. The price for some things, even
the truth, was too high.
"Very well," the old man let the butt of his cigarette drop and crushed it
out with his heel, "if the information is accurate, then you have a deal."
He didn't glance at Krycek again, focusing all his concentration on Mulder.
"I only hope you never regret your choice, Fox," the use of his first name
made Mulder flinch. "You could have had so much, you still can." A strange
note of something akin to tenderness threaded through the even voice for a
moment, "do you think he'll thank you for tonight? He'll use you, Fox, and
then throw you away, or kill you... the way he did your father."
Mulder met his eyes unflinching. "I would much rather be a fool than your
tool." He actually smiled a little, "you're both users. The difference is
Alex has done what he had to, to survive, while you, you're doing it to
validate your lies, your plots and your plans. I think," he said quietly, "I
would rather have Alex use me, than you." His voice was very calm, "and I
know I would rather have Alex's respect than yours."
Spender shook his head; "You're as stupid as Bill then." He suddenly shifted
his attention to Krycek. "He feels guilty you know, but guilt won't last
forever. And that's not why he's helping you now. What will you do when he
comes and wants his payment?" A cold supercilious smile, "whore for him as
prettily as you did it for his father?"
Krycek arched a dark eyebrow, "He won't ask." There was no doubt in his
voice. He glanced at Mulder and a small genuine smile curved his lips,
"despite what you and Bill Mulder tried to make him into, there is a hell of
a lot more good in him than dark. It took me a long time to realize that I
admit, but now I know he's not his father and he's not you."
Mulder felt a heavy burden lift from him at the sound of Alex's quiet words.
Spender looked at them, side by side, and something tired dulled his eyes.
"Have it your way then," he turned away and left them without another word.
They remained where they was until the old man was out of sight and then
Krycek abruptly exhaled deeply. "That was...!" He couldn't find the words,
almost hugging himself, blazing with satisfaction. "Fuck I've waited years
to do that!"
Mulder was sagging against the rails. "My God!" he said blankly, "I can't
believe we did it."
"Believe it, Mulder." Krycek laughed again. He turned and found Mulder
watching him in silence, something dark in the hazel eyes and the smile died
from his lips.
A brief hesitation and Krycek started to say something but then he just
shrugged and said, "Come on, Mulder, let's get back to the rest of our
lives."
Safe House, Washington, DC
With the threat of Spender neutralized, and Sharpe and his friends
apparently not suspecting anything, there was really no need for the odd
group to stay together. Yet, without any words being exchanged everyone
remained in the house, waiting...
The phone rang and Mulder groped for it sleepily, glancing at the clock
beside him. It showed 03:28. "Mulder..." he mumbled.
"We've got it, Mulder!" The voice pierced his eardrums. "We've got it!"
He sat up rubbing his eyes. "You got what?"
"The cure!" A breathless laugh told him she was flying high on adrenaline
and endomorphines. He could almost see her in front of him, exhausted, dark
shadows under her eyes, hair held back carelessly in a pony-tail.
"My God!" he croaked. "Does that include your cancer?"
"Yes!" Her voice broke slightly, betraying the strain she had been under.
"It's not a cure-all for cancer unfortunately, but it will cure my specific
type of cancer. And it will get the chip out of Peter's neck without causing
harm. I'm on my way back!"
Mulder stared blankly at the phone and then he threw back the covers and
bounded from the bed, banging doors and shouting, "Everybody, wake up, I've
got great news!"
That night, together with a still exhausted but elated Scully they had a
small celebratory dinner. All of the talk was of the cure, of how Spender
had been neutralized and everyone was carefully avoiding any mentions of the
future.
It was at desert that Skinner cleared his throat, looked around at them and
abruptly said, "I've put in for a transfer to the San Francisco field
office, and I have little doubt it'll be approved."
Silence fell as everyone stared at him. He said with shrug, "I've gone as
far as I ever will." A wry smile, "and let's face it, I'm tainted goods no
matter how you look at it. Even if the Consortium by a miracle is taken
down, I'll go down with them. Better to get out now. Six months from now
I'll retire with a golden handshake." He looked at Krycek, "so I was
thinking, I've heard San Jose is a really nice little town, close enough to
San Francisco for commuting, good fishing and bookstores. You know a place
to live there?"
Ignoring everyone else, for once green eyes were unguarded. A soft,
incredulous whisper, "Do you mean it? You would do it for me?"
Skinner looked a little uncomfortable to do this in front of witnesses,
"Well, that and the fishing."
