No one understands you, now, do they, babe? No one sees the you that's real,
way down deep inside. You could have the love you need so easily if you'd
just give up your foolish pride and let me in.
Because I know you... I know your pain. I know your hopes and your dreams. I
know the deep and the dark of your soul. I know you're not what your seem
and I want you...
People gonna tell you what you want is wrong, try to make and mold you into
what they think they need. Cut you with their scorn if you dare to break
away. Beat you with their guilt till your soul is bruised and bleeding,
but...
I know your pain. I know your needs and desires, they're like mine. Walk
with me now through the fire to a place where love can be free.
Let go the world and give in to me... You know you want to give in to me.
You're gonna have to give in to me...
AD Skinner regarded Mulder with the sour irritation that seemed to
characterize most of his encounters with this particular field agent lately.
"Close the case, Mulder."
"Skinner, I can't. Look, give me one more week on it, all right? All I have
to do is get One Person to talk, just one. That'll crack it wide open." The
tall FBI agent leaned forward in his chair, his face earnest. "I'm telling
you that these mutilation killings were NOT the work of a simple serial
killer."
Scully frowned. "Mulder, I'd hardly call Beswick 'simple'. The man had an
elaborate psychotic delusion, bordering on the baroque."
"I know that, Scully. But it wasn't all garden variety psychosis."
Skinner passed a hand over his face. "You're not still promoting that shape
shifting theory, are you?"
"All the signs are there!" Mulder insisted. "The timing of the attacks, the
eyewitness reports... They haven't had a mountain lion sighting in that area
of the country for over 120 years."
"So they were driven into the deep wilds, and one became more active when
the construction crew started on the chemical plant."
"But don't you think it's significant that no LOCALS were harmed? People
who've been in that area all their lives? Only construction and company
employees were attacked or killed."
"I'd say that indicates a lot of city folks getting out in the woods where
they don't know what the hell they're doing, disturbing the natural order of
things, and paying the consequences," Skinner growled.
"Or disturbing the UNNATURAL order of things." Mulder argued. "There are
Indian legends in that area of a guardian spirit that can take the form of
any animal. The most favored one is believed to be a mountain lion, and the
spirit lives to protect the land and the people. That's just what happened,
don't you see?"
Scully sighed. "Mulder, a half dozen people are dead,INCLUDING the mayor of
that little mountain town you find so picturesque. You forgot him when you
said no natives were hurt."
"No, Scully, you don't understand. That comes under the protection part. It
was the mayor who ramrodded the agreement to allow the chemical plant to
build through the city council. It wouldn't have happened without him. I'm
sure he got a kickback."
Skinner's voice was sharp now. "You'd better be damn careful, making
accusations like that, Mulder! There's no evidence to indicate that theory
beyond the fact that he was friendly with a few of the company bigwigs.
Physical evidence was found linking Beswick to the murders, he attacked you,
Scully shot him, case closed."
"But something was happening when he attacked me, Walter, I swear it! His
eyes weren't right, his voice..."
"ENOUGH!"
Mulder flinched, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. Skinner was normally
surly, but when he raised his voice like that, it was time to listen. The
case would be officially closed, he wouldn't be allowed to devote any more
working hours to it, and anything done on his own time would be a hazard to
his career.
As they left the office, Scully said, "You keep pushing him, Mulder. You
knew how this was going to end when you went in there. Why do you do it?"
He stared at her. She was his partner, probably the person he was closest to
in the world, who was > supposed to understand him best, and she STILL
didn't get it. "Because I have to, Scully."
Her brows drew together. "That's a child's explanation, Mulder."
He was stung. "Well, forgive me." His voice was brittle. "It's the only one
I have."
As they entered their office, he grabbed his trench coat and shrugged into
it. "Where are you going?"
"I'm leaving early. I've put in enough damn overtime to justify it."
"Hell, Mulder, don't go off and pout somewhere."
"I'm not going to pout."
"All right, sulk, then."
"And I'm not going to sulk, either. I'm going to brood. There's a
difference." He walked out without saying good-bye.
Mulder fumed, stabbing at the buttons in the elevator and almost bouncing
off the walls in frustration while he waited for it to rise to ground level.
He swept out of the J. Edgar Hoover building in high dudgeon, but once out
of the actual building, he hesitated.
