She closed her eyes and let herself drift towards sleep. The overzealous
nurses had shooed out Skinner, Mulder and her family once visiting hours
were over. It felt good to be alone for the first time in several hours. She
didn't open her eyes when she heard the creak of the door being opened.
"Mulder?" she mumbled sleepily. [It would be like him to sneak back in and
watch over me,] she thought.
"It's not Mulder," an all too familiar voice said.
"Alex!" Scully's eyes flew open wide to stare into Krycek's green ones. The
young man stood there, watching from inside the doorway. He looked very much
the same as she had last seen him in Mulder's apartment. Only now he had two
arms, both hands covered in black leather gloves. [One must be prosthetic,]
she thought. "How did you get in here?"
"Two twenties. Despite what HMO's tell you, nurses are notoriously
underpaid." Krycek waked over to the chair beside the bed. "You could have
told me it was a lie, Dana," he said somewhat sadly as he sat down.
So much had happened in the short space of seventy two hours—Mulder faking
his death, her finding Krycek in Mulder's apartment, Krycek's revelation
that he and Mulder had been lovers, her collapse as she tried to accuse the
government that she worked for of giving her this disease, Mulder finding a
cure, and learning of the supposed death of the Cigarette Smoking Man; was a
shock, to put it mildly. "Alex," Scully said softly. "It was important that
they believe that Mulder was dead, even if only for a few hours." She
closed her eyes, exhausted.
Noting her tiredness, Krycek mentally cursed himself. [Scully's dying, and
here I am causing her more pain. Shit, can't I do anything right?] he
thought. "I'm sorry." Krycek took one of her hands in his. "I haven't been
able to find a cure."
Scully opened her eyes and cocked her head at him. "You don't know, Alex?"
she asked. "I'm in remission. There is no trace of the cancer in my body."
"You're healed?" Krycek blinked and let go of her. One part of him felt
wildly glad, as if her healing had shriven him of part of his sin. But
another part felt despondent, that she would only accept Krycek because of
her need for a cure. "I guess you won't be needing my help then."
Scully thought for a moment and then chose her words carefully. "We exposed
Blevins, Alex. But there are more of Them out there. We could use your
help."
"Not we, you," Krycek said with a sardonic laugh. "Somehow I don't think
Mulder will accept me with open arms. Closed fists are more likely."
"You and Mulder shared something special, Alex," Scully protested.
[Something he and I haven't shared,] she thought with a bit of jealousy.
Krycek shook his head. "But you know Mulder, quick to love or hate. And once
you've earned his hatred, there's no going back. Have you heard of Phoebe
Green?"
Scully nodded. "I know who you're talking about."
"Then you know how that bitch hurt him." Krycek sighed and looked down into
his lap. "And I hurt him even more. I shouldn't be here," he said, changing
gears abruptly. "They are probably watching you and sending people to
assassinate me even as we speak." He stood up. "I should go." Stroking
Scully's hair back from her eyes with his right hand, Krycek leaned forward
to kiss her, as he had that first time. But this time he chickened out at
the last moment. But before he could pull back, Scully put a hand behind his
head and pulled his lips to hers.
It was a chaste kiss, just a brushing of closed lips. Krycek seemed
perfectly comfortable with this intimacy, until Scully reached for his left
hand. At that point he pulled back. Scully understood his discomfort and
eased away.
Krycek stood up. "Remember, just because They want you alive now doesn't
mean that They won't change their mind later." There was no threat in his
voice, just cautious reminder.
"I know, Alex. And the same applies to you. Be careful." Scully watched as
Krycek nodded once, and then turned and walked out the swinging hospital
door. She sighed, confused about her feelings towards this man. Her head
said that he was a lying rat bastard that couldn't be trusted, while her
heart was strongly attracted to his dangerous good looks. And then there was
what she felt towards Mulder—an affection stronger than mere friendship,
but she was not ready to tell him that she loved him. [I have a lot of
thinking to do,] she thought. [But first I have a lot of healing to do.]
