Starsky arrived back in due time with two beers and a small pizza to share.
They could have eaten sensibly before coming on duty, but that would havef
meant getting out of bed. Bed was good. Bed was great.
It started with comfort. Starsky had been in love with Terry, a woman who
fit into his life and accepted Hutch as a part of them. There had been four
of them, Starsky and Terry, Hutch and Abby. A bullet met for Starsky had
taken Terry's life. After that, Abby told Hutch that she didn't want to be a
cop's widow. Four became three and then two. When did subtraction become a
means to increase?
Partners, lovers, best friends, it was unthinkable at first. Just a kiss,
playful, teasing; one step beyond the hugs. The casual arm so natural around
a strong pair of shoulders only seemed wrong when it wasn't there. Their
smiles had faded as they looked into each other's puzzled eyes. A second
kiss led to madness... fumbling at each other's clothes, tumbling over each
other as they sought to quench what seemed an unbearable need for each
other.
Reaction had sent them both away panicked and apart. Love had brought them
back to stay. No more disappointments and no more hiding from each other.
"You dirty rat bastard." Each word was illustrated with Krycek's body
pounded against the crumbling red brick wall of the building. Krycek tried
to block with his left arm. There was an odd sensation as Mulder slammed the
arm back cruelly. It didn't feel right, but Mulder was too enraged to think
about it. Gripping the arm implacably, Mulder laid his forearm across the
white throat, pressing, listening to the gasping sounds, enjoying the
squirming.
Finally, his horrified mind registered the lack of blood. It was a
prosthesis. Krycek had lost his left arm. Mulder dashed off into the alley
in hot pursuit. As he rounded a corner, a flash of light dazed him as he
heard a hollow echoing sound. Flame blossomed across his forehead as someone
tackled him and tumbled him to the ground.
Krycek's voice hissing in a fear filled whisper said, "Stay down. We've
stumbled into something."
Harsh voices yelled as Krycek and Mulder struggled on the ground.
"Witnesses."
Mulder couldn't get a clear glimpse. There was just his enemy's voice
screaming, "No" before more voices were heard. Freed of Krycek's weight,
Mulder rolled to his feet.
A hand tugged him into an alcove, which smelled of incredibly putrid
garbage. "Shhh" and he even knew Krycek's voice in that short exhortation.
"They went over there," someone yelled.
The gash on his forehead was bleeding right into his eyes, which weren't at
their best at night anyway. Mulder couldn't see anything. Krycek was panting
in fear. He pushed Mulder deeper into the crevice, jamming his back against
something sharp edged and cold.
A flashlight bobbed and then Krycek growled, "Stay here..."
Before Mulder could protest, Krycek lit out of the hiding place. There were
more shots then the shout of "Police."
A cacophony of shots, yells, and sirens followed. Still dazed from the graze
and the twisting and turnings of his life, Mulder stayed wedged into his
little corner.
A handkerchief clasped to his forehead, Mulder fumbled for his own gun. A
flashlight beamed into his eyes and a cocky voice said, "Police! You don't
want to do that. Hands up. You're under arrest."
"I'm an FBI agent. My ID card is in my pocket." Mulder explained. A sinking
sensation hit him as he noticed a familiar outline, crumpled in the alley
not far from where they stood.
A blond man with a cheesy mustache joined them and held him in the sights of
a formidable non-regulation issue fully automatic gun. The first police
officer reached in and withdrew Mulder's ID card. He read it and said, "We
weren't told that the FBI had any interest in Cooper."
"I don't know anything about a Cooper. I was chasing someone else. I saw a
wanted criminal when I stopped over on my way to a speaking engagement."
Mulder related.
Medics were attending to the bodies crumpled in the filth of the alley.
Mulder ran to Krycek as soon as the policeman let him go. Medics were
examining him, scissoring open the black sweater that he wore. His upturned
face looked like a lily in a dark pond. A narrow slit of green showed
beneath Krycek's lush lashes. The man reached for him and mumbled, "All
right? Are you all right, Mulder?"
Give the man credit, for some inexplicable reason he had seemed intent on
protecting Mulder, his faster reflexes keeping them out of the line of fire.
His dart into the alley may have been an attempt to escape or, to be honest;
it seemed more like a feint to draw the shooters away from Mulder.
The man was a crazy son of a bitch and his motivations were bizarre. Krycek
always threw him off balance from the days of his forced partnership to his
betrayal, that fiasco in Russia, and lastly, the kiss...
Krycek had broke into Mulder's apartment to leave a cryptic note, to tell
him to keep fighting, and finally to kiss his cheek with verve and passion.
The wound in the pale flesh wasn't too bad. It had scored a line around the
side of his chest, bleeding profusely, but not penetrating far. Mulder
grimaced as the medics finished cutting away the cloth. The left arm ended
just between the elbow and the shoulder. The stump ended in a wad of flesh,
repulsively smooth. Above the surgically created order, other scars marked
the flesh. How he must have fought when they did it to him!
"This your man?" The blond man asked.
Mulder said, "Yeah, Alex Krycek..."
"Did you see the shooters?" the first man asked. He twitched from foot to
foot as if adrenaline had built up with no place to go. "We were supposed to
take over for a team watching over a witness in an organized crime case.
Somehow, the other police officers and the witness ended up here dead. We
killed one of the perps, but it appears that the rest got away."
Feeling like blushing, Mulder admitted, "Krycek knocked me down before I
could see anything. There was a shot, running figures, a lot of voices... one
of them was very deep."
The medics were finished with a field dressing. They loaded Krycek on a
stretcher and headed for a waiting ambulance. Mulder yelled, "No, wait, I
have to ride with him."
One of the medics replied, "No room."
The man with the curly hair said, "We'll drive you. Think he might have seen
something?"
That was a distinct possibility. Krycek had run into the alley well ahead of
Mulder, as quick and agile as his rat namesake. Nodding, Mulder said, "Yeah,
its likely that he did, but good luck getting it out of him. Krycek couldn't
tell the truth if it reared up and bit him in the ass."
Dead cops. A dead witness. Dobey wasn't happy. He met them at the hospital,
black face with even blacker circled eyes sweating from what must have been
a rapid trip from the station. He said, "Christ, how am I going tell
Salvador's wife and kids? Thank God, Bean was a loner. It's bad enough to
lose two officers. I don't think I could face having to break the news to
two widows. I heard you have a potential witness?"
Hutch nodded and said, "We hope so. He's unconscious so we don't know how
much he saw."
Plodding away, Dobey tossed over his shoulder, "You and Starsky are on
whoever the guy is twenty-four seven. You pick whomever you need for back
up."
"Krycek, Alex Krycek." Mulder answered.
