8/26/96
Fates Conspiring II: Confines
by Rosalita
Rosalita@rocketmail.com


Rating: NC17 Slash
Category: SR
Summary: Slash. Mulder/Krycek. While confined to a Russian
prison, Mulder and Krycek discuss Krycek's betrayal and their
previous relationship. Takes place during "Tunguska/Terma."


Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox 
Broadcasting. I'm just having a little fun with them. No copyright 
infringement is intended.

Please ask permission before archiving.

This is a sequel to "Parallels" and is the second story in the series 
"Fates Conspiring." You kind of do need to read "Parallels" first 
because the events of that story are discussed here. You can find it
on the Gossamer archives or you can e-mail me for a copy.

This is definitely NC-17 and contains graphic depictions of m/m
sex. If you are underage or if the idea of two beautiful men making
love bothers you, don't read this. Constructive criticism is always
appreciated. Flames will be ignored. Comments may be sent to
Rosalita@rocketmail.com

Spoilers: "Tunguska," "Terma."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Fates Conspiring II: Confines
by Rosalita

Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned.
     
                  --William Congreve



Prologue
August 9, 1994

It was the cigarette butt in the ashtray of Alex's car that clued me
in. Morley's. Cancer Man's drug of choice. 

I really don't know how long I sat there holding the noxious thing,
trying not to cry--or vomit. My mind ran around in circles, chasing
its own tail as the memories of the other night in Richmond 
assaulted me.

My damned memory will drive me insane some day, I'm convinced
of it. To this day, I can remember everything that happened with
perfect clarity. I remember what his skin felt like next to mine, how
soft his hair was, what he smelled like, tasted like, looked like.
How he made love to me, gentle and rough at the same time,
devouring me. God, it had been so good.

Shit, my left hand hurt. Oh, no wonder, I was slamming it again
and again into the steering wheel. Damn you, Krycek. I thought ....
Well, it really doesn't matter what I thought, does it? The whole
thing was a set up, wasn't it? No doubt Cancer Man would show up
soon with pictures or a tape and ruin me. Or maybe it was just a
way to make me trust Alex more. Or keep me away from D.C. so
they could get Scully. 

No wonder he'd been so reluctant to talk about it afterward. He
knew--the son of a bitch was in on the whole thing. Was he
working on the plan the whole time he was fucking me? It was
obvious now that he'd killed the tram operator *and* Duane 
Barry-- all to keep me from getting to Scully. He'd been so very
considerate, bringing me coffee, driving me home ... He'd even
stayed with me for a few hours. 

Bastard. Son of a bitch.

People on the sidewalk were giving the car a wide berth. Had I
yelled out loud? Jesus, I was losing it. I had to get out of that car. I
put one of the cigarette butts in a plastic evidence bag and got out.
No way was I driving the damned thing back. Let it get towed. I
took a taxi back to the office to present my evidence to Skinner and
then go and personally arrest the rat myself. 

No such luck. The bastard had skipped town.



Tunguska, Siberia
November 24, 1996


The Fates, like everyone else, are out to get me. The web of my life
is being spun and it seems that Alex Krycek is entangled in its
strands. Why else would we be constantly thrown together?

He was the last person I expected to see outside of my apartment
the night after my father's death. He was the last person I expected
to see in that dark room in Hong Kong--the last person I expected
to be sharing a damp, cold, small Russian prison cell with. 

Yet there he was. Him. Every damned time. 

As soon as I have finally convinced myself that all I feel for him is
hatred, he shows up and proves me wrong. Again.Then, he
disappears, leaving me to start the process all over again and sort
out the viper's nest of my feelings for him. 

I thought I'd never see him again after the last time. Then, I started
getting those receipts. I think I knew all along who was sending
them. I didn't tell Scully my suspicions, she'd have thought I was
crazy. Still, when I pulled him from that truck, I wasn't prepared
for the explosion of emotions that rocked me. Anger, hatred, fear,
relief that he wasn't dead. 

And, on top of it all, lust. I could finally admit it because I really
didn't have anything else to do. It wasn't the anger or the fear or the
hatred that made me hit him and keep hitting him. It was the lust. I
slapped him around because the alternative was to crush him with
kisses. I hated him for making me feel it. After everything he'd
done and against all reason, I wanted him in equal measures of the
hatred I felt for him.

