September 16, 1999
All the characters in this story belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions.
NC17 for male/male sex.
Season 5 spoilers, especially for 'The End.'
Summary - Set after the fade to black in 'The End,' Mulder, Scully, and Krycek reflect on their relationship.
ThanX to KMS, who put up with my whining and pointed me in the right direction, to Drovar, who pointed out how often I like to start sentences with conjunctions, Russianrat who blamed me for keeping him awake, and Phyre, who kept nagging me until I finished.
Feedback is highly relished, and even ketchuped when I'm in
the mood. Flames will be used to heat the ice cube of an office
I work in.
The previous stories in this series are available at All Things Rat (http://welcome.to/allthingsrat) or on my homepage
Uncertain Allies V - Contemplations
By Ratlover (firstname.lastname@example.org)
I don't know exactly why I had to be here at this moment. It's a stupid idea, and dangerous. Old Smokey's boss has taken me on as a 'protegee,' which really means glorified errand boy and bodyguard, the expendable one. I might as well start wearing a red shirt like the ensigns who die in the first five minutes of a Star Trek episode. Doing anything that could even remotely be construed as treacherous would be signing my death warrant.
But the moment I heard what had happened in that basement, I had to go to him. Cancerman literally and figuratively destroyed the last six years of Mulder's life with the flick of a cigarette. It would be an easy matter of finding Mulder. There were only three places he could be found on a regular basis, his office, his apartment, or Dana's. Number one was out of the question, and if she were with him, number two would be unlikely. She would take care of him, see that he didn't go into a self-destructive cycle. And to do that, she would have to go to a place untainted by Mulder's less than pleasant memories, her apartment.
This is a place of healing for him. Mulder came here on instinct when I was (reluctantly) putting hallucinogens in the drinking water of his building. He came here the night that he found out the sole reason the apartment above his was rented was to spy on him. He's come here seeking shelter from less traumatic events, but always for the same reason. Dana's home is his safe harbor, a fact that makes me more than a bit jealous. I don't have one for myself, let alone him. But that doesn't mean that that I don't long to provide one.
And now the ship has come in. I hear the rattle of keys, and the doorknob begins to turn. My world is narrowing down to two possibilities, both equally as likely. Either Mulder will turn to me for comfort, or he will turn to me in accusation. He has no reason, except for my denial, to believe that I didn't start the fire. I've burned him before. I face the door and stand my ground, waiting for the moment of truth.
I open the door to my apartment and nudge Mulder inside ahead of me. He's almost in a sleepwalking state, except sleep is the last thing on his mind. He still smells the smoke, feels the ashes, and see the wreckage of the last five years of our lives. He takes two steps into the apartment and stops, stock-still. I go to walk around him and I see the reason why. There is a man in my apartment, and not just any man.
Alex Krycek has reappeared, and at a most inopportune time, as is his wont. The man is enigma incarnate. He became Mulder's partner (and lover) when the X-Files was shut down for the first time. He was part of the reason that I was abducted. Despite this, I call this man my ally, if only because, despite his choices and actions, he loves Mulder the same as I do.
I look at Mulder, afraid of what will happen now that he knows Alex is here. I'm afraid for Mulder that Alex will hurt him, afraid for Alex that Mulder will hurt him, and for me, because I will be hurt, no matter what happens. Mulder just stands there, his face blank. He makes no move towards Alex, no move away from him. As far as I know, the last time Mulder saw Alex was on the back of a truck, fleeing from the gulag by the river Tungus. And Alex just stands there, looking sadly at Mulder. It is a fragile moment of spun glass and brittle hopes.
The moment shatters. Mulder's face darkens, blood suffusing it in his rage. "You son of a bitch! You did it!" He crosses the room in two quick strides, raising his hand. I know what's coming, and turn away, unwilling to watch. Krycek makes no move to block the teeth jarring punch. Mulder steps back, waiting for Krycek's reaction.
He makes no retaliatory moves. He staggers back a few steps, his head rotating from the force of the blow. I know that Krycek will have a large bruise on his right cheek by morning. His head turns back so he can look at Mulder. The silence is broken by four roughly whispered tender words. "Mulder, I'm so sorry."