Seeing the naked pain in Mulder's eyes, knowing just how devastated he must
be, Scully hastily stood up. "Come on, I wanted to show you something,
Mulder."
Mulder shook his head. He wasn't going to miss this. "Come on Mulder!"
Scully hissed, almost dragging him outside.
Over his shoulder he saw that Krycek had not moved, but was staring at
Skinner in total shock... Then the door closed.
Krycek said quietly, not moving from his seat. "Why, Walter, why give it all
up?"
Skinner was silent for a moment and then he said calmly, "The truth is that
I'm tired of chasing my own shadow, tired of riding a desk and signing
papers. There have been times, more and more recently that I've actually
wished myself back in 'Nam. At least back there when Charlie shot at me I
could shoot back."
He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Alex, I originally joined the FBI because
I thought I could make a difference, do some good. I always swore that the
day I didn't feel like that anymore I'd quit." He paused, "I stopped feeling
like that years ago, I just didn't realize it."
Still speaking in that calm, dispassionate voice he continued, "it's not
because of you I'm resigning from the Bureau, but I am moving to the west
coast because you're there. I can't ask you to come back to Washington, it
wouldn't be fair to Peter and..." a crooked, wry smile, "to be honest I'd
rather not have Mulder bang on our door from time to time."
Krycek didn't show the small secret thrill that shot through him at the
casual mention of 'our' door. "You're right, he would."
Still, the cynical, wary part of him that always looked for the motive
behind, made him add, "Are you sure, Walter?"
Skinner stood up and walked around the table, pulling Krycek into his arms.
"Yeah, I'm sure."
He bent his head and kissed the firm lips gently, coaxing them apart,
teasing with light touches until with an impatient sound, Krycek hooked an
arm around a broad neck and pulled it down, pink tongue curling around and
capturing the maddening mouth.
Finally forced to break apart for breath, Krycek looked up at Skinner, his
face for once naked and vulnerable. "I love you," he said, the heat
lightening his eyes robbing the words of any cliche. "And I'm yours for as
long as you want me."
"Just as I am yours, Alex," Skinner said deeply. "Always remember that." He
had seen the brief shadow, the flicker of doubt. "Never forget that it goes
both ways."
A deep shuddering breath. "It's not that I doubt you, it's just—" he broke
off suddenly.
"That too many men have owned you. I know." Big, gentle hands held him
close, not to imprison but to comfort. "I'll give you the space you need,"
Skinner said quietly. "When the nightmares come."
Krycek leaned in to the solid warmth of the big body, "As you said, it's
mutual..."
Skinner suddenly had difficulties swallowing. Sharon had never understood
his moods, the nightmares that had forced him to wander their house or the
deserted streets restlessly; every nerve tense against the images that
haunted him. "I know you will," and he heard unaccustomed emotion in his own
voice.
Still not letting go of Alex, Skinner moved them both to the sofa, sinking
down, pulling Alex even further into his arms, settling his head against his
shoulder. They lay like that in silence, just enjoying the feel and touch of
the other, the steady joy at the thought of a shared future.
"But won't you be bored if you have nothing to do?" Krycek suddenly asked.
Skinner shook his head, "I'm not going to just mooch around the house and
wait for you to come home," there was another silence as they both imagined
a time when they would be together every night and then Skinner continued,
"I've got an old friend from my army days, Mac, who runs a kind of think
tank and security operation in San Francisco. He's offered me a job there
several times. Actually," Skinner snorted in amusement, "with the kind of
salary I can command, the sale of my condo and the Bureau pension I'll be
very well off indeed." He leaned over Krycek and kissed him, "how would you
like being a kept man?"
Although Krycek smiled Skinner was swift to see the flash of hurt, and he
cursed himself. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "that was stupid and crass."
It was Alex's turn to shake his head, "Don't apologize. I'm not usually this
raw and," a sudden twinkling of humor, "I'd hate if you always had to watch
your tongue."
Skinner smoothed the graceful arch of a dark eyebrow with his fingertips.
"You're not the only one feeling a little insecure here, Alex. I mean,
you're a young man," he emphasized the word 'young' a little, "and at times
I wonder what you'd want with someone like me." His smile was rather rueful,
"and I deal with it by joking. You really could have anybody, one arm or
not, just look at Mulder."
The younger man's response took him by surprise. He groaned, "Not you too!
I've already had this conversation with Mulder." He sat up, and framed
Skinner's head between his hands. "Yeah, I really wonder what I would want
with the first man who wants me for more than what I can to him in bed, or
who I can kill for him."