While the agent was having his head wound seen to, Hutch called records and
told them to run Alex Krycek and Fox Mulder's names. He'd seen the ID, but
he had been fooled before by counterfeits. He wanted to see what the
computer said. Besides, what kind of name was Fox for a law enforcement
officer?
Alone, hurting, strapped down and helpless... not the first time, that Alex
had woken that way and probably not the last either. His throat felt dry.
His chest felt as if someone had strapped burning hot metal around it and
his left arm throbbed with relentless agony. Alex couldn't hold back a moan.
Someone rested a hand on his forehead. For a moment, Alex pretended it was
Mulder. That Mulder finally realized that Alex was trying to help in his own
feckless way. No such luck. He gazed into the most incredible pair of blue
eyes that he had ever seen. They were as dark as sapphires, set in laugh
rayed eye pockets above a handsome nose and a large sensuous looking mouth.
"I'm Officer David Starsky. Who are you?" The man asked.
A lie started to come to Alex's mouth, but he remembered Mulder in the
alley. The FBI agent would have told them... unless. Oh God, the fool must
have followed him out and rejected his sacrificial run!
"Mulder? Where's Agent Mulder?" Alex asked, "Did they get him? I'll find
them and kill them."
Amused, Starsky said, "Hmm, he wasn't as concerned about you, kiddo.
Mulder's fine. My partner took him to a treatment room to have that graze on
his forehead seen. Now, did you see what happened?"
It was all pretty foggy and besides, Alex realized that he was going to
throw up. The wave of nausea was overwhelming. He opened his mouth to speak,
but it was too late. Vomit, mostly stomach fluids, as he had not eaten yet,
spilled out as he heaved, unable to do more than to turn his face aside. The
humiliation more than anything sent unwanted tears down his face.
Strong hands with the characteristic callus of someone who spent a fair
amount of time on the firing range held his head. A basin caught the
remaining vomit. Shortly, a muscle bound orderly arrived, cleaning him,
changing the bedding, and covering him as he gave in to a fit of shivering.
Alex didn't know what was wrong. He'd run and fought with worse injuries.
Maybe he was just getting too old. He'd already lived past anyone's
expectations.
The kind voice said, "Hey, as I was saying when we were so rudely
interrupted, what did you see?"
Arguing voices... no surprise that one of them was Mulder's. Alex was as
always caught between pleasure and pain at the thought of seeing the man who
screwed up more of his plans than anyone else alive.
Mulder entered the room with a very fair blond man who wore a denim work
shirt and blue jeans with a sports coat slung over the ensemble. "Of course,
there's no computer record of any wrong doing. I keep telling you. That's
how the consortium works.
"Hey, Hutch." Alex's Good Samaritan said. You had to pay attention to the
timbre of the voice. This one changed to a happy, throaty near purr when he
saw the blond man.
"Starsk... we have a problem. This man really is a FBI agent although not on
assignment. I reached his supervisor, Assistant Director, Walter Skinner
who, I quote, said, "Yes, for some reason, I have been cursed with that
magnet for trouble, disobedient, accident prone excuse for a special agent.
But our other potential witness, Mr. Alex Krycek, is not a wanted man. AD
Skinner said that the man has immunity. Apparently, he's supposed to be in a
witness protection program in Iowa."
"What?" Mulder spluttered, incredulous, "How in the hell did that happen?"
Resigned to the expectation of being assaulted again, Alex said, "Grow up,
Mulder. You think that all those heads rolled on your say so? I went through
Skinner and gave 'em up. What was left of them after the... uh, conspiracy
packed up and went home."
"You son of a bitch..." Mulder cried, heading for him with a baleful
expression.
Feeling helpless, tired, and resigned, Alex said, "Detective Starsky, I saw
two of the shooters and another man, a large man in an expensive overcoat.
He was six feet and maybe two inches tall. Big guy, heavy build, but not
fat. He was bald, not even a fringe of hair. He had a really deep voice...
The other guy I saw was a really pale blonde, five feet ten and thin."
"Cooper!" exulted Starsky. "And the other one, Moss. Peter Moss. I could
kiss you, Alex Krycek."
Lowering his eyes, Alex almost told the man that he might have enjoyed that.
Although he'd prefer a kiss from Mulder. He glanced at his former partner,
hoping to see that face show a little appreciation of the chance that Alex
was taking. Instead, Mulder sneered and said, "What's your game this time,
Krycek? Who are you going to sell to whom?"
Closing his eyes, Alex rolled his head in negation, but what was the use? He
said, "I'll testify if you can keep me alive to do it." Looking around him,
Alex softly asked, "Can one of you see about some pain medication for me?"
The blond officer nodded. "Yes. Right away."
Perching in a friendly fashion on the edge of Alex's bed, Starsky went to
work on the buckles that strapped him down. "I always hate being confined,
how about you? Mind if I call you Alex? Just call me Starsky."
"Please." Alex replied, responding to the kindness as if all the loneliness
had suddenly just erupted in his soul. He had always been proud that he was
a survivor and had lived to see the aliens flee an Earth gone poisonous to
them and a conspiracy of evil dissolving in the cold, clear light of
exposure. Now, he didn't feel that his pride was enough to keep him living.
Instinctively, Alex sought the big warm hand before Starsky could pull away.
The cop wasn't pretty, but he had an open face, handsome in a broad
featured, crooked nose fashion. The man patted Alex's cheek and said,
"You're going to be okay. Don't worry. Me and Hutch are going to take care
of you."
Clinging to the hand, Alex closed his eyes. He supposed it was shock or
something, but he could not stop the tears. Someone blotted the tears with
tissue paper and stroked back his hair.
Mulder commented, "Don't let that act fool you. You're dealing with a low
life scum with the morals of a stoat."
Starsky asked, "Agent Mulder, were you born an asshole or is this the
product of a lifetime of achievement? If you can't control yourself, get the
fuck out of this room."
Locking the world out, Alex let go of Starsky's hand. He turned his face
away from the cop. He knew that nothing could make it better. He could cut
his heart out and offer it on a platter. Mulder would spit on it.
The nurse came in and fussed over him, swiftly injecting his IV with
something. It took a few moments to work, but Alex pretended to sleep
instantly. He couldn't stand the look on Mulder's face. That oddly
fascinated horror as if at some spectacularly gross specimen had appeared in
an X File. Alex knew that he had lost the beauty he'd once had; it died on
the cold ground in Tunguska. All that was left was someone who had outlived
his usefulness even to himself.
Watching the FBI agent was a puzzle for Hutch's active mind. Mulder refused
to leave even after acknowledging that he really had no grounds to arrest
Krycek. The man sat in the hospital room, wrinkling his elegant suit, eyes
growing dark circles. When he thought that he wasn't observed, he stared
obsessively at the wounded man.