And that is all it takes. Barriers that would take me hours, days, and even years to merely chip crumble into dust at Alex's whisper. Mulder, with a shudder and a sobbing breath, steps towards Alex. Alex meets him; arms open, pulling him into a gentle embrace. Muttering nonsense sounds, Alex rocks him, slowly leading him back to my couch and sitting him down. He kneels between Mulder's legs, looking up into the hazel eyes. Alex takes Mulder's hands between his, then looks down at the palms and fingertips, angry red and blistered from when Mulder tried to claw the still smoldering cabinets open. He kisses each wound, trying to take the pain away.
I feel like a stranger in my own home. Mulder and Alex have forgotten where they are and whom they are with. Alex reaches up to caress Mulder's cheek. Now Mulder makes the first proactive move I've seen from him in the last few hours. He grabs Alex by the collar of his leather jacket and pulls him in for a kiss. My God, what a kiss! Both men give themselves fully over to expressing their emotions through it. They are so beautiful; it is hard to find the words to describe it. Alex's ivory skin is quickly flushing with arousal, and Mulder starts to become more aggressive and demanding.
I can't bear to watch, no matter how beautiful they are. "Mulder, why don't you and Alex go back to your place," I suggest when they come up gasping for air. The last thing I wanted to deal with tonight is trying to sleep while listening to Alex and Mulder have sex. And that is exactly what would happen.
Mulder seems to remember where he is. "You shouldn't be alone either, Scully," he says.
Damn. Now he is going to try to protect me by hovering over me when what I need is time for me. "I can deal with it," I say, willing him to understand. I don't want to admit out loud that it would break my heart, knowing that the man I love is seeking sexual comfort from someone else I am attracted to. I can be his partner, I can be his friend, and I have resigned myself to the fact that Mulder has someone else and, in all probability, we will never become lovers.
The truth is out there, and it hurts when it is found.
And through some miracle, Alex understands. I can see the comprehension bloom in his eyes. He nods knowingly. "Mulder, we have things that need to be discussed, but now isn't the time."
I can see that Mulder reluctantly agrees. He reaches out and brushes his lips chastely across my forehead. The contact is almost more than I can bear. Alex reaches out and squeezes my hand understandingly. He looks at me and his thought is clear. 'Mulder has no clue that you love him.'
I squeeze Alex's hand in return, grateful even for the sympathy of an uncertain ally. Without any further spoken words, Mulder and Alex cross the room and go out the front door. I follow to close and lock the door behind them.
The ride to my place as well as the elevator trip and walk down the hall is done without any talking. When we reach the door to my apartment, I look at Alex, half expecting him to produce a key. So I am not overly surprised when he does. We never got to the stage in our relationship where I was going to ask him if he wanted to pick out curtains. But I knew the men who he reported to would have given him access.
I stumble inside, not caring if the whole fucking Consortium and the Supreme Ambassador from Rigel 7 were gathered in my living room. All I want to do is get drunk so I can forget. I weave my way over to the cabinet where I keep my liquor and pull out the bottle of vodka I've been saving. Only a shot or two of it is left. I kept on telling myself that I should throw it away, because I don't even like vodka. But it was Alex's and it was the last tangible thing of his I have.
I lift the bottle to him in a mock salute and take a swig. The alcohol burns, bringing tears to my eyes. Or at least I tell myself that's why I'm about to cry. Krycek just stares, his brows drawing together. "I don't think that's a good idea," he says as I take another long swallow. "You know how strong that stuff is?"
"Yes. That's exactly why I'm drinking it." I take a third gulp and Alex holds out his hand for the bottle. Since there's no more liquor in it, I give it up willingly. I flop down on my couch. "So what piece of misinformation are you here to deliver this time?" I ask as I stretch out. "A CD-ROM with a sanitized version of the files that were destroyed?"
"No." Alex puts down the empty bottle down on my coffee table and steps towards me. "When I heard what happened, I had to see you."
I think about what he said and I start to laugh, not a nice laugh. "When the fuck did you grow a conscience Alex?"
"I've always had one, Mulder. I just haven't always listened to it." Krycek sits on the other end of the couch, giving me a wide berth. "I know looking at your office was difficult..."
