Fallen Angels

Fallen Angel

By PEJA

Fandom: Xfiles

Pairing: None

Rating: PG

Summary: This started out to be the answer to the Rentboy 5 minute dash off, then something went very very wrong and this is the result.

Note: Tell me if there are enough of these type things floating around the fandom and I’ll kill it here.

Fallen Angel

By PEJA

The orders had come down during the last days of Scully’s pregnancy.

Laboratories were disbanded. The human components would be useful in....other ways.

Operatives were recalled. A high priority was sent out to capture and detain the double dealing Alex Krycek.

Krycek had been captured in the underground garage of FBI headquarters. A shape-shifter had stepped into his shoes and set up the natural conclusions of a dead triple agent even as the real man had been tossed none too gently into a car truck and transported away for interrogation.

The orders had come down.

Skinner watched as yet another stronghold fell under his guidance. This one had fallen hard, being built as a prison then closed down for ‘financial’ reason only to be taken over by a so-called private party, supposedly medical.

The reported ‘patients’ of this facility had served a perversion that even Skinner found hard to reason away. What he had discovered were women who had been used in alien testing, men who had fallen in the path of alien interests..... children born from genetic manipulations....

All the victims of the worst threat to humanity had been imprisoned inside the grey walls

Sounds of gunshots. Shouts. Thuds that could only be flesh against flesh, flesh against walls....floors. All coming closer. Closer.

Alex Krycek listened to them all from his cot, his outward mood completely passive, the primitive side of him recognizing the sounds of irrevocable approaching death. Somewhere deep inside his mind, he smiled, welcoming the ever nearing sounds of destruction that would set the survivor free from what he could no longer bear.

Blooming with excitement, a triumphant whoop sounded inside his head when his cell door swing open, even while he knew to the casual observer it appeared he had not even bothered to raise the muster to see the face of death. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered accept that an end to the horror of his life had finally come for him.

He waited, motionless, for the bullet that should have been his all those months ago and grinned inside his head.

"Sir, maybe you should see this," death’s servant called and the sound of another set of footsteps entering the cell registered in his fogged thoughts.

The hollow tone of the visibly shaken agent sent a shiver of apprehension tripping down Skinner’s spine. After all the horrors they'd already seen within the halls of this hell on Earth, he wasn't sure anything could have shaken the field agents who were taking part in the assault. Apparently he had been wrong

Taking a calming breath, he strode into the cell.

The creature, Skinner couldn’t call any of the lost souls he’d discovered in this hell hole human any longer, didn’t move an eyelash as he crossed into the small room. He moved closer, his chocolate brown gaze traveling over the naked, wasted figure lying there. The crisp white sheets only served to emphasize the desolation within the husk of a man.

"Oh my God," Skinner heard the words before he realized he’d spoken them.

Somewhere he knew that voice. Somewhere dangerous. He smiled inside himself again. Death wore a familiar face. It was fitting.

"Krycek?"

No....Damn, Damn it to hell, don't talk.... just kill me and get it done. Make it end, in the name of whatever mercy you might have, make it end

He forced unused muscles to fire, sluggishly rolling his head to stare into the face of death.

The dark head rolled slowly on the hard thin pillow. Passive green eyes blinked slowly but other than the turn of his head, the body barely stirred, even to breathe.

Hardening his heart against the pathetic picture of his enemy, Skinner hissed, "Get up, Krycek."

A flicker of shocked pity played across the familiar stranger’s face before an emotionless mask fell. "Get up, Krycek."

What? No....No, that’s not how it’s supposed to go. Shoot me, damn you. Hold this damn pillow over my face and...

Hard brown eyes bore into him, carrying a command that fired long unused muscles to respond. He had to obey. The masters had taught him too well the extreme levels of pain a man could sustain and still live. He was too tired to bear the fires of hell on earth they dealt him any longer. Too tired to resist.

He staggered to his feet and waited for the next command.

Scowling against the confused emotions that seeing Krycek reduced to this less than human creature stirred within him, Skinner set his softer side away and let duty be his guide. "Cuff him."

