The Triple Agent Who Came in from the Cold
Book 1; Part 2
By: J Morningstar
Feedback: Please julie_morningstar@yahoo.com
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"Maybe this world is another planet's Hell."
~ Aldous Huxley
She didn't speak again as she turned her attention
back to Skinner. He wanted to question her, ask her
how they this hideaway, anything at all, just to hear
the sound of her voice, but the sad and defeated look
in her eyes alarmed him. He feared she was at the end
of her endurance. So he swallowed his questions and
helped her remove Skinner's clothing. Once the big
man was naked, they turned him from side to side,
drying his skin roughly with towels to bring warmth
and blood flow to the cold and mottled flesh.
Alex chuckled under his breath. She looked at him
sharply, and in response he raked his glance over
Skinner's naked body and explained. "I guess I didn't
realize that Skinner was such a stud." His grin was
wry as he glanced pointedly at her belly and remarked,
"But I guess you already knew that."
He ignored her cold and steady look and wrapped the
big man in a thick and fluffy down comforter.
Satisfied that Skinner was as warm and cozy as
possible in the circumstances, he turned his attention
back to Scully. She too needed to get warm and dry.
When he looked up to find her pointing a gun on him,
he began to laugh. She narrowed her eyes, and this
made him laugh even harder. Finally he sank to the
hearth, his good arm holding his belly.
"You think you have something to laugh about, Krycek?"
He wiped his eyes as his laughter wore itself out.
When he looked at her his gaze held humor and
admiration. "Yeah Scully, I'm laughing at you. You
know you won't kill me in cold blood. So what are you
going to do?" He started to laugh again. "Arrest me?"
She closed her eyes, and let her arm fall. He was
right, and she hated that. The world they had known
was gone. Then she remembered all the reasons she
hated this man, and it was all she could do to keep
from throwing the gun at his arrogant head.
His look was gentle as he approached her and took the
gun from her grasp. He laid it on the entry table,
then turned to lead her towards the rear of the cabin.
"Come on Scully," he coaxed. "You'll freeze in
these wet clothes. You'll find something dry in the
back bedroom. The sun earlier today heated the water
in the solar collector. Should be enough for a warm
shower or two."
She turned back to look at Skinner, clearly concerned
for her boss and friend. Alex read her look and
reassured her. "I'll keep an eye on him." When she
hesitated he argued, "You'll be no good to him if you
get sick." The gaze she leveled on him before leaving
the room was full of warning. He returned it calmly,
without rancor, and this somehow reassured her.
In the small kitchen area, he heated water for tea,
keeping an eye on Skinner from across the breakfast
bar. For Scully, he heated a more substantial meal of
leftover stewed rabbit with wild onions.
When she returned, clean and warm, dressed in a sweats with thick fuzzy socks on her feet, she found him
propping Skinner up, trying to get hot tea down his
throat.
"Help me out here, will ya? This is hard to do with
one hand." When she didn't move he looked up and
found her staring at him. It wasn't hard to read her
expression. She was trying to reconcile the Krycek
she knew, who had beaten and killed her boss, with the
Krycek who now was doing his best to keep that same
man alive. "Scully? Don't try to figure it all out
right now, Okay? Let's take care of Skinner first."
She joined him on the floor and if she wondered at the
tenderness with which Krycek held the big man, she
kept it to herself. She lifted the cup to Skinner's
lips, and spoke to him gently, urging him to drink.
The AD opened his eyes and stared at her blankly. But
he was roused enough to swallow. Between them, they
managed to empty half the mug, most of it down
Skinner's throat.
Scully's open-mouthed yawn seemed to catch her by
surprise. Alex urged her onto the sofa, where she
curled up. He brought her a bowl of the stew and
water to drink. Despite the cold, he knew how quickly
one could become dehydrated. He watched over her as
she picked suspiciously at the stew, and then was
amazed at the speed with which she devoured it once
she decided it was edible. Then he remembered - she's
eating for two now. A dozen questions died stillborn
on his tongue. Later, there would be time enough for
explanations.
He found bedding for the two of them, and closed off
the back of the cabin. He handed her a pillow and
comforter, but didn't watch as she settled into the
depths of the sofa. He pulled an armchair and ottoman
next to the sofa, cocooned himself in a nest of
blankets.