"Difficult?" I mock his tone with disdain. The alcohol has loosened my tongue, as well as bringing my bitterness to the surface. It's beginning to sink in; my life's work has been destroyed. No, I have been destroyed. My identity is so wrapped up in the X-Files that I have no idea who I am without them, without my quest for the truth. Of course, only the physical files in my office went up in flames. There are backup copies, but this will be the excuse needed to shut me out of working on the X-Files. "Do you have any idea what it is like to lose something that has been a part of you for a long time?"
Sparks flare in those forest green eyes. "Yes I do," he says coldly, thumping his plastic left fist into his fleshy right palm. "Before you start playing the martyr, remember that some of us have had it a hell of a lot tougher than you."
I open my mouth to reply, and then shut it. Damn, the pain-in-the-ass was right. I hadn't cornered the market on suffering. Alex lost his arm and any semblance of a normal life, Skinner his marriage and probably any advancement in his career, and Scully her sister and almost her life too many times to count. And with that realization, the anger drains away from my psyche. "So what the hell do I do now?" I asked softly.
" Simple." Krycek leans forward and stares me in the eye, a gleam in it that should have warned me what was coming. "As difficult as it will be, do whatever worthless job they give you without making any waves. Let them think they have won. And when they least expect it... attack!" With that last word, Alex scrambles forward, pressing me against the back of the couch. His hands are as frantic as his lips, hot and demanding as they all but ravage me. Before I'm fully aware of what's going on, my shirt is shoved up to my armpits, my sweats and boxers pulled down to my ankles. I feel Krycek slowly begin to work his way down my body, exposing skin and leaving a trail of honey sweet kisses.
I manage to toe off my shoes, kick off the fabric trapping my feet, and yank my shirt over my head. The rational part of my mind is screaming that I am a bloody idiot for being butt naked in front of this wanted felon who has fucked both my mind and body. But when it comes to this man, I don't listen to my rational mind.
Krycek, meanwhile, has kept himself busy by removing his clothing faster than I thought possible for someone who had both arms. Never breaking contact with my eyes, he kneels down in front of me, a look of worship bright on his face. The sweat glistening on his skin gives it a heavenly sheen. He looks angelic, my beautiful fallen one. Isn't it said that Satan can appear as an angel of light?
And with a devilish look of gleeful anticipation, his eyes refocus to a spot mere inches from his lips. He leans forward and drags the tip of his nose along the vein protruding from the underside of my hard cock. Milliseconds later, it is followed by his open mouth and tongue, whisper soft kisses moving towards the weeping crown.
Then I am engulfed in a wet flame. Alex's hot mouth is working my cock as if he were playing a finely tuned Stradivarius. He makes my voice hit notes in registers I didn't think possible for men with their testicles intact. Soft flicks of his tongue where the head joins the shaft, light scrapes of teeth against the underside near the base, and a heavy suction is making me rapidly lose control. And in this situation, I am perfectly willing to let Krycek take control.
Until he stops. With a smirk, Alex pulls away seconds before I cum. He squats back on his heels, eyes glowing in pleasure as I, in a growl of half frustration, half affection, question the legitimacy of both himself and his family for several past generations. Krycek's only reaction is what my father called a shit eating grin and to back away on hands and knees from me. Head held high, Alex turns slightly and poses on all fours. He reminds me of a horse, proud and arrogant, like the ones Sam and I learned to ride one summer during my all-too-brief childhood. That summer I first discovered what made a stallion a stud.
Well, Alex would make Nimblefoot jealous.
And in the blink of an eye, the pride and arrogance transmutes into longing and desire. Alex's head dips, his ass lifts, and he stares from between his arms back at me. The message in that emerald gaze is clear, 'Come and get me.'
How could I resist such an offer? I reach out and stroke the firm flesh of his back, which earns me a barely suppressed shudder. And yet I make no move to get off the couch. Despite my raging erection, I don't have the energy to fuck Alex tonight. Events in the last forty-eight hours have been too rapid fire for me to keep dodging emotional bullets. "Alex, I can't..."
Krycek turns to look at me when I fall silent, the questioning look rapidly transforming to understanding. Standing, he straddles my body and slides up to whisper in my ear. "Let me do the work, baby."
All I can do is swallow roughly and nod. Of all our couplings, only once has Alex fucked me - the night we seduced each other. The other times, Alex had submitted, seemingly content as a bottom. I don't know for certain if it had to do with the fact that he was figuratively screwing me by spying, but I suspect that had a big part of it.