"Sir, he’s one of the prisoners...." the agent protested with no little confusion of his own.

"Yes, he is. Cuff him and get him out of here."

Krycek didn’t resist as his arms were pulled behind his back. Didn’t resist as the cold metal cuffs locked too tightly on his wrists. Didn’t even resist as the sheet was stripped from his cot and wrapped around his nudity and the shoes rooted out from beneath the cot thrust onto his sockless feet. And he was finally lead out of the cell that had been his home for longer than he could remember.

Krycek found himself thrust into a chair in the tiny dark interrogation room. Heard the door click shut and knew he was once more alone. Alone and waiting.

Why was this happening?

The masters had said they’d give him to his victims when he’d lost his entertainment value. Said that his victims would end his miserable life. It was fitting.

Fitting also that he’d been handed over to the man he’d hurt the most in the before time. The man he’d crossed over the threshold of death then tweaked back into the land of living so he could hold that threat over his head time and again. The familiar stranger from the time when he was alive and not...undead.

‘Skinner’ he cried inside his head. ‘Skinner, finish it. Let me sleep.’

Exhaustion flooded his body and he slumped over the table, his eyes open and waiting for the end time to find him.

Within moments of Krycek, being bustled into a holding room in the Federal building, the orders had come down.

The official word was that Alex Krycek was a hero. A man recruited right off the training campus, his instructions, go under deep cover, get close to the higher powers of the Consortium and bring out the crucial information only he could get.

That didn’t change the minds of the men and women the little bastard had betrayed. Personal wounds ran deep. Officially he may have just been following orders, but those orders had not protected Skinner or his team of agents. Feelings of betrayal... hatred ran deep in the men and women those orders had effected.

Still, officially the rat bastard was to be released with enough money to tide him over until he could get to his own. Unofficially, within Skinner’s department, another order had come down. Do what the upper echelon instructed. No more. No less. Let the traitor sink or swim on his own power.

The door finally opened.

Krycek’s inner grin welcomed the intrusion. He had lost the concept of time in his cell, marking the changing minutes only by the changing events that touched him.

"You’re being released."

Released? No. No, that’s not right. Screamed in his head.

"Get up."

He obeyed, shaking inside.

A powder blue fleece sweats set was pushed into his hand. He stared at the clothing dumbly. What is this? Why do I need these? His green gaze darted to the agent, silently begging for answers his brain could not find for itself.

"Hurry the fuck up and get dressed in those, dammit." The agent raged, his face red with the outrage he felt. "Apparently you still have friends in the right places. You’re outta here."

Outta here? Krycek’s head reared back as if he’d been punched in the face. Outta here....where?

Somehow, with fingers that shook so hard they were almost incapable of moving, he managed to stuff his body into the soft sweat suit, then drew himself up to stand stiff and formal...and without the inkling of a clue as to what he was supposed to do next.

The ruffled agent glared at him, waiting for him to open the door and leave, then when Krycek remained rooted to the floor, he grabbed the bemused assassin’s arm and literally dragged him from the building and deposited him on the top step. "Have a nice day, Krycek."

Krycek’s gaze followed the departing back until the man disappeared into the bowels of the FBI building.

He was lost. Abandoned.

Alone.

Alone on the street.

Alone, and without the ability to do more than stand there and wait for his next order. His next decision made for him.

Lost in a sea of people who never even saw him as they bustled to and fro on the business of their daily lives.

The day passed, marked only by the movement of the sun across the sky. The passing of a multitude of strangers studiously avoiding his lost gaze. The sweat pouring over his body drawing the very strength out of him.

He wanted nothing more than to lie down and let death swallow him.

But his conditioning was too strong.

Have a nice day, the agent had commanded.

Have a nice day.

He pasted a stupid smile on his face and pretended for the disinterested passers-by that the day was what he would have it be.

But the night was coming.

What was he to do now?

There had been no command past the setting sun. No direction for a man who needed direction like anyone else needed air.

A familiar sedan pulled up at the exit from the underground parking. Krycek felt a flutter of hope touch him as Skinner captured his desperate gaze. The masters had given him to this man, hadn’t they? Skinner would give him the command he craved so desperately, give him the directions he needed to live or die.