The expression softened at times, became anxious when the witness moaned in
his uneasy sleep. Once when Krycek uttered a truly horrific scream and
begged, "No, no, no, please don't..." Mulder stood, fists knotted at his
side. He took a single step toward the bed before the whimpering plaint
subsided back into sleep.
Hutch couldn't recall hovering over anyone like that. Anyone except Starsky.
Since Mulder was in the room, Hutch motioned Starsky out into the hall.
Starsk leaned against the door, head cocked, mouth in that crooked smile
that made Hutch just want to kiss it until his lover opened those lush lips
to him. Well, that would have to wait. They were good cops. Better, Hutch
thought since they had become lovers. Kind of took the distraction out of
things.
"Mulder's a strange one." Starsk remarked. "Seems like he hates that guy,
but he can't take his eyes off of him."
Remembering the green eyes, the fine features, the pert nose, and the silken
hair, Hutch said, "Well, Krycek is a beauty." He let the humor show in his
eyes.
"If you like the pretty boy type." Starsky said.
"Nah, I like the type with curly hair and a crooked smile who always takes
the last slice of pizza without asking." Hutch replied.
"Not always!" Starsky said. He grinned and leaned closer. Hutch reminded,
"Not here."
"Damn, well, Dobey says that the safe house is ready. The doctor said that
he could go. Fever's down and he's healing well." Starsky said.
"What about Mulder?" Hutch asked, "Do we take him or leave him? He gives me
the creeps the way he stares at Alex.
Smirking, Starsky pushed his weight away from the wall. He was the only man
Hutch had ever known who could swagger even when he was standing still.
Starsk crackled with electricity. He was constantly moving, crooked grin in
the baby rounded face challenging and big, startling dark blue eyes
twinkling with humor. Even after all these years, Hutch still loved to look
at him. It was a wonder everyone didn't know from the start that they were
made for each other.
"Hell, I doubt that he'd let us ditch him. Pack him up, Hutch. Besides as
far as Cooper knows they both saw everything that happened."
The safe house was located in an isolated area, a disadvantage, Starsky
thought, unless you considered that at least they didn't have to worry as
much over shooting innocent bystanders. One side was bordered by an
overgrown and seldom visited part of a Catholic cemetery. Starsky gazed at a
monument, which appeared to be tilting slowly over into the slightly sunken
earth it guarded. It was a Gothic angel with bat like wings. The idea of
sleeping next to a cemetery made him shiver ...not that he was
superstitious. He just didn't like it.
The backyard ran along a tall barbwire topped fence. It was a military
enclosure of some sort. A rolling wave of sound from a firing range
explained the number of trees with broken branches.
Rubble from earthquake wrecked houses told the rest of the story. This
unprepossessing two-story house was spared by a quirk. It tilted too, but
that gave it sort of Charlie Chaplain charm. Starsky waited for Hutch to
finish casing the place so they could move into its shelter. The uniformed
cops, currently out of their blues, dressed in jeans and bowling shirts,
looked happy, anticipating pizza and Chinese on the city for a couple of
weeks until the prosecutor had arraigned Cooper.
Krycek was slumped against the car door, face turned toward the cemetery.
His face held a closed in expression. He reminded Starsky of a dog he had
once seen. It had broken loose from a junkyard where it had been starved and
beaten. When Starsky happened upon the scene, the dog had been running down
the freeway for at least twenty minutes. Wild eyed and panting, the dog's
tongue lolled from a foaming mouth. The huge scarred body gathered all four
feet together and then stretched out again and again. The eyes were white
blobs in the gape jawed face.
Kindly people passing by had tried to stop the frantic creature; every
attempt to help had terrified the beast that had never known kindness. After
several accidents, police were called to help animal control. Starsky was
glad that he was not the one whose shot ended the horrible flight. He did
remember, would always remember the resigned look as the abused dog had
breathed his last.
Krycek had that look; someone had run him hard and heavy. He had been
fleeing so long that if he ever had an objective he could not remember it.
Starsky didn't know the story behind that mutilated arm or why the two men
seemed bound in this nexus with each other. He did know that if they were
caught in a firefight that Krycek couldn't be trusted to stay alive. Hell,
that stunt in the alley, drawing fire from Mulder had been idiotic. Starsky
could have thought of a better way to help his partner if they were pinned
down.
Hutch waved from the door. Starsky went round to help Krycek out of the car.
Mulder balefully watched him, begrudging the touch and the solicitous
gesture equally.
"How you holding up?" Starsky asked in a hearty voice.
The look Krycek gave him could have withered a plastic flower. He replied,
"I'm fine. It wasn't more than a scratch. I've survived a thousand times
worst without even the aid of an aspirin."
The snort from Mulder meant what? Krycek glared at the man and said, "Ask
Mulder. I've got a bunch of scars with his name on them."
Well, so much for bedside manner. Starsky walked Krycek up the front steps
into the house, taking him to a bedroom in the basement. It was windowless
and not exactly either comfortable or attractive, but it was the safest
place in the house. Despite his bravado, the witness went right to the bed.
He dropped his leather jacket onto the floor and snarled, "Do you mind? I
have things I have to do?"
"Sorry, one of us has to be with you at all times." Starsky explained.
"Grand." Krycek said. He turned away and lifted his sweater to bare his left
side. The straps took a moment to loosen and then he put the prosthesis on
the dresser. A kind of stocking-like material covered the scarred stump.
Krycek gingerly removed this and laid it aside. He took a tube from his
jacket pocket and smoothed something on the end of the stump. Finally,
decisively, he stripped off. His naked body held perfect proportions. He
stretched, winced, and then rolled into a bundle under the covers.
A noise made Starsky turn around. It was Mulder again. The man said, "I
don't sleep well. I can watch him."
"Yeah?" Starsky challenged, "and who is going to protect him from you?" He
could see Krycek was watching and listening.
"I'm a professional." Mulder claimed, ignoring Starsky's derisive snort. "I
know Krycek will screw you about the testimony, but as long as you think
he's going to be a good little witness, I'll help you protect him."
Starsky plopped down in an armchair and picked up a Batman and Robin comic
book. It was going to be a long four days until the indictment. Mulder
fidgeted a while then went out. Starsky's thoughts turned to Hutch. The
comic book forgotten, he sprawled, legs akimbo and one hand resting over his
sweater clad stomach. The wind was blowing hard. He could even hear it
downstairs in this windowless room. On nights like this, he and Hutch
enjoyed long hours in bed exploring the riches of each other's bodies
beneath the warm covers. A throb from his cock reminded him of what his
partner's lean body did to him. His hair was so soft, baby fine, so smooth
to wind between his fingers. Hutch's torso was sleek, just right. When he
was aroused, all that pale porcelain skin would pink. Hutch would blush from
his sharp cheeks to his inward turned belly button.