"You okay, Mulder?" I jerked at the deceptively soft sound of his
voice.

"Yeah, why?" I grunted.

"You were staring off into space. I thought maybe you were zoning
out on me or something. That head wound looks nasty."

So solicitous, so full of shit. My head did hurt though. I hadn't
really noticed it until he mentioned it. Thanks, Krycek.

"It's okay," I said, really looking at him for the first time in two
years. He looked harder, but no less innocent. If you didn't know
better, you'd never believe what he was capable of. You'd be
deceived by the good looks, the well-made body, the pointed ears
that made him look ridiculously elfin. You'd be fooled by the green
eyes and long lashes that he fluttered to his advantage. Yeah, you'd
be fooled, just like I was. And, damn him, he's still doing it. And
I'm still falling for it.

Jesus, I am so screwed up. This man is a killer. He killed my
father, he killed the tram operator and Duane Barry. Worst of all,
he aided in Scully's abduction. He's a traitor who works for the
highest bidder. 

I trusted him and he betrayed me. 

My returning anger must have been obvious because he was
looking at me fearfully--the way a rat would look at the cat who
was about to end its miserable life.

"You going to hit me again?"

"Not right now. Let's talk."

"What? Now?"

"You got something better to do?" I made a display of looking
around at the dingy walls and bare floor, and locked steel door of
the cell. "This could be our only chance. You owe me, Krycek." 

I saw him nod in the rapidly dimming light. The sun was going
down and there was no glass in the small window to protect us
from the frigid Russian night. The concrete walls and floor of the
cell would suck up the heat from our bodies. It was going to be a
miserable night.

"All right. But you stay over there. I'm tired of being your punching
bag."

That almost sent me across the small cell after him again and he
knew it. He flinched. It gave me a sharp thrill to know he was
afraid of me. 

"After everything you've done," I told him, "I think I'm entitled to
get a few licks in, don't you?"

With a sigh, he drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms
around them. "What do you want to know?"

As if he had no idea. "Why don't we start with my father?"

He sighed again, "I didn't kill him." He seemed tired of saying it.
Well, I was tired of asking it and getting lies for answers.

"So you've said. Now convince me that it's true."

"Why bother? You won't believe anything I say." 

He had the nerve to sound bitter. To look bitter. As if I was doing
him an injustice.

For the sake of argument I said, "Okay. If you didn't kill him, who
did?"

"Luis."

"Cardinal?" I spat out. "Isn't it convenient to have a dead man to
blame your crimes on."  Lying bastard. 

"It's true, Mulder. My boss--the man you call Cancer Man--ordered
it. He thought your father was going to tell you everything. I was
there that night but I didn't kill him, Mulder, I swear."

"You swear? You amoral piece of scum, I doubt you believe
anything or hold anything precious enough to swear on it."

In a voice filled with more anger and pain than I'd have believed it
possible for him to feel, he ground out, "You self-righteous
bastard. What the hell do you know about what I believe or what I
hold precious? You don't know anything. What do you hold
precious, Mulder? Some abstract notion of the truth? A notion that
you chase after so damned blindly that you've never stopped to
consider what could happen if you find it and expose it."

"What do you mean? I expose it and them and it stops, the
abductions stop, the experiments stop and the men who are doing
this are brought to justice."

"And your sister comes back and it's all happily ever after. You
really do live in a fantasy world, Mulder." He said softly, without
scorn, reminding me of how gentle he could be. I pushed that
thought aside. He was still talking.

"I already told you, Mulder--there is no truth. These men can *not*
be brought to justice. You have such a boy scout's view of the
world. I envy you for it. Do you really think you can walk up to
them and say, 'Federal agent, you're under arrest' and they're going
to go with you peacefully?"

He looked at me intently for a few moments before continuing, "I 
suppose that's what makes you so relentless, this conviction you
have that you're doing the right thing. Well, here's a news flash for
you--Cancer Man thinks he's doing the right thing, too. It all
depends on which side of the fence you're standing on."

He paused and laughed shortly. "He told me once that you had your
gun in his face and you let him go. You should have killed him
when you had the chance. They'd respect you more if you had. But
you couldn't, could you? Because you're not a killer, are you,
Mulder?"

"No."

"Good. Don't let them make you into something you're not." An
almost regretful tone had crept into his voice.

"Is that what they did to you?"

"Maybe," he allowed. It was more of an answer than I'd expected.

