The multi-coloured lights and strobes brought back memories of Oxford where he
and some of the other undergraduates would charge into one of the small
discotheque-pubs every Saturday night, spending the evening doing the inane
things prevalent to most young males on the prowl. He had met Phoebe Green on one
of those outings; had fallen for her dark, patrician looks and her sharp
intellect, ignoring the advice of friends who said she was a class-A bitch. For
two years she had used and abused him until he finally decided to start defending
himself... then she had dropped him in favour of another 'sap'. It was years
later that he was able to take a step back and analyse their doomed relationship
and her need to control every situation. He grimaced. Shame he had not turned
that psychoanalyst 'shit' upon himself. Maybe then he might have avoided falling
into the clutches of yet another dark-haired, manipulating, class-A bitch; Diana
Fowley. His introspection ended with a sharp dig of an elbow into his side. He
looked down to find Scully glaring at him.
"Why are we here?"
Scully mouthed the words, not even attempting to shout above the sound of the
Juke box which was playing a recent Cher hit... very loudly.
"Because..."
Mulder gave up, forced to resort to sign language. He pointed across the interior
to an empty table at the far end of the bar. He and Scully gently pushed their
way across the dance floor through the sweaty, gyrating bodies. They flopped into
the chairs in relief. Back here it was a little quieter. They gave the waitress
their order and scanned the crowd until the drinks arrived.
Scully took a sip of her tequila sunrise as she waited to see what her partner
was going to do next. Mulder picked up his own drink and began to take a gulp of
the cold Bud; smacking his lips in appreciation.
"That hits the spot, Scully."
That well-sculptured eyebrow rose again in disdainful resignation. She rolled her
eyes away, wondering for the nth time why she was sitting in a noisy bar on a
Saturday night in a dead-end town while the rest of that raunchy Jackie Collins
novel was waiting for her at home.
"Hey, Scully. Was that a Jackie Collins novel in your bathroom?"
Her startled eyes turned back to him, suddenly pleased about the lack of decent
lighting which would conceal the blush that heated her cheeks.
Damn!! How does he do that?
She remembered him asking to use the bathroom when he picked her up early this
morning and knew his photographic memory had probably taken a snapshot of what he
seen... but how did he time it so well? How did he manage to pick the exact
thought from her brain?
"Deduction, Scully. You looked like you had something far better to do on a
Saturday night... and having a half-read novel by the bath tub after your
previous comment about going home for a bath and tequila..."
"Okay. Okay. I'll admit that I enjoy your company, Mulder, but there are times
and places. As I said before... Why are we here?"
Mulder gave her that all-knowing grin, gulped down the remainder of the beer and
beckoned to the waitress. When she arrived he held out a twenty dollar bill,
holding on tight as she tried to take it, bringing her head down close to his.
"I'm looking for Paul Bright."
The waitress straightened and then pointed to a flamboyant looking man dressed in
a red suede jacket, pale silk shirt and pale slacks.
"Keep the change."
She smiled her thanks for the huge tip and walked away. Mulder motioned for
Scully to stay seated as he unfolded his long frame from the chair and made his
way across the room to the Pimp.
"Hey, there! I'm looking for a man..."
The Pimp eyed Mulder, noting the expensive watch.
"Well, you've come to the right place. There's plenty around here to choose
from..."
"No. Not just any man. This one was about my height. Dark hair, green eyes. Went
by the name of Michael. He... provided a service last time I was in town. Thought
I'd look him up again."
The Pimp's expression went from suspicious to lewd as he took in the ring on
Mulder's left hand. He was well acquainted with married men who used business
trips to indulge in their passion for other men, leaving the little wife at home
and oblivious.
"So who's the broad?"
"Work colleague."
The man eyed Scully suspiciously but he smiled, acknowledging the boredom in her
expression. Only a work colleague would be brought to a dump like this... never a
wife.
"Well, I can't help you. Michael found himself a sugar daddy. Left me high and
dry—except for my other studs. Hey, Leon! Come on over and say hello to..."
Mulder held up a hand.
"No... I was kinda only interested in Michael. My type. You know what I mean?"
Mulder gave a sly wink and felt sickened by the man's counter expression of
camaraderie. Leon approached seductively. Mulder wanted to shrug off the arm that
draped around his waist but this Leon was quite a big guy... not someone to mess
with.
"Who was this 'sugar daddy'?"
"You're mighty interested in Michael... Are you a Cop?"
"No... it's just... Michael looks a lot like someone I knew... and..."
The man smirked.
"Substitute meat, hey! Well, have no idea who the man was. Older guy, greying.
Smoked a lot. Now, unless you're interested in finding another substitute soul
mate..." The man's eyes trailed over Mulder's athletic body lewdly. "... or
joining my stable?" The man leered. "Guy as good looking as you could make a lot
of money..."
"No. Thanks."
Mulder turned away and walked back passed the table, surreptitiously motioning
for Scully to follow. She grabbed his arm and steered him off in a more
circuitous route to the exit. They didn't stop moving until Mulder was safely
behind the wheel of his car with Dana beside him.
"We made it out of there in good time. I saw Agents Harris and Davidson from
Skinner's department on the far side of the bar."
Mulder pursed his lips feeling, suddenly, a little perturbed. He thought he had
made a grave mistake going to Skinner; thought the man would ignore his theory
connecting the seven missing men but, instead, Skinner had kept his word and
assigned some agents to the case.
"Did they see us?"
"No... I don't believe so. Anyway, what did you find out?"
"It appears Michael was last seen in the company of someone older, greyer... who
smoked a lot. Ring any bells, Scully?"
Same Time
Alex shoved the man up against the wall, forcing the gun under the ribs into the
soft abdomen as his forearm pressed hard against the man's windpipe.
"The only blow job you're gonna get is from this gun... when I blow you away. You
know, I don't care for your kind. You're trash... lower than trash. So... Are you
gonna tell me what I want to know? Or are you gonna die?"
The loan shark shook, terrified by the ferocity of the assault, by the feral
gleam in the narrowed green eyes.
"Yes... Okay, I'll talk. Please."
The man croaked pleadingly and then sagged when Krycek removed his arm but not
the gun.
"Davey owed some people some money. He liked to gamble; borrowed some off me to
pay his debts. Believe me, I'm not such an ogre... not like some of the big
boys."
"Stop snivelling."
"Yes. Sure. Okay. Last I saw of him he said he'd figured out a way to pay me
off."
"How?"
The man licked his lips and gave a pathetic leer.
"You know... by doing that. Personal services."
"Personal services to whom?"
"Look. I don't know any more. Jeez, it was years ago... Okay. Okay." The man
cried out as Krycek's dug the gun in hard. "I only saw the go-between; the
driver. A man who would be in his mid-thirties now; a blondie."
"What about the man he was chauffeuring?"
"I didn't see him. He kept to the shadows in the car. Chain smoker though."
Krycek released the man abruptly, pushing him aside.
"Get out of here."
He watched as the man scurried away down the alleyway, constantly looking back
over his shoulder as if certain a bullet would be winging its way the moment his
back was turned. When the man had disappeared around the corner, Alex took off in
the other direction, heading back to the nondescript hotel room. On the way he
saw something very, very useful.
Krycek was grateful for the rise in the internet café market. He slipped into a
seat near the back where he could keep an eye on all the patrons and on the
door. He logged on under a little known username; the one he had asked Mulder to
contact if anything happened. It took a few minutes but he spent the time sipping
the strong black coffee brought over by the young waitress. Eventually, he
located the message board. Krycek pursed his lips. Mulder wanted to meet; had
given a location. He checked his watch and calculated how long it would take him
to reach the rendezvous. There was still time but staying here any longer was not
a great idea. He had no idea if the Smoker knew of this particular internet ID
but was not willing to take the chance.
He took a last gulp of coffee, replaced the cup and slipped a few dollars under
the saucer. Moments later he was putting as much distance between himself and the
café as he could... just in case. He paid his hotel bill in cash, not wanting to
use any of his various credit cards in case they were being monitored.
Krycek shoved his meagre belongings under the pillion of the bike and set off
back towards DC. As he rode, he thought... and the more he thought, the more he
became convinced that there was more to these disappearances that met the eye. He
had a theory and Mulder was not gonna like it one bit.
Saturday Night
Agent Harris shoved his FBI ID card at the barman, motioning towards the similar
wallet being displayed by his partner, Davidson. The barman snarled in annoyance
and jerked an arm out towards the back of the bar where Paul Bright still held
court amongst a small group of people.
The man eyed the approaching agents suspiciously. He recognised 'law
enforcement'; prided himself on being able to smell a cop a mile away. He pushed
the pretty young man hanging onto his arm aside brusquely as FBI identities were
held in front of his face.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure..."
"Don't worry, sir. We're not here to arrest you. Agent Harris and myself are
investigating the disappearance of a Michael Anacek..."
"You and everyone else."
"I'm sorry, Sir? Have there been other enquiries?"
"Yeah... in fact you just missed someone asking the whereabouts of Mikey. You
know what, I'll tell you the same thing I told him. Mikey ran out on me. Got
himself a Sugar Daddy; Older guy, chain smoker from what I could see."
"What about the other guy?"
"What other guy?"
"The one who was just asking about..."
"Oh him. Look, he was just some out-of-towner looking for a rematch..."
"Humour me. Give me a description."
"Tall, good-looking white boy. Wouldn't expect him to have to pay for sex. He had
a broad with him. A lovely petite red-head. Looked pretty pissed off being
dragged to a dump like this."
Harris gave a nod to Davidson and the other agent went off, checking through the
bar for a couple who fitted that description.
"Could you identify this older man..."
"No. Only ever saw his hand and a brief flash when he lit up the next cigarette.
Now, unless you plan on charging me with something..."
Harris closed his notepad with a terse smile. He was surprised to have gained
this much information out of the man and decided not to push his luck any
further.
"Thank you, Sir. You've been very helpful."
He circled through the bar, meeting his fellow agent on the other side. A shake
of the head and the grim set mouth showed a lack of success. They checked with
the doorman, discovered a couple matching that description had left several
minutes earlier. Harris wrote down the details in his notebook and they headed
back to their car.
Another Seedy Bar
Although he could see Mulder seated at a table near the back of the bar, Krycek
waited and watched from the shadows. He saw Mulder check his watch for the third
time, recognised the worry that tightened the full lips but some sixth sense was
screaming at him to stay back. He felt uneasy but, apart from a few well-soused
customers and the bar staff there was no-one else around. Years on the run had
taught him to take the tingle that raised the hairs on the back of his neck
seriously but, eventually, the need to gaze into those beautiful blue-gold eyes
overpowered his survival instincts. He sauntered forward and, with another
surreptitious look around the near-empty bar, he slid into the seat opposite his
lover.