But that was then and this is now. I start to shift my weight to roll over. But Alex stops me with a touch of both hands, flesh and synthetic, on my chest. "Stay right here," he whispers before a soft brush of his lips against mine, and then the absence of his warmth. I shut my eyes and take several deep breaths, willing my racing heart to resume a normal pace. But before I can accomplish it, Alex is back, condoms and lube in his hands. He straddles my waist, this time his back to my face. Not that it's a complaint. The view of his ass is quite lovely close up. It really is a fine ass - tight, muscular, and just the right size to comfortably cup in both hands. Alex's legs have pinned my arms to my sides, so I can't. But that won't stop me from touching him.
As he fumbles with the foil wrapped condom, I lean forward slightly and firmly plant my lips on one of those perfect globes. Alex stops, obviously not expecting my caress. A small, breathy moan escapes him as I start to nibble. And a full one escapes when I start to suck. I keep up the suction for several minutes and then break off with a wet smacking noise. And I smile at the sight of the bruise now gracing Krycek's ass. "I made this," I think with childish delight. "I've marked you and made you mine and no one will take you away from me."
Alex has finally managed to get the package open. I jump in surprise as he awkwardly rolls the condom onto me, using his prosthetic hand to hold the tip in place. Now I am confused. Alex said he would do the work, so why was he preparing me this way? It's not to keep my couch clean. I've jerked off on it many times before. Then his fingers, slick with the lube, slide around to trace the crack of his ass before slipping past the ring of muscle. They glide in and out, preparing himself. A light goes on in my head. I know what he's planning now. So I watch Alex finger fuck himself with an anticipatory smile. He is arching back into his strokes, head tilting upwards like a wolf baying at the moon. Alex then withdraws his fingers, and undoes the straps that hold his artificial arm in place. It drops to the floor with a loud thud. He rises in one fluid motion and turns to face me, locking me in his gaze.
I take hold of my erection, lifting it so my cockhead rests just behind his balls. Alex readjusts his position and slowly impales himself. The spincter tightens fractionally before releasing and embracing me. He descends only far enough to cover my glans before stopping.
I cannot wait any longer. I place a hand on either of his hips and pull him downward until his balls are nestled in my pubic hair. I hold him down as I start a side to side rocking motion. Alex sucks in his breath and moves with me for the moment. Then he moves counter to me. I hold still as he begins a second series of circular motions, down and away, up and forward, like he's riding on a merry-go-round.
His hand strokes from his neck, between his dusky nipples, around the well of his navel, teasing the line of dark hair that leads to his nest of curls. The sound of our breathing goes ragged when his hand reaches his rampant cock. My hand closes over his, increasing the pressure. Alex swallows once and speeds up, forgoing the fancy movements. Digging my heels into the leather cushions, I thrust up, meeting his downstrokes. My hand tightens on Alex's, once, twice, thrice
Alex tosses his head back, his jaw dropping as he cums. I watch the tiny shivers rattle his shoulders before the contractions begin squeezing my cock. The sight of him alone is enough to push me over the edge, let alone the feel of my cock in his ass. I push upward one more time as Alex collapses against my chest.
He lies against me for a few minutes before getting up. Without a word, he removes the used condom and heads off to the bathroom. When Alex returns with a damp washcloth, I still haven't moved. He tenderly cleans me, wiping up his seed with gentle, loving strokes. And once he's done he curls up beside me, one ear pressed over my heart.
Alex's hand gently strokes down my cheek, wiping away my tears. Shit! When did I start crying? Alex presses his lips to the corner of my left eye and settles over me, warming me, protecting me, loving me. How long has it been since anyone has held me close? Even Scully keeps her distance, reverting to her infamous ice queen mode after particularly stressful cases. Something about that nags at the back of my mind, but I've never bothered to tease it out.
But now I'm too tired to think, to fight, to do anything but cry. Alex hooks his arm around my shoulder so he can both hold me and stroke my hair. I want to reciprocate, but I'm too damn tired. He nuzzles my cheek and repeats what he said earlier as I drift off to sleep. "Don't let them win, Mulder. Don't let them win."
I stand in front of the door to apartment 42, steeling myself for what I'll find in there. After Mulder and Alex left, I had taken a long, cold shower. They don't work as well for women as they do for men, but it did allow me to calm myself down enough to get some sleep.