Skinner had to clear his throat, awed to see the trust of a man who had
never let himself be vulnerable enough to believe in anything or anybody
before. But all he said was, "I love you, Alex."
It was a gentle, quiet moment, not one of great passion, and when Krycek
observed as much, Skinner laughed. "I can give you passion, but somehow I
think you'd rather have love."
There was a long pause and then Krycek said slowly, "I'm not sure I like
that you can read me so well. Not when I can't do the same."
"In time you will," Skinner kissed him, "it just takes experience, one
advantage," his voice turned wry, "of old age."
"Oh for fuck's sake! You're not old, Walter," Krycek said with a hint of
impatience.
Skinner looked at him very somberly, "We're going to have to deal with that
Alex. I'm eighteen older than you, that's a huge difference." He was silent,
"you know those jokes about being someone's father? Well, I'm old enough to
be your father."
Krycek nodded calmly, "Yes you are, that's a little too young for me, but I
won't complain if you'll do your best to act older." A cough of laughter was
his reward, and he grinned in reply. "That's better. Look, Walter, I know
you'll probably worry about this from time to time, but don't you think both
you and Mulder are just a little hung up about the physical side of things?
I mean, I admit I didn't fall in love because of your pretty eyes," another
grin. "But, since you brought it up..."
Krycek said very calmly but with a glimmer of devilish humor in his eyes.
"The truth is that I've fucked men who are real experts at what they do. Who
know exactly where to touch, where to press, where to suck and lick to
achieve maximum effect. Beautiful physically stunning men, and yeah,
compared to them you're wrinkled and flawed and clumsy." He arched an
eyebrow, "and none of them have ever made me shake the way your lightest
touch can. I love you, and trust me, I know better than most how to
distinguish between love and lust."
Skinner couldn't help laughing. It wasn't exactly the most romantic
declaration in the world, but it was typical Alex's hard-eyed pragmatism and
it suited him perfectly.
Mulder waited until he knew that Skinner was alone. Then he slipped into the
room. He carefully avoided looking at the bed he knew they had shared,
subduing a sudden piercing stab of burning jealousy. "I wanted to know if I
could talk to you, sir?" he said.
Skinner was neatly folding a shirt into his bag. "If you don't mind me
packing while we talk, sure."
Now that he was here, he was suddenly uncertain of what to say. "Sir, won't
you reconsider your decision." When Skinner had made his announcement Mulder
had suddenly realized just what he would lose. "I, we, would really miss you
if you leave."
Skinner gave him a long look, "I appreciate the sentiment Mulder but I'm
afraid my decision is non-negotiable."
"Because of Alex?"
"He's part of it, yes," Skinner said calmly, "but not all. I just feel that
staying on will cause more harm than good. Whatever the reason, Mulder, I
did allow myself to get embroiled with the Consortium. I lied. I covered up
crimes and did other things I'm not very proud of. To be honest I've wanted
to get out for some time now." He shrugged, "and with Spender off my back,
now's the time."
"Does Alex know that's why you're resigning?"
Skinner nodded, "I told him, he understands." He added wryly, "it may not
sound very ah, romantic, but I think Alex prefers it that way. Giving up
everything for love may be great drama, but in reality other pieces have to
fall into place as well, especially when you've got a past as dark as
Alex's," he paused, "or mine."
There was a short silence and then Mulder said abruptly, "Why you and not
me?"
Skinner didn't answer at first although he obviously understood what Mulder
meant. Finally he said, "Because he knows by now that the one thing I will
never do is try and possess him." Large hands stilled in the process of
folding a T-shirt. "Ownership, bargains and sex, that's all Alex's ever
known, but I think he's finally realizing that there is something else."
He gave the other man a sudden hard look, "You don't think I've wanted to
tear your fucking heart out this last week?"
Mulder flinched at the sudden icy anger in Skinner's voice.
"But I knew if I let myself do that, I'd lose." Skinner said coldly, "I
could see him watch and wait for me to act the 'alpha male.'" He smiled
wryly, remembering Alex's words. "Another man might want protection and the
reassurance of a jealous lover, but Alex doesn't see it that way. He sees
possessiveness and ownership, and at the slightest hint that's how I felt
he'd have gone. So," he shrugged, "I backed off no matter how hard it was,
and by doing that I got his trust."
"You don't care that we fucked? That he still wants me?" Mulder couldn't
stop himself from asking viciously.
Skinner took a deep breath, obviously controlling himself. "What do you
think?" He gave Mulder an icy look. "Yeah, I hated every fucking moment he
was with you. But what I really loathed was the effect it had on Alex."