There wasn't anywhere he wanted to GO. His apartment was so empty, the Lone
Gunmen were off at some sort of conspiracy convention, and the bars... even
with their crowds of strangers, they somehow seemed more empty than his
apartment. But he couldn't go back in, and he couldn't stay still, so he
just stalked back and forth across the front of the building at the top of
the steps, trying to decide what to do.
He didn't know how long he did that, how many passes he made. Finally he
heard a voice call, "Do you intend to wear a groove in the stone, Mulder?"
He looked around. There was only one person in sight. Why hadn't he noticed
him before?
There was a bench at the bus stop in front of the building, and it held a
single occupant. He was sitting with his back to Mulder, seemingly
completely at ease. His arms were stretched out along the back on either
side, hands dangling loosely. He was wearing a leather jacket, and a
baseball cap. He didn't turn to look at Mulder, but somehow the FBI agent
felt that he was aware of him, very aware.
After a moment's hesitation, Mulder started down the steps cautiously. "Do I
know you?"
"Not as well as you might think you do, but that can be changed." As he came
up around the bench, the man tipped his head up, and grinned at Mulder.
"Shit! Krycek!"
"Miss me?"
Mulder scowled. "The last time I took a shot, yeah."
"I love you, too."
"Stop it. What are you doing here? What kind of shit are you up to?"
"Nothing really. I have some free time, and I just thought I'd like to spend
it with my fella."
"I said stop it!"
"You're so cute when you're fooling yourself."
Mulder turned and angrily stalked away. "I'm not going to stay here and
listen to your bullshit."
"Okay, we'll walk." Krycek hopped up and hurried after him. Catching up, he
matched his pace to Mulder's. "Where are we going?"
Mulder stopped, and Krycek halted with him. "I can't believe you. After what
you did to me, you show up here like nothing happened?"
Krycek smiled, but his green eyes were almost glowing. "What DID happen,
Mulder?"
Fox stared at him. "Don't play with me."
Alex cocked his head. "But it's just so much FUN, Mulder. You react so
beautifully."
"You know what you did."
"Refresh my memory."
Mulder looked away. "Texas. In... in the van."
"Ah, yes. I fucked you."
Mulder's head snapped back around, hazel eyes blazing with fury. "You RAPED
me!"
"Really? We seem to have two different interpretations of the event. So,
tell me... If it was rape, did you report it?"
Mulder was silent. No, he hadn't reported it, hadn't told anyone. Not even
Scully. "I didn't think so," Krycek said smugly. "I've been trolling the
official records, and there aren't any fresh arrest warrants out for me."
Mulder scowled and resumed walking. "Wouldn't have done any good. By the
time I came to, the physical evidence was screwed."
Alex followed, nodding. "Yeah, that's as good an excuse as any. How's your
ass, by the way? Besides fine, I mean. Didn't hurt for too long, did it?"
"I'm not discussing this with you."
"It'll be easier the next time." Fox jerked away from him with a horrified
stare. "Gah, Mulder, you've got more fits and starts tonight than I did the
first time I tried to drive a standard shift."
"What the fuck do you MEAN, "next time"? That was a fucking ABERRATION!"
"Mulder, aberration just means a departure from the normal or typical. Most
people think it's a GOOD thing when they get shaken out of their rut."
"It also means a deviation from the proper or expected course."
Alex shrugged, smiling easily. "I cop to that: I'm very improper, and I
shoot for unexpected. Have you eaten yet?"
Fox blinked at the abrupt shift in the tone of the conversation. "Like you
care."
"Sure, I care. Gotta keep your strength up, babe. Can't have you getting all
involved with aliens and conspiracies, forgetting to eat, and falling away
on me." He reached over and patted Mulder's flat belly lightly. "You'd lose
tone in that fabulous ass of yours."
Mulder swung at him, but Alex was expecting it. He had a good idea of just
how far he could go before Mulder snapped, and he'd been pushing the
envelope. Alex caught the thrown fist, grabbing his wrist. He jerked,
spinning, and Mulder found himself with his arm wrenched up behind his back,
and Krycek's other arm around his throat, tight. "Simmer down, Sweetcheeks.
There's no need to be all hostile here. I just want to take you to dinner."