The car rolled forward into traffic leaving him behind.

No one would come for him, he realized. No one wanted him. He was alone. Beyond making the most basic decision of what he should do now. Where he should go. Without even hope to sustain him.

Halfway home, Skinner answered the shrill demands of his phone.

"Sir, its Scully."

"This can’t wait?"

"No, Sir, it can’t." She took a deep breath and released it. "I’m consulting with the doctors about the people we released from captivity this morning."

"And?"

Skinner coaxed at her hesitation.

"And we’re going to have to commit them to long term care, sir."

"It’s to be expected that a few....."

"No sir, all of them." She drew another stalling breath. "Sir, these people have been conditioned, tortured past their limits. They are not capable of making a decision."

The image of Krycek standing alone and motionless on the steps of the FBI flashed through Skinner’s mind.

"....of them have signs of repeated rape. The men seem to have suffered the most violent of these attacks."

A green tormented stare touched his thoughts.

"Can it be faked?"

"Anyone can fake something for a time, sir, but there are tells."

"Do what you have to." Skinner sighed. "We’ll find them good hospitals."

"Yes, sir," Scully’s voice was full of hesitation once more. "Sir....there is one....victim missing."

"Krycek."

"Yes, sir."

"I know where he is."

A tired sigh parted Skinner’s lips as he turned the car around and headed back from where he’d come.

Darkness fell quickly after the doors behind him were locked, and under that cloak, the street predators ranged into Krycek’s despair. He heard them coming from half a block away. Knew that once these bangers wouldn’t have come near him. But that was before he had been made undead. When he was the dangerous one.

Walter pulled his sedan up in front of the FBI building, his dark eyes seeking and finding Krycek standing exactly where he’d been before. Only now he was surrounded by a jeering group of teenagers.

As he opened the door and climbed out, he could hear the vicious words. Witnessed Krycek stagger under vicious punch to his gut.

"Retard."

Krycek flinched at the harsh words, his heart bleeding inside his chest.

"Ah, look at the baby, he’s cryin’"

Tears? Was it possible? Did he still have tears left to shed inside him. The breeze chilled the spilt damp on his face and confirmed the words.

He could cry. Now he could cry.

"Fucking retard should do the world a favor and die."

Please, yes. Death had come at last. On the lips of a human jackal.

One of the bully boys backhanded Krycek across the face.

Blood gushed, dripping over his lips and down his chin.

"Yea, how about it retard? Got the guts to die?"

Say the words and set me free. Just say the words

"Ah fuck this ain’t no fun."

Krycek reeled beneath the rough shove.

"Go play in the traffic, retard. Do the world a favor."

Inside the laughter roared in his ears. Inside he embraced the command.

He lumbered down the steps, his heart lightening as he rushed to his release. He shuffled across the broad expanse of sidewalk and took a deep breath extending his foot over the curb.

"Krycek," Skinner shouted, running toward the hapless man who was poised to step off the curb.

"Krycek. Freeze. Do you hear me, boy? Don’t take another step."

No. Don’t make me stop. It’s not fair. Not fair.

He turned desolate eyes on the familiar stranger, watching Skinner dash the last distance between them. Strong arms wrapped around him, scooping him back from impending death.

It's not fair, he raged inside his head, staring past Skinner's shoulder into the on-coming traffic to keep his face impassive. Not fair.

Shaken by the disinterest in what he’d been about to do in those green eyes, Skinner ran trembling hands over the younger man, gently touching the man’s stomach.

Krycek hissed sharply but held his body stiffly.

"Hurt?" Skinner demanded, touching the tender area again with gentle fingers.

Don't speak. Don't give him reason to punish.

Krycek's lips tightened under his bleeding nose.

The flowing blood brought home the need to handle this injury as well. Skinner snapped a kerchief from his pocket and shoved it into Krycek’s hand. "Hold that against your nose, dammit." Skinner commanded when Krycek made no move to staunch the flow.

Without a glance at the cloth, Krycek lifted the linen to his nose and pinched off the flow.