A moan broke Starsky's pleasant reverie. The man in the bed was groaning
like a lost soul. "No, no, no." the man cried, "Not Mulder... don't take
him, please." Then a smothered scream further added to the sound of Krycek's
torment. He thrashed, tangled in the covers, until frantically he propelled
from the bed. He stood panting, green eyes feral in the dim light.
It was natural for Starsky to reach for the man. Physical intimacy had
always been easy for him. His confidence in himself was sorely shaken a
moment later. He was gasping, looking up at a savage face. Krycek's beauty
was still impressive even with lips pulled back, baring white teeth and his
whole face tensed to a hardened mask of wolfish defiance.
Scrambling back, Starsky narrowly avoided a vicious kick. He kept backing on
hands and knees, taking cover behind the chair, which had overturned in his
haste to get to the man. "Take it easy. You're safe. Hey, I'm one of the
good guys."
The man was going for the door. Starsky didn't stop him. He didn't want to
be rough and open the wound. He followed, sending a steady stream of
comforting monologue in Krycek's direction. Nothing seemed to penetrate the
panic attack. Krycek scurried toward the stairs, his movements wild yet
conveying that he was well able to defend himself. Mulder confronted him
half way down the stairs.
Oh, shit, Starsky thought. It was going to hit the fan. However, Mulder
didn't attack. His voice, which Starsky had found annoyingly monotone and
upper class, suddenly held layers of humor, understanding and warmth. "Hey,
Alex, we're here, you know. No aliens, no Smoker, not even the crazed victim
of an experiment. Just you and me, a quartet of cops and a safe house. A lot
better than Skinner's balcony, don't you think?"
Mulder took a step or two down and stroked the man's arm from shoulder to
wrist. Krycek's hand found his. Mulder said, "Okay, it was just a nightmare.
We both know about those, don't we?"
His partner and he had their bad times, Starsky thought, but the expression
on Mulder's face, in those expressive hazel eyes conveyed horrors beyond
crooked judges and vengeful mobsters. What had the man said, aliens? A
Smoker? Well, Starsky had heard rumors about a strange conspiracy that had
been defeated a year or so back. It was well known now that Roswell was
real. So that was the matter with which Mulder and Krycek had been involved?
Interesting to see how rapidly Krycek calmed when Mulder touched him despite
all the antagonism they seemed to evidence. Like a snake charmer, Mulder
continued to speak in a low rhythmic voice. "What is it this time? The silo?
Your arm? Something Spender did to you. Could even be about me, huh?"
Krycek shuddered and started to collapse. Mulder caught him before Starsky
could reach him. Hutch was at the top of the stairs, hair standing on end
and clad only in his jeans. "What's going on?" Hutch asked.
"He's having a nightmare." Starsky explained as he helped Mulder walk Krycek
down the stairs. They eased the man back into bed. He was still breathing in
rapid gasps, but sanity had returned to his face.
Almost shyly, Krycek said, "Thanks, Mulder."
The walls dropped back down like an Arctic storm swooping into town. Mulder
said, "Don't take it personally. I have them too, only most of my nightmares
involve you." Spinning on his heels, the man marched away, nudging Hutch out
of the way as he went out the door.
There was a brief silence and then Krycek turned his face into his pillow.
Starsky felt helpless. It was obvious that the man didn't want any comfort
from him.
After Hutch took over and Starsky caught a few hours sleep, it was back to
the basement. Hutch and Krycek were playing chess. Hutch went down in defeat
as Starsky watched. He followed Hutch outside to the hall. They only had
time for a quick kiss. As Starsky watched Hutch's ass trot up the stairs,
always a treat from this angle, he realized that Krycek had followed them
out of the room, seeing them kiss, but Starsky wasn't worried. As far as he
was concerned, people could like it or lump it. Hutch just didn't want to
make waves.
"Did you need something?" Starsky asked.
"A cup of tea." Krycek said.
Starsky yelled up the stairs, "Hutch, bring Alex a cup of tea before you hit
the sack."
Doing one better, Hutch provided a tray with tea and cookies. Krycek didn't
have much appetite and had hardly finished a meal since they got here. He
did like the cookies though, chocolate and nut covered butter cookies from
Starsky's favorite baker. Setting the tea tray down on the table in front of
the couch, Starsky grabbed a cookie. He wasn't crazy about tea, but he
wanted to keep the man company.
"Must be nice." Krycek remarked. "Being partners the way you two are. I
remember there was a time when I dreamed about something like that, but it
was never real."
Well at least, he was talking. Starsky said, 'Yeah, it's nice. Even before
Hutch and I got together this way, we'd spent most of our time together. It
never struck us as odd, that most guys would have found that too much time
together."
"I never really... loved any one." Krycek said.
"Could have fooled me." Starsky answered, thinking of what had happened in
that alley, the man willing to give his life to protect Mulder.
"I did things that blacken my soul." Krycek remarked.
"Yeah, my grandfather used to say that too. He was a Polish Jew. One of the
few survivors of the Warsaw Ghetto. They made him a sonderkommando at the
camp. You know what they did?" Starsky asked.
"Yes, they worked in the crematoriums, removed the bodies from the death
chambers." Krycek said.
"Grandpa said he killed two capos to survive in there. Took bread from a
dying man. Fought another guy to the death for the guard's amusement. When
he got out, only falling in love with my grandmother saved him from
suicide... that and the legacy." Starsky related.
Looking fascinated, Krycek asked, "What legacy?"
"That he lived and took those other lives. If he laid down and died after
all that, then he'd killed for nothing." Starsky said.
Krycek looked very young at that moment. His mouth, which was so soft and
pretty, gaped slightly and his eyes were wide, showing all the hues of
verdant color. He said, "You're a good man, Starsky. Too good to waste any
concern on me."
Smiling, Starsky said, "Just think about it. My grandfather was a very wise
man."
"I will." Krycek said.
"Let's watch a flick. Hey, look Killer Tomatoes. Ever seen it?" Starsky
asked.
"Mulder had it when we were... when I first knew him." Krycek said.
The evening passed peacefully. Tomorrow the prosecutor would come and
interview the two men. If she felt satisfied then they would be attending
the indictment hearing the following day. Word on the street was that
Cooper knew about the witness. Either there was a leak or someone had
gotten away to tell the mobster about Krycek. However, so far, the only
outside eyes belonged to a flock of crows that roosted in the yard and made
raucous calls of alarm whenever someone went in or out.
The prosecuting attorney was pleased. Krycek told his story like a good cop.