After being shooed out of Scully's room, he hadn't gone home. Mulder was
still deliriously happy that she had been healed. But his reaction to the
news of the Cancerman's supposed death was mixed—joy that his nemesis was
dead, and despair that he may have lost his only hope of finding Samantha
again. Unable to believe that both realities had come to pass, he stayed at
the hospital, avoiding nurses and constantly peeking into Scully's room to
verify that she was still alive and well.
He was coming out of the elevator into the deserted corridor, just having
gone to the cafeteria. [Food's just as bad as the Bureau's,] he thought,
heading towards Scully's room. He wasn't going to disturb her rest, but
watch over her for his peace of mind. But his peaceful illusions were
shattered when he saw who was leaving Scully's room. His hand automatically
went to his hip holster when he saw Krycek slip through the door. Krycek
glanced in his direction, and locked eyes. Both men were frozen for a
moment. Then Krycek bolted like a frightened deer into the stairwell. Mulder
pounded after him. Taking a flying leap down four stairs, he crashed into
Krycek and pinned him on the landing. Mulder had Krycek by the throat, his
gun centimeters from the skin between Krycek's eyes. "What did you do to
her!" he snarled in Krycek's ear.
"Nothing! I did nothing!" Krycek choked out. "I've been trying to help her."
The gun traced over Krycek's cheek to press against the underside of his
jaw. "And why the hell should I believe you?" Mulder gritted out between
clenched teeth. You've done nothing but lie to me since we first met."
Krycek's response was as honest and sincere as he could make it. "I didn't
lie to you about one thing."
Mulder's grip on Krycek's throat tightened, causing the young man to gag.
"If you value your life, Krycek," he hissed. "Don't talk about that!" At the
moment, the last thing he wanted to discuss was their sexual relationship.
Mulder looked around, trying to decide what to do. He appeared to come to a
decision. "You are going to stand up and put your hands into your pockets.
Then we are going downstairs to the parking lot. If you move your hands or
try anything funny, consider yourself dead."
Krycek nodded and rose cautiously. The gun started traveling again. It slid
down his neck, never breaking contact with his body, to trail over his
shoulder to come to rest in the small of his back. Krycek shivered as the
gun was pressed against his spine. He and Mulder walked down the emergency
stairwell. Although Krycek showed every sign of complying with his orders,
Mulder did not let his guard down for a moment. He guided his former partner
downstairs and into the parking lot and to his car. "On your knees, Krycek.
Hands on your head and cross your ankles."
Krycek obeyed. When Mulder pulled out a set of standard issue handcuffs and
began snapping them on his wrists, both flesh and plastic, Krycek couldn't
resist the urge to comment, "You were always kinky, Mulder."
Mulder hauled Krycek roughly to his feet. Before Krycek gained his balance,
he kicked the younger man square in the ass, making Krycek stumble and fall.
Because his hands were cuffed behind him, Krycek couldn't catch himself and
landed hard on his face with a loud grunt. Mulder calmly put a foot, and
most of his weight on Krycek's back, and proceeded to unlock his trunk.
Krycek cautiously lifted his scraped head, his nose already changing colors.
"What are you doing, Mulder?"
"Can't have a rat like you running loose in the front seat, can we?" Mulder
again lifted Krycek to his feet. "Get in."
"No way, Mulder!" Krycek planted his feet and shook his head violently,
leaning backwards. Even before the silo incident, he had been uneasy when
alone in small, enclosed spaces, a legacy of being locked in a closet as as
child. "No fucking way! Handcuff me to the steering wheel. Hog tie me in the
back seat. But don't lock me in there."
Mulder cocked the gun and placed it to Krycek's temple. "I'm not giving you
a choice," he said, perversely taking pleasure from Krycek's obvious
distress.