"About time!" The relief on Mulder's face was just as evident in the soft voice.
"Miss me?"
"Always."
Krycek lowered his eyes away in embarrassment. He was not used to having people
admit they worried for him and he'd spent too many years making sure no-one got
close enough to care; pushing away anyone who tried. So how did Mulder manage to
squeeze passed the barriers he had erected? How had this man managed to succeed
where all the others had failed? And there had been others, enticed by a pretty
face and a good body. Krycek gave an inward sneer. Oh yes, he knew he was good
looking; had used it to his advantage many a time. Thoughts of Marita Covarrubias
crossed his mind as he remembered using sex as a means of gaining her
co-operation and assistance in escaping Russia with the boy. She had been good
between the sheets; a she-cat whose nails left scratch marks down his back... and
she had not been repelled by his prosthesis. If anything, he believed it might
have turned her on all the more; giving her the controlling edge in their
encounter.
Bitch!
"Alex?"
Krycek looked up into the worried face.
"It's okay. Just a trip down memory lane... and talking of trips, how did yours
turn out?"
Mulder eyed him suspiciously; recognising an attempt to move away from whatever
thoughts had occupied his lover's mind for that brief moment in time. The
temptation to dig in his heels and force Alex to expose those thoughts was
strong. He wanted to know everything about this man; every thought; every memory.
He wanted to soothe every hurt; laugh with him at every good time; give comfort
for every bad time. He wanted to possess this man, body and soul. Alex was like a
drug; a growing addiction and some of that obsession must have shown in his eyes
but, instead of being frightened, an equal measure of ferocity and obsession
darkened the green eyes. Eventually, Mulder broke the hold they had on each other
as he described his encounter with Paul Bright; Anacek's pimp.
"Older man, greying... heavy smoker. If I was a betting man then my money would
be placed on a certain cancerous bastard." Mulder sat back in his seat. "What did
you find out?"
"Same thing. Last seen with an older man... chain smoker."
"I don't understand it. All those men disappeared without a trace. Even Cancer
Man's goons couldn't have mistaken all of them for you..." Mulder paused as a
strange look came over his lover's face. "What is it?"
"It is me."
Krycek looked away at the puzzled expression. It was time to shake another
skeleton from his closet, to expose the theory that would make or break their
relationship.
"When I was first recruited, I was a little green. I had this idea that I was
going to save the world and I... I kinda idolised the man who recruited me."
Mulder noticed the blush that swept across the averted features, tingeing even
the tips of the slightly pointed ears but the thinned lips showed it was due to
more than just embarrassment... and then it hit. He remembered Alex telling him
that he had been recruited by the Smoking Man so...
"You had a crush on Cancer Man?"
The incredulous tone brought Krycek's head spinning back until their eyes met.
The chagrined expression told the rest of the story and Mulder felt his heart
stop cold.
"You slept with him?" No answer except a slight pursing of lips. "You fucked that
cancer-ridden bastard?"
Krycek's eyes slid away from the accusing glare, darting around to check no-one
had heard the slightly raised voice. His thoughts were a whirl. Should he tell
Mulder that it had been more than a one-night stand? That he had been at the
Smoking Man's beck and call for years before his assignment to work with FBI
Special Agent Fox William Mulder had opened his eyes to the truth. The look on
Fox Mulder's face told him that this was one subject that needed to be brought
out into the open or any future they might have together would be lost.
"I think this is one of those times when you need to stop and listen before
passing judgement."
He paused and sighed at the implacable posture Mulder had taken with arms folded,
lips a thin line and eyes glaring in anger. Was it even worth trying? Something
inside told him to start talking knowing that Mulder would hear even if he
wasn't prepared to deal with it right now.
"I was young... impressionable. I believed him. Believed in what he said we
were doing... that it was for our country." Krycek looked imploringly at the man
who meant more to him than life itself, pleading with Mulder to understand how
naive he had been. "It wasn't lust and it certainly wasn't love. I can't explain.
Hell, you're the psychologist." He paused but Mulder made no effort to relent.
"The first time... I let him seduce me. It was a power thing. This... this...
powerful man being at my mercy. Then, as time went by, it became a force of
habit, climbing into his bed whenever he commanded like a good little soldier,
afraid of the consequences if I said 'No'."
Krycek looked deep into the cold eyes, hoping to see some sign of a thaw.
"That night on Skyland Mountain, when Duane Barry handed Scully over to... them.
That's when the last embers of my innocence flickered and died. Watching you
climb out of the cable car, terrified you would fall. The next time he
requested my... personal services I said 'no'. After that events just seemed to
spiral out of control and I wasn't surprised when I found myself siting on top of
a car bomb."
Mulder unfolded his arms and placed his hands flat on the table. Now the initial
shock had worn off he could understand how someone... how Alex... could get
suckered into a relationship with that man but he wasn't ready to deal with it.
He needed time to think. He closed his eyes to shut out the pleading green eyes
but opened them again quickly. Mulder leant forward.
"Okay. This is something we're gonna have to talk about... another time... but
you still haven't explained why these look alikes have disappeared."
Krycek's eyes dropped to the table top, finding his hands far too interesting. He
licked suddenly dry lips and cleared his throat before looking back up. His voice
was so soft Mulder had to strain to hear the words above the sound of the juke
box.
"He wants me back."
"He... what?" His eyes opened wide in confusion, capturing his lover's. Krycek
swallowed hard, cleared his throat again and then repeated the words more firmly.
"He wants me back. He wants me to go back to him."
Mulder frowned, wondering how Alex could make such a connection, suddenly aware
that there was something else Alex had not told him. He was about to ask when
that final scene at BioTechnics with Cancer Man took on a whole new light...
"We have no relationship."
"Don't we?" Mulder remembered being confused by the interplay between his new lover and his
old enemy. At the time he had wondered what game Cancer Man was playing, wondered
whether Alex was more than just a subordinate. The Consortium had seemed so...
incestuous. He had considered the possibility that Alex was related to the
Smoking Man, biologically, and had intended to ask later but events had spiralled
out of control. At the time he had tried to defuse the situation by addressing
the clones whose weapons were trained on him and Alex but it was Cancer Man who
had replied...
"So which one of you is the real Martha Hudson?"
"Neither. She outlived her usefulness... just as you have outlived yours...
unless Alex can persuade me otherwise." He closed his eyes, sick to the stomach as the thought of Alex in that bastard's
arms filled him with disgust. Disgust at Alex for ever having been so naive;
disgust at Cancer Man for taking advantage of an idealistic young man... and
disgust at himself for having something else in common with that man. As much
as he needed to deny it, they both wanted Alex Krycek and, if Alex was right,
then Cancer Man was involved in these disappearances... but would the older man
be willing to kill for what he wanted? A thought flashed through his head like
lightning, stunning him. Would he be willing to kill for Alex? The iciness that
stabbed at his heart at the start of this revelation thawed. Yes. He'd kill for
Alex; he would die for Alex.
With his mind no longer clouded by anger the answer to his original question
became apparent. These men had paid the price for looking like Alexei Krycek
but as substitutes rather than as the result of mistaken identity. Only one
question remained. Why did these men disappear? Perhaps they became the Smoker's
companion... until he grew bored with them or until he resented the fact that
they were not his Alex. Mulder had no illusion as to what had become of them once
the Smoker had grown tired of them. He was not the type of person to leave
himself open to personal attack or blackmail. It seemed Cancer Man might have a
lot more blood on his hands than Mulder had previously assumed but there was only
one way to find out. Somehow, he had to find enough evidence so he could confront
the man.
Another thought occurred. Michael Anacek disappeared just over a week ago; maybe
he was still alive. But where should they start looking for him? Only one man of
Mulder's acquaintance seemed to have an inside track on Cancer Man but Mulder was
still uncertain whether he could place his trust in AD Walter Skinner.
Mulder glanced at his watch. It was well after midnight and he was expected back
in the office in less than six hours. He reached out and placed his hand on top
of Alex's. His body burned at the sight of that angelic face but the image of
Cancer Man and Alex writhing together in sexual abandonment dampened the flame.
"I have to go. We will work it out, Alex. I'm positive. I just need time to
think things through." After taking a quick glance around the bar to ensure
no-one was watching, Mulder leant forward and placed a chaste kiss on the bowed
lips. "Sit tight for a couple of days while I figure things out. I'll be in
touch."
Mulder pulled on his coat and walked away, glancing back only once as he closed
the door behind him. Krycek sighed and took another sip from the glass placed in
front of him. He let his forehead drop onto his raised palms.
"At least he didn't shoot me on the spot."
His head came up fast as a bulky figure slid into the seat recently vacated by
Mulder. Green eyes widened as they took in the square-jawed features of the alien
morph. Trigger fast reactions took over as he swept the remainder of the beer
into the creature's face, using the momentary blindness to make his escape. The
morph came hurtling after him but Krycek grabbed one of the bar's customers and
threw the man into the alien's path, hearing the curses and thump of a heavy body
landing awkwardly behind him. His action bought him enough time to reach and
start the bike. Moments later he was racing away at top speed. As soon as he had
put some distance between them Alex pulled up. Abandoning the bike, he broke into
the nearest car, jimmied the starter and was moving off at the fastest possible
speed that would not draw unwelcome attention. Eventually, he turned onto the
interstate heading northwards towards New York where he would lie low for a few
days.
The Bounty Hunter brushed dirt from his suit as he watched the red tail lights
receding for the second time but, this time, he had come prepared, not willing to
take any chances with this particular human. He climbed into the dark sedan and
activated the tracker. A small red blip highlighted Krycek's position through the
tracking bug placed under the pillion on the bike.
He frowned when he noticed the bike had remained stationary for several minutes.
Moments later he turned a corner and found the abandoned bike. A smile broke
across the normally bland face as the Hunter offered his silent respects to his
cunning prey. As he walked back to his car the morph decided it was time to
change the game plan. He had tried to keep clear of Fox Mulder, being under
orders not to kill the son of William Mulder but that did not mean he could not
hurt him a little.
Monday Morning
Mulder spent most of Monday morning expecting to be hauled into either Kersh or
Skinner's office; had spent the whole of the previous day preparing a speech just
for the occasion but, now, he was starting to relax.
Relax? If I read any more of these reports I'll be so damn relaxed they'll have
to call the Paramedics to check I'm still breathing.
