Krycek passed the pictures over to Mulder. His fingers
brushed Mulder's hand and lingered. Mulder glared into the
eyes of his nemesis. Krycek tossed his head, mouth quirking
in that quick sneering smile. His eyes remained incongruously
beautiful and soft in expression. Mulder tossed the pictures
back and said, "Why don't you investigate it yourself? It looks
like a wharf. Isn't that one of your natural habitats?"
Krycek replied, "Grow up, Mulder. Remember a war out there?
Men engineering the future? Aliens abducting humans."
Mulder said, "I'm tired." He was turned away from Krycek,
but he could still see him. Krycek was bemused. Mulder could
see that brain firing up and running eventualities like a probability
program. He felt it as always, anger, disgust at himself and
desire floating underneath like the flukeman in the sewers and
just as ugly.
Mulder stood up and picked up his coat. He said, "Let yourself
out, Krycek. I have things to do. You can leave the pictures.
I will let you know tomorrow evening whether I'll play the game
again with you."
Mulder turned to look at Krycek again before leaving. Alex had
cupped his prosthetic arm, supporting it. He was looking down.
All of his long lashes shaded his eyes. They brushed his sharp
cheeks. His jeans were tight, displaying the round ass, the long
legs, his maleness that was temptation. Mulder thought
'I don't want him. I can't want him.'
Scully, Scully, was the cure. Scully was everything that he
should desire. She was a strong beautiful woman. Mulder knew
she loved him. He loved her although it was not her beauty that
tormented him in the night.
Alex came to him at night. He wore all his incarnations, an
incubus who sucked away his life. Sometimes he was the
young agent, eager, smiling, and kind. Sometimes, he was the
leather clad pretty boy from Hong Kong. Often, he was the
soldier from Tunguska. In any case, he was a torment.
Mulder knocked on Scully's door. She answered, seemingly
flustered. She said, "Mulder, you didn't call."
Mulder said, "I know. I have to talk to you. May I come in?"
Mulder's eyes went wider as he saw beyond the doorway.
Walter Skinner stood clad in a robe. Mulder backed away.
He said, "Never mind, Scully. Never mind."
Scully asked, "Mulder, are you all right?"
Mulder said, "I'm fine, Scully" It was an automatic reaction,
words that had lost their meaning very long ago. Mulder
walked back to his car. He didn't sleep that night.
It was difficult to look at his partner the next morning.
Mulder stared at her neck, wondering if that slight redness
was caused by her collar or was it Walter's mark on her?
He noticed that her lips seemed puffy beneath her lipstick.
Skinner was meeting with the director all day. Mulder was
glad not to see him. He has stolen my mead of honor, Mulder
thought insanely.
Fucking Krycek was waiting at Mulder's apartment. He
sat on the couch, legs sprawled wide. His hand rested
over his eyes. He looked exhausted. His hair was damp.
Mulder walked into the bathroom without speaking to
his uninvited guest. The shower had been used. Mulder
checked his toothbrush. It was wet. Krycek had no
boundaries. He seemed to take pleasure in any small
intimate invasion of Mulder's life.
Mulder showered. His mind teased him with visions of
Dana beneath Skinner or maybe on top, must be on top,
in fact. Skinner would crush her otherwise. Mulder
responded to his own thoughts and stroked his cock. He
stared at his erection and then made a sudden decision.
He put on his robe.
Krycek's expression was that, 'Oh God, I had better not
look!' face that Mulder had seen a few times in the past.
Alex did glance, his gaze focused at the loosely tied belt
of the robe. Mulder sprawled in a chair. He amused
himself by shifting his position, flashing Krycek like the bitch
in Fatal Attraction.
Mulder played his game until Krycek was squirming. He said,
"Tacoma, Washington? What's the weather like?"
Krycek said, "Sucks. Rainy and cold this time of the year."
"And we are going to find what?" Mulder asked.
"A ship with a laboratory." Krycek replied.
"I'll meet you." Mulder said, "At the airport." Mulder smiled
and added "by the phone banks day after tomorrow at four
o'clock"
Krycek nodded and said, "I'll bring you a clean gun."
Mulder said, "Yeah, that's sweet, Alex." He drew the word out
as Krycek seemed to do with his name.
Mulder's landing was delayed, the flight circling SeaTac due
to the heavy fog. The stuff was so thick that only a few lights
penetrated. Mulder remembered the gremlin on the wing in the
old TV show with William Shatner. He peered closely, but he
couldn't even see the wing much less any monster.
