Title: CHANCE ENCOUNTERS V (1/1)
Story in 6 parts
Date: Written July, 1999
Posted October, 1999
Summary: A series of chance encounters can have
Archive: Ratlover, CJK, Basement.
DISCLAIMER: These are the property of CC, Fox and 1013.
CHANCE ENCOUNTERS: This being the Fifth (1/1)
The top ranks of the Consortium lay clustered in the disused hangar.
Burnt. Most beyond recognition. Some into seared ashes.
Because of Mulder's involvement, Cassandra Spender's disappearance
yet again, the role the X-Files had played, Walter Skinner found
his department assigned clean-up.
Stone-faced, voice brisk, expressionless, he supervised the tagging
of bodies, such as some were, for future identification. Some
had no discernable body part to be tagged and so numbered cards
were placed near for photo identification.
And all the time he examined the site, answered his agents' few
questions, conferred with the forensic specialists, he kept his
eyes open for a body with no left arm.
Once his heart stopped when he found a body that seemed to qualify,
but the pile of cinders next to it held no plastic smell.
By the end of the thirty-hour period it took to carefully bag
the forty-seven bodies and anything remotely near them, Skinner
He had memorized several of the tag numbers that might prove to
be the man he sought.
Dana Scully had been put in charge of forensic identification
at his request. Not only did he feel that she was the best qualified
of his people for the job, but this way all identification reports
would come across his desk.
Weeks later, nineteen of the bodies still hadn't been identified.
DNA records, dental records, blood type had to be matched and
all this took time.
Skinner grew more and more silent with each report passing over
his desk. Most of his staff never noticed. They were all trying
hard to deal with the enormity of the problems, the revelations
of those involved, men of influence, men of status, men many of
them had respected.
Before the deaths, he had sold the condo and bought a house in
Arlington. The condo had never felt like home and the house had
a yard, room to spread out in, space for an office. Wood and brick
were more solid than an apartment on the seventeenth floor of
some cement and metal construction. Then he had needed grounding.
He moved in, barely unpacked. His days began too early and finished
His neighbours, after initial attempts to introduce themselves
were coldly rebuffed, left him alone. Some of them knew he was
with the FBI. None of them had any idea of his involvement with
the strange deaths of the "cult" that had made the news
only scantly: an airplane crash had wiped it off the TV screens.
Slowly he forced himself to take on a semblance of life. He hired
a lawn maintenance crew so his neighbours on the street wouldn't
freak out at the condition of his yard. He tried to keep his hours
at the office to his normal ones, still long but no longer twenty-hour
By summer's end, all but seven of the bodies had been identified.
And Scully felt that they might never be.
The Smoker aka CGB Spender and several of his associates had been
arrested for their involvement with the Consortium. The war between
the rebel aliens and the aliens had moved on to other places.
In all that time, Skinner had kept to the belief that if he were
alive, Krycek would somehow contact him. Six months after the
burnt bodies had been found, he gave up that hope. He had asked
Mulder if he had any kind of lead on Krycek, who, it turned out,
had supplied Mulder with a great deal of information. But none
since the burning.
The night of his forty-ninth birthday, he spent alone in his darkened
living room, drunk, finally forcing himself to accept that Krycek
was probably one of those bodies that was ash.
He became more taciturn, colder at work. People became very wary
of approaching him, afraid of being cut to ribbons by his tongue.
He suffered fools even less gladly than he had ever done.
He lost weight, had trouble sleeping. Brought work home with him
so he would have something to do besides drink.
Dreamt far too much of a one-armed man whom he couldn't even mourn
The doorbell rang.
Even though it was Hallowe'en, and the neighbourhood was filled
with kids of all ages, only the stalwart ones, or the ones dared
by their friends, had rung his doorbell. He hadn't prepared for
the evening, hadn't really been aware of what this was other than
another Saturday night.
He answered the door anyway. Why not? It would only add to his
reputation as the bete-noire of the neighbourhood.
There were two little girls on his stoop. He recognized them as
the one who lived next door and her friend from down the street.
They had to be best friends as he had never seen one without the
He said nothing. Just waited. His neighbour with the glasses was
dressed as some bespectacled witch, her friend as a vampire.