He was reeling me in. I could feel the hook tugging at me but I
couldn't stop myself from asking, "Why, Krycek? Why work for
them?"

At first I thought he wouldn't answer me but then he said, "My
father worked for them. I grew up with secrets and lies and I
suppose it was natural for me to go to work for them, too. They got
me into the academy, told me to sit tight, do my job well and wait
for an assignment. Then I got one. You. They were pissed that
planting Scully on you wasn't working. You and she worked well
together, so well, in fact, that you were actually doing better work
with her than without her.  So they closed down the X-Files and
separated the two of you. That didn't slow you down either.
Somehow, you were still getting involved in paranormal cases. So
they send me to watch you."

"So you took Scully's place in more ways than one, huh?"

"Scully never knew what her real purpose was. And in any case,
she didn't live up to expectations."

"Is that why they took her?"

"No. They took her to destroy you, plain and simple. It had nothing
to do with her at all. They took her because they thought you would
equate her abduction with your sister's and fall apart. But that didn't
happen--not by a long shot. You were even more determined,
which is exactly what I thought would happen."

His voice was almost admiring, still turning that reel. I couldn't
breathe. Jesus, God. It was true. They took Scully, hurt her, to get
to me. To stop me. And I'd known all along that it could happen. 

And I never warned her, never told her the possibilities because I
was afraid she'd leave and I'd be alone again. 

Skinner was right, I was just as responsible for what happened to
her as Cancer Man.

I let out my breath. "If it was me they were after, why not just kill
me? Why drag her into this?"

"I asked him that once. He gave me some line about how killing
you would make you a martyr. It sounded like a lot of bullshit to
me. You're important to them for some reason, Mulder. You're
involved in this in some way--you're part of this "truth" you're
searching for."

"Do you know what it is? Do you know what they're doing?"

"Of course not. Do you think they'd tell me a thing like that? I was
just a foot soldier." He paused, considering. "I know it's big. Big
enough to topple governments, big enough to change everything
we know."

"Do you really believe that?"

"Yes." Simple, sure.

"Why are you telling me this? What turned you against them?"

He laughed. "They tried to kill me. Isn't that enough? I guess the
beginning of my disenchantment was Scully's abduction ..."

"Oh, please, Krycek, don't bother, okay?"

"It's true, Mulder. I saw no reason for it. She was innocent. I know
you don't believe this, but I never wanted to hurt her."

"Then why didn't you tell me? You could have warned me before it
happened. You could have told me after it happened. You
deliberately stopped me from getting to her."

"That was my job, Mulder. Stopping you. Besides, telling you
wouldn't have made any difference and it might have gotten her
killed.  What they want to do, they do."

There was probably truth in that. I wished there was more light so I
could see his face, see if he was lying. Not that seeing him would
do any good. For someone who was known for picking up on the
duplicity of others, I was never able to see his lies. And lies were
all I ever got from him. Lies on top of deceptions on top of deceit. 

"Was it your job to seduce me? Did he order you to do it? Were
you making plans the entire time you were fucking me?"

"Keep your voice down," he hissed.

I hadn' t realized I was shouting. I wrapped my arms tightly around
my body, trying to keep from exploding from the white-hot anger
that was burning in me like a fever. The urge to beat him to a
bloody fucking pulp was nearly overwhelming.

"And no, he had nothing to do with it, Mulder."

"Then why?" Nobody had ever made love to me like that. I had to
know if it was real.

"Look, Mulder, I'm tired, I want to go to sleep. Drop it, okay?"

Drop it? I wish I could. Never mind that it was the best sex I'd ever
had and nothing since could compare to it. Never mind that for two
years I'd had uncountable erotic dreams featuring Alex Krycek.
Never mind that my favorite masturbation fantasy was no fantasy
at all but memories of our one night together. 

Of course, I wasn't going to tell him that. 

"We're probably going to die here, Krycek. What difference do
your secrets make now? Tell me why."

"Don't you know, Mulder? Can't you guess? For someone who is
supposed to be so smart, you can be so dense..." He trailed off,
unwilling to finish.

"What?" I whispered. "Damn it, tell me."

He sighed, seeming to come to a decision. "I loved you; I still do."

I was stunned into silence. He loves me? I would rather have heard
him say that he did it just to keep me in line. That was what I'd
prepared myself to hear. That was what I'd imagined to be the truth.
I wasn't willing to accept this, I couldn't accept this. To accept it
meant I had to admit to myself ... No! He was lying. Wasn't he?