"Mulder, please, don't make me do this!" Krycek, despite the gun, was
twisting backwards and away from the car. He had broken out into a cold
sweat. Mulder shoved Krycek forward again and cocked the gun. Krycek
shivered and froze, obviously trying to decide which he feared more, being
killed or being penned in. And while he was thinking, the butt of the gun
impacted with the back of his head. Caught off guard, Krycek reeled and
briefly blacked out. But when he came to, he was curled in the trunk,
staring up at Mulder. Mulder started to lower the lid. "C'mon, Mulder. Don't
close it. Just tie it off so it's open just a bit. Mulder don't do this.
Mulllllllderrrrr!" The lid closed and the lock clicked. Now Krycek was in a
dark, quiet place, almost womb-like, except Krycek was far from an innocent
babe.
[He's not going anywhere,] Mulder thought. Then he rushed back up to
Scully's room. Scully was half asleep when he opened the door. Before she
could say anything, Mulder standing was above her. He bent down. "I just
wanted to make sure you're okay."
"I'm fine, Mulder," Scully whispered as his lips brushed her forehead. "I
just need some sleep." [And I'm not about to tell you who was here just a
few minutes ago.]
"Okay." He stepped back and eyed the machines keeping track of her vital
signs. Everything looked normal. [Maybe he's telling the truth.] "I'll see
you tomorrow." But Scully was already asleep.
So Mulder went back to his car and got into the driver's seat. Krycek was
making no sounds that he could hear. He sat there for a few minutes,
weighing his options. Taking Krycek back to his place was out of the
question. [God only knows how many bugs there are there.] If he took Krycek
to jail, his erstwhile partner would be dead before dawn. He did not want a
repeat of what happened when he went to Skinner for a safe house. So there
was really only one option. Mulder turned over the ignition, now certain of
what he was going to do.
The ride to wherever they were going was a nightmare for Krycek, while he
was awake and asleep. Both states blended together in the darkness. For the
first hour, he struggled against his restraints, but only succeeded in
pulling his prosthetic arm out of contact with his shoulder. The rest of the
time he spent silently screaming in terror of the close darkness, taunted by
the ghost memories of his father. But he would not give Mulder the
satisfaction of hearing him suffer. But near the end of the journey, he fell
asleep, exhausted by his fears and phantoms, but not finding a safe haven
from them while unconscious.
It was dark when Mulder pulled up to the cottage in Quonochontaug, Rhode
Island. He had thought long and hard about what he was going to do during
the lengthy drive. He got out of the car and went to the trunk. Mulder
opened the trunk and stared down at the half-conscious man. [All we shared
was one night,] Mulder thought. [And he was probably ordered to do it. So
why the hell am I giving him another chance to hurt me?] "Up and at 'em,
Krycek," he said with false cheerfulness, jerking his former partner out of
the trunk. "I thought a rat like you would be nocturnal."
Krycek, legs protesting and cramping, shot Mulder a dirty look and let
himself be guided up the steps. Stumbling, Krycek tripped over the
threshold. Mulder, acting on instinct, grabbed at Krycek's left wrist to
keep him from falling. And to his horror, the arm held still but Krycek kept
falling. Startled, Mulder let go. The younger man landed with a thud, and
made no attempt to get back up. Mulder had completely forgotten about the
prosthetic, and how he probably got it. Mulder nudged Krycek with his foot.
"Get up," he said, kicking the door shut.
Krycek, having regained some of his composure now that he was in open air,
slowly rose to his knees. Once back on his feet, he turned and glared at
Mulder. "I'd at least like to keep my dignity. Mind reattaching my arm?"
The plea was actually a power game. Krycek was trying to force Mulder into
acknowledging what had happened in Russia. Without a word, Mulder unzipped
the jacket. The prosthetic arm slid from the sleeve and dangled lifelessly
from the handcuffs. Roughly jerking the leather away from his captive's
body, he pulled it over Krycek's right shoulder and down both arms. Then he
repeated the process with Krycek's shirt. Despite telling himself that now
was not the time nor the place, Mulder found himself staring at Krycek's
chest the way he had when they had been lovers.
Even though he had been on the run, Krycek had taken good care of himself.