He started to make a paper aeroplane out of one of the many staff circulars that
kept appearing on his desk having previously tossed the sheet aside in contempt.
"Scully? Do I look like the kind of guy who needs 'Assertiveness' training?"
Scully unfolded the paper airplane that landed on her desk and speed-read the
article. She raised both eyebrows, scrunched up the paper and dropped it into her
'dead' file. A small sign of activity brought her head back up and she began to
hum a few bars from her favourite sitcom 'Friends' as AD Kersh sauntered into the
bullpen. Mulder took notice of their prearranged signal. He piled a few files
over the top of the papers on his desk to hide the list of names and addresses
that he had printed out earlier and picked up one of those boring reports,
pretending that he had been engrossed in the latest acquisition request from some
Tennessee farmer. His eyes widened in pleasure as he read the address, hardly
believing his luck as his eidetic memory tagged the town name as being the same
as that of the first victim.
"Hey, Scully. Check it out." He passed over the file. "I think we should pay Mr
Markham a visit."
Scully frowned, wondering whether Mulder actually meant what he was saying—or
whether it was just a show for their new boss who had just come into earshot. She
handed back the file noncommittally.
"Something, Agents?"
Mulder looked up, almost in surprise as the smooth, chocolatey voice drifted over
his shoulder. He knew AD Kersh was in the room but he hadn't expected the man to
come so close. He certainly hadn't meant for his remark to be overheard. He
looked up into dark, uncompromising eyes.
"Uh... yes. Mr Markham has made several purchases over the past..." He flicked
through the report. "...seven months. More than I would deem necessary for the
size of the farm. It might be worth a visit."
Kersh took the file from Mulder and scanned the top sheet. His lips pursed and he
nodded his head slowly. It wasn't an exceptional amount but...
"Okay. Get onto it. I'll expect a full report this time tomorrow."
Mulder barely restrained himself from showing his surprise but, not being one to
look a gift-horse in the mouth, he picked up the phone and started placing some
calls.
Markham Farm
The slight breeze ruffled his hair as he stepped from the rental. Dana Scully
looked across at her partner noticing the way his eyes were drawn to the fields
of Timothy grass surrounding them. Thoughts of a similar field standing tall with
ripening corn filled her mind but the farmhouse behind them bore no resemblance
to the domed structures at the centre of that particular field. She pushed a
stray lock of auburn hair back behind her ear.
"Mulder?"
He turned to face her, gradually losing that faraway look as hazel eyes locked
with blue. The screech of a screen door opening caught their attention and they
made their way towards the large-framed man dressed in faded blue jeans, white
cotton T-shirt and red/brown checked shirt who stood waiting for them on the
porch.
"Can I help you folks?"
"FBI Special Agent Fox Mulder... and this is my partner, Agent Dana Scully."
They both flashed their ID's waiting until the man had taken a good look before
snapping the small leather wallets closed and restoring them to inside pockets.
The man looked from one agent to the other in surprise.
"What can I do for you?"
Mulder put on his official smile.
"Just routine..."
One hour and several cups of coffee later they had learnt all there was to know
about the usage the chemicals were being put to and yet Mulder felt strangely
disturbed about... something. Something was not quite right; some answers
delivered too smoothly as if quoted from a script.
"Do you keep bees?"
"Pardon?"
Scully turned surprise-widened eyes to her tall partner. Her own confusion
matching that of the farmer.
"Bees. I noticed the jars on the side." Mulder indicated the row of neatly
labelled jars filled with a golden syrup.
"Sure, but if your wondering about those killer bees then don't. They haven't
been spotted this way... and I keep a close check on my queens, make sure no
foreigners get into the hive."
Scully raised an eyebrow, understanding Mulder's line of questioning but amazed
that he thought this small farm in the middle of nowhere could be linked to the
Colonists. She knew the farmer was referring to the aggressive African strain
that was gradually making its way north from South America where an accident had
set them free but could not prevent a shiver as she remembered the bees in the
white dome flying up through from the floor in a dense swarm... and her dash to
reach safety. She also remembered that it was a bee sting that had introduced the
Colonist DNA into her system. The memories following that incident were decidedly
hazy but... she looked up at her partner's profile in tenderness... Mulder had
not deserted her.
"If that's everything..."
Another official smile raised the corners of Mulder's lips.
"Sure." He turned away, heading for the door and then turned. "By the way, Mr
Markham. Have you heard of a Martin Leighton?"
"The Leighton boy? Yes. That boy was bad news. Got mixed up with the wrong
people. There was talk of drugs... of other unsavoury things. Then the boy just
upped and disappeared."
"Were there any rumours about where he could have gone?"
The man's face froze; mouth thinned, eyes hardened.
"Jeff Leighton's a good friend of mine. His boy and mine used to play together.
What that boy did broke his mother's heart."
"He's still listed as missing."
The Farmer paused as if debating something. Mulder watched the small war being
played behind the man's sky-blue eyes. A decision was made, the features relaxing
and Mulder knew he was about to learn something new.
"The night he disappeared old Frank Burrows spotted a fancy motor at the Griffin
Motel down the roads away. Said he spotted the Leighton boy at the motel about
the same time. Both motor and boy were gone by morning. Some round these parts
say it was some rich man enticing the Leighton boy back to the city with him."
Mulder's breath came faster. There was no mention of a Frank Burrows in the
Missing Person report.
"I'd like to talk to this Frank Burrows..."
"Can't. He died a few days later in the dangdest accident. Fell under the wheels
of a combine. Chewed him up and spat him out."
Mulder nodded his head, eyes closing in frustration. If what he suspected was
true then it had been no accident. Cancer Man had tried to be as thorough as
ever, leaving no witnesses behind.
"Did he say anything else? Description of the car? The occupants?"
"He didn't see the man except from a distance. Older guy. Heavy smoker. That's
all."
Mulder's eyes narrowed slightly. He could tell from the way Markham's eyes
shifted that there was more.
"Sir, is there anything else you want to tell me?"
Markham opened his mouth then shut it quickly. He debated whether it would be
wise to mention the strange activity occurring barely ten miles north of the
farm; the unusual choice of Corn as a main crop; the black helicopters that
sometimes flew over the farmhouse in the middle of the night. The official stance
was it was some kind of research facility working on GM methods. Manipulating the
genetics of foodstuff seemed all the rage these days and he'd heard strange tales
of introducing fish DNA into tomatoes to preserve firmness. The Leighton boy had
disappeared a few months after the strangers started to appear at the local
motel. It was common knowledge that the owner of that fancy car had stayed at the
motel several times... and the Leighton boy had been there every time... but
no-one dared say that out loud. Even the Leighton's had become close-mouthed on
the subject after someone had approached the Bank regarding Leighton's sizeable
debt. Life around here was tough enough without having to worry about the Bank
foreclosing on you.
"Nope. There's nothing more I can tell you."
"Thank you, Mr Markham."
"Sure thing."
Mulder drove several miles before pulling off the road. Ahead of them was the
small town where Martin Leighton had gone to school, taken his first hit; where
he had probably found his first client to help pay for his drug habit. The small
motel where he had last been seen was several miles beyond. Mulder wondered
whether they had any vacancies this night.
Griffin Motel
For the second night Mulder found himself alone in bed and he hated it... and
then he hated himself for being so needful. How had Alexei Krycek become so
important to him so fast? It was not that long ago that he thought he hated the
man's guts... had sworn he would find something to ensure Krycek was put away for
life. During those long weeks when he had remained uncertain as to Alex's fate at
the hands of the Rebel Aliens he had spent many a night staring up at the ceiling
trying to pinpoint the exact moment when hate had turned to love only to realise
that it had always been love. He'd fallen for the geeky, green rookie with his
slicked back hair and cheap suits. He had basked in the adoration he had found in
those stormy-green eyes, letting down his guard in face of the innocence he
thought was in front of him and Krycek had seeped through his lowered defences
gradually entwining himself around his heart, invading his thoughts and his
dreams. It was the seeming betrayal that had smothered that fledgling love with
hate and it was the truth, finally offered... finally believed, that had banished
the hatred revealing the emotions buried so deeply, offering those emotions up to
the light. Yet still this did not explain the depth of emotion he felt for the
other man. It did not explain why he missed Alex with every fibre of his being.
His hand reached out to stroke the mattress beside him. Fingers met cold sheets
and he sighed as he visualised the strong, warm body that had lain beside him
these past few weeks. His photographic mind provided images; thick, sable hair
framing a face softened in sleep, sweet lips parted showing a hint of perfect,
white teeth... dark eyelashes flickering as the quicksilver mind was captured by
a dream. Sometimes he would lie there wondering where those dreams had taken his
lover, more so when those dreams turned to nightmares. On those occasions he
would pull Alex into his arms, stroking the fear-soaked skin, soothing his lover
with a litany of softly spoken words until Alex slept peacefully once more.
Eventually he slept but his own dreams mirrored the fears of his waking life.
Twisting, dark corridors... hazy shapes squirming inside long dead corpses...
bony, clawed fingers reaching out to grab at his clothes as he scrabbled past. He
was searching, frantically. Faces he knew floated out of the darkness and he
hesitated. Some were enemies, others friends but none were the face he was
seeking. He saw Scully, her eyes frozen open in disbelief and he paused, torn
between his love for her and his need to find another. A sensation brought his
head around and, for a moment he thought he could make out the fine-boned
features.
Alex?... Alex?... "Alex... Alex... Alex!"
His voice became louder as the fear grew. He began to thrash as unseen hands
grabbed at him, smothering him and then...
"Ssshh... sshhh. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here."
Mulder's heavy eyelids opened. He blinked several times until he was certain the
face barely a few inches above his own was the face he needed to see.
"Alex?"
A glint of white teeth in the semi-darkness and the caress of warm fingers
carding through his sweat-soaked hair.
"That was a doozy of a nightmare, Mulder. Wanna tell me about it?"
Mulder ignored the husky voice whispering close by, concentrating instead upon
the warm breath upon his face. He sat up quickly, nearly head-butting Alex in his
haste, the sheet falling to his lap.
"What are you doing here?"
"I-I needed to see you."
"Alex, we agreed it wasn't safe for you. Meeting earlier was enough of a risk.
What if I'm being watched?"
The dark-haired, ex-assassin smiled, his eyes crinkling as he gazed at the
semi-nude man before him. His fingers reached out to brush lightly across one
exposed nipple, the smile broadening as a soft moan tumbled from Mulder's
succulent lips. He closed the distance between them, his own lips caressing
Mulder's, his tongue sneaking out to stripe across the warm flesh before
plundering the dark depths of Mulder's mouth. Mulder pulled back, surprised at
the almost feral assault.