"You've got a funny way of showing it," I said.  "Do you have any
idea how I felt when I found that cigarette butt in your car? The
whole time you were making love to me, you were planning the
abduction of my partner. Everything that happened that night was
just an act." 

I was shouting again and then he was shouting.

"It wasn't an act, Mulder. Did it feel like a lie to you? You keep
talking about what it did to you. How do you think I felt, knowing
full well how much you were going to hate me. It was so hard,
sharing a hotel room with you--lying in the next bed inches from
you, wanting you so badly and knowing I could never have you." 

He quieted down, continuing, "That night, you woke up screaming. 
I've never seen anyone have a nightmare like that. I don't think you 
even knew where you were. Yeah, sure--I took advantage of the
situation--started touching you. I was sure you were going to knock
the shit out of me as soon as you realized what I was doing. But
you didn't. Instead, you kissed me. And before I knew it, we were
making love. It was a miracle to me. I knew nothing could ever
come of it, even though I had never wanted anything more in my
entire life." 

He drew a ragged breath. "I thought about telling you the truth. I
had  this stupid fantasy that if I did and you were able to save
Scully, you'd help me get away from the Consortium and we could
be together.  But I knew it would never happen; I was locked in--no
escape. So I tried to give you as much pleasure as I possibly could
that night. I wanted you to have at least one good memory of me."

He lapsed into silence. I just sat, the cold from the concrete floor
seeping through my jeans. The moon had risen and enough light
streamed through the tiny barred window that I could just see his
outline. Why did he do this to me? And why did I believe him
when I know he's a liar? 

Because I knew, in spite of what I said, that our lovemaking was
real. I've known it all along. I denied it because it hurt too much to
think that he could love me and still do the things he did. And that
I could love him and hate him at the same time. Of course, love
and hate often walk hand-in-hand, don't they? 

Clouds had covered the moon and it was dark in the cell. I was
cold even with my thick sweater and he had only a thin t-shirt. I
felt my way over to his side of the cell, telling myself that I couldn't
let him freeze. Funny, I didn't have a problem letting him freeze on
Skinner's balcony. 

That was different. That was Crystal City, Virginia, not a cell in
Russia where it was so dark I couldn't see my hand in front of my
face. That night I wasn't cold and scared, waiting to be tortured or
experimented on, waiting to die.

He heard me coming. "Stay away from me, Mulder," he growled
through chattering teeth.

"Relax," I said soothingly and sat down beside him, pressing
against his back, wrapping him in my arms. He was shivering with
cold--and possibly with fear.

He stiffened and tried to pull away. "What the hell are you doing?"

"C'mon Krycek, you're freezing and it's not going to get any
warmer in here."

"What do you care?" he snarled but didn't move away.

I care. I wish like hell I didn't. 

We sat in silence for a long time. I could feel his skin warming but
he hadn't stopped shaking. He had turned slightly, burying his head
in my sweater, as if trying to hide from something. His breathing
had become panting, the beginnings of hyperventilation.

"Calm down," I told him, rubbing his back lightly. "What's
wrong?"

He drew a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "This place. The
dark, the cold. It reminds me of.... He left me there, Mulder. Left
me there to die. I didn't think I'd ever get out." 

He was panting even harder now, sobbing. I should have realized
what being in this cell would do to him after having been trapped
in that silo. He'd held on during the day, in the light, but now the 
darkness had come and he had no defense against it. I fully 
understood. I hate the dark, too.

"Krycek, you're going to pass out if you don't calm down." I held
him tighter, rocking him. "It's okay, I'm here. You're not alone." I
don't know how long we sat like that, how long I whispered
reassurance, but gradually he calmed and fell silent.

 "Do you really think we're going to die?" He asked, his voice
startling me.

"I don't know." 

But I did know. I saw no other possibility. Certainly the unknown
man in the next cell thought so. And the chances of being rescued
were mighty damned slim. Scully only knew that we were in
Tunguska. She had no idea we'd gotten thrown into a gulag. Not
that she'd be surprised when she found out. Wincing, I imagined
what she'd say to me if we did get out of here. Maybe dying wasn't
so bad. 