The muscles before him were even more well defined than before. But two
things marred the perfection—the truncated limb and the angry red blisters
from where the prosthetic rubbed the flesh raw. Something inside of Mulder
eased. [He's suffered as much as I have. Maybe even more, because he has no
one to turn to,] Mulder thought. His eyes then rested on the empty sleeve.
[But for the grace of God...,] Mulder thought with sadness. He reached out
and touched Krycek's left shoulder gently, fingertips barely grazing his
skin. "Tunguska?"
"What do you think?" Krycek snapped and looked away. He knew Mulder's moods
could shift faster than quicksilver. He could stand being beaten by his
former lover. But he would not be able to survive Mulder treating him
tenderly and then kicking the shit out of him. Instead he did a quick scan
of the room he found himself in. "Where the hell are we?"
"Someplace safe." Mulder looked around the summer home. After ransacking the
place for whatever his mother was trying to tell him, he had come back and
cleaned up. He had mixed emotions about being back here, knowing what
probably happened here between his mother and the Smoking Man, and that this
was where it probably had happened. But the Cancerman was probably now dead.
And it was the only place he could think of off the top of his head to stash
Krycek for the moment.
Krycek shook his head in disbelief. "You just don't get it, Mulder. Do you?
No place is safe for us." He took a step towards Mulder. "Because of who and
what we are, there is no safe haven for us. Not for me, not for you, not for
your precious Scully. The only thing we have is the illusion of safety.
You're an idiot to think otherwise."
As he felt his anger flare anew at the insult, Mulder realized what was
happening. Krycek was trying to provoke him into attacking and probably
killing him. Mulder had once said that he would live long enough to do that,
but found that the words had been and empty threat. The anger turned in a
heartbeat into pity. "And you don't even have that, do you, Krycek?" Mulder
whispered huskily. "For all you know, I brought you here to kill you."
"Ever since you found those damn Morley butts in my car, you've wanted to
kill me," Krycek said, staring Mulder in the eye. "So why don't you just get
it over with. Avenge your father's death. Eye for an eye and all that shit."
"You have answers I need, Krycek. Even if I wanted to kill you, you're more
valuable to me alive." Now Mulder reached up to stroke Krycek's cheek.
"You've developed a death wish, Alex. You want to die."
Krycek turned away from Mulder's intense gaze and gentle caress. "I don't
have any reason to live."
Gentle fingers forced Krycek to look back at Mulder. "Let me give you a
reason." He closed the distance between them, intending to bestow a gentle
kiss.
Krycek ducked away from Mulder's head. "You don't want me. You're just
trying to get me off guard so you or a Consortium assassin can finish me
off."
"Jeez, Alex! You sound even more paranoid than I do." Mulder shook his head.
"I need answers only you can provide. And I would never work with them."
Krycek's eyes narrowed suspiciously. [There is no way Mulder could still
care for me,] he thought. "Then it's a pity fuck," he said, gesturing with
his truncated arm.
"Sorry, I'm keeping all my pity for me at the moment." Mulder gently stroked
Krycek's hair. "You just can't accept the fact that I might still have
feelings for you, despite everything you've done."
"You don't mean that," Krycek said dully, not daring to hope.
Mulder shook his head. "You're the liar in this relationship, remember? You
were so distraught that you even forgot to put on your arm" His voice was a
rough burr. "I know why you came to my apartment when you thought I was
dead. But I want to hear you say why."
Krycek held himself tensely away from Mulder's body, although all he wanted
to do was to sink into his former lover's arms. "I can't, Mulder. I just
can't." He had been running for his life, and from his feelings, for too
long to become instantly vulnerable.
"It's okay," Mulder soothed, taking Krycek in his arms. He wasn't sure he
could verbalize what he felt for this man. Scully would say that his
feelings had to do with an unconscious desire to punish himself, to
self-flagellate to make up for 'failing' Samantha. But it had taken him even
longer to realize that the truth was even more complicated. To distract the
two of them, he nuzzled Krycek's neck, tonguing where shoulder met neck.