"I missed you."
Widened hazel eyes began to soften and glow with pleasure as Mulder gazed upon
the man he could finally admit he loved beyond reason. He had spent most of the
previous night mulling over Alex's confession of his past indiscretions. At first
he had been angry, not wanting to admit to the jealousy that inflamed him as he
imagined his beautiful lover lying wantonly beneath his nemesis. Thoughts of
those nicotine-stained fingers caressing the silky skin; carding through the dark
strands of sable hair; stroking along the muscular torso sent his stomach
churning. With morbid fascination he had visualised those seamed lips wrapped
around his lover's engorged flesh; sucking and licking. The thought repelled him
even as the image of Alex writhing in passionate abandonment beneath Cancer Man
drew him back. Finally, after hours of inner turmoil, a moment of clarity came.
He realised that it didn't matter what Alex had done before... and with whom. All
of that was a past that could never be changed or even forgotten but it was the
past. It was the present and the future that truly mattered and as long as he
would be the only one from this time onwards, Mulder knew he could allow the past
to fade behind them.
Soft, nibbling kisses along his jaw line drew him back to the present... and to
the fingers that danced along his flesh, teasing his nipples and raising goose
bumps as they trailed across his rib cage and over the flat of his stomach. He
moaned in appreciation of the attention he was receiving from those expert
fingers and the hot mouth that nuzzled against his throat, allowing the other to
push him to the bed until his body was covered by hot naked flesh.
"So good. So beautiful." Alex whispered softly as his tongue rimmed the shell of
his lover's ear.
Mulder smiled to himself. It was so rare for Alex to feel safe and secure enough
to break the silence of the night but he loved it when Alex became verbal;
hearing that husky voice whispering sweet sentiments and endearments as they
slowly thrust against each other. He groaned as a welcome warmth radiated from
the pit of his belly, his semen spurting between their close-pressed abdomens as
the world seemed to fall from under his feet. A fresh flood of warmth across his
belly accompanied the loud gasp as Alex came against him.
Mulder allowed himself to drift away to the sultry tones floating in the air
around him; a heavy lassitude pulling at his limbs and senses.
"Mmmmhhh?"
"I said we need to make arrangements to meet up. I've got something for you but
it wasn't safe to bring it here."
Mulder opened one eye and fixed it on the beautiful green ones poised only inches
above his own. He smiled in complete satisfaction.
"Where d'you suggest?"
"You know where I am. Come to me there, tomorrow at 05:00."
"You mean today."
Mulder motioned towards the luminescent digital clock sitting alone on the
bedside cabinet. It was just a little after midnight. He frowned slightly when he
didn't get the expected response to his teasing.
"This is serious, Mulder. You do know where I am, don't you?"
"Yes... at that poor excuse for a bar on Fifth."
Alex pulled back slightly, suddenly lost in thought. He smiled... a strange smile
that reminded Mulder of the early years. It was the smirk he had detested from
the first time it had been aimed at him; the smirk he had taken great delight
over the years in trying to wipe off Krycek's face.
"Yes. The bar on Fifth with the pathetic neon sign of two males kissing."
"I do know the..." Mulder's peeved retort paused mid-sentence, his brows pulling
together in a frown of confusion and apprehension. Somewhere, at the back of his
mind, a warning flag was waving frantically.
"Alex?"
The face above him rippled, the body broadening in all directions until Mulder
found himself pinned beneath the muscular bulk of the alien Bounty Hunter.
"You've been very helpful... in more ways than one."
Mulder's hazel eyes widened in horror and he pushed ineffectively against the
greater mass. His last thought as a powerful fist smashed into the side of his
head was that he had betrayed Alex... in all ways.
3 a.m.
The light from the neon sign flickered through the curtainless window,
illuminating the pale walls and ceiling in alternating crimson and azure. Alex
Krycek lay sprawled naked across the top of a small, lumpy bed staring up at the
light display upon the ceiling as his thoughts drifted back to his last meeting
with Mulder. It was a mistake telling him where he was staying but Mulder seemed
so desperate to know. Tomorrow he would move on. He should never have returned in
the first place but that would have seemed like a kind of betrayal... and he had
betrayed Mulder too many times already. He had sworn, on his mother's grave, that
he would never betray Fox again but it wasn't safe here anymore.
He thought about the old war films his father enjoyed watching. There was always
some comment about it being darkest just before dawn. Over the past few years he
had come to understand that it was more than just the eerie silence of pre-dawn;
there was a heaviness in the night air that pulled at your very soul.
A creak upon the floorboards outside his dingy room pulled him back and he
reached for the ever present Glock tucked under the pillow behind his head,
feeling reassured by the weight in his hand.
Nothing. No other sound reached him. Probably just the normal noises of a
building settling in the quietness; a noise that only seemed noticeable in the
dead of night. He sighed deeply and released his hold on the gun.
The sharp crack of splintering wood stopped his heart momentarily but before he
could strengthen his grip around the handle and swing the barrel around, a large,
dark shape had sprung forward, landing on him, forcing the air from his lungs.
Strong, thick fingers prised the gun from his hand and he heard the sound of
metal thumping against the wall beneath the window as the gun was hurled aside.
For a moment the only sound was the harsh panting as Krycek struggled to regain
his breath but by the time he had managed to drag some air into his lungs, the
bulky frame had pinned him down completely. The Bounty Hunter's eyes closed, an
unfamiliar smile curling his lips as the heady scent of this human filled his
senses. His triumphant voice whispered seductively into Krycek's ear.
"Tonight I discovered Human pleasure."
He traced a path down the side of Krycek's face with his tongue, lapping at the
corner of the tight-lipped mouth. Beneath him, Alex began to thrash, hoping to
lever off the more massive body but to no avail. The Bounty Hunter laughed
quietly, feeling his human form respond to the stimulating gyrations of the body
beneath him. He felt his human sex organ lengthen and harden, relishing briefly
the discomfort of close-fitting pants before thinking away the clumsy garments to
leave his bare flesh rubbing against his captive. Sensitive nerve endings flared
in response to the feel of his heated skin sliding over the warm body. He pulled
Krycek's arms together above the dark head until he could hold both wrists within
one large hand, freeing the other to explore the muscular contours of a human
whose body was prized by two other males; one old, one young. He moved one
massive thigh, forcing it between the young human's legs, pushing the human's
thighs apart until he could settle groin to groin. His hand swept down the length
of Krycek's body from shoulder to mid-thigh before sweeping up the inner thigh.
Fingers trailed through the outer edge of the patch of crisp dark curls. He
lowered his head to plunder the beautiful mouth, hissing in annoyance as Krycek
turned his head away.
A large hand came up, grasping Alex by the chin, forcing his head back and
holding him in place as a mouth, almost drooling with lust-borne saliva, clamped
over his own. A thick tongue forced its way between his closed lips, pushing
against his tightly clenched teeth. The hand on his chin tightened until he was
forced to open his jaw, allowing the invader to fill his mouth. Alex gagged as
the tongue forced its way to the back of his throat, the hand on his jaw
preventing him from biting down hard on that unwanted organ. The 'kiss' ended
abruptly.
"Yes. So sweet. So beautiful."
With horror, Alex felt his legs being prised further apart; the bulk of the alien
settling between them. He renewed his efforts to free himself as his hands were
released, battering the large frame with his fists as his legs were pushed back,
exposing him to the Bounty Hunter.
"No. No."
"Yes. So very beautiful."
Alex prepared himself for the worst, knowing he could not prevent what was about
to happen. He frowned as something small pushed inside him then gasped as the
'something' gradually expanded, stretching the small muscle slowly until he felt
his innards would explode from the pressure of the huge bulk filling him.
The Bounty Hunter began to rock slowly, savouring each sensation as sensitive
nerve endings rubbed against the walls of the hot, tight channel. The sensations
grew stronger, harder... more intense than he had experienced with Mulder and he
screamed out as they overtook him, igniting his whole body and mind. He collapsed
upon the still resisting body, feeling his weight crush Krycek into the overly
soft mattress. Feeble struggling alerted him to the predicament of the smaller
human and he pushed off to the side. A flicker of energy passed from his hand
into his captive and he felt Krycek's body go limp. He climbed off the bed and
reconfigured human clothing around his massive frame. With more gentleness than
seemed appropriate, he leant down to stroke the pretty face.
"Yes. So very, very beautiful. If my orders were otherwise..."
With only a flicker of remorse, the Bounty Hunter wrapped Alex in the coverlet
and carried him out of the room to a waiting car.
8 a.m.
Mulder moaned as a cool flannel was placed over his forehead. His eyes opened
slowly, trying to make sense of the blurred figure above him. The flame of light
catching in the red hair stirred a memory.
"Scully?" He croaked, eyes widening as he cleared his throat to try again.
"What happened, Mulder?"
Mulder pushed her away gently as he slowly raised himself to a sitting position.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, hands clamped either side of his
throbbing skull.
"I was hoping you could tell me."
"I knocked at your door fifteen minutes ago. Didn't get an answer so I came in
and found you unconscious on the bed. It looks like someone hit you."
"It feels like it." Mulder groaned anew and then the memories came crashing
back. "Alex!" He tried to stand and fell back to the bed. Scully was by his side
in an instant, holding onto his elbow to steady him.
"Whoa. Take it easy, Mulder. You've taken quite a blow to the head." She stepped
in front of him and examined his eyes with a small torch from her medical bag.
"Slight difference in dilation. You've got a light concussion..."
"Scully, I told him where to find Alex. I thought he was Alex."
Bewilderment shone in the cerulean blue eyes and Mulder could tell by her
expression that she was consigning his ranting to the result of a head injury.
"The Bounty Hunter. He was here in Alex's form. Tricked me into giving up Alex's
location. We've gotta get to New York. Gotta warn Alex."
Dana Scully took a step back as she put all the facts together. The telltale
signs of sex filled the room; the musky smell, the mussed up sheets and sticky
patches on both them and Mulder's lower body. The Bounty Hunter had taken more
than information from Fox Mulder and she realised the fallout from this would not
hit until later... and when it did she would have her hands full dealing with a
guilt-ridden partner. She took a deep breath. The Bounty Hunter had several hours
head start and she wondered whether she ought to mention this now or let Mulder
rush to New York in the belief that he would be in time to save Alex. Her hands
trembled as she took another deep breath, reaching out to bring Mulder's
attention back on herself.
"We won't get there in time."