He was clear and concise, sure of himself. The woman with brown hair was new
to the prosecutor's office. She looked like a young Sally Fields, small,
pretty, almost plump, and a picture of big-eyed innocence. Her serious
business suit didn't make her seem stern, just as if she had escaped from
some fancy girl's school with a major dress code.
Alyce Curry was obviously not a lightweight. She drilled Krycek as
ruthlessly as the high priced defense attorney would do. They sat in the
recreation room downstairs for the interview. The two uniformed cops had
rotated out and now a second pair, Harry Belgarde and Rich Amory had taken
their place. They were veterans and had worked with Starsky and Hutch
before. It was good to know they were out there, serving as a first line of
defense. Hutch leaned on the wall, brow furrowed, arms folded, scowling in
concentration.
Closing her notepad, Ms. Curry said, "Once last thing, Mr. Krycek, how's
your eyesight. The alley was dark and there was a lot going on."
"Rats see very well in the dark and a little commotion doesn't change that."
Mulder remarked. He had straddled a chair and had spent the interview
glaring at Krycek. If he'd had a tail, it would have been twitching from
side to side so predatory was his gaze.
A moment later after trading hostile glance with his nemesis, Krycek said,
"I have perfect vision. Put me on a shooting range at night and I'll prove
it. I hardly ever needed to use a scope."
"What are they going to find if the defense attorney goes for dirt on you?"
the prosecutor asked.
"Nothing. The record shows that I'm a former FBI agent injured in the line
of duty." Krycek replied with a sidelong glance at Mulder.
Marionette like, Mulder let Krycek pull his strings. He stomped out of the
room, making a side trip to shove Krycek over in his chair.
Helping the man up, Starsky was startled to see an expression of
satisfaction in the Krycek's beautiful green eyes. Was he so desperate for a
touch from Mulder that even being hit gave him a glint of happiness? If so,
he was playing a dangerous game. Mulder seemed as if he was a man who was
barely in control, hurting badly and striking out at the world because of
that.
After a few moments attempting to restore a semblance of normalcy to the
situation, Ms. Curry left. She said, as she gathered her notes, "I certainly
hope you can keep the man alive. I don't know if I should be more worried
about the bad guys or that maniac in the expensive suit. I hope you are
keeping them separate."
Stealing a few moments to talk while Amory sat with the witness, Starsky
pulled Hutch into the bedroom they had been sharing in turns. Somehow
watching Mulder and Krycek had made him crazy for his partner. He grabbed
Hutch and wrestled him against the wall. His lover's hands kneaded his back
as they kissed so deeply that Starsky saw stars. Hutch was peeling up the
heavy wool of the Cowichan sweater that he had bought Starsky for Christmas.
Starsky got into the action by unbuttoning his partner's worn blue jeans,
tugging the flannel shirt from the tight pants.
"Oh, my God, do you have any idea how much I missed you? It's been two
days!" Hutch remarked as he tossed the sweater on the floor.
Eager hands peeled off each other's remaining clothing and they tumbled onto
the bed. What had at first seemed awkward now seemed natural as the two men
nibbled, fondled, reveled in each other's bodies. Starsky worried a nipple,
teasing it erect before starting for the other one. "What'cha want to do?"
Starsky asked.
It used to be that if one penetrated the other, it was an obligation for the
other to allow the same. When had it ceased to be just a part of fair play?
All Starsky knew was that he didn't really care any more. Hutch could make
him come just touching him. Damn, they knew each other's bodies as they once
only knew each other's souls.
Well, Hutch had decided. He reached for the lubrication sitting in plain
sight on the table. His finger pushed into Starsky, the opening yielded to
him eagerly. One of his lover's hands continued to work him, never letting
him get quite enough friction to come, but never letting him fall off the
near peak of sensation that kept Starsky close to screaming.
Laughing, Hutch said, "Remember, quiet."
"Like a mouse." Starsky answered, making that a lie with a loud groan. Hutch
smothered the sound with a kiss.
"I'm ready." Starsky moaned. "Get in me already, Hutch."
It was their favorite position for this; one of them on his back, legs
supported by his lover's shoulders, cock accessible for additional pleasure.
They liked to watch each other come, so often together. Joined like this,
nothing else mattered. Starsky writhed as Hutch moved harder. He met the
thrusts, receiving Hutch, looking up into the face still tender even in his
mounting passion. They didn't have to warn each other. Their hearts, their
souls were joined. Their bodies sang out as they came.
Collapsing, Hutch said, "Never seems long enough. Only you, Starsky."
"I know." Starsky teased and then he moved to clean up just a bit before
lying back down with Hutch.
"Yeah, I know." Starsky said.
"You want me to take the next shift?" Hutch asked.
"Nah, Krycek likes me, I think. I want to find out what's going on with him
and Mulder. The way it's been going there are things they have to resolve
before one or the other blows." Starsky answered.
A lingering kiss and a shower later, Starsky went down to the basement.
Krycek sat in the recreation room, but he wasn't doing much. He and Hutch
had played a game or two of chess and now he sat twirling a black knight in
his hands. "It's me, you know. Monty Python..." The green eyes challenged as
he jerked his chin toward his shoulder. "Just a scratch."
Nodding dismissal at Amory, Starsky took the opposite chair, facing the
witness across the chess table. He said, "So were you really in the FBI?"
"Yeah, not if you ask Mulder, but I was." Krycek said. "I was a blue flamer,
as a matter of fact, when I was at the academy. Very eager to do all the
right things, imagining that field agent post as if I was going be Batman
and Kevin Costner in the Untouchables all in one. One day, I was called to
meet what I thought was an Internal Affairs officer. He offered me a cup of
coffee and next thing I knew I woke up strapped to a bed. I spend a month
having my psyche ripped apart and put back together. When he was done, there
wasn't much left of the young man that had sat down in that office."
"Brain washed?" Starsky questioned. He had seen examples of that so it was
easy to believe. He shuddered as he recalled the tormented young man who had
ended a previous witness protection assignment with a bullet. The poor guy
had genuinely believed his victim had killed his beloved wife. The bastards
who did it had succeeded in creating a life that never happened except in
their devious brains.
Putting the black knight down with infinite care, Krycek said, "Yeah. I woke
up as an assassin and a spy. All I knew was that I had to obey Spender. He
told me all kinds of shit. That I was doing the right thing; that we were
saving the human race; that I was going rule the world as one of the men who
had stopped us from going the way of the dinosaurs."
"And Mulder?" Starsky asked.
"I was for him." Krycek answered. "Just like Dana Scully, only they failed
with her. She was supposed to be a dead weight on him, destroying him from
within by her debunking of his theories. Only they were soul mates. Course,
Mulder has his quirks. Scully went on a pedestal, but he was always a sucker
for the wrong woman or... as in my case, man. I was eye candy for him, just
edgy enough to give him a thrill. They were so sure that he'd jump for me."