"Ever have the fantasy about making out in your parent's bed without getting
caught?"
Krycek buried his head in Mulder's shoulder and repeated what he had said in
the parking lot. "You always were a pervert, Mulder."
Mulder began sucking on the skin behind Krycek's ear. "That wasn't the
question, Alex."
Krycek arched against Mulder's body as a warm, wet tongue invaded his ear.
But still he fought against giving in to his desire. "You can't find me
sexy. Not after..." He turned away from Mulder and walked over to the
window, staring into the distance.
He jumped when he felt Mulder's arms go to either side of him, palms resting
against the wall. He was effectively trapped between Mulder's body, and the
wall, a trap he had no desire to escape. Mulder pressed forward, nestling
the bulge in his jeans against Krycek's ass. "Feel what you've done to me,
Alex." He lunged his hips forward, making Krycek moan and squirm. "You made
this, Alex. This is pure unadulterated lust for your body. " Mulder's voice
was a mere whisper in his ear. "Now answer my question. Have you had the
fantasy about making out on your parent's bed without getting caught?"
Krycek bowed his head. Mulder was certain he was going to be rejected when
he heard Krycek's reply. "You know I have." Mulder swore he could hear tears
in Krycek's voice, although his eyes were dry. "Do you want to make it a
reality?"
As an answer, Mulder hustled the younger man to what was once his parents'
bedroom. Krycek though he would pass out from the pleasure being inflicted
on him. Mulder's hands seemed to be everywhere at once, cradling his head,
brushing his lips, toying with his nipples, cupping his ass, tugging at his
fly. Mulder slowly lowered the zipper, delighted to find that Krycek was
still wearing the boxers Scully had loaned him from Mulder's clothes.
And soon Mulder had rid Krycek of them. He stepped back to admire the young
man. Krycek's cock was fully erect, the head of his cock glistening with
precum. His balls, heavy with seed, hung beneath the pointing organ. Mulder
tore his gaze away from Krycek's genitals, not without a sigh, to map the
rest of the planes and angles of his lover's body. Krycek blushed under the
intense scrutiny, reminding Mulder of a shy teenager, uncertain about his
looks, who was naked in front of his partner for the first time. [He's not
comfortable about his loss, yet,] he thought sadly. The old Krycek he knew
would be displaying his body, provoking an onslaught of feverish kisses. His
eyes caressed Krycek's abdomen, working their way up past the heaving
diaphragm to follow the flow of muscle down Krycek's right arm, admiring the
long, slender hand and elegant fingers. Then he noted something. "Do you
want it on?"
Krycek blinked, confused by the question. "What are you talking about?"
Mulder took a step closer. "You asked me to reattach it earlier." He
gestured to the artificial arm, still dangling from Krycek's by the attached
handcuff. "Do you want it on while we fuck?"
Krycek pondered the question. He loathed the prosthetic almost as much as he
loathed the stump, both were constant mocking reminders of his actions and
their consequences. To have his arm on would put him in a position of power-
he could remind Mulder with an artificial touch of what he had been
through. In fact he could hurt his lover, claiming that he wasn't able to
sense how hard he was squeezing. But he mostly found himself not wanting to
hurt Mulder anymore. [Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself.]
And the temptation would be great since a dark corner of his soul still
blamed Mulder for the loss of his arm. If Mulder hadn't attempted the Great
Escape, as Krycek thought of it, he would still have his arm. Or so an inner
voice argued, competing with the one that cried out for Mulder's affection.
"Off," he whispered, making his decision. "Off is best."
Mulder nodded. He kneeled, producing the keys to the handcuffs. He unlocked
the shackles, and tossed the keys and cuffs, artificial arm still attached,
onto the table beside the bed. But he did not let go of Krycek's hand.
Instead, he pulled the young man closer, nuzzling and kissing the bruised
wrist, before taking Krycek's waist between his hands. Krycek's eyes closed
and his breathing quickened. [I don't deserve this,] he thought as Mulder's
tongue brushed against the tip of his cock. Krycek twisted away. But instead
of Mulder pulling him forward, as Krycek expected, he was pushed backwards.