Mulder glared at her, his mouth opening to deny her softly spoken words but he
turned away without a sound, his eyes closing in dismay. She was right. He could
only hope Alex had been on his guard, that he managed to evade the relentless
pursuit until Mulder could bring him, somehow, to safety. With jerky movements he
started to pull on his clothes.
"We'd best head back..."
"You'd better shower first, Mulder."
Fox Mulder glanced down at the sticky semen coating his lower body.
"Oh God. What have I done?"
Dana bowed her head, It seemed like later had become now.
9 a.m.
The Bounty Hunter entered the darkened hotel room, ignoring all of its occupants,
and placed the large bundle he carried effortlessly over his shoulder onto the
bed. Spender took one final drag of his cigarette and then ground it out in the
nearby ashtray before slowly standing and moving to the other side. He reached
out and pulled back the fraying coverlet to reveal a shock of dark hair. Pausing,
he looked up into the Bounty Hunter's impassive features and smiled before
returning his attention to the coverlet. Another small tug revealed the face that
invaded almost every waking thought and most of his dreams; the sleep-softened
features as beautiful as he remembered. He trailed one nicotine-stained finger
along the darkly stubbled jaw.
"How long will he remain unconscious?"
"Until I awaken him."
"Excellent. Davis, make the arrangements." Spender looked back up at the alien
morph. "I assume you will be accompanying us."
"Yes."
11 a.m
They had been very lucky to find seats on an early internal flight to JFK but the
trip to New York passed by in a strained silence despite Scully's best attempts
to draw Mulder into a conversation. Even after they landed, her taciturn partner
had rebuffed every effort choosing instead to concentrate on the road ahead as if
he could will the other vehicles out of the way so they could make better time.
His frustration was worsened by the fact that Scully refused to allow him to
drive in his current condition. With every slow vehicle in their path, every
traffic snarl up and every set of traffic lights set to red she could see his
knuckles whitening as he gripped the dashboard. Eventually they reached their
destination. Mulder was out of the car and taking the front steps leading up into
the seedy bar hotel before Scully could bring the car to a halt. She placed the
vehicle in park and flew after him.
When she caught up with him she found him standing just inside the room, the lack
of expression on his face it's own testament to what he had found. Scully brushed
passed him. On first impression the room just seemed empty but then she noticed
all the little things that spoke of a former occupant and she knew Alex had been
taken from there during the night by force while Mulder lay unconscious. Her
analytical mind summed up all the salient details in moments; the Glock lying
abandoned on the floor by the window, a chunk of plaster and torn wallpaper
showing where it had impacted with the wall. Clothes lay neatly folded on a
chair; dark jeans, dark T-shirt, dark leather jacket... so common, so nondescript
unless you knew the man who wore them like a uniform. The top cover was missing
but signs of a struggle were evident in the remaining sheets that lay in complete
disarray.
"He's gone. He took him."
Mulder reached out and gathered up the T-shirt, holding it tight against his
face, inhaling the unique scent of Alex still clinging to the recently worn
material.
"We'll find him, Mulder."
Fox Mulder turned to his partner and she took a backward step when she met eyes
filled with an unhealthy cold rage. In all her years as his partner she thought
she had seen every emotion cross his face; anger, fear, frustration,
determination, happiness... love... but never had she witnessed this. The very
air around her seemed to have dropped several degrees and she was thankful this
emotion was not directed towards her.
"I know who has him. All we have to do is find that cancerous bastard... and I
know just where to start."
Scully nodded, suddenly feeling very afraid for AD Walter Skinner even though she
knew the man was on the level... and more importantly, on their side. Whatever
happened she knew she needed to stay with Mulder, to try and anchor him...
contain his anger... while they began the search.
"We should collect Alex's things together; take them with us. He won't be coming
back here."
Scully nodded and reached out for the remaining clothes and the leather jacket
while Mulder checked out the cupboards and cleared the bathroom of the few
possessions lying there. He bundled everything into the small holdall he had
found in the top drawer of the bureau and then headed for the door with Scully
right behind him. He stopped, suddenly, on the threshold, hardly noticing when
Scully bumped into him. She watched as he turned back, walking straight to the
bed; her eyes misting as his fingers brushed over the sheet where Krycek must
have lain.
Mulder sank to his knees and reached under the bed, dragging out a pair of shoes.
The heat of his anger drained away when he realised they were his own favourite
pair of Doc Marten's. His eyes crinkling momentarily with a smile before the full
force of his loss hit him. He barely held back a sob, his eyes damp with unshed
tears as he gazed back at his diminutive partner, suddenly feeling like he owed
her some explanation.
"He always leaves his shoes under the bed... force of habit, I suppose, from the
years on the run."
Scully nodded.
"Come on, Mulder. We'd best head back to DC. Start the search from there."
11 a.m.
The tremor of distaste flowing through him was not an unusual occurrence but the
reason for it was. The alien morph watched as the young, dark-haired human was
placed carefully into a coffin-sized crate, soft padding supporting the
unconscious frame, and the lid then firmly sealed. The crate was carried out of
the hotel and to a waiting van under the watchful gaze of those rheumy blue eyes,
smoke from the ever-present cigarette curling away in the slight breeze. His
thoughts turned to the beings around him.
Normally, humans repulsed him, all humans, and yet there was something about the
young male and, to a much lesser degree, his chosen partner that had attracted
him; something that had inflamed his mind and body; a sense of... otherness.
He cocked his head to one side as he considered this 'otherness'. It was a scent.
The scent of his own race upon them. He knew Mulder had been subjected to the DNA
tests from a young age and could understand this allurement although he had
always been careful not to get too close, not wanting to taint himself by
association. He felt this allurement for all of the specimens of those tests but
there was something different about this other human... an almost compulsive
attraction to Alexei Krycek. At first he wondered whether it was subliminal
residue from when Krycek had been taken over by one of his brethren... and then
everything fell into place.
Spender had been marvelling at the 'completeness' of the young human; his
yellowed-fingers trailing down the baby-soft skin from biceps to wrist before
raising the hand to his lips. No explanation had been given as to how Krycek had
come to have his left arm severed from his body and the Bounty Hunter had no
interest in knowing. However, the Morph knew this world did not yet possess the
technology to grow back a limb to the level of perfection obtained... but his own
people did.
He considered this as he sat in the back of the limo for the short journey to
Dulles where a Consortium owned Lear jet waited, primed ready for take-off as
soon as it's passengers... and important cargo, were loaded. The human seated by
his side made no attempt at conversation and he offered none in return. His
thoughts turned to his travelling companion. Everything about this human repulsed
him; the smell of the toxic drug he inhaled, the scent of his humanity and the
treacherous nature hidden behind those cold eyes.
As he ascended the steep stairs leading into the aircraft the Morph saw,
momentarily, the crate being loaded into the far end. A ripple of satisfaction
flowed through him, causing even more bemusement. Why should he care that the
young male was being placed in the main body of the craft rather than the cargo
hold? But he did care. He took his seat on the primitive craft, his thoughts
still swirling around.
After take-off the Bounty Hunter left his seat and made his way to the back of
the aircraft. He watched as the lid was removed from the crate and the
unconscious body lifted from its prison. The scent was there; a strong
intoxicating scent. The pheromone filling the re-circulated air. Yes. Now he
understood. The male was no longer fully human; he was a hybrid. The Morph knew
the Consortium scientists had been working on producing a viable hybrid, the
completion of that task necessary before Colonisation could begin. As he drew
closer, he quickly realised that Alex Krycek was not the answer. He was still too
human. The blood running through his veins was red, not green and yet he felt
more kinship for this hybrid than for any of the subjects currently being
experimented upon. It did not take much more reasoning to understand how and,
more importantly, why Krycek had been changed. The deceased Englishman had chosen
Alexei Krycek as his protégé but what good was an one-armed apprentice who
carried Colonist implants.
A quick wave of a device taken surreptitiously from his pouch proved his
assertions were correct. The young male had no implants although he would have
been 'tagged' by his 'brother' while in the Silo... but Krycek did have altered
DNA, presumably to counteract the destruction trigger which occurred on removal
of the implants.
He watched as the dark-haired male that he had taken such pleasure in was washed
before being placed back into the man-sized container. His thoughts once again
dwelling on the perfection of the ivory skin, the softness of the shapely mouth
with its deep Cupid's bow. His body remembered the overwhelming sensations as he
thrust into the hot, tight channel, holding the thrashing body effortlessly
beneath him. He thought of the other male that he had seduced to obtain the
location of Alex Krycek. The feel of wanton abandonment as the other rubbed
against him, not realising the deception until far too late. How much more
pleasurable would it have been if Alexei Krycek had come to him as willingly.
A puzzled expression crossed his face momentarily before the lines smoothed out
to leave the usual impassivity. No matter what he thought or felt, these two were
still human... and humans were good only for slave labour and gestating his
brethren. He turned away, moving back to his seat, viciously trying to subdue his
body's reaction to the strong pheromones that assailed his senses.
At the far end of the plane a man flicked a glance between the Consortium leader
and the alien morph. Silently, he made a decision that might cost him his life.
He flicked open an ultra-modern device and sent a message... nothing too obvious
but enough to give Mulder the lead he needed to begin his search for his missing
lover.
When he reached his apartment Mulder's first action was to switch on his PC. He
quickly entered his email account and scanned through the many messages hoping
that, somehow, Alex had managed to escape and had tried to contact him. For once
he resented the number of messages from the various UFO and paranormal lists he
belonged to. Their presence made it all the harder to spot anything of far
greater importance and, worst still, one of those hundreds of emails might
actually contain the message he was looking for. He scanned quickly through the
incoming mail taking note of the senders, looking for anything unusual. One
sender stood out amongst the rest, something about the name firing the synapses
in his brain. He opened it and found a single line; a set of four numbers.
Sometime later Mulder stood with Scully by his side in the cramped office of the
Lone Gunmen. The three computer... and conspiracy theory experts passed the
printout from one to the other, each offering up ideas.
"A set of co-ordinates." Langly began to type frantically, his nimble fingers
dancing over the keyboard like a prima donna, graceful and precise as he hacked
into an overhead satellite.
"No... there are not enough digits in each set... this is something else... a
code. Lets try replacing the numbers with an alphabetic sequence of characters.
I've got several algorithmic programs designed to..."
Frohike snatched the paper and turned a contemptuous look upon his fellow Gunmen,
often amazed that they would look for complicated answers when it was really so
simple.
"It's an IP address... Internet Protocol Address to the uninitiated. It's the
designation for a website..."