Mulder struggled, but the forearm across his windpipe tightened till he was
starting to see spots in front of his eyes. When he quit fighting, it
loosened. He panted, "Let me get this straight. You're asking me on a
fucking DATE?"
"Yeah. Nothing big. We've never really dated, ya know, not even in my brief
stint as your official partner. You hang out with Scully and those computer
geeks all the time, and even have dinner with Skinhead occasionally. I want
that."
"I spend time with people I LIKE, Krycek."
"Why not spend some time with someone who understands you, Mulder?"
Fox became even quieter. "You don't know me."
Krycek's lips were so close to his ear that he could feel the warm brush of
silken skin. "Then come with me and let me learn."
More silence. "Where?"
Krycek let go, but was careful to wipe the triumphant grin off his face
before Mulder could turn around and see it. "Not far. There's a little
coffee bar I think you'll like. It has good sandwiches."
"Who pays?"
"I asked, didn't I? What kind of a guy do you think I am, Mulder?" He got a
stare. "Okay, don't answer that. Anyway, I don't make my dates go Dutch
treat. I pay."
Mulder made a show of considering, and Alex waited confidently. He wasn't
wrong. "Okay."
"Great. It's this direction."
They started walking again, not touching, but close. After a half a block,
Mulder said warningly. "Just don't try any shit. I still have my gun."
"Mhm. Any particular reason why you didn't go for it back there?" No answer.
Alex rubbed his chin to camouflage his smirk.
The place where Krycek took him wasn't bad, but it wasn't much, either.
Small, dark, but surprisingly clean for such a seedy area. There were a fair
number of people in it for the middle of the week. Either the food was
really good, it had remarkably loyal clientele, or there was something going
on.
They were greeted at the door by a thin, intense looking young girl wearing
all black, pale lipstick, and as much mascara and eye shadow as any 1920's
movie vamp. When she smiled, the femme fatale image was spoiled by a
stunning set of braces. "Cindy, I see you finally sprung for the grillwork."
"Yah, Lexi. You were right, the dentist decided to let me do it on payments.
Thanks for talking to him."
"No problem. Got a table for me and my friend?"
"Always. C'mon."
As they wove their way through the small tables, Fox hissed. "Krycek,
exactly what kind of talk did you have with her dentist?"
"A non-fatal one." As they sat, Krycek said, "We won't need menus. Just
bring us two of the French dips and a couple of beers." She nodded, leaving,
and Krycek noticed Mulder's stare. "What?"
"I usually order for myself..."
"You have a problem with the French dip? I could tell her to make it a club
instead, but you'd really be missing something. The kitchen uses best grade
sirloin. I made an arrangement with their supplier."
"Another non-fatal talk?"
"Oh, I didn't say that." Mulder stiffened. "Christ, Mulder, relax. I'm
joking. I traded favors." It wasn't fatal for the SUPPLIER, anyway, Krycek
thought.
Cindy brought the beers, and Krycek said, "Is she in yet?"
The girl didn't ask who he meant. "Not yet. Soon."
"But there IS a gig scheduled, right?"
"Oh, yeah. You think we'd have this kind of a crowd on a Wednesday if there
WASN'T gonna be a gig? You want fries with those dips?"
Krycek, the considerate date, looked at Mulder. "My friend likes to order
for himself. I'd recommend the onion rings."
"Yeah, fries would be good." Fox mumbled.
"You still using those big, sweet Texas 1015s for the rings?" Alex inquired.
"Yup. As long as the season lasts."
"I'll have the rings, then." As she bustled away, he said. "You're going to
be jealous of the rings."
"I wish you'd quit acting so... casual."
"Why? Mulder, everything doesn't have to be life-or-death angst, you know.
You need a little downtime in your life, or you're going to flame out. Just
drink your beer and enjoy the evening. You will, if you let yourself."
Mulder drank some of the beer, which was better than he had expected. They
must have a good brand on tap. Belatedly he considered the fact that there
might be something in it other than hops, and Krycek said, "It's just beer,
Mulder."
"What makes you think I was worried about anything else?"
"I know you. Despite what you claim, I know you, Mulder."