They looked at him with trepidation.
"The man asked us to give you this note." The witch
handed him a chocolate bar wrapper.
"The writing's on the inside," said the vampire.
And they ran around the dividing fence to the witch's house.
Skinner held the piece of paper in his hand, opened it to the
Please, may I come in?
Skinner shook his head to clear it, read the paper again. Realized
that he knew the handwriting: had seen it once before on another
note that had accompanied a tape.
He looked up. In his front yard was an old black walnut tree.
The trunk seemed to separate and a shadow moved away from it.
He stopped breathing as a ghost approached the stoop and stood
just within the circle of light from the open door.
He was thinner, his face more feral, his eyes almost black in
the scant light. He wore that ubiquitous black leather jacket
of his. His hair was pulled back. There was a new scar just under
his right eye. He limped slightly.
Skinner stared, not really believing his eyes.
"You're dead," he whispered.
"Not yet." Alex Krycek was surprised by the changes
he saw in the man in front of him. What the hell was wrong with
Skinner? He looked like a man who had been seriously ill.
Skinner backed in. Krycek followed him.
Krycek closed the door, went into what had to be the living room.
Skinner was pouring himself a stiff drink. Gulped a good portion
of it down. Turned to face the man who stood in the doorway.
What does one say to a ghost?
So he hit him, hard, with the flat of his hand, across the face.
Krycek was taken totally by surprise. The force of the blow knocked
him to the floor. Before he had time to protect himself, Skinner
had him by the front of his jacket, hauled him up, and slammed
him against the nearest wall.
"You fucking bastard!" Skinner was white, his voice
quivering with anger. So angry that all he could say, over and
over, was "You fucking bastard!" as he slammed Krycek
against the wall yet again.
Krycek got his hand up, tried to push Skinner away from him. This
wasn't the welcome he had so anticipated.
He raised his knee sharply to groin the man, hard.
Skinner turned to catch the knee on his thigh. Released him enough
so that Krycek could twist out of the hold he had on him. He tried
to make for the door, but Skinner dropped his weight onto his
back and they both went down.
Krycek landed hard on a leg that was still recovering from a bullet.
Skinner landed hard on him, knocking the breath out of both of
them. For a moment the world spun out of control.
Skinner had heard the grunt of pain that had preceded the sharp
exhalation of air. In spite of everything, he felt concern begin
to override his shock. He rolled off Krycek, but kept him confined
on the floor, prosthesis under his chest, right wrist clamped
to the ground, one leg over Krycek's to keep him pinned down.
Waited for Krycek to catch his breath.
"All you had to do was tell me no," the man gasped.
"I thought you were dead. I thought that if you were alive
you would contact me somehow, let me know." Skinner took
a deep breath. With all the pain, the loss he had felt over the
months, "Why didn't you contact me?"
Krycek looked into a face that was etched with pain. He stopped
struggling. "I never thought of it," he whispered.
"You never...Jesus! Alex! What did you think it would do
to me, looking at those piles of ashes week in week out, and not
knowing which one was you? I thought we...God knows what I thought...Christ!
I am such a fucking fool."
He rolled off Krycek, releasing him. Lay on his stomach, head
buried in crossed arms. Disgusted with himself, for believing
they actually had something.
Krycek sat up carefully, looking at the man lying next to him,
in obvious pain.
He reached out his hand and gingerly rested it on Skinner's shoulder.
Skinner flinched. He pulled it back.
"Walter. Are you saying it mattered? That you..." He
got no response from the other. He tried again, not sure where
he was going, suddenly only knowing that he was on the verge of
losing something he wanted badly.
"Walter. No one's ever cared enough about me to...I mean,
why would you...Ah, shit! I didn't know..." He hugged his
legs up close to his chest, hurting and not knowing what to do
He'd had dreams about the time they had spent together. They'd
gotten him through some tight times in the last months. But he'd
been smart enough to know that's all they were: dreams. And yet
"There are seven bodies that Scully thinks will never be
identified. Mulder knew some of the ones we did identify. Knew
that you worked with them. It made sense that you'd be there."