Mulder frowned and took a step forward.
"On the Web?"
"Not necessarily, a lot of company's have their own nets... but that's where we
should look first."
The group gathered around Frohike as he input the co-ordinates to the unknown
website.
"If this turns out to be 'Paranormals are Us' I'm gonna spam them."
As one, the others turned on hearing the venom in Mulder's voice, knowing he was
not kidding and knowing why it was so important to him that this was a lead to
the man he loved.
"Believe me, Mulder, if it is then I'll spam them myself." They watched as a site
began to load. He was tapping furiously on the keyboard, composing weird
sequences of keys. "This site is secured tighter than my spinster aunt's chastity
belt.... Aaahhh... Well, what have we here."
"It's a database... looks like an inventory of some sort. See... there are sets
of dates probably orders taken, orders filled. There's a report feature..."
Byers leaned across, tapping the screen. Langly supplanted Frohike as soon as it
became obvious what they were looking at but Frohike made no comment. They each
knew where their strengths and weaknesses lay... and Langly's strength lay here.
The report scrolled across the screen but Mulder had a sudden insight into what
they were looking at.
"These are not customers; they're merchandise." He quickly scrawled a couple of
names onto a piece of paper and handed it to Langly. "Check for these."
Only one name came up; Martin Leighton. Two dates were attached to the name. Two
dates that were six days apart. Working on a hunch Mulder wrote down another
name. Langly looked up in surprise, glancing across at the diminutive redhead
before starting the search on the new name; Dana K Scully. When an entry appeared
on the screen everyone except Mulder was stunned.
"What would I be doing in this database."
"Look at the date, Scully."
She leaned over Langly's shoulder and peered at the single date entry. Her
audible gasp was the result of memories crashing through her. Once again she was
in the corridor outside Mulder's apartment, still reeling from the stressful
flight from the bees and through the strange cornfield; remembering the
thunderous sound of the black helicopters overhead. They had held each others
eyes in relief that they were still alive and Mulder had taken her in his arms,
moving to place a soft kiss upon her lips. That's when she had felt the bee sting
her. Anaphylactic shock came quickly... and so did the paramedic unit. Too
quickly... but they had both been too busy fighting for her life to notice. Yes.
She remembered that date.
"That's the day you were infected by the retrovirus through the mutant bee
sting."
Mulder's eyes narrowed as his attention focussed on the code placed by Scully's
name. At first he had thought the field contained a key index but his eidetic
memory gave him another description. It was the position on the Antarctic
mothership where he had found Scully.
"Go back to Leighton's entry." Mulder pursed his lips as he read the details and
then started scrawling several more names on a sheet of paper. "Try these names."
"What is it, Mulder?"
He turned his head to meet his partner's inquiring blue eyes.
"All the missing men, bar one, are on this database. All have two dates against
them... six days apart..."
"Except for me."
"It's the gestation period. The Englishman said I had 96 hours in which to find
you or it would be too late to save you. My bet is, after 96 hours the parasite
they placed in you, or that the retrovirus developed into, would have grown large
enough to start eating its host from the inside out. The second date is probably
the date the parasite hatched from its host."
"And I thought our theories were way outta left field..."
Mulder ignored Frohike, his mind churning through all the information he had been
given over the past few months and then it struck; the reason why Michael
Anacek's name was missing from the database. The Antarctic mothership had left
before his disappearance.
"That's it. That's what the sender is trying to tell me. There's another
mothership. Langly, search for a second database."
Several minutes later they were staring at the name Michael Anacek on the screen.
A single date had been placed by his name.
"Damn."
Mulder's soft exclamation seemed loud in the silent room. He knew that it was too
late to save Michael Anacek. Another twenty minutes of searching gave Mulder what
he wanted; the location of the second mothership.
Consortium Research Station
The tall, green and yellow stems of ripening corn looked distinctly out of place
amid the undulating sand dunes of the Sahara Desert. Conrad Strughold watched
impatiently as CGB Spender stepped out of the newly arrived transport helicopter,
hunched over slightly as he half-walked, half-ran towards him. He pulled a cloth
over his face to shield it from the stinging sand driven into the air by the
downdraft from the helicopter's double set of rotating blades. Once cleared the
helicopter took off, its desert-camouflaged shape quickly disappearing into the
distance leaving the man-made oasis in an eerie silence.
Strughold watched with curiosity as one of the off-loaded man-sized crates was
taken towards the administration area instead of into the mothership. He waited
until Spender had paused beside him before indicating towards the anomaly.
"Personal business."
"As long as your personal business does not affect our work..."
Strughold trailed off pointedly, reminding Spender of the previous occasion when
he had brought Dana Scully to the Antarctic ship. That event had ended in
near-catastrophe as the alien ship was forced to flee Earth to ensure the safety
of the new Colonists recently hatched from their hosts. He did not wish to see a
repetition of that event here at the second 'nest'. It had taken a lot of
persuasion to convince the Colonists that neither they nor the Plan had been
compromised.
"In that case I will leave you to attend to your... personal business. Do not
forget to check in with Dr Marron. Your pheromone patch must be applied."
Spender shook a cigarette out of the packet and placed it between his seamed
lips. He cocked his head slightly as he flicked the lighter, inhaling deeply as
the flame caught the tip, taking a moment to stare out across the vast desert and
then he turned and walked away from Strughold towards the administration
building. His eyes narrowed as one of his people came running towards him.
"Sir! Security has been compromised on the mainframe. Someone is hacking into the
databases."
"How?" Anger heated the cold eyes. "The information is supposed to have the
highest security possible. The Firewall was developed by the best communications
experts."
"I don't understand... they could only get in if they had the exact address.
There is no other way without the correct codes..."
"Then we have a traitor in our midst."
"Not necessarily... anyone could write a program to make up and connect to IP..."
"If anyone could do it then why wasn't this considered in the security
arrangements?"
"We needed global access... the chances of this happening were..." The man broke
off, held the mobile to his ear and listened to another report. "They've located
the hacker and are moving in as we speak."
Spender glared at the man. There was nothing more they could do but this was the
second time their computer systems had been compromised. The Thinker, the man who
had hacked into the Consortium files, had been killed for his actions but the
loss and the subsequent messy recovery of the MJ-12 tape had almost cost Spender
his prestigious position in the Consortium, and it had almost cost him his life.
"Keep me informed."
The man nodded and moved away briskly leaving Spender to brood darkly on this
latest turn of events.
Lone Gunmen Headquarters
The flashing red light caught their attention.
"Uh oh... trouble."
Mulder intense gaze stabbed into Langly, waiting for the scruffy man to confirm
what he already knew. Their hack into the database had been noticed and the
owners of that information had, somehow, tracked them down. If Langly's chagrined
expression was not enough then the frantic actions of the other two gunmen was
the final confirmation.
"Let's make like sheep... get the flock outta here."
"How?"
"Just follow us, G-man... and lady." Frohike turned to the others. "Escape plan
Delta-2."
Frohike stood on a chair and pressed the exposed left nipple on the full-size
framed poster of Barbarella. The entire poster, frame and all, swung away from
the wall on hidden hinges to reveal a slightly smaller hatch with an even smaller
hole placed centrally. Mulder watched as first Byers and then Langly hauled
themselves into the hatchway dragging various technical paraphernalia with them.
"Your turn, Mulder. I'll follow behind Miss Scully."
Scully gave the little man a glare, noting the lecherous gleam in his eye. She
pushed Mulder aside and clambered up.
"In your dreams, Frohike", floated softly behind her.
"Is that a date?" Frohike mumbled hopefully but Scully disdained to answer.
Once inside the small tunnel, Mulder twisted his upper body so he could glance
back and realised the purpose of the hole in the inner doorway. Frohike pulled
the hatch shut and, extending his hand through the hole, reached out to grip a
small handle carefully positioned on the back of the Barbarella poster. A soft
snick as the frame settled tightly back in place would leave no trace of their
escape route. Mulder turned back and began to crawl along the narrow vent,
quickly catching up with Scully and realising, from that interesting view of her
pert bottom, the reason why Frohike had wanted to be behind her. He sniggered to
himself as he remembered Frohike's disgruntled expression. A fantasy gripped him
momentarily, the thought of crawling through this vent behind the delectable,
muscular ass of his lover lifted more than his spirits and then plunged him
deeper into despair when he remembered his loss. He had to find Alex.
One day later
The heavy damask filtered the worst of the glare from the overhead sun reflecting
off the pale yellow sand. A modern air-conditioning unit struggled against the
ferocity of the midday heat but did little to lower the temperature beyond the
barely tolerable. Spender sighed in relief nonetheless, the room was a good 15
degrees lower than the temperature outside.
Davis checked the bonds holding the unconscious man to the bed, testing each in
turn before nodding his satisfaction to his employer. A glance towards the door
was his command to leave so Davis headed out, closing the door behind him.
Spender moved towards the bed and glanced down at the familiar naked body
stretched out upon it; a body he had spent many a night fantasising about. He sat
down beside the unconscious younger man and reached out to trail his fingers
along the smooth flesh, his memory racing back through the years to the younger
versions of them both.
Alexei Krycek had seemed to be one of those lucky finds; a brilliant, strongly
patriotic boy full of life and enthusiasm... determined that he would be the one
to change the world. The intensity of his beliefs had made him easy prey and the
fact that he was also very beautiful made him a temptation that could not be
ignored. Spender sighed as he remembered those early years when he had used the
boy's exuberance to entice him into his bed. It was never love... unless love
could be defined as the insatiable need to slake his lust within that beautiful
frame. No... it was obsession, addiction. The heat in those piercing green eyes
would stoke the inferno; the total abandonment as Alex submitted to his caresses
would fire his soul.
He brushed an errant lock of sable hair from the tall forehead. Those eyes were
closed, the heavy curtain of black lashes concealing their jewel-like brilliance.
Obsession.
He should have known he could not keep an intelligent creature like Krycek
tethered to him by lust alone. The boy had come to him to glory in Spender's
god-like power over the lives of millions and when he had started to reveal
himself, piece by piece, as just another human pushing to stay not just alive but
on top in the face of the imminent annihilation of the Human race he had seen
Alex gradually turn from him in revulsion. Where Alex had hung on every
utterance, suddenly he was questioning. The small inconsistencies becoming
glaring holes in the fabric of lies he had woven around the youth. Teaming Alex
up with Fox Mulder had been a make-or-break decision. Either Alex would do the
Consortium's bidding or he would be drawn into Mulder's search for the truth. His
eyebrows drew together as a thought occurred to him. Who was it who said
hindsight is always 20-20? With hindsight he understand why the Englishman had
insisted that Alex was the right person for the job. That well-manicured man had
seen what he had refused to see, that Alex was a patriot first and foremost...
that he would divert all of that energy, all of that aggression into saving
Humanity. It was obvious now who had protected Alex through those years of exile.