He should sleep. But he couldn't. He drank in the
sight of Dana Scully and Walter Skinner. He tried to
tell himself that it didn't matter who was here, that
any human being would trigger the same response. But
the truth was, other than maybe Mulder himself; he
couldn't have asked for anything more than these two.
A hundred thousand invisible threads bound them
together. They should have been just another
assignment he carried out - orders to be followed,
like dozens of others before and since. But somehow,
the three of them, Scully, Skinner, and yes, even
Mulder, left an indelible impression on his life. It
was more than the knowledge that they stood for
everything he was fighting for. They were –
unforgettable. He had found himself drawn to them time
and again, even though it was dangerous. Each
encounter, every word, every dream or nightmare, every
single thought of them - spun another silken link
amongst them.
***********************
She wasn't sure what woke her, but awareness returned
quickly as she remembered where she was. She rose to
check on Skinner, only to find their host was already
with the man.
"Krycek! What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Alex grinned at the agent unrepentantly. Scully had
caught him in the act of disrobing. He was pleased to
see the sharp look had returned to her eyes, and
grinned impudently. "You're boyfriend here on the
verge of checking out from hypothermia. Thought I'd
try to save him, though I'll be damned if I know why."
She realized that the rattling noise that woke her was
the appalling sound of Skinner's teeth chattering.
Alex continued to shed clothing until he stood naked
and unashamed before her. He threw her a challenging
glance, and then slipped under the blankets with
Skinner, pressing his warm body to the man's chilled
flesh. He looked up at Scully while he rubbed the
man's chest and arms with his single hand. His voice
was exasperated. "Are you going to join us? Or do you
plan on letting him freeze to death." He realized
that she was hesitant to strip in front of him. So he
closed his eyes. After a long moment, he heard the
rustle of falling clothes, and felt her slide under
the blankets on Skinner's other side.
"Krycek." Her voice was a soft whisper, and he opened
his eyes, to find Scully's head pillowed against
Skinner other shoulder, their faces just inches apart.
She had curved her swollen body against Skinner's
bulk, and her hand hesitantly stroked the man's chest.
"What?" he asked.
"Why are you doing this?"
If she hoped for some kind of satisfaction, she bound
for disappointment. His grin was wicked as he
explained. "Maybe I've always had a secret wish to
get naked with the two of you."
But Scully refused to bite at the red herring he
tossed her. "You could have killed us both. You
didn't even have to kill us. You could have just left
us to die on the side of the mountain."
For long moments he was quiet, and when she finally
looked over at him, he shrugged and with the movement,
a flash of gold on his chest glittered in the
firelight. Without thinking she reached out to touch
it, lifting it up and leaning closer to examine it.
"It's a cross." She said, looking at Krycek, surprised
and perplexed. "There's something odd about it."
"You only think it's odd because it's not your
typical, boring Catholic cross." He rejoined. He
shifted, pulling the chain over his head and handing
it to her. "It's Byzantine. Russian Orthodox." He
pointed out the various features as she held it up to
the light. "The top bar represents the sign places
over Christ's head. The middle bar, of course, is the
one they nailed his arms to. And the bottom one is
the footrest that supported his body."
Scully looked at him, wide-eyed. "My Grandmother gave
it to me." He said defensively. "What's the matter
Scully. Did you think I was hatched."
"No. No. I just didn't think..." She swallowed, the
looked at him directly. "I didn't know you believed."
He grinned at her then, and she was startled to
realize it didn't annoy her. "There aren't any
atheists in foxholes Scully. Didn't your father teach
you that?"
She handed it back to him, and he spoke, almost to
himself. "I remember going to her house on feast
days. The Nativity of the Theotokos in the fall. The
Nativity of Our Lord – what you Westerners call
"Christmas. We would eat until we were stuffed. She
would pull down her icons, and tell us the Nativity
story. One year she gave me this cross. To keep her
Alexei safe, she said."
"Theotokos? God-bearer?"
"Yes. Theotokos is Mary, the Mother of God. We
Russians reverie our Mothers, Scully. All mothers." He
slanted a grin at her. "Maybe that's why I pulled you
off the mountain and brought you here. Motherhood."
She pulled a face at him. "That might be believable
if I didn't know how surprised you were when you
lifted me on the horse."