Alex was slouched against the wall. He had reverted to
black leather. Mulder felt like pushing him back into the phones
for old times sake.
Alex complained, "I hate airports. They remind me of things."
Mulder commented, "I thought you liked doing the horizontal
bop vertically in airports."
Krycek sneered, "You aren't that good, Mulder. I didn't come
just from a few punches and a rub."
Mulder returned his best 'I don't give a fuck look. Krycek said,
"I have a car. You hungry? We can't do anything tonight. There's
a good Chinese restaurant in Seattle."
Mulder shrugged and Krycek took that for agreement. They
drove into Seattle's International zone and ate at a small
restaurant called Kau Kau's. It was a shabby place, surrounded
by more attractive restaurants.
Mulder looked around at the mostly Asian diners and decided
not to comment. The food was plentiful and good. Waiters only
showed to refill the teapot and did not claim to be your anything.
Mulder did not object to the hotel room, noting that Krycek
still slept in boxer shorts and that his body was still well
muscled if thicker then it was during their brief partnership.
Krycek turned away to take off the prosthetic arm. Mulder
tuned into the cable soft porn.
Krycek sat on the edge of his bed to remove the gel packed
pad for his arm. Mulder watched him kneading the stump under
the covers. He winced and even felt a twinge of guilt. There was
nothing he could have done differently.
A little later, Mulder decided to try to find sleep too. He paused
on his way to the bathroom. Krycek slept the sleep of angels,
eyelashes feathering and his cupid's bow mouth slightly agape.
Mulder knew that Alex had been right; there really was no justice
or Krycek's sleep would be as troubled as Mulders.
They were to meet this new informant in the middle of a large
park. The trees blocked out the light. An hour after dawn, it was
dark as night. It reminded Mulder of Tunguska. He wondered
how Krycek felt about that.
NeverNeverLand was a surreal setting for the meeting. It was
a character park with climbing toys for children and little scenes
with fairy tale characters. Krycek led them to a caretaker's
cottage.
The place was dank. Mulder kicked at a number of empty wine
bottles. He could smell the acrid sweet odor of marijuana and
there was a roach of a cigarette in the ashtray. Mulder heard a tiny
frantic squeaking, mice, perhaps a nest of baby mice. Mulder
commented, "This is your kind of place. I hear rodents."
Krycek tightened his jaw and glared. Mulder laughed at him
and moved aside a stack of magazines. Mulder was somewhat
startled when one fell open to a shot of a naked man. Alex
smirked and picked it up. He said, "I used to pose for these.
Did my last one right before I joined the FBI. Used to like the
thought of guys jerking off to me all over the place."
Mulder found himself looking at the centerfold revealed on the
bed where Alex had flipped the magazine. The man in the picture
was dark haired like Alex. Alex said, "That last one I did, they
had me just wearing a tie. Same tie I was wearing when I met you."
Oh shit, imagining Alex standing there in front of him that day,
wearing nothing but that boring tie made Mulder's cock jump.
He wanted to say something sarcastic, but his mouth was
suddenly dry. A wave of heat pricked up from his groin, climbing
by Celsius until it grew flames on his face.
Mulder stood up, poking around the shack. Alex sprawled
in the chair, flipping through the magazines, turning center
fold studs this way and that. He occasionally whistled
lowly, but more often uttered contemptuous sounds. His
outstretched legs leered at Mulder.
Mulder was tired of it. He moved suddenly, grabbing the
magazine from Krycek's hand. He jerked Krycek to the
couch and pinned him, a handful of hair in his fist. Krycek
yelped. It wasn't a kiss. It was consumption. Mulder's teeth
cut into Alex's lips. His tongue was just a taste of what he
intended, invasion, conquest, wipe Alex from his heart, his
soul, and purge the lust from his body.
Krycek stuttered, "Shhitt, Mulder, stop it."
Mulder knew where to find what he wanted. He had searched
Alex enough times to know what he always carried. He took
the condom and the small tube from Alex's jacket. Krycek
used the moment of distraction to kick Mulder off. Alex said,
"Fuck you, Mulder. If you want it, ask for it."
The pain didn't do the least to clear Mulder's head. He sprawled
for only a second before lunging and dropping Alex to the floor.
Krycek's head hit the table. Their struggle knocked over the
table, orange rinds, ashes, magazines and garbage spilling
over them. Mulder pinned Alex face down, wrenching back
Krycek's only living arm.