How many times had he come close to capturing his former lover only to find Alex
had been forewarned... and had escaped?
Spender remembered the one time Alex had come to him. He sneered... but then, it
wasn't really Alex, it was the Oilien that had taken over his body that had
brought Alex to his door. He shuddered, being so close to that delicious body and
yet Alex may well have been on another planet. He couldn't touch him. All he
could do was take the Oilien to his ship as requested and then leave Alex to die.
The sound of Alex's screams as he walked away leaving the boy in his dark crypt
haunted him for months. He knew that by the time it was safe to return, Alex
would be long dead... and so he stayed away, trying to regain the lost lover
through many a lookalike but they never fired his soul and he tired of them
quickly; their bodies ending up as hosts to the Colonists.
His fingers caressed the soft lips; lips that had blazed a path across his own
skin; lips that had wrapped around his engorged flesh bringing him to mindless
ecstasy. Spender smiled. He would know that ecstasy again whether Alex was
willing or not.
A slight click as the door opened drew his attention to the Bounty Hunter.
Spender stood up and moved aside as the alien morph approached the bed. The big
hands reached down and a soft glow haloed the body momentarily. Keeping his newly
found desire firmly under control, the alien morph gave Spender one last
dispassionate glance and then left the room.
Spender listened as Krycek groaned softly, the dark lashes flickering as he
slowly surfaced from the unnatural sleep. With a sudden irrational concern for
the boy's dignity, he flicked a light covering over the lower half of the naked
form.
The long, gruelling flight to Tunisia went by so slowly that Mulder felt he was
going insane. He had tried to sleep... desperate to recuperate his strength after
that blow to the head and the traumatic escape from the Lone Gunmen's
headquarters. Beside him, Dana Scully lay back as if she had not a care in the
world. Her eyes were hidden behind the complimentary night shades, her breathing
slow and easy. He spent a moment staring at her tiny hands, momentarily awed that
such a small frame could house such inner strength... and she was his tower of
strength. She had held him together when Alex was taken from BioTechnics by the
Rebel Aliens and she was still by his side now as they raced across half the
world hoping those four numbers were leading them to where Cancer Man had taken
Alex.
He closed his eyes and dwelt on their recent escape. The vent behind the
Barbarella poster had led to a Janitor's closet further along the hallway. Unlike
most closets this one had an inbuilt laundry chute from the days when the
apartments had been a high class hotel. Mulder had smiled, realising why he had
always liked the Gunmen's home. He had spent so many of the last few years on the
road as part of his job that it had reminded him of all the hotel rooms he had
stayed in. In counterpoint, his own apartment had only felt like a real home over
the past few weeks... because Alex was there.
The laundry chute had been a tight fit for his bulkier frame and he was grateful
he had kept himself in trim over the years. The exhilarating slide had led down
to the basement room adjoining an underground parking lot. Within minutes they
were on the road heading in three different directions with instructions on where
and when to meet. Several hours later, grouped around one of the largest pizzas
Scully had ever seen, they had finished pouring over all the data and were making
their plans. Later that same evening, he and Scully had caught the Tunisian
flight with only minutes to spare.
The in-flight movie claimed his attention for a while; some lightweight comedy
but his interest faded quickly. To pass the time his mind made a mental checklist
of events garnered from the many other international flights he had taken. Only
one more hour and the flight attendants would serve another bland meal... then
there would be the obligatory attempt to sell duty free goods and then they would
be completing landing cards, sorting out passports.
He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping this time he might be successful and fall
into a restorative sleep but Alex waited for him behind his eyelids, his
pleasure-sated face demanding one more caress... one more kiss. With nothing
better to occupy his mind and a determination not to dwell on what might be
happening to his lover at this very moment, Mulder kept his eyes closed and
allowed the memories to flow through him......
Pale morning light had illuminated the motel room. The heat of another body
alongside his own had drawn him from a dreamless sleep and for a while the
perfection of the face tucked against his shoulder held its own dreamlike
quality. His fantasies surrounding this particular man had become a nightly
occurrence from very early on, gradually invading his daytime dreams but on that
morning the fantasy had returned more vivid, more alluring than ever before. His
sleep-softened mind had focused on the glints of red shining in the short,
mahogany hair before his eyes had moved to travel over that oh so familiar face.
Fingers had replaced his dreamy gaze, trailing along the stubbled jaw... and they
had kissed....
Mulder smiled as the memory of their first kiss stole through his nerve endings,
igniting a slow-burning fire, his lips tingling in remembrance of the soft ones
he had captured and held. His smile faded and he pinched the bridge of his nose
to stop the tears prickling at the back of his eyes. They had been given so
little time together, just a few short weeks; time he had spent chasing the
elusive truth, digging through shredded reports, when he should have been at home
loving Alex, creating a huge store of memories to live on should the worst
happen... should he never find Alex.
Common sense told him that he could not have done anything to prevent what
happened... except steal Alex away to some remote place where they could hide
away together forever. Cancer Man had wanted Alex... had taken Alex using the
insidious Bounty Hunter as his tool. That thought prompted another that he did
not want to dwell on. Strange how, with hindsight, it was so obvious that it was
not his Alex who came to him that night but his mind had explained away all the
inconsistencies; the ferocity of that first kiss on the fear of losing each
other, the uncharacteristic murmuring of endearments on a need to reassure that
they were both together again. Only the return of that hated smirk had broken the
spell, revealing the full deception too late to prevent this disaster.
Another thought tore at him. How was he going to explain all this to Alex? How
could he look him in the eye and say... 'I thought it was you?' He should have
known from the very first touch that it was not his lover. He should have seen
the differences between...
"It's not your fault, Mulder. He's a master of disguise."
He twisted his neck round so fast he heard it crack. Next to him, Dana Scully was
removing the nightshades and turning serious cerulean blue eyes in his direction.
She flicked a strand of red hair back from her face with those incredibly
delicate fingers.
"How did you know...?"
"What you were thinking? Easy one, Mulder. You're obsessed with taking the blame
for everything that goes wrong... or not quite right. Think this through
logically. You've just woken up. The room's quite dark. A familiar shape and
voice above you... Alex's shape. Alex's voice. Before you have time to question
why he's put himself at risk to come to you, you've got this warm, familiar body
in your arms. By the time the lethargy of sleep and sex have started to wane...
it's too late. You've said too much."
"That's uncanny, Scully. You weren't hiding in the closet were you?"
Scully smiled; a bittersweet smile considering the circumstances. There was a
time when she thought their partnership would deepen into something far more
personal but she had given up on that fantasy, content, now, to be the best of
friends, although the thought of being in that closet had come to her several
times over the past few weeks. There was something strangely alluring about these
two men... together. She wasn't quite sure what it was. Perhaps it was the love
that shone from two different sets of eyes whenever they stared at each other;
perhaps it was the way their bodies performed that subliminal mating dance
whenever they were in close proximity. Whatever the case, it was potent and
alluring. Her mind snapped back to the joking response. Mulder often used smart
replies to cover up his emotions.
"It doesn't take much intelligence to figure it out. Surveying the scene of a...
crime... is what we do for a living."
Mulder thought back to the motel room. Yes. It was pretty obvious and he was
suddenly ashamed that he had not expected her to notice. Did he really think so
little of her?
"If that expression of remorse is aimed at me then forget it. You were the
Psychologist, Mulder. Denial can be a strong emotion." She touched his arm
gently, bringing his tear glistened eyes to hers. "Alex will understand."
"Have I told you recently how much I value you?"
"Don't go all mushy on me, Mulder. I hate mush."
The crackling of the flight intercom drew their attention as the Captain
announced some turbulence up ahead. Scully faced back front and began to fasten
her seat belt, her thoughts tumbling from her pretty lips.
"I hope the Gunmen have made all the necessary arrangements. We've got a lot of
distance to cover. Those co-ordinates are way down south, into the Sahara."
"Hope you packed your sandals, Scully."
"There's one more thing I've got to say to you, Mulder. If you start doing
Lawrence of Arabia impressions... I am going to shoot you."
Consortium Research Station
The Alien Morph looked at his human disguise in a full length mirror. He had
chosen this particular form decades ago having been drawn to its broad shoulders,
massive chest and strong, square jaw... so different from his own natural form.
It was an imposing figure that sent humans scurrying out of his path. He raised
the corners of the mouth, watching with interest how the action brought life to
the normally expressionless features. The smile turned into a sneer of contempt.
More than five decades had passed and yet this was the first time he had truly
interacted with Humans. With two humans to be exact.
His thoughts returned to one other of his own species who had lost objectivity
and consorted with the livestock. Baseball. His colleague had become impassioned
by a stupid human game... hitting a ball with a stick. He had not understood why
execution was more preferable than returning to the people... to the Agenda. He
could not fathom the depth of passion that had consumed his shipmate... until
now.
"But they are livestock. Their only use to provide suitable hosts for gestating
the remainder of my shipmates..." ...bringing them out of their centuries long
sleep.
Centuries. That was how long it had taken to cross the vast expanses of space and
return to reclaim the world that had given birth to their race. Finding it
inhabited by a new dominant species was a... shock. One that was quickly hushed
up so nothing bled back to the Council. If it should then there would be an
outcry and their plans to re-colonise the World would lie in tatters.
The Bounty Hunter thought about the Rebels. He wondered if any of the human's
realised that these were not, as they thought, another alien race but members of
the Colonists who had revolted against what they were about to do. They wanted
the Humans to be left alone; wanted to study them, nurture them, watch them grow
as a species until they were ready to join the Great Council. Over the years he
had kept his distance even though he had been forced to walk among the denizens
of this planet. He paused on that thought. The humans were not denizens of the
planet; they were not foreigners enjoying the benefits of this World. They were
the Earth's children, just as his people were. He quashed the insurrection within
his mind before it could take a hold. He was a Soldier not a Worker or a
Scientist. He could not afford to have doubts about his place in the scheme of
things... could he?
"So very beautiful..."
The young human was so beautiful. Strange how he had never noticed beauty in
these creatures until now and yet, as his mind catalogued the physical attributes
of the species he began to recognise all the details that made this particular
human more captivating than most. It was not just the intoxicating scent,
although the Morph had to admit that was a major part of his attraction, it was
the softness of his ivory skin, the brilliance of his forest-green eyes... the
inviting shape of those pink, bowed lips.