Starsky saw Mulder hovering in the hallway listening. Krycek was so involved
in his story that for once instincts failed him. He continued, "Only, I
wasn't experienced. I mean I knew I could go that way, but I never wanted to
risk my precious career. A kiss was as far as he went. I think he was
waiting for me to give him a sign, but I was too nervous. So it never
happened and then Spender changed his mind. I don't know what I did wrong,
but I became very, very expendable."
"So at what point did you remember being brain washed?" Starsky asked,
reaching across the board to capture the fretful hand.
"After I did something so ugly to a kid that I still have nightmares. I was
talking to another one of the consortium pawns and accidentally used my key
words, 'rule the world'. Everything came back to me. By that time, it wasn't
much use. I was dirty and I was one arm less than FBI requirements. After
that, another one of the conspiracy decided to use me. He had a different
agenda, one that became mine. Spender made me a monster, but like
Frankenstein's monster, I turned on my creator." Eyes glowing, Krycek said,
"I helped take it all down."
"So what's Mulder's problem? You ever tell him any of this?" Starsky asked.
He saw Mulder backing away. He'd heard a lot. Starsky figured the man needed
a little more food for thought.
"I tried, but he doesn't believe me. I lied too many times or at least, it
looked as if I did. I made a lot of bad moves, got sucked into Spender's
schemes. The old man even made me kill someone; the man Mulder thought was
his father. I tell myself he could have done it to anybody, but I don't
know. Maybe he picked me for a reason, knew I was weak." Krycek said, the
closed down look coming back to his face.
"Sounds as if you survived a lot of stuff for someone who isn't very
strong." Starsky remarked.
Mulder had returned to eavesdropping. Starsky saw those words hit him. He
took a step closer as if unable to resist. Feeling very smug, Starsky felt
as if he had played matchmaker.
Hutch yelled down the stairs, "Starsky, the outside men aren't responding."
Grabbing Mulder, Starsky dragged him into the room. "You two stay here.
Mulder are you armed?"
"Yeah." The FBI agent replied.
A glint of defiance in his eyes, Krycek moved his leather jacket aside. He
had acquired his weapon back. Damned if Starsky knew when or how...
"Okay." Starsky said, "Just let Hutch and I handle this."
Hutch said, "Phone lines cut. I used the mobile, but I'm not sure if it went
through. Dobie answered and then it cut out."
"Just you and me, partner?" Starsky asked.
"What else is new?" Hutch replied.
Poking his head up for a brief view, Starsky saw Amory lying on the lawn. He
was still moving, but was pinned down. Belgarde was doing his best to cover
for his partner, but he was trapped behind the patrol car. A shot zinging
over Starsky's head sent him ducking back down.
"Fucking house is on fire." Hutch yelled.
It certainly was. The place was going up like a gasoline soaked rag. Krycek
and Mulder burst up the stairs. Starsky didn't blame them. Of all the ways
to die, fire was one of the worst. Mulder disappeared in the direction of
the kitchen. He said, "I'll cover the back. Krycek?"
The man had disappeared. Mulder yelled again, "Krycek?"
There was no response. It was hard to search without exposing themselves to
bullets, but between the two of them, Starsky and Mulder concluded that
somehow or other, Krycek had escaped outside. Mulder grumbled, "And you
almost had me believing in him. The rat and sinking ships..."
Ruefully reflecting that Cooper would not believe that the witness had flown
the coop, Starsky uttered a satisfied grunt as he saw one of the besieging
men fall. Outside, Belgarde kept up his end of the defense. Starsky felt
badly for him. The veteran cop was almost as fond of his partner in a
different way as Starsky was of Hutch. He must be going crazy trying to get
to Amory.
The smoke was choking them and Starsky gathered himself for flight. Just as
they were ready to try for the shelter of the patrol car, the big SUV that
the department had loaned them pulled onto the lawn with a circling motion,
protecting Amory long enough for Belgarde to pull him in behind the police
car for protection. Continuing the motion, the SUV crashed into one of the
cars that had brought Cooper's men. It kept going, crunching one of the cars
against the other, but the impact must have stunned the driver. The three
trapped men joined Belgarde behind the patrol car.
"No!" Mulder screamed as men pulled a feebly struggling Krycek from the SUV.
"Damn it, Mulder." Starsky grumbled as the FBI agent charged toward the
nexus of danger and lust that was his former partner. He grabbed a handful
of air. He crawled forward, aware of Hutch beside him, both of them laying
down a heavy barrage of fire in an attempt to cover Mulder.
At Mulder's shout, Krycek must have come back to consciousness. He took out
the man who had been dragging him toward the black van. Starsky heard an
audible snap and the man's head flopped at an angle incompatible with life.
"Mulder, get down!" Krycek yelled, running in a broken pattern toward his
former partner. "Get down."
Starsky couldn't tell whether Mulder's luck had run out and he had finally
caught a bullet or whether he just stumbled. Krycek seemed to think it was
the former. He shouted something in a language that sounded like the Polish
that grandpa used to yell when he was very angry. He ran to Mulder, throwing
himself on top the man to protect him.
Cooper's men aimed the van at the two. Starsky and Hutch rose and fired as
one person. They took out the front tires and the van veered off, hitting
the fence. Unfortunately, it hadn't been going fast enough to do the
shooters any harm. They boiled out like bees from a fallen hive. Meanwhile
Krycek had managed to drag Mulder to the meager shelter of an overgrown
clump of ground cover. They were both arguing with each other... something
about who was more stupid than the other.
Starsky grunted as he rolled over on his back to reload as Hutch covered.
"You don't suppose..."
Sirens! Dobey to the rescue. Meanwhile, the five men had become a team. Two
more of Cooper's men had fallen. Starsky figured that made the odds three to
one. At least the mobster hadn't underestimated them. He'd sent a small
army. Ah, a little panic in the ranks. One of the cars went careening off.
The ones in the van seemed determined to finish the job. Either Mulder or
Krycek was a hell of a shot. Two more frontrunners fell as they targeted the
two. Starsky exchanged glances with Hutch and they moved as one, yelling
like banshees and firing steadily.
That left three. Krycek whirled out, moving like a dervish of death.
Startled, the remaining men froze. With Starsky and Hutch flanking them and
deserted by their comrades, the killers gave up. They held up their arms in
surrender. Starsky uttered a whoop of triumph as he and Hutch ran up to
search the captives.
A moment later, Dobey and reinforcements arrived to take over. Krycek and
Mulder were dirt covered. Both had blood streaked faces. Krycek remarked,
"I called for backup before I went in. Something you never learned to do."