He smiled then, and they were both quiet. At length,
he asked the question she knew was coming. "So, what's
the story then, behind..." he nodded toward her
rounded abdomen.
She looked at him carefully, and replied. "I'm not
ready to talk about it yet."
He nodded. This was something he understood. He had
enough secrets of his own that would never see the
light of day. He closed his eyes and settled into the
warmth at Skinner's side.
Skinner's trembling had subsided, and his flesh began
to feel warm against hers. Scully continued to stroke
his chest, enjoying the rough fur and sculpted
muscles. She felt uneasy with the thoughts that
bubbled up; Krycek was right; Skinner had an
remarkable physique. She remembered the first time
she'd seen him in his shirt sleeves. The light from
the window highlighted his broad shoulders and narrow
waist, and her breath had caught in her throat. She
was too smart to get caught up in an office
infatuation, so she had diligently suppressed her
attraction to the AD. But his appeal was hard to
completely discount, and it had, over the years,
caught her by surprise more than once. Sometimes all
it took to set her pulse racing was the sight of him
striding down the corridor, his physique and his
confidence dwarfing every other man. Other times, it
was the look of admiration in his eyes as he handed
her back a report and told her the work was good.
That single but compelling look could lift her spirits
for the rest of the day.
She had come to expect from him a stability that she
could never get from Mulder. And when it all came
down, and it was clear that nothing they could do
could halt the chain of events that was unfolding, he
was there to pull her to safety. For the past several
weeks, he'd kept her alive. Forcing her to go on when
she wanted to fall to the ground. He was the only
thing real in a world that no longer made sense. What
if he died?
At her troubled murmur Alex opened his eyes to look at
her, "He's going to be alright Scully." She didn't
look comforted, so he tried another tact. "Hell
Scully, if I couldn't kill him, a little cold water
won't." He grabbed her hand and stilled it, cradling
their fingers together in the hollow over Skinner's
heart. His voice grumbled at her across Skinner's
chest. "He's a Marine, damn it." After a long moment,
his voice sleepy, he told her to go to sleep.
And she did.
**********************
He surfaced gradually, his brain foggy as he fought
through layer upon layer of weariness. He slowly
became aware that he was warm, almost too warm, and he
wondered if this was what death was like. The effort
to think was too costly, so he let himself float,
experiencing sensations as they came to him, not
pushing himself to comprehend.
He was on his side, and he twitched slightly,
surprised to find that he was not alone. There was a
small body next to his, and they were both naked. As
his brain sluggishly processed information, he came to
understand that the softness under his hand was a
woman's breast. A perfect breast that arched into the
palm of his hand. Surely he was dead, and he had
somehow stumbled into heaven, in spite of everything.
He suddenly ached to know who she was, this celestial
being who had spooned herself into the curve of his
body, but his stubborn eyelids were too heavy and
refused to open.
Then he felt an arm tighten around him from behind.
Two women at once? A foolish grin tumbled across his
face. Maybe, just maybe, heaven was a place where
fantasies were fulfilled. The body behind him shifted
closer, and then he felt it, the length of a
semi-erect penis along his backside. Thirty years
fell away and he was back in ‘Nam, about to be
initiated into the enticing and seductive pleasure of
anal sex. Only this time, he was no virgin. He knew
the burning rush of pleasure that came from being
filled, and longed to feel it again. He arched his
back, pushing his ass against the man behind him,
silently urging him on. A sleepy and tantalizingly
familiar voice asked, "You awake?" He thought that he
might have grunted in reply. A hand laid itself
against his forehead, and the voice whispered across
his ear, making him shiver. "No fever, thank god."
The arm pull him close, and Skinner growled low in his
throat as he realized *his* penis was hard and weeping
and pressing against the pert, feminine bottom curled
in front of him. This was a heaven his conscious mind
would never allow him to envision, a heaven he never
knew he wanted. He felt lips press along his neck.
Whispered words rippled along his skin. "Go back to
sleep. You need to rest." Clever fingertips slid
along his arm, then long fingers twined with his own.
He wanted to protest - he didn't want to sleep. He
ached bury himself in the body before him, and yearned
to be filled by the body behind him. But sleep pulled
at him, dragging him under. He sighed mournfully and
slipped softly in to slumber.
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Continue on to Part 3