"Beauty is transient."
The ravages of time would strip that perfect form of those features but did he
not read somewhere that Beauty comes from within? He had to admit that it was
more than just the pretty face that called to him. The other, the one who sucked
his life away on that toxic, aromatic drug called nicotine. By definition, he had
been handsome when first they met but the coldness inside, the willingness to
betray his own people... even his own flesh and blood had made him a creature
worthy only of his contempt. The one redeeming moment, when he had requested help
to save the life of a dying female; the mother of Fox Mulder. In contrast, both
Alexei Krycek and Fox Mulder had an inner brilliance that radiated outwards from
the depths of their being.
All three of these humans were fighting for what they believed in... the right to
exist but, whereas it was Spender's personal existence that fuelled his
determination, for Krycek and Mulder the continued existence of Humanity was
their goal. Self-serving and self-sacrificing. That was the true difference...
and the source of beauty within.
An inner calling put a halt to his introspection. He allowed the human image to
fall from his frame leaving behind the Grey alien, his true form, and he swiftly
moved out of his chambers towards the main control of the ship. For once, as he
travelled the darkened corridors, his eyes fell with pity upon the human hosts,
many of whom were still barely alive. He knew their gutted bodies would be
removed from the gestation chambers and placed into the recycling unit once his
brethren had clawed their way out of the empty shell. Nothing went to waste.
But what of their small lives? This concept of a spirit and soul? Were not these
wasted?
He viciously pushed these thoughts aside as he reached the main control room
where several of the Grey scientists and Leader-Soldiers were arguing details of
the Plan.
Krycek groaned softly. Despite the heavy damask, the light from the overhead sun
stabbed into his eyes as soon as he tried to open them. He scrunched them closed
then opened them a mere sliver. Someone was sitting beside him on the... his
fingers pushed against the soft surface and then fluttered across crisp sheets. A
bed. He'd already figured out that he was secured, wrist and ankle, to each end
and was relieved that he had been given a little play, enough that he was not
tied spread-eagled, affording him some small amount of dignity. The light
covering that lay from waist to knees gave him a little more.
Gradually, the figure sitting beside him gained greater substance and a sneer
crossed the still dazed features on recognition. If his brain had been a little
less muzzy then he would have recognised this man from the cloying scent of
cigarette smoke that clung to his clothing and, worst still, to his breath. He
wondered if the man had ever realised that was why he had rarely kissed him
during those early years.
"I should..." Krycek cleared his throat and tried again. "I should have known it
would be you."
Yellow-stained fingertips reached out to touch his face and Alex jerked his head
away, trying to avoid contact. A vice-like grip on his face turned him back.
"There was a time when you..."
"Yeah... and there was a time I believed in Santa Claus and the Tooth Fairy."
The pale blue eyes hardened. A knock on the door brought a welcome reprieve.
Spender's face distorted in anger, a look Alex had seen a hundred times. Whoever
had intruded had better have a good excuse.
"Who is it?"
"Davis. Strughold has requested your presence. We've had a report back on the
security breach."
Spender glanced back down at his restrained captive. As always, business had to
come before pleasure but... He leant forward and pressed his mouth against the
luscious pink, bowed lips. Alex struggled and, once released he spat into
Spender's face. Spender smiled, using a handkerchief to wipe the spittle from his
cheek. He stood, taking his time to light another cigarette, his eyes mapping the
long legs and exposed chest before reaching the eyes; aflame with anger.
"Perhaps it's time you grew up a little more, Alex. I seem to recall giving you
an ultimatum... return to me or watch your..." His face creased up in distaste
"... lover... die."
The green eyes narrowed to slits as Alex recalled the one-sided conversation he
had held with this man only a few short months ago. If the rebel Aliens had not
decided to make an entrance into BioTechnics when they did then Alex would have
been forced to make his decision at that time. Instead, the decision had merely
been delayed. He had no doubt that Spender could arrange for a fatal accident to
befall Fox Mulder if he refused Spender's demands but he was also unconvinced
that this accident would not occur anyway. The man could not be trusted even if
there was a shadow of possibility that Mulder was, in fact, Spender's biological
son. Cancer Man had already proved he would sell his own family down the river to
save his own skin. Cassandra Spender, and the decades of tests she had suffered,
was ample proof of that.
"We'll carry on with this 'discussion' later."
Alex watched as the man left the room without a backward glance. He tugged at the
ropes to no avail and cried out angrily in frustration.
Tunis airport
They moved swiftly through the airport entry system with only the smallest delay
as their bags were searched by the Tunisian Customs authority. Eventually they
made their way to the car rental desk.
"Is there a car rented in the name of Hale?"
"Yes. We have an international request for a 'George Hale'."
Mulder reached into his wallet and pulled out the fake driver's ID and passport,
silently thanking the Gunmen for getting the transport sorted out for them.
Within a few more minutes he had completed all the paperwork and was striding out
to the collection zone with Dana Scully by his side. As they left the cool
confines of the airport concourse Mulder felt the heat begin to rise. He mumbled
softly when the heat smacked into them as the door opened.
"I hope this car has air conditioning."
By the time they reached the car they were covered in sweat.
"I don't sweat, Mulder. I perspire."
"If we don't get out of this heat, I'll expire."
FBI Headquarters
Skinner sighed as he read the report from Agents Harris and Davidson. His men had
spent the entire weekend in Barters Grove trying to follow-up on the
disappearance of Michael Anacek and had little to show for their effort judging
by the fact that this report was so thin. He paused at the description of a man
and his female companion who had also been looking for the missing man; his mouth
tightening into a thin line of disapproval.
A tall, good-looking man and his petite red-haired partner... ring any bells,
Walter?
Still fuming, Skinner reached forward and buzzed his secretary.
"Kimberley. Get me Agents Mulder and Scully... now."
While he waited for the errant agents to be hauled in front of him, Skinner read
the rest of the report. With such a sketchy description it should not have been
possible to identify any of the people mentioned and, if he had not been handed
the case by Fox Mulder then he might of overlooked the obvious suspect; the
Smoker. Eventually, his patience ran out and he buzzed his secretary once again.
"I'm sorry, Sir. It appears Agents Mulder and Scully are unavailable. I get the
impression they've gone missing."
"Get me Kersh, please."
After a short conversation, Walter Skinner replaced the phone in its cradle and
rubbed both hands over his head, sensing the beginning of one of those special
headaches that only Mulder and Scully could produce. He pushed away from the
desk, stood and went to retrieve his coat. On the way through his secretary's
office, Skinner spoke quickly.
"Cancel all my afternoon calls and meetings. I'll reschedule them later... and
ask Agents Harris and Davidson to meet me outside Agent Mulder's apartment. The
address is on file."
"Yes, Sir. Sir? Will you be returning later?"
"No. Tomorrow."
John Byers turned his head back. Through one swollen eye he could just make out
the bound forms of his fellow gunmen. They had been foolish to return so soon;
should have been a little more paranoid. The men who had captured them had been
lying in wait; watching for any suspicious movement around the apartment. He
watched one of the men wipe away the droplets of sweat beading on the man's
forehead. This man had worked all of them over pretty good. Byers felt the
trickle of blood running through the hairs of his beard from the split in his
lip. So far none of them had given too much away, concentrating on telling a
highly edited version of the truth... the version that left out the fact that
there had been two more members of their little hacking party.
"Once more. Where did you get the address?"
The sound of metal hitting living flesh was only partially dampened by the low
groan as Frohike's head snapped sideways from the blow. The assailant eased his
fingers within the knuckle-dusters and reached out to grab Frohike by the hair in
preparation for the next blow. Byers felt tears prickle at the back of his eyes;
his friend was barely conscious and he wondered how many more blows any of them
could take. A glance sideways showed that Langly was still out cold and Byers
felt those tears spill over as he took in the mottled black and blue bruising on
pale skin turned grey.
"Where did you get the address?"
The same question had been repeated over and over. At first none of them had made
any form of answer but gradually the truth was trickling from their mouths.
Melvin Frohike coughed hard, splaying blood over his once clean white shirt. His
mouth felt like it was on fire; the nerves in his teeth screaming at the abuse.
His eyes slid over to capture the black and purple-rimmed blues of his fellow
gunman. Byers could see the defeat written in Frohike's eyes and knew he had to
act now or all the punishment they had withstood would have been for nothing.
"Don't hurt him anymore. It was me. I got the address."
The thugs let go of Frohike and turned towards the slightly built bearded man.
The coldness in their eyes brought renewed fear and he swallowed noisily. It was
hard to believe that less than Forty-eight hours ago they had been sitting in
front of their beloved computers hacking away to merry hell with hardly a care in
the world. Earlier, while the Goons had been occupied with Langly, Byers had
calculated the time differentials and decided Mulder and Scully would have
reached the mothership's co-ordinates by now. All he had to do was buy them a
little more time... enough time for Mulder to search the ship for Alex.
"It's a program. I created it. It-it manufactures possible IP addresses...
and-and then tries to connect up. If," he cleared his throat, "if the address
points to... to a server then it stores the details. We..." Byers head indicated
the other two Gunmen, "we check out those addresses manually to see if there's
anything interesting..."
He trailed off as the man approached him, reaching out a hand to lightly slap his
cheek in an almost friendly gesture.
"There. That wasn't so bad now, was it?"
It took a painful amount of control to keep the relief from showing in his eyes.
The man believed him. He really believed him. Byers felt his face go slack with
realisation as the man withdrew a handgun and carefully began to screw a silencer
to the end of the barrel. He swallowed and pulled a wan smile to his lips. It
appeared he had believed him all too well. The smile deepened. It seemed they had
bought Mulder time... with their lives.
Walking The Razor's Edge
Part 2
Saturday Night
Barter's Grove
An Alleyway behind a bar Detroit
Barter's Grove
Washington DC
"Oh, I think you know, Alex. Don't tell me you haven't told Mr Mulder about our
'relationship'"
FBI Headquarters, Washington DC
Near Jackson, Tennessee
Near Jackson, Tennessee
Manhattan, New York City
Griffin Motel
Near Jackson, Tennessee
Washington DC
New York
Washington DC
6 hours later 2630
Hegal Place Apartment 42
Alexandria
Lone Gunmen's
Headquarters
Washington DC
Sahara Desert, Tunisia
Washington DC
Consortium Research Station
Sahara Desert, Tunisia
Sahara Desert, Tunisia
Tunisia
Washington DC
Lone Gunmen Headquarters
Washington DC