The sandwiches came. They were as good as Krycek had promised: thick with
wafer thin slices of tender, rare beef, with au jus for dipping. Eating a
French dip is a messy proposition, and Mulder's fingers were soon smeared
liberally with juice and grease. The tiny paper napkin was totally
inadequate, and he was licking his fingers before he thought about it.
He glanced up to find Krycek watching him, eyes riveted, and froze. Krycek
wiggled his own smeared fingers, then slipped one into his mouth and sucked
it, watching Mulder all the while. Fox felt a stir of heat, seeing the lean
cheeks hollowing slightly, as he slowly slid the finger in and out of his
mouth before pulling it free with a voluptuous sigh.
When the waitress came to remove the plates, he said, "Cindy, give us a few
more napkins, huh? My friend is a rather fastidious person."
"Your friend is a babe," she twinkled, pulling a pad of napkins from an
apron pocket. She handed them to Fox, saying, "He must really like you. He
doesn't bring anyone else here."
Fox wiped his hands. "Huh. So I'm privileged."
Alex reached over and snagged a napkin, beginning to clean himself. "I
haven't been with anyone else since I partnered with you, Mulder. Well, not
unless it was strictly business."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"You might ask yourself why you bothered to wonder about it at all."
While Fox was trying to think of a suitable reply, a plump woman with a mop
of dark, curly hair bustled over to the table. "Lexi! My biggest fan!"
"Hey, babe!" He stood up and they hugged. Fox noticed that he gave her butt
a quick squeeze.
She pulled away, slapping at him in amusement. "Stop that. You'll give an
old broad a heart attack. Besides, you don't really mean it, you rat." She
turned bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile on Mulder. "So, this is
Fox?"
Fox stood, a little stiffly, and shook hands. "Special Agent Mulder."
She cast a look at Krycek. "You weren't exaggerating, were you, dear? Wound
tighter than a three day clock, but cute as hell." She turned her attention
back to Mulder. "Don't worry, honey. Lexi will work those kinks out of you.
Or..." She slid a mischievious glance at Krycek. "...he might work a few
more INTO you."
Krycek laughed. "Evil woman. Can you do what we talked about before?"
"Of course. When have I ever turned down an opportunity to show off?
Besides, you know that it's one of my favorite pieces. I think it will be
very appropriate. But YOU should recite it."
"No, not tonight. I'm just here to enjoy."
"Suit yourself, hon. You always do." She eyed Mulder again, then looked at
Krycek. "If you want to join in at any point, you know I encourage that."
"I know. I might."
As she went up on the small dais that was nearby, Mulder said, "What the
hell is this? Karaoke?"
"Please. Nothing so plebeian. No, I just remembered one of your pet
obsessions."
"Good evening, friends and strangers." The murmur of voices in the room
lowered as she spoke. "As most of you know, we usually don't do a recitation
or reading on Wednesdays, but I had a special request from someone of whom
I'm very fond. Somehow the grapevine got hold of it. I'm going to do one of
his pieces, then I'm going to open the mike to anyone who has something
prepared, or just wants to get something off their chest."
She pulled a tall stool up to the mike and perched on it, adjusting the
level as she said, "Quick Paula Poundstone impression." That got a few
titters. The lights dimmed, except for a small spot just over her head.
Mulder could see an occasional silver glint among the curls that hadn't been
evident before. She was older than she looked.
Scribe closed her eyes for a moment, and you could see her centering
herself, moving into whatever mood she felt was right. Mulder had finally
realized that he was about to hear a poetry reading, or recitation, in this
case, because she had no notes.
When she opened her eyes again, her gaze had gone smoky. Her voice, when she
spoke, was still warm, but no longer cheerful. There was a husky sensuality
to it, and it made Mulder look at her more closely. "This one's called 'Song
of the Seducer'. One of these days I'm going to talk the boy into
performing his own material."
Fox stared at Alex. What now?
The room got completely quiet. Even the staff stopped what they were doing
to watch and listen. After a moment's pause, she started.
"No one understands you, now, do they babe? No one sees the you that's real,
way down deep inside. You could have the love you need so easily, if you'd
just give up your foolish pride and let me in. Because I know you..."
Krycek wasn't watching the woman. His eyes were locked on Mulder, searching.
She continued. "I know your pain. I know your hopes and your dreams. I know
the deep and the dark of your soul. I know you're not what your seem and I
want you..."