A tired grin was Mulder's reply. "Very good, Krycek. Maybe Starsky and Hutch
might want to hear some DOT statistics later. Gentlemen? I'd like to have a
safer, safe house."
Amory was in the hospital, but according to Belgarde, the man was just
enjoying the private bathroom. The cop had three teenage daughters and two
sons in a one and a half bath house. He came in to work early with his
shaving kit most mornings just to have a chance to use a sink and mirror.
Hutch whistled as he listened to Starsky singing in the shower. They had a
room of their own in this crème de la crème of safe houses and enough back
up to make plenty of time for each other. Starsky yelled, "Hutch, go get
Krycek's sizes. Ms. Curry wants him to look pretty."
Somehow the FBI agent and the double agent had ended up sharing a room.
Hutch was pretty sure that they hadn't consummated the truce yet, but he had
interrupted a kiss yesterday that looked as if it was an incendiary device.
Knocking, Hutch asked, "Are you two decent?"
Laughing, Mulder said, "Well, I am. I'm trying to make my mind up about
Krycek."
Hutch pushed the door open. The two were sitting on the bed. Krycek looked
as if someone had given him a drink from the fountain of youth. He was
glowing; even his hair seemed to shine brighter. Hutch said, "I have to get
Krycek a suit. Alyce wants him to look like a sincere, former FBI agent on a
disability. Leather looks good, but that's not what she wants."
Standing up, Mulder said, "Find me a measuring tape. I'll get his suit. Uh,
I think he's more my style than yours."
"Okay," Hutch said. It took a few moments, but the tape was found and
delivered. Hmm, free time and freshly clean Starsky... sounded like a plan.
"To be measured for a suit?" Krycek asked. "You can't just do it over my
clothes?"
"You want to look really good or not?" Mulder demanded.
"Whatever you want, Mulder." The teasing, tasting play with his name sounded
like a come on. They'd been taking it slow with so much pain between them.
It had left Mulder with a perpetual case of blue balls, but he knew he
didn't want to hurt Alex by taking him before he was sure that it was what
they both wanted.
Mulder had done a lot of talking with Starsky and Hutch. The two men
represented something he once dreamed that he would have with Krycek. Both
of them seemed to think the FBI agent and the former Consortium double agent
still had a chance. Mulder wanted to believe.
Maybe now was the time. Alex looked timid as he removed his moss green
sweater and unzipped his jeans. He angled away, not wanting Mulder to see
the prosthesis too closely. When they had been necking, Mulder had brushed
it once or twice, causing Alex to pull away and tense. Standing in his
briefs, Alex raised his chin defiantly. He was as gorgeous as ever; more
beautiful really than the glimpse in the FBI gym that had fueled a variety
of fantasies over the years from the sweet seduction of the green agent to
violent dreams of rape.
The tape was just an excuse. Alex knew that as well. His eyes were closed,
his body offered in trembling submission to Mulder. The tape slithered over
the smooth and elegant neck. Mulder murmured the measurements into Alex's
ears, flicking his tongue into the hollows of the delightfully pointed
things. He whispered his lips down the throat, feeling Alex swallow
nervously. As Mulder took the chest measurements, he let his thumbs circle
Alex's nipples. They sprang upright on the smooth skin of the nearly
hairless breadth of chest.
The right arm was heavily muscled although Alex must have undergone some
kind of therapy as the left shoulder was still developed. Mulder shuddered
inwardly as he said, "I really have to check the left side too, Alex."
"Mulder..." Alex said, eyes opening.
"It will be all right. I've looked at it. I won't say that it doesn't bother
me, but only because of what it does to you." Mulder assured. He nuzzled
Alex's nape, moving back the tendrils of hair. "I'm glad that you grew your
hair longer."
"Yeah, well, that was a stupid ass haircut." Krycek answered.
"There, all done. Did I hurt you?" Mulder found his voice was as tender as
he sometimes used with Scully.
"No, it's okay." Alex said, his eyes briefly met Mulder's then flickered
away. When Mulder rounded the thighs with the tape, he grinned as he saw the
bulge in the briefs. Of course right now, his own boxers were straining over
his erection. He was sure that the only thing he would ever regret was not
making love to Alex. His tongue flicking out, Mulder took the inseam
measurement and rocked back on his heels. Alex looked down at him. Reaching
his fingers under the white briefs, Mulder asked, "May I?"
"Yeah. Please." Alex breathed.
That was beautiful. He was cut. Mulder remembered that. It was okay although
for some reason he'd imagined it the other way at first. It had been
something about Krycek's name and his exotic looks. He was perfectly
proportioned. Mulder touched his lips to the silken shaft and tasted the
slightly bitter pre-cum. Krycek's right hand braced on his shoulder as he
virtually howled his appreciation.
Mulder smirked, leaving the man hard and straining with need. He said, "It
was rude of me not to match your state of dress."
The pupils expanded in the green eyes as they took in the slow strip tease.
Krycek uttered a heart felt "Mulder." It seemed that Krycek's smart mouth
was stunned into nearly inarticulate short phrases.
Alex's hand explored. His lips followed. Groaning they fell onto the bed.
Mulder had always wanted to fuck him, but they didn't have the discipline
for that. It was all groping and kissing, a frenzy of consumption before
each stiffened and cried out in turn.
Alex's head lay heavily on Mulder's shoulder as his hand stroked the silken
hair over and over. He could feel wetness on his skin as his new lover wept
silently. "It's going to be okay now. I'll take care of you."
A tremulous smile met this comment. "Yeah, I know, Alex. Okay, how about we
take care of each other from now on?"
"Yes." Alex said, moving up to kiss Mulder. The lashes were long enough to
brush over Mulder's face, a teasing sweet angel caress. They fit together so
well as if some hidden hand had sculpted them to each other. "Mulder, I want
to tell you something."
Fear gripped Mulder's heart. What could be left unsaid that made Alex so
reluctant to speak. He swallowed and determined that he would not be angry.
He said, "Tell me then."
Eyes vulnerable, glistening with emotion, Alex said, "I haven't let anyone
inside me. Not ever. I was saving it for you even when I figured you'd
rather kill me."
That teasing, taunting man who Mulder had called a whore on more than one
occasion looked at him with an oddly embarrassed air. "Stupid. I know it was
stupid."
"No, Alex, that was... well; no one ever wanted me that badly before. All
this time..." His voice broke so he spoke with his hands. It seemed
important to touch Alex everywhere, to claim every sweet tantalizing inch of
him. There was no hurry. They seemed suspended in a world of their own.
Mulder's hand rested between Alex's legs. He felt the heat and the stir of
him. Stroking, he stoked the fire. It didn't take much. Maybe it was that
this was the conclusion of a long, long courting dance. Up to now, it had
seemed one doomed to end in tragedy.