Stumbling, his legs hit the mattress behind him and Krycek fell onto the
bed. And Mulder went down with and on him. Krycek continued to squirm, not
able to stand the onslaught of Mulder's talented mouth, but not wanting it
to stop.
The whimpering noises Krycek was emitting made Mulder smile. [You've had the
power in this relationship too long,] he thought. [Time for some payback.]
So he concentrated on sucking on the cock in front of him, teasing the
underside of the head with light flicks of his tongue, scraping his teeth
gently along the throbbing vein, and sucking hard as if Krycek were a piece
of hard candy and he had were breaking his diet. He was highly gratified by
the sounds escaping Krycek's mouth—soft moans of pleasure.
But that wasn't enough for Mulder. Despite Krycek's groan of protest, his
lips left Krycek's cock and Mulder kissed his way up to his head. He hovered
over Krycek's face, forcing the man beneath him to make the next move.
Krycek's hand traced Mulder's cheek to start fumbling with the buttons of
his shirt. Mulder held still, forcing Krycek to awkwardly deal with this
obstacle. Soon the shirt was dangling off Mulder's sides, the dark nipples
erect in mimicry of Mulder's cock. Krycek arched up and covered the nipple
with his mouth. Mulder sat up, cradling his lover's head against his chest.
Krycek sucked fiercely and reached between their bodies. Mulder's breath
sped up more as Krycek's fingers danced over the erection hidden behind his
fly, freeing the other man's cock. He grasped both Mulder's and his and
began stroking. Krycek broke away from Mulder's chest when a second hand
descended to tighten the grip and speed up the rhythm. His lips blindly
sought Mulder's.
Mulder groaned. Krycek was a master fucker of both mind and body. He would
bring Mulder to the brink, and then slow down, no matter how Mulder tried to
force his hand to speed up. Mulder eventually pulled Krycek's hand away.
Kneeling between Krycek's legs, Mulder scooped up Krycek's ass and began
licking Krycek's cock and balls. And then his tongue went lower, tracing the
perineum until he reached the puckered opening. With a reverent kiss, Mulder
ever so slowly pushed his tongue inside Krycek's unprotesting body.
Krycek shuddered, tossing his head back and forth. [I can't take this,] he
thought in desperation, hand clutching the sheets in a sweat drenched fist.
He had expected a hard and quick rut, not this worshipful tenderness. He
almost lost it when he felt the vibrations of Mulder's mouth when he said
something with his lips still pressed against Krycek's ass. He sucked in a
desperate and shaky breath. "Whhhhhhhat?"
Mulder kissed his way back up to Krycek's mouth, his hips making small
rotating movements. "I don't have any condoms. Do you?"
Krycek shook his head. "But I'm clean," he blurted out. [Please believe me,
Mulder.] He wouldn't be able handle stopping after being so near to having
Mulder inside of him.
Mulder stared deep into Krycek's grass green eyes. [He's sincere. But he
doesn't know if I am,] he thought. [You're living too dangerously, Alex.]
But he didn't voice any of these thoughts. Instead, Mulder gathered the
fluid weeping from Krycek's cock in his fingers. "You're sure?" Krycek
nodded and closed his eyes. Mulder gently, slowly, slid one finger inside
Krycek's ass, savoring the heat. Just as slowly, he pulled it out, making
Krycek writhe. Then he repeated the motion with two fingers, spreading them
as he withdrew.
"You are planning to kill me!" the younger man hissed, twisting as Mulder
hit his prostate. "You're going to fuck me to death!" Krycek lifted his
head, half glaring, half pleading. "Just do it to me!"