Mulder wanted to look away, but he couldn't. Krycek had him pinned as
effectively as if he was physically holding his head in a vice grip, forcing
him to lock gazes. Krycek had written this?
"People gonna tell you what you want is wrong, try to make and mold you into
what they think they need." God, that was so true. His father, the Bureau,
the world in general... Even his friends. They all seemed to have some
preconceived notion of what he should be, and he was continually falling
short of that.
"Cut you with their scorn if you dare to break away. Beat you with their
guilt till your soul is bruised and bleeding, but... I Know your pain."
That was exactly how he felt sometimes: battered. Never enough trust, never
enough faith, never quite good enough. Always something he should have done
instead or in addition. Never enough to satisfy anyone by just being
himself.
Alex Krycek whispered the words with the poet. "I know your pain. I know
your needs and desires. They're like mine. Walk with me now through the fire
to a place where love can be free."
Mulder could feel himself starting to tremble. No, don't listen. Can't
listen. Remember the title of the damn poem. The seducer, right? He'll say
anything, do anything to get what he wants. He'll offer whatever it takes.
Understanding and acceptance, this time. But there's a price. There's always
a price. There has to be.
"Let go the world and give in to me. You know you want to give in to me."
The woman's voice fell away quietly, and Krycek's voice was a bare brush of
sound. "You're gonna have to give in to me."
There was a moment's silence, then a burst of applause. The woman bowed her
head, smiling at Krycek,and gave up her seat to a boy dressed in a T-shirt
that advertised a deathmetal band, who began to recite a poem about,
shockingly enough, how the world in general just didn't understand him.
Mulder finally managed to drop his eyes, tearing > himself away from that
knowing, intense gaze. He smiled. "I've got one called Song of the Dom I
want you to hear sometime, but not tonight. It's a little early for that
one, I think."
"I've got to get home." He pushed his chair back, standing up.
"Sure." Krycek pulled some bills from his pocket, and > handed them to a
passing Cindy. "Keep the change, Cin. Put it toward your first payment." She
giggled. Mulder was making his way toward the door. Krycek > hopped up and
followed him. "Hey! Wait for baby."
Out on the street, Mulder started back for the J. Edgar Hoover Building with
Krycek once again by his side. "Kind of early for you to be turning in
Mulder, what with your insomnia..."
"I didn't say I was going to sleep, I just said I need to get home."
"Silly me, reading more into things than is there. Can I have a ride?"
"Oh, yeah, sure. I'm going to get in a car with you."
"C'mon, Mulder. I bought dinner. I just need a ride home."
Mulder considered. He doubted the triple agent would actually direct him to
where he was holed up, but if he could get some general idea of where Krycek
was staying, it might prove useful. "All right. Where?"
"You know better than that. I'll give you directions."
In the car, he indicated where to turn when it was appropriate. Mulder
started to feel apprehensive as they moved into a more deserted part of the
city. But then, it would be typical of Krycek to choose someplace totally
obscure. At last he said, "Pull over here."
Fox stopped in front of an ancient, crumbling brick building that had rubble
strewn lots on either side. He bent to peer past Krycek at the lightless
building. "It looks abandoned."
Krycek reached past him and turned the key, shutting off the car's engine.
"It is." He scooted toward Mulder, hand drifting up to settle against his
cheek.
Fox jerked his head back. "I should have known."
"What? I just want a little cuddling, Mulder, that's all. A little necking,
it doesn't have to be anything extreme." He had his arms around Mulder, and
pulled him closer.
"I've told you before, I'm not gay."
"Neither am I. The term is 'bi' Mulder, you know that, with all your
psychological studies. And I'm not attracted to you because you're a man.
I'm attracted to you because you're Fox Mulder. Isn't that how it's supposed
to be?"
He leaned forward, and Mulder turned his face away. Alex settled for
brushing his lips against the hinge of Mulder's jaw. He licked the little
hollow. When Mulder shivered, he made his way slowly down the FBI agent's
neck, trailing his tongue, and started to suck a small patch of skin just
above his collar.
"I don't want this." Mulder's voice was thick.
"Then fight me," Krycek whispered. "Go on, Mulder, slap the shit out of me.
Make me bleed. You've done it before."