Taking a deep breath, Alex pressed the lube into Mulder's hand. "When you're
ready."
So patient, so longing, Mulder inched a finger inside. He used too much
lubrication to the point that it was hard to stay inside. Alex was moaning
and his body quivered at each stroke until Mulder's finger found the spot.
Alex drew up his legs and pushed against Mulder's fingers. "That feels... I
can't believe how that feels. I've read and guys have told me, but..."
"Shut up." Mulder said, but it sounded more like, I love you, even to him.
The body beneath him was strong, even in this mutilated state yet to Mulder
it felt fragile. Alex yielded to him, yielded everything to him. "You are so
beautiful." He whispered as he thrust. "I love you. And we are never going
to be apart, my Alex. My beautiful Alex."
A virgin no more, Alex lay in his arms. He moved closer and said, "Thank
you, Mulder. I love you and it was everything I ever dreamed. Even if you
decide you don't want me..."
"Bull. Just try to skip out again, Alex..." Mulder threatened.
"What's Scully going to say?" Alex asked.
"Oh, hell, I don't know. She'll get over it. Just thinks of the kid these
days anyway and John 'I'm so stable and reliable' Doggett anyway." Mulder
said. He said, "I notice you didn't ask about Skinner."
"We understand each other." Alex replied, with a quick toss of his head and
an evasive look.
"One of those guys who told you what you were missing?" Mulder asked.
"I'm here with you." Alex replied huskily.
"You are." Mulder said. "Where you belong. Where you were meant to be."
Hutch could feel Starsky stirring restlessly on the bench. He was playing
with a coin, pulling at his tie. Hutch resisted the urge to straighten the
crooked knot. Krycek's voice compelled from the stand. His green eyes pinned
Cooper as if he were an avatar of justice.
Sneaking a peak at Mulder, Hutch hid a grin. The man was gazing at his lover
in a way that could not be mistaken by anyone with eyes. Krycek did look
gorgeous, dressed up in silk and imported wool. The color flattered his eyes
and his coloring, not that either needed it. The jacket was so well designed
that both arms looked normal. As for the trousers, Mulder must have wanted
to show Krycek off a little. They fit like a second skin. Hutch had noticed
most of the women and a few men followed that round ass as the man walked
toward the judge. Hutch told himself that he hadn't eyed the man himself.
Starsky was fidgeting on the only ass that Hutch wanted to see.
The other witnesses were just echoes of the death knell. The prosecutors had
gone after separate sentences. Cooper was eligible for parole about the time
the Starship Enterprise was docking from its first port of call. He'd
appeal, but Judge Martin ran a tight ship. He had been scrupulous about
every motion, yielding to the defense whenever there was doubt.
The two newfound lovers held hands on the way to the airport. Starsky drove,
his tomato red classic Torino sparkling in the sunlight. Hutch said, "So you
going to bite the bullet and move in together?"
Mulder said, "Yeah, I need a bigger place anyway. I've been in that dark
apartment way too long. I think Alex and I both want to live in the bright
sunshine a while. I want to thank you too. I don't think I'd have had the
courage to ask him without you two as an example."
"No problem. You can put us up sometime. I mean Starsky always wanted to
have a gawk around the capital."
Alex was silent; holding tightly to his lover, head resting on his shoulder.
At the airport, the man silently hugged first Starsky and then Hutch. His
glowing eyes and the soft smile on his face was an ample reward for the
struggle.
As the plane carried the lovers away, Hutch turned to Starsky. He said,
"Dobey said to take the day off. What do you want to do?"
Starsky's grin and the insolent challenge of his sapphire eyes drifting to
Hutch's crotch was enough of an answer. Hutch smiled back and said, "Yeah,
me too."
The end
Partners, A Love Story
by Ursula
Officer Ken Hutchinson, better known as Hutch, settled back in a comfortably
worn chair at Huggy Bear's. His eyes half closed with just a slit of cool
blue showing watched the round globes of his partner's ass sashay across the
room toward the bar. He was never sure how Dave Starsky did it, but the man
always wore soft, clinging nearly white, worn denim jeans. Hutch had even
gone through Starsky's dresser one day without finding one pair of crisp
denim jeans. It was a mystery, but a delightful one. The fabric of those
soft battered jeans caressed each lush cheek of that fabulous ass. Hutch
could watch that all day.
A loud clang sounded from the alley. Mulder, startled, eased up and Krycek
like the rat he was, pushed at him with considerable strength. Mulder caught
at a sleeve and a moment later gaped at a jacket with a dangling weight.
He'd pulled Krycek's arm off.
Thinking better of it, Mulder raised his arms and stepped forward. In the
light beaming from cars at either end of the alley, he looked into the deep
blue eyes of a man with curly black hair who was dressed in a white wool
sweater and old light-blue jeans.
Hutch steered the well-dressed FBI agent towards a treatment cubicle.
Starsky as usual had read his mind. He had followed the other man into
surgery or at least right to the door. Hutch patted the expensive wool of
the suit and said, "Don't worry. My partner's got him. Starsk is incredible.
The best cop I ever met. He won't let anyone get to... what's his name?"
Sinking back into the bed and slackening his muscles was unnecessary.
Starsky was fast and strong. He grabbed Mulder and held him well away from
Alex. Good, Alex supposed. There was a time when any touch had been enough,
but that was before the world finished chewing him up and spitting him out.
Well, that was close to a revelation. Starsky settled back. After a few
moments, Krycek dropped his guard, yelling right along with Starsky at the
ridiculously sublime scenes. Mulder crept out of nowhere and settled in one
of the chairs set at the chess table, apparently not willing to share the
couch with Krycek. Starsky thought about the tension between the two and
concluded that it was more like he didn't trust himself around the man.
A dubious look crossed the prosecutor's pretty face. She had questioned
Mulder who hadn't seen much. He had been intent on Krycek. Starsky already
knew how obsessive the man was. He could have blundered unharmed, more or
less through a forest fire when he was on the trail of one of his theories
or in the grip of his vehement emotions.
It was hard to move away, lying here like this, satisfied, tired, and
aftershocks of pleasure still humming. At home, this would have been just an
interlude before another round. But they weren't home. Starsky sighed as
Hutch pulled away. His partner slapped his ass affectionately and said, "Got
to work, Starsk."
"I used to be afraid to die." Krycek said bleakly.
Some of the captive birds were going to sing. Krycek was still needed,
but Cooper was going down for multiple counts of soliciting homicide as well
as for bribery, extortion, drug running, and tax evasion.
The tape winding in his fingers, Mulder said, "Now, Alex, you need to
strip."