"What the hell were you thinking, just walking into that," Skinner demanded, waving his arm toward the street.

But I was told..... It was wrong? Maybe I'm not supposed to follow the orders of the jackals. Maybe the familiar stranger's orders are the only ones.....Danger. I don't want to be punished again. Tell me what I'm supposed to do

His mind worked frantically as Alex stared sightlessly over Skinner’s shoulder in silence.

"Christ, boy can’t you talk?"

Don't speak. Don't give him reason to hurt.

Alex's face was a mask of passivity, simply blinking.

Harrumphing his disgust, Skinner said. "Better get off the sidewalk." He turned on his heel and headed back for his car, only to stop several steps away when he didn’t hear the sound of Alex’s footsteps on the sidewalk.

He's leaving me here for the jackals. I've done something wrong. What have I done wrong? Someone tell me what I'm supposed to be doing. Someone tell me the rules.

Skinner turned back to him scowling. "Well, for Christ’s sake, boy. You can’t stand there all night."

Or could he, Walter asked himself, remembering suddenly that Krycek had been sent on his way early this morning. It was now after dusk and the man hadn’t moved once from what he could figure. He couldn't suppress the shudder that shook him.

I've done something wrong again. Why can't I get it right? What am I supposed to do? Tell me what you want.

"Christ. Krycek, follow me. Now," Skinner snapped.

The harsh command brought sob to fill up the inside of his head and he nearly fainted with relief. Nearly, but the command held him on his watery legs. He fell into step behind Skinner, following the man to the car. Skinner climbed in and turned a dark scowl on him. Sighing, he leaned across the seat and shoved the door open wide. "Get in the damn car, boy."

Wavering like his body would break in the slight breeze, Krycek obeyed. His relief at having a new master hit him hard. Tears slid past his thick lashes, washing down his cheeks.

Walter tossed him a soft smile, but the smile died on his lips as new tears slid down Krycek’s pallid cheeks. "Hey, it’s all right, boy," Walter assured him, reaching out to pat his hand.

The touch of his master's hand made him winced. He'd forgotten that contact from another hand could be gentle. Forgotten that a caress could be won from a hand as well as a slap or a punch.

"You’re afraid of me? Jesus H Christ, boy...."

Krycek recoiled from the harsh words and he ducked his eyes, expecting the ringing in his ears that the master's cuffing often brought.

Walter was stunned by the visible shrinking in that already shrunken body. "Krycek.....Alex, look at me."

No beating came. Just soft words. What game was the master playing?

Afraid to obey. Even more afraid not too, Krycek turned flat, listless eyes on him

"I’m trying to help you here, boy."

Help me? I don't want help. I want peace. Give me peace.

Skinner’s anger was swept away by a sudden, unwanted wave of compassion for the broken creature. "Listen, I know that might be hard for you to believe, after everything we’ve been through. Everything you did to my people," He shuddered once more feeling the phantom pain of nanos crippling him, killing him. "Everything you did to me." He shook away the horror and patted the other man’s trembling hand again. "You were just doing what you had to to convince the Consortium that you were the real thing." He smiled grimly. "I’ve done some damn evil things in my own career, too, you know. Following orders."

Skinner's hand on Krycek's arm guided him into the security of the apartment. He steered him into the living room and told him, "Sit."

Satisfied that Krycek would remain where he was put, Skinner ducked into the kitchen and turned his attention to preparing coffee and a fruit tray in case Scully was hungry when she got there.

He was just putting the finishing touches on the platter when the doorbell demanded his attention.

Calmer now that someone had taken the reins of his life in hand, Krycek slumped into the softness of the couch and listened to the homey sounds of his master bustling around in the kitchen.

His stomach sounded off when the smell of coffee wafted past his nose, then his guts clenched, reminding him he hadn't been allowed to use the bathroom since the night before. The thought brought a tidal increase in pressure on his bladder and he twisted himself around the insistent cramping in his gut, desperately trying to keep his rampaging bladder under control. He would be punished if....Oh god, please don't let me mess myself.