Fox could remember that vividly: the feel of his fist driving into Krycek's
gut, his face. The warm wetness of blood. The way Krycek had licked the
blood from his split lip, and smiled up at him through the > rapidly
darkening bruises that marked his handsome face... Something in his gut
clenched as he compared his violence to the gentleness he was experiencing
now.
No, it's just some sort of mind fuck. He's lulling me, trying to get me to
drop my guard. Then he'll rip me open again. Mulder thought this, but when
Krycek took hold of his chin, he let his face be turned.
Krycek's mouth came down on his this time, firm and hungry. His lips were
pushed apart, and a questing tongue stroked over his teeth.
He felt Krycek's hand in his lap, kneading the growing swell of his
awakening prick. I've got to stop this now. Right now. Krycek was pulling
down his zipper, reaching into the gap. "It doesn't mean anything."
"It means as much or as little as you want it to mean, Mulder." Krycek
pulled Mulder's hard-on out into the open, and began to stroke him gently,
slowly. "You need this right now, I can tell. Let me give it to you. I can
take good care of you, if you just let me."
"I don't need you." His head had fallen back on the headrest. God, it's
been a long time since anyone touched me like this. It feels so good.
"We all need someone. Even me, and I used to think I was the most
self-sufficient bastard on the face of the earth, but here I am: jerking off
a man who's told me over and over that he hates me. What do you suppose that
means, Mulder? You're the profiler."
"It means you're nuts."
A chuckle. "Thank you for your professional opinion."
Mulder groaned as Krycek found the dribble of precome that had oozed from
his slit and used it to slick his hand, making it slide more easily on
Mulder's engorged flesh. "You need me, Mulder. You're just hanging on to
everything else so damn hard that you can't see it, and I can't understand
why. What has the rest of the world done for you except sneer at you and
kick you in the teeth?"
His hand was moving faster. Mulder found himself pushing up into Krycek's
grip, lifting his ass off the car seat with little grunts. "That's right,
Mulder, that's right. Just forget about all the rest for right now. Just you
and me, and how good this feels, how right this feels."
Krycek kissed him again. This time Mulder's teeth parted, and Krycek's
tongue swept deep, licking and stroking over Mulder's. As he pumped more
strongly, squeezing, Mulder began to suck on his tongue. He soon had to
stop, though, putting his head back and gasping. He was too close to orgasm,
bucking up wildly into Krycek's fist.
He heard Krycek whispering again. "Yes, Mulder. Give it to me, come on. I'm
the one. I know your pain. I know your needs and desires—they're like
mine." His hand moved furiously. "Let go the world and give in to me. You
know you want to give in to me. You're gonna have to give in to me."
Fox cried out desperately, grabbing Krycek by the back of the neck, holding
him as the first spasm of his climax struck. He was looking into Krycek's
eyes when he came, his sperm bathing the rapidly moving hand.
Krycek's movements slowed, but did not stop immediately. He continued to
stroke and squeeze Mulder's softening prick for a few moments, almost as if
he were petting the trembling man, trying to soothe him. Mulder hadn't
removed his hand from the back of Krycek's neck, but his grip was loose now.
Krycek pulled a bandana out of his jacket and used it to wipe Mulder off,
then cleaned his hand. He grinned at Fox, holding the bandana to his nose
for a deep snif before he tucked it back in his pocket. "I think I'll keep
this."
Feeling heavy and dreamy, Mulder murmured, "DNA sample?"
"Souvenir." Krycek kissed him again lightly, then got out of the car. He
bent back down to look through the > open passenger window. "Sorry I can't
see you to your door properly, Mulder, but it just wouldn't be wise.
Besides, I think you can use a little time alone to think about things. Just
remember, I'm the one who wants you just exactly like you are."
He moved away quickly, melting into the shadows with the ease of long
practice. Mulder tucked himself back into his pants, zipping up, then
started the car. But for a moment he just sat there, staring after Krycek.
It's a mind fuck, Mulder. That's all it is. The man is a genius at finding
the right buttons to push.
As he started back to his apartment, the words of the poem echoed in his
mind. The memory of the woman's voice faded to be replaced by Krycek's husky
tones. "I know the deep and the dark of your soul. I know your're not what
you seem, and I want you..."
Song of the Seducer
by Scribe
Seducer