Mulder was incandescent. He was a back draft of long
withheld rage and desire. He pulled back the arm harder
and harder. "I'll break it." Mulder said. "You want a broken
arm, Alex? That might be fun. Couldn't do much to defend
yourself then, sweet thing." He punctuated his tirade with
wrenches on the arm and an occasional thump of the head
across the floor.
Alex struggled briefly then just lay still. He said, "Do it,
Mulder. I won't stop you."
Mulder let Alex sit up. His nose was bleeding and his
eyes were wet with tears. It was just how Mulder wanted
him.
Mulder took off the jacket, He struggled with Alex's long
sleeved tee shirt. The arm stopped him for a minute. Did
he want it on or off? The straps looked complicated. He was in
a hurry. Fucking belt and stubborn button, zipper snagging or
maybe it was the shaking in his hands and the sweat that
coated them.
Alex's chest heaving. His heavy thick cock engorging. There
were no more words. Mulder grabbed the cushion from the
couch. It was filthy, obscenely filthy, and so right for this.
Alex's body beneath him, face grimacing in pain..was that
only pain? Mulder closed his eyes, his body was a piston
of flesh, subjugating, beating it's way in. He wanted more
then satiation. Chains on Alex were not enough. His marks
on Alex's flesh only skimmed the surface. He wanted to
rape Alex's soul as deeply as his flesh, no more pride,
no more defiance.
And when the orgasm ripped through Mulder, someone
had won. It wasn't him.
Alex stumbled up. He braced himself with the prothesis
against the dish strewn sink. His weight rested on his
left leg as he twisted to the right to wash blood from his
ass. Mulder added the condom to an overflowing trash can.
There had to be a bathroom in the place.
Mulder opened a door to a closet and tried the next. It
was the bathroom, but he didn't want to use it. Someone
was in the tub. He had been a white male, twenties, thin
and pallored. Now he was a corpse with a blackening face.
"Krycek!"
Krycek held his jeans in his hands, but he was still naked.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he exploded when he saw the dead man.
"That was him! That was who we were going to meet!"
Krycek handed Mulder his jeans to hold and went to
examine the corpse, touching nothing more then he
had already touched. He extracted a piece of paper
from the rigored hands. Krycek showed it to Mulder.
The message said, "Mulder, Dock 21 at dawn. If you still want
to know? "
The two of them dressed. It was strange how well they
worked together, removing every trace of evidence of their
presence. Krycek picked up the cushion and looked at
the soiled floor beneath it. He wore thin plastic gloves that
he had extracted from the inexhaustible pockets of his
jacket. Mulder had to use the kitchen gloves. He was
never as well prepared for every eventuality as Krycek was.
Holding the couch cushion and the magazine that he had
handled, Krycek said, "Get your condom from the trash
unless you want both of our DNA the subject of interesting
speculation."
Back at the hotel, like a gentleman, Mulder allowed his
rape victim to shower first. Krycek came out and sat on
his bed. Mulder went in and scrubbed. He wanted to scream
into the shower. It had not been what he wanted. He had
taken what he thought he desired. It was not enough.
Going out, he stood in front of Alex. Krycek returned
his gaze. Krycek said, "I'll kill you if you try to say that
you're sorry. You did exactly what you wanted."
Mulder shook his head and he sat next to Alex. He
turned Alex's face toward his own and offered his lips.
Alex closed his eyes slowly. He opened them again,
stared into space for a long moment. Then Alex nodded.
They kissed, sweet joining, careful of torn and bruised
lips. They lay down together on the clean bed. Hands
mapped enemy territory and joined to alliance of their
inferno of hate and love.
Mulder stared at the ceiling. He said, "Krycek, I'm not
stupid. What ever is going on tomorrow, I'm not falling
for it."
Krycek pounded the bed with his fist and said, "Mulder,
I'll back you up. We need a lead. We need it all, every
bit of information that we can find."
Mulder laughed. He said, "Give it up, Krycek. This was
nice. I liked it. That doesn't mean that I trust you or that
I buy your war in heaven line of shit. Hey, if you want to
go. Feel free. I won't stop you."
The bed was colder when Mulder woke. He remembered
Alex moving near, need, embraced and freed by night. Alex
was not in bed nor in the bathroom. Mulder's suit and his
umbrella was missing. His ID was gone.
"Something wrong, Mister?" asked the taxi driver. "You
look sick."
Mulder replied "I'm fine."
The driver's expression was familiar. Everyone looked at
Mulder with that 'calling 911 for the mental health evaluators'
look at some point after meeting him. This was just sooner.