He was fit to panic when the doorbell sounded loud in the apartment.

Moving through the apartment without sparing Krycek a glance, he opened the door on the tiny woman and offered a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Scully took in his grim expression and slipped past him. "Where did you find him?"

"Right where he was left this morning, getting his ass kicked by some local toughs." Skinner told her, trailing after her into the living room. "He had apparently been standing in that same spot since he was released. Did you bring his records from that...." He shrugged, at a loss of what to call that hall of horrors they’d closed down, finally settling on, "...brothel?"

Scully nodded, squatting down in front of Krycek. "Walter tells me you had a bit of an accident, Krycek? Can you tell me where you hurt, Krycek?"

Krycek didn't look at her. His body was twisting around and round. I'm going to make a mess. Please don't let me...Oh god, I can't.... Grimacing, he squirmed on the sofa, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

Frowning, Scully cast a glance at Skinner. "You say he was where the agents left him this morning?"

"Looked that way to me."

"And what has he done since you picked him up?"

"Done?" Skinner asked. "Nothing. He’s been the perfect imitation of a zombie."

Scully’s brows drew lower. "Krycek, is that true?"

Oh god, please. His gaze darted around the room and he wrapped his arms around his waist, rocking gently. Please.

"Skinner, take him to the bathroom. Make sure he uses it."

"Wha...."

"He was released from custody around ten this morning. It’s," She consulted her watch. "Seven fifteen now. I think I’d be correct in saying his bladder is fit to burst by now."

Skinner’s dark eyes swept over the other man, seeing the beaded upper lip, the tell tale grimace of concentration. "Oh, damn." He snarled. "Krycek, come with me."

He shook his head. I can't do this. I can, Jesus, don't let me wet myself.

"Come on, boy," Walter said again, reaching for his arm.

Krycek shuddered as Skinner’s fingers closed on him, and rose shakily to his feet. A pained whimper escaped him as he allowed the older man to lead him away.

"You can do this alone?" Skinner demanded, hurrying Krycek through the door and pointing toward the toilet.

Krycek managed a nod, reaching to free himself.

"Come back to us when you're...finished." Walter slipped out of the room, leaving the door open a crack.

Skinner returned to the living room alone. "I told him to do what needed doing and come back out here. He seems very good at obeying orders, if nothing else right now."

Scully nodded. "Follows what we’ve learned from the other victims."

"They’re all like..." He waved his hand toward the bathroom. "...That?"

"In varying degrees."

Skinner sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Unbelievable the cruelty one man can do another, isn’t it?"

"Sir, I’ve made arrangements for him to be taken into a private hospital."

"No."

She frowned. "It’s a very good hospital, sir. He’ll get the best care possible."

"....For a man in his condition?" Skinner added, shaking his head. "He was crying when I went back for him."

"Sir?"

"Those bully boys were teasing him. Calling him retard." He glanced back towards the bath, making sure Krycek wasn’t around. "He started to cry. And they hit him for it."

"Sir, that won’t be the case in the hospital."

"No? No, I suppose not. There he’ll be warehoused. Medicated to keep him calm. We might just as well put a bullet in his head." He sighed. "Just like I did once before."

"Its the best thing for him."

The cramps easing, Krycek shuffled back down the hall, following the soft voices of the man and woman waiting for his return

"Is it?" Skinner slumped into the sofa, waving a hand in her direction for her to do the same. "He was so eager to please when he joined Mulder. Like a child wanting nothing more than a smile from his father."

"That was all a ploy, sir. To gain Mulder’s trust. And yours."

"Undoubtedly."

"So..." Scully drawled.

Skinner’s eyes lifted to see Krycek shuffling into the room, his green eyes cast down.

"So," His narrowed gaze sent a shiver of fear down Krycek's spine. "I’ll be taking some personal time. Maybe as long as six months. And I’m gonna keep him. He owes me for all the lies and deceit. And if this time he actually is what he appears to be...."

Skinner closed the door on Scully’s departing back, blowing out a sigh as his head lowered to rest his weary forehead against the cool of the wood.