Mulder smiled at the snarl in his lover's voice. [That is the Alex I know,]
he thought with satisfaction. He sat up and stroked his precum over his own
cock, barely wanting to touch himself for fear that he would end this
prematurely. Then Mulder snaked along Krycek's body, impaling his lover in
one smooth motion. Both men moaned, savoring the sensation of being impaled
or sheathed. But that only lasted for a second before Mulder began
thrusting, relishing the slap of his balls against Krycek's perfect ass.
Krycek reached for his own cock. Mulder pulled the hand away, entwining his
fingers in his lover's. His other hand went to the back of Krycek's head,
cradling the younger man in his arms. Experimentally, Krycek clenched his
sphincter slightly, making Mulder cry out and thrust with wild abandon.
Afterwards, neither man could say who came first. Both men came at almost
the same moment, silently and desperately in a deep kiss. But even as the
orgasm faded, the kiss did not. Without breaking lip contact, Mulder pulled
the sheets over their still, sweating forms, wrapping them in a cocoon of
warmth. Once the kiss ended, there were several equally long and tender
follow-up kisses. The gentle exploration continued, both sets of fingers
reacquainting themselves with skin and muscle they thought they would never
feel again.
Eventually they ended up curled together spoon style, Mulder taking the
outer spoon. He nuzzled Krycek's neck lazily. "Alex?"
"Yes, Mulder?" Despite himself, Krycek, while not exactly falling asleep,
was fighting the relaxed sensation that would dull his instincts and
possibly lead to his death.
"Don't leave." The arm around Krycek's midsection tightened possessively,
and warningly. "I don't want to wake up alone tomorrow."
"Mulder, I..."
"No excuses, Alex. We can figure some way to keep you safe. And we have to
talk about Scully."
Krycek's head shifted fractionally. "What about Scully?" he asked, although
he had an idea where this conversation would head.
"I know what happened between you two in my apartment."
[The kiss,] Krycek thought. [He's jealous about the kiss.] "I thought you
were dead," Krycek said in mild protest.
[I shouldn't have brought it up now.] Their relationship was complicated
enough, without adding Scully to the dynamics. Mulder laid his fingers
across Krycek's lips. "We'll talk about it in the morning. Just go to sleep,
Alex."
Krycek nodded. There was no further conversation, for fear of breaking the
fragile truce they had constructed.
He could feel himself stretched out in the bed, his left arm stretched over
his head. The room smelled of sex. Mulder could also feel the warmth of the
sun streaming through the half drawn shades of the window. [At least he took
the wet spot,] Mulder thought with a lazy smile. Catlike and still half
asleep, he yawned and stretched his right above his head.
And became fully awake when he couldn't retract his left arm. Mulder opened
his eyes and realized that he was alone in the large bed. He sat up a bit
and squinted. His hand was handcuffed to the headboard. "Alex?" he called,
trying to ignore the queasy uneasiness that was rising from his stomach. Not
hearing any response, he began to twist onto either side, searching for the
key. Finding it on the bed stand, he unlocked the cuffs. But the prosthetic
arm was missing from the table.
He got up and grabbed his jacket. His gun was still in its holster. The
nagging certainty would not leave him alone. He pulled on his slacks and
went out to the living room. It was the same as when he opened the door.
Except for the note laying on the couch.
"Mulder," was written in Krycek's precise handwriting. "I told you last
night that there was no safe place for us. I was wrong. Last night I felt
safe in your arms for the first time in a long time.
"But last night is not this morning. If I stay with you, we would both be
dead within a week. Please believe me that this is not how I wanted things
to be between us. I never meant to hurt you in any way.
"I couldn't say it last night. But I can write it this morning.
"I love you.
"Alex."
Mulder stared at the note for several minutes and then looked out at the
late morning sun. He crumpled the note in his fist, trying to formulate a
plan for what he would do the next time he crossed paths with Alex Krycek.
Uncertain Allies
Part III
Liaison
Scully gave a deep sigh and relaxed in the bed. She had been feeling so ill
for so long that she had forgotten how good it felt when she was well. She
had been healed, but at what cost? One of their implants was back inside
of her, and would be a permanent part of her for the foreseeable future. But
at this point, being alive was enough.