"Yes, I am sure that this is where I am meeting my friend."
Mulder told the man. "And I don't need you to wait."
It was cold. Fog and drizzle penetrated Mulder's coat. He
kept his hand and the gun hidden with the loose flap of
material. He was late. Where was Alex? Was this a trap
for both of them or was it another of Alex's elegant and
devious ploys?
Mulder heard a car coming. It had no lights and was moving
slowly. He checked for a place to run. He had a choice of the
end of the boat launch or a kiosk for information. He moved
nearer to the concrete building.
The car approached, creeping into Mulder's field of vision.
Someone leaned out the door, shouting mocking comments at
the man stumbling after it. 'Shit, Alex, God damn it, Alex! You
have no right to be the one captured in my place! ' Mulder's thoughts
screamed.
Mulder yelled "stop" as he saw Krycek fall. Alex made
another effort to get up, but the car sped a little faster and
dragged him. Mulder heard Alex scream as he was dragged
through the streets.
Mulder steadied his hand and fired. The powerful gun
bucked back in his grip. He saw the glass shatter. He saw
the car swerve and stop as the driver slumped in his seat.
The car plowed into a piling and stopped. Mulder ran to catch up.
The passenger crawled out, gun in hand. Mulder shot first.
"Shit," Mulder exclaimed as he saw the bloody mess at the
end of the comealong chain.
Alex was still alive. He moaned and his real hand twitched.
The prosthetic arm was dangling from torn straps. Mulder
carefully disentangled the thing. He leaned close to Alex and
said, "Just a minute, I'm calling an ambulance and I'm going
to get the key to these chains."
Mulder took out his mobile phone and called the ambulance.
He found the key in the pocket of the dead passenger and
went back to Alex. He sat down, trying to assess the
injuries. Alex said, "I ruined your suit."
Mulder replied, "Yes, you did. What happened?"
Alex said, "I was an unwitting Trojan Horse. I don't..."
Alex grimaced and his hand fisted, his nails dug into his hand.
"Shit, " Alex groaned. His face was pale.
Mulder touched Alex's bloodied and bruised face. It felt cold.
What he wanted to do was to hold Alex. Instead,
he sat down in the wet street and picked up Alex's feet to
elevate them.
Alex said, "It was a trap for you, Mulder. I thought he would
give me the information thinking that I was you. No prize, they
wanted to kill you."
Something was wrong with Alex's eyes. His pupils were
expanding in uneven circles, darkening the green to black.
Alex's hand dug into the garbage and dead leaves in which
he lay. He was struggling for breath and his face wore a mask
of terror.
Mulder's voice remained flat as he said, "You don't do this to
me, Alex. You better not leave."
Lights flickering across dark splotched face, a sound of
rustling, angels wings or rats in gutters?
"Alex? Alex?"....
Mulder woke screaming. A soft, husky voice said, "Mulder, Mulder..." Hard,
knowing hands caressed him. "Shh, Shh, it's okay. I'm right here."
Mulder pulled Alex to him and held him, face buried in his soft bristle of
hair. He
explored Alex's face and his body with frantic hands. "Oh, God, oh, God," he
exclaimed.
Alex moved the book they has been reading to the bed table. It was a lovely
copy of the Iliad with beautiful pictures. He said, "I think you were having
a bad dream."
Mulder pressed Alex down to the bed and lay atop him to keep every beloved
inch of that body in contact. "I dreamed you took my clothes and my ID. They
thought you
were me. They killed you."
Alex embraced him and opened his sweet lips for a kiss. He looked up at
Mulder and said, "Mulder, I wouldn't be caught dead in your clothes. The only
way I like to get into your pants is when you are wearing them."
FOR THOSE WHO ARE INTERESTED, This is a summary of the story from the Iliad:
Achilles, in Greek mythology, greatest Greek warrior of the Trojan War. The
son of the sea nymph Thetis and Peleus, king of the Myrmidons of Thessaly,
Achilles was invulnerable except for one of his heels, which his mother had
held when she dipped him as a child into the River Styx to make him immortal.
During the Trojan War, Mycenaean king Agamemnon seized the captive maiden
Briseis from Achilles, and Achilles withdrew from battle. When Patroclus,
Achilles' friend and companion, was killed by Trojan prince Hector, Achilles
then led the Greeks to the walls of Troy, where he was mortally wounded in
the heel by Paris.
Wrath of Achilles
by Ursula
'Fuck inextricable relationships' Mulder thought. He was
going to get an exterminator if Krycek kept showing up here.