The woman had not approved of what he was doing. Big surprise there. And she’d pushed. Pushed damn hard to have Skinner relent and let her take his charge to that private hospital she was so het up about.

Walter had watched her harsh words take their effect on the damaged man who he’d gotten settled in the armchair across from them. Had seen the veils thicken over green eyes as Krycek had withdrawn deeper and deeper into himself.

Until he couldn’t see the assassin beaten down any farther by her unsupportive concern and he’d told her that his mind was made up. Krycek would remain here. In his guestroom for as long as he wanted to stay.

She’s taken the cue and left.

Pushing away from the door, Skinner straightened his spine and strode back into the living room, only to pause in the door, his chocolate glance running over the despondent man.

Krycek curled himself into a tight ball in the chair as soon as the master escorted Scully to the door. What is he going to do to me? Why won't he let me die? I deserve to die. The masters told me I was worthless. Said I was only good for testing. For...

He closed his eyes against the rush of tears. It’s not supposed to be like this. The familiar stranger hated him.....Didn't he? Didn't he?

"Alex," he said softly.

Krycek flinched, shaking his head.

No no, I can't understand. What am I supposed to do?

Skinner moved to him, hunkering down before the man. "You’re welcome here, Alex. No one’s going to hurt you, okay?"

I don't understand. I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

Krycek closed his eyes, his body rocking back and forth as if he could find comfort in the gentle motion.

"Alex, please..."

Krycek froze, his eyes snapping open to delve deeply into Skinner’s worried gaze.

A weak smile curved Skinner’s lips. "Stay with me, Alex."

The wounded creature tilted his head on his knees, studying Skinner as if he were something strange and exotic.

Stay? He's asking me to stay? What do you want from me? When are you going to ....to....

"In your mind," Skinner said softly. "Stay with me in your mind."

Can I trust you? God, I need to understand the rules.

"I’m not going to hurt you, Alex," Skinner pushed to his feet and held out his hand. "Come on, boy. Up and help me clean up the kitchen, okay?"

Krycek focused on the out-stretched hand like it were a poisonous viper poised to strike.

"Trust me, Alex. I’m not gonna hurt you."

Krycek’s green glance darted to Skinner’s again.

I am going to regret this. I know I'm going to regret this.

He slipped his trembling hand into Skinner’s, letting the older man pull him to his feet.

Skinner released his hand immediately he found his balance, giving him no reason to feel pressure. "Come on, boy. The dishes are waiting." He led the way, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Krycek followed.

Rooting around in a drawer, he pulled out a clean towel and handed it to Krycek. "You dry." He quickly drew a sink of steamy water, squishing his hand around to activate the suds.

Krycek relaxed, feeling the tension flow out of him.

Until Skinner suddenly whirled toward him, frowning.

A trap. Lulled into a trap. Oh god, what now. Alex recoiled violently, raising his hands in front of him and shaking his head.

"Alex, no" Skinner said, straining to keep his voice calm as his stunned gaze ran over what should have been an artificial arm. "It’s all right." He cooed, trying on a smile that couldn’t quite form. "I’m not angry, boy. I won’t hurt you." He held a hand out toward the quaking man. "Please, Alex. I just want to look at your arm."

My arm. Oh please, don't take my arm. Not again.

Krycek scrambled away, scurrying into the farthest corner and hiding his arm in the V of the walls.

"Please, Alex," Walter approached, his voice a calming balm. "I just want to see. Please. I won’t hurt you."

Was that a command? Did he dare refuse...

Shuddering violently, Krycek allowed Skinner to guide him out of the corner. Tears shimmered in his eyes when Walter picked up his hand and tested the texture of the flesh under his fingers.

A smile of purest delight broke over Skinner’s face. "Jesus, boy. It’s real, isn’t it?"

The smile vanished, replaced by a dark scowl. "They used you as a lab rat." He whirled away to hide his rage from the terrified man. "My fucking god, they did experimentation on you."

PART 5

I did something wrong. I did something wrong, chanted inside Krycek’s head. He’s....

My arm. The gift. He is angry about the gift.