Skinner paused to control the trembling in his voice. "Mulder
says he hasn't had any contact with you since the burnings. It
was as if you'd disappeared off the face of the earth. What else
was I supposed to think?"
Krycek was still working his way around the fact that he had meant
something to Skinner. That he had probably destroyed whatever
that something was.
Desolate, he moved slowly to his feet, hurting more than he thought
he could bear. He had to get out of here, before he dropped to
his knees and begged Skinner to give him another chance. He'd
blown it, and hadn't even known until it was too late.
"Alex. Where were you?" Skinner raised his head, looked
up into a face as ravaged as his own.
"Tying up loose ends." He owed Skinner that much at
least. "The Consortium had cells in other places. The rebels
needed a human front to deal with them, and they decided I was
He made it to his feet. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I never meant
"Alex, I can't take this coming and going. It rips my guts
Krycek absorbed pain like a body-blow. He rested his forehead
on the door, put his hand on the latch. "You won't see me
again. I promise."
"Where are you going now?" Skinner sat up.
"Does it matter?"
"Alex, why did you come here tonight?"
Krycek made a sound that could have been a laugh. "Would
you believe it, I was coming to ask you to let me stay for a while.
Until you got bored with me."
Skinner got to his feet. Went to stand behind his lover. "That
might be a long way down the line. Are you sure you can stay that
long? Because, Alex, that's the only way you can stay. If it's
for the long run."
Alex turned around. Walter saw the hunger in Alex's face, reached
out and pulled him into his arms.
They stood by the door, just holding onto each other for dear
life. Tightly, almost painfully.
"You ever leave again," Walter rubbed his face against
Alex's hair, "I'll track you down and pound the shit out
of you. You got that?"
"Yeah." Whispered, but with hope.
There were things they had to talk about, to clear the air. The
past had to be dealt with before they could try for a future.
It was late and they were both exhausted before they found their
way upstairs to the bedroom. They barely had the energy to undress,
slip between the sheets and wrapped themselves around the other.
And it was late when Walter woke to find a pair of green eyes
watching him. "You been awake long?"
Alex shook his head. "No. Not really." Then, because
he was still insecure about all this, "Walter, are you sure
about this? About me staying? Here, I mean. In this house."
Walter tilted his head back, the better to see Alex's face. "Bored
Alex tried again. "No. But, shit, Walter, you're an assistant
director. Living openly with a man isn't going to do your career
much good. And living with me..."
Walter placed his hands on either side of Alex's face, pulled
him down for a heart-felt kiss. Held him close. "Life in
the suburbs won't be so bad, Alex. Of course, you will have to
give up killing, extortion, all that stuff you're so good at."
"Walt, I'm serious."
"I know. I know. But we live in 'Don't ask. Don't tell.'
And I'm sure we won't be the first male couple in this neck of
the woods. As for my career, well, I was never meant for the top
floor. And I rather like keeping my hand in the field." He
smiled. "Stop worrying about that."
But Alex was uneasy. "Walter..."
"If you have to worry, Alex, worry instead about what I'm
going to do to you."
Alex thought a moment. "That sounds rather like a threat."
Walter rolled over so that Alex lay flat on the bed. He stroked
his foot over the leg closest to him, ending up with his foot
anchoring Alex's ankle. At the same time, his right hand slipped
up the length of his arm, pulling it up so that he could imprison
it against the headboard.
He took his time checking out the body now spread out for his
inspection. There were a few new scars. Some not too important.
A couple that made him happy he hadn't been around when they had
been added to Alex's collection.
Alex lay passive, waiting for Walter's next move. He felt anticipation
mingled with a little wariness. He wasn't used to letting himself
be examined this way.
Walter's eyes finally came to find his.
"Not a threat. A promise.
"I promise that, after we've showered, after we've had breakfast,
I'm going to drag you back to this bed. I'm going to taste every
inch of your body with my mouth. Lick it. Bite it."
Alex's eyes opened wide, a hint of pleasure already appearing
"I'll find all your pulse points and suck my mark on you.
Shape your collar bone with my teeth. Bite the soft skin of your
underarms, the inside of your elbow, the back of your knees."