Mulder flushed in guilt. "He wants me," he repeated stubbornly.
"Yes he does, and there is a part of him that will always want you," Skinner
admitted coolly. "But that's all it is, Mulder, a physical reflex. And you
should know by now that it won't ever get you anything other than a few
mercy fucks."
"I know." Mulder said bitterly. "While you're going to have the rest of
him."
Skinner couldn't quite contain his small smile. "Yes, I will."
He bent and zipped up his bag.
They were all standing at the airport watching the planes take off. Krycek
was taking a flight to San Francisco. Scully would follow in two days time
and take the chip out of Peter's neck. Skinner was returning to DC to pack
up his office, sell his condo and arrange for the transport of his things.
Tactfully he and Scully had gone ahead to check about their tickets leaving
Mulder and Krycek alone.
Krycek was leaning his hip against one of the plastic chairs, his face open
and so filled with quiet joy it was no wonder that many women, and even some
men, turned around for a second look. However, Krycek didn't notice. Instead
he smiled at Mulder, "I talked to Peter again last night. He aced his latest
math test and is bargaining with me that, if he gets on the Honor's roll
I'll buy him a car." He smiled fondly, "he's such a little capitalist."
Mulder wasn't really listening to the words, just drinking in the sight of
the lean jeans-clad man.
Abruptly, Krycek said, "Mulder?"
"Yes?"
"I meant it, you are welcome to my house to visit Peter. But when you're
there you play by my rules, understood?"
Mulder arched an eyebrow. "And that means what exactly?"
"It means you don't shout and generally behave like an asshole. And that you
keep your temper under control." He smiled wryly, "Peter's inherited some of
it I think, and I don't even want to think of the two of you going head to
head."
"I don't have a temper," Mulder objected.
"No of course you don't," Krycek said dryly, "I've never met anyone with
such a mild disposition." He hesitated, "one more thing, Mulder, as I said
you are welcome to visit Peter, but that's all, do you understand?"
Mulder gave him a long look. "Yeah, I understand," he said finally. "But
don't expect me to bring Skinner a housewarming gift."
A sudden husky laugh, "I know, you wouldn't be Mulder if you surrendered
gracefully."
Krycek paused, and then he said quietly, "Mulder, we've been many things,
partners... enemies... even," a wry ironic twist of his mouth, "lovers of a
sort. But we've never been friends. Maybe," he paused, "maybe we could try
that?"
Mulder put his hands in his pockets. "I'm willing to try if you are," he
said evenly.
Krycek gave him a crooked grin as he bent and picked up his bag. "Friends
then, Mulder."
Watching Alex make his way towards the gate, Mulder allowed himself a small
cold smile. Friends? Just accept that Alex was lost to him forever?
Like hell he would.
EPILOGUE
Mulder was standing outside the 19th century two-story house, carefully and
lovingly renovated. It was the last place he had ever imagined Alex Krycek
to live in, and perhaps because of that he should have expected exactly a
place like this.
For the past month all he had been able to think about was this meeting.
Scully had returned more than three weeks ago and reported that the
operation was a complete success. He had tried to question her about Peter
but had gotten only vague replies, and finally she had told him that he
should make up his own mind. He had also confronted her about why she hadn't
told him. The fact that she had known about Peter Krycek and not said a word
had shaken him badly.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me, Scully?!" he'd demanded angrily, feeling
devastated by her unexpected betrayal.
"Because, Mulder," Scully returned, "I didn't want you to go chasing after
Krycek." She had continued forcefully, "I told you after he'd gone, that it
was the right thing to do, and you agreed. For his and your sake. He
deserved a second chance, and you needed to put him out of your mind."
"He's my brother!" Mulder had shouted at her.
She had looked at him, sadness replacing the anger. "Yes, he is, but I
couldn't be sure, Mulder, that you wouldn't have used him to hold on to
Krycek." Very softly she added, "He deserved better than that."
Her words had stunned him. Mostly because, if he was completely honest with
himself he would have been tempted to use Peter to get to Alex. He had
been that desperate.
He still was.
Not feeling the chill of the evening, Mulder stared at the house and the
cheerful inviting lights shining out through the windows. He was trembling
with excitement and apprehension as he crossed the street and walked up the
stairs.
He rang the bell and then waited.
The door opened and a teenage boy stared at him. A boy with Alex's eyes and
his own square jaw and nose. Mulder took a deep breath.
"Hello, Peter, I'm Fox Mulder, your brother."
THE END
Divine Retribution
by MJ Lee
Two Days Later
The Next Night
One Week Later