Krycek cradled his regenerated arm in his hand. He treasured the gift. It had been the only good thing about the gone time. The master’s had given him the gift and he had obeyed them in return.

Now, the familiar stranger was angry because of the gift.

He had to give it back....

Fighting his tears, Krycek rose and switched the largest burner onto high, watching the rings heat to red quickly.

Skinner turned his head at the first sound of Krycek moving without a command. His brow furrowed as the man stood watching the burner heat. The frown drew lower as Krycek rooted in his cabinets, pulling out a lightweight saucepan and setting it on the burner.

Krycek pulled open a drawer and snatched up two thick towels. His hands shook as he dropped the towels on the counter and opened the broom closet, adding a couple black garbage bags to his collection.

He snapped one open and pulled out the cutting board from its niche in the counter. Hands shaking, he lined the board with the plastic and reached across the counter.

Skinner drew in a cautious breath, suddenly on alert as the other man selected the cleaver from the knife caddy.

A single tear crept down his cheek as Krycek tested the blade on his thumb.

Looking up from the bleeding gash in his thumb, he offered Skinner a heart-rending smile that spoke volumes of supplication. He set the cleaver down on the counter and went to check the heat of the saucepan, searing his fingers on the metal.

A tremor rippled through him as he drew the fleece sweatshirt over his head and knelt beside the cutting board.

His green gaze sought Skinner once more as he laid his arm on the plastic sheathed board and picked up the cleaver.

Oh my god!

Walter sprang forward as Krycek raised the cleaver over his outstretched arm, stopping the downward swing in mid-arc.

Krycek’s startled eyes met his once more.

"No." Skinner snapped, throwing the cleaver toward the sink. "No." He snarled again, wrenching Krycek off his knees and into his tight embrace. "No." He repeated, forcing the trembling man to meet his eyes. "No, Alex. No. Don’t you ever....ever mutilate yourself. Do you understand? Never."

Confusion swirled in the younger man’s green eyes. And absolute terror.

"It’s all right, Alex," Walter crooned, pressing Krycek’s head onto his shoulder and rocking the trembling man in his arms. "I’m not mad at you. No...No, Alex, I’m not. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s gonna be all right. Everything’s gonna be all right."

"A---All right......" Krycek crooned into Skinner’s neck.

"Yes," Skinner whispered, stroking the younger man’s trembling back. "Yes, Alex. Everything’s going to be all right."

Sighing his relief, Alex nodded against Skinner’s shoulder. "Time to die now?"

"Wha..." Skinner set the other man back a bit, his gaze searching Krycek’s serene features. "Die? No. Oh no, Alex. Time to live."

Live? Alex shook his head. "No.....No, they promised.....I can’t....I...Please. I can’t...."

Part 6

Alex pulled away from Skinner, his green eyes wide with horror. “Please, they promised. Said if I was good they’d hand me over to ….to you….or…or someone else who… hated me for what I’d done to…Someone who would release me. I obeyed. I obeyed them…I did whatever you asked. Offered my arm to please you. What more do you want? What do I have to do to earn my… release?”

“Calm down, Alex. It’s all right. You’re safe now…”

“No no no no no. I deserve permission. I earned it over and over again….I…”His hand darted out across the counter, snatching up a thin bladed knife.

Skinner froze as the blade hurtled toward Krycek’s soft belly.

His lips moved, desperate to form the right words. “Stop. Alex, stop.” He managed to get the command past numbed lips.

The younger man’s arms locked up as the blade drew a bead of blood. His arms trembled as he fought against a stronger command from his mind, refusing to allow his attempt. Sweat broke over his brow as he struggled against the need to succeed and the programmed command from his brain to fail.

The deeply grained programming won out and the knife fell from nerveless fingers.

A frustrated roar parted his lips and he slumped to his knees, his head bowed. “It’s not fair,” he wept. “I beg you, release me. The memories….I can’t bear the memories.”

Skinner found the power to move, fueled by a need to comfort the man at his feet, and he went down on his knees, gathering the trembling man into his embrace.

“It’s gonna be okay, boy,” he murmured, rocking the man in his arms. “We’ll get you through this.”

END