But not nearly enough. I woke up at about 3:00 AM, after only two hours of sleep. I spent the next several hours thinking over what would happen next. The X-Files were shut down. Mulder and I were still partners, but it would only be a matter of time before we were split apart again. We have weathered storms before, but this one could destroy us.
But what has me most concerned at this moment is Alex Krycek. Mulder's love for Alex is one of his greatest weaknesses. I believe that yes, Alex does love Mulder, but Alex is not the kind of man who will sacrifice his survival for noble ideals. I think Mulder knows this on some level, but it does not, or cannot, affect his actions towards his ex-partner. No more than I cannot stop acting on my feelings for Mulder.
I close my eyes. I know that I am Mulder's other weakness. My mother told me how Mulder had not given up faith that I would come home, even when my mother was ready to. He never gave up searching for a cure, even when it looked hopeless. He doesn't give up easily on anything or anyone he cares about. And he cares about Alex as much as he cares about me.
Standing outside the door is only stalling. I need to go in there and find out what has happened. I have a good idea what I will find - Mulder and Alex together. Sharing something I will never have - either of them.
One of the things I forced myself to admit last night is that I also have feelings for the man who was involved in killing my sister. If anyone had told me a year ago that I would be emotionally attracted to Alex Krycek, I would have laughed in their face. But when I found him in Mulder's apartment, mourning his 'suicide,' we bonded in a way I can't explain. And when Alex appeared in my hospital room, apologizing for not having found a cure, I had no doubt that he was being honest. I can't explain how I knew, I just knew.
Pulling out my keys, I unlock the door and step in. Mulder is asleep on his couch, and appears to be naked beneath the rumpled afghan tossed over his frame. From the sounds of water running coming from the direction of the bedroom, I assume Alex is using the shower. I resist the temptation to peek at either of them. Instead, I take a seat in the beat up chair opposite Mulder's couch and stare idly at the fish tank.
The water shuts off, and I hear fabric rustling and soft grunts coming from Mulder's bedroom. Mulder sleeps on. I don't know if I should go in and offer Alex assistance. Eventually the sounds die away, and I turn towards the door. Alex doesn't appear in the door like I expect. Instead, a gun muzzle pokes out cautiously. "It's me, Alex."
Alex steps into the living room, tucking the gun into his waistband. He looks how I feel - tired. We both have fought the good fight for so long, and we have kept the faith in our own way. But will we ever finish the race?
He looks at Mulder for a long time. I know what he's going to say - given who
and what he is, it is inevitable. "I have to go." I understand why. If the
Consortium found Alex with us, his life would be forfeit. "As soon as I have any information, I'll contact you."
"I know." I take Alex's hand and squeeze. He looks surprised that I reached
out to him. He squeezes back. Without a word he picks up his jacket and walks to the door. "Alex." He turns back at the sound of his name. There is so much I want to say to him. Don't leave Mulder. Don't leave me. Stay with us both. But only one thing crosses my lips. "Be careful."
Alex nods and steps outside. I sit down to resume the vigil. With Alex's help, Mulder and I will fight our future with the courage that has fueled our search for the truth for the last five years. I can only pray that it will be enough.
I walk down the hallway to the elevator. There is so much to do, and so little time to do it.
They won't be able to keep Mulder away from the X-Files. As long as he's in the FBI, he will be drawn to them. Or maybe I should say they will be drawn to him. It's just like our relationship. No matter what happens, we find each other.
As I push the button to call the elevator, I think about how mad Mulder will be when he wakes up and finds out that I've slipped out without saying goodbye. But I have to return to the Brit and await my orders. Soon I hope that I will have enough power and prestige among the Consortium that this skulking won't be necessary. For now I'll have to be content that Dana will be there for him.
Dana. When did I start thinking of Mulder's partner by her first name? And why do I feel so strongly towards her? I love Mulder. Mulder loves me. Dana knows that, and in spite of her feelings for Mulder, respects that boundary. Mulder, oblivious as he is, hasn't figured it out. We should leave status quo alone. My relationship with Mulder is screwed up enough as it is without trying to turn it into a threesome.
I pull my jacket tighter around me. It was nice to actually act human for one night, not have to have to watch over my shoulder as much. But duty calls, and it's time for me to revert back into the 'cold hearted bastard' role that I'm finding harder and harder to remove.