Alex made a soft groan, ran his tongue over his lips, his mind
already reacting to the images that Walter was providing. Even
his cock was appreciative.
"I'm going to play with your nipples till they're so tender
that when I blow on them you're going to scream. I'm going to
tease your skin with my mouth, my fingertips, my nails so that
you can't think."
Alex moaned, tried, but more as a token, to pull out of Walter's
grasp. His cock was hardening from the mere thought of what Walter
was promising. God! It had been so long! No one since their last
"Then when I finally get around to your cock..."
"Jesus, Walter. Touch me!"
Walter grinned. His own cock was also reacting to his scenario,
but he wanted to wait, to see what would happen. "When I
finally get around to your cock, all I'm going to do is take the
tip, just the tip, Alex, into my mouth. Just to get a taste of
pre-come. I'll play with it, dip the tip on my tongue into the
slit, suck. See if I can make you come just like that."
Alex's breathing had deepened, his eyes closed. He was biting
his lower lip. His hips arched in invitation. Walter's voice had
hoarsened: he was catching himself in his own web.
"I'm going to take your balls, one then the other, into my
mouth, warm them up, play my tongue on them. I'll lube my hand,
stroke my finger up from your balls to your asshole. Tease it
with my finger tip. In a bit, out, around and again and again
till it twitches. Till you open up for me. My finger will go in
so slowly you'll want to thrust back, so I'll have to hold you
down somehow. Because I'm the one who's deciding how deep I'm
in. And when I go in further. And if it's one finger. Or two.
Maybe even three.
"How hard that will be, only you know. How long since you've
been stretched out that way? Will it burn? Will it feel so good
that you'll beg me to fuck you with my cock?"
Alex's erection was deepening in colour, his hips writhing for
contact of some kind. Walter knew that Alex could have, at any
time, pulled out of his grasp, if he had really wanted to. Knew
that he would have allowed him to. But he lay there, enjoying
his passivity. Revelling in having his mind fucked, having his
Walter's own erection was demanding attention. He ignored it,
watching Alex's body flush, feeling his own heat up.
"Then, maybe, if you ask nicely enough, I'll fuck you. I'll
pull your legs up over my shoulders. I'll position myself against
that lovely asshole of yours and slowly, so slowly it'll make
you crazy, I'll push in, till my balls are squeezed against your
ass. In so tight that there'll be no room between us for even
a breath of air.
"Would you like that, Alex, if I took you that way?"
Alex had enough of the teasing. He twisted suddenly, taking Walter
a bit by surprise. He pulled away, jerking his body so that he
sat up over his now recumbent lover.
"You fucking cock teaser!" he snarled. He dropped his
mouth to Walter's cock, taking it into his mouth. Unlike Walter's
scenario, he sucked on it hard, taking as much of it into his
mouth into his throat as he could.
Walter grunted, raised his hips to allow Alex easier access. Caught
by the images he had used to arouse Alex, he found himself as
ready as his "victim".
Unfortunately, there was nothing in the room by way of necessities.
He was no longer expecting Alex, so there were no condoms, no
lube in the drawer by the bed.
That didn't deter Alex. When he was sure that Walter's cock was
well slicked with his saliva, he positioned himself over his lover's
erection and dropped his ass to absorb it.
Walter moaned aloud. Alex gasped at the initial pain: he had gone
too quickly and it had been some time. They both took a moment
to adjust. Walter raised his left knee so Alex could use it as
support as the man began riding.
Now that Alex had what he wanted, Walter's cock in him, he took
his time. Clenching his muscles, milking the feeling of being
Walter's hand, wet with his spit, with pre-come, worked Alex's
cock in the same rhythm. He kept his eyes open, wondering at the
beauty of the man above him, head thrown back, throat exposed,
eyes closed in appreciation and concentration.
Walter's orgasm threw Alex into his own completion.
They lay, still joined, listening to each other's heartbeats return
to normal. Arms wrapped around each other.
Walter moved just enough to slip out of Alex who grunted a bit
at the feeling.
He kissed the side of his lover's head. Against his temple, he
whispered, "Welcome home, Alex."
End of Part 5