The man in my arms had stopped shivering. His relaxed, even
breathing made me think he was asleep. As much as I hated
admitting it, he felt good in my arms. Solid and muscular. I
stealthily explored those muscles, lightly tracing his large biceps
and sliding my hands down his chest and stomach, delighting in the
feel of his well-defined pecs and ridged abs. 

I was wrong in thinking he was asleep. His hand closed over mine
and pushed it down to his lap urging me to feel his half-formed
erection. Body twisting in my grasp he grabbed the back of my
head, pulling me into a brutal, lovely kiss. His tongue swirled
around and around in my mouth while his lips worried at mine,
almost bruising them in his ardor. 

I tried to pull away but he came with me and we both toppled to the
hard floor. He pushed up my sweater and t-shirt and began
tonguing my nipples. Damn him, he knew exactly what I liked and
I couldn't suppress a moan. I was being pulled into the storm of
him. I warred with myself, wanting him so badly and trying so hard
not to. It was the third participant in this battle, Krycek, who was
winning. He was taking me over, taking my will, leaving me with a
body that didn't know that it should hate him. It only knew how
good his mouth and hands felt. 

"You've been working out, Mulder," he murmured with approval as
his hands stroked every place on my body they could reach,
eventually stopping at my groin, caressing me through my jeans. I
won't, I won't let him know how good it feels. My mind couldn't
get that message to my traitorous body quickly enough to prevent it
from arching up to meet his hand. I heard him laugh softly in the
darkness and felt him unbutton my pants. If I wanted to get control
of this situation, now was the time. I grabbed his arms and rolled,
landing on top of him. 

My lips sought his in the darkness; he tasted the same as he had
two years before. I was glad for the darkness now, glad that he
couldn't see my sadness for the loss of what could have been. I
didn't need to see him, my senses were filled with the feel of
smooth, sinewy skin under my hands and tongue. I could smell
him, it was the same earthy smell he'd always had. I could hear his
quick panting breaths, his gasps when I did something he really
liked. 

Unbuttoning his jeans, I pulled them down to his knees before
taking his cock in my hand and rubbing it in slow up and down
strokes. I lightly licked the insides of his thighs, the crisp hair
there rough against my tongue. I moved on to his balls, sucking on
them, licking them. My fingers squeezed his silky, rigid cock
which was slick with the fluid that was seeping from it. My tongue
flicked over the head, taking some of the salty wetness away.

"Jesus, Mulder," he breathed.

"Do you still want me to stop touching you, Krycek?" It felt so
good having him in my power, I couldn't resist teasing him. I
removed my hand.

"Don't you dare," he whimpered.

"What do you want, Krycek?" I bent over him and blew on his
cock.

"You know."

"Do you want me to suck you?" I blew on it again.

"Yes." Almost a sob.

"Are you sure?" A quick flick of the tongue against the head.

"Yes, damn it!"

"Say please." I traced one finger along the underside from base to
head.

"Bastard!" 

"Say it." My lips poised a kiss away from his cock. He bucked his
hips trying to reach me but I grabbed him and held him down. "Say
it," I repeated. 

He broke. "Pleasepleaseplease," reverberated around the room. 

I plunged my mouth down on his pulsing cock and let go of his
hips. He thrust up and buried himself in me until the crinkly hair at
his groin was tickling my lips. I sucked hard, scraping him
with my teeth and running my tongue up, down and around the
shaft. He grabbed my hair and yanked it hard enough to bring tears
to my eyes. His insistent thrusting was gagging me but I didn't care.
With one hand I stroked his belly; the other squeezed his balls in
rhythm with my sucking. He was almost there. I felt his balls
tighten and I sucked even harder. He shouted and warm salty
liquid splashed the back of my throat and I swallowed until he was
spent and going limp in my mouth.

My own neglected cock ached inside my jeans. I quickly pulled
them down and lay on top of him, rubbing myself against his belly
and groin. He pulled me into a kiss, tasting himself in my mouth.
His tongue left my mouth and wandered to my ear, dipping in and
out. Grasping my ass, he pulled me harder against him, whispering
desperately, "Mulder, fuck me."

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes, please." With that he rolled me off of him and tugged at me,
pulling me into a standing position. Turning his back, he leaned
against the wall. I ran my hands under his t-shirt, up his back and
down his muscular arms which were braced against the wall.
Kneeling behind him, I pulled his jeans down to his ankles and
slowly licked and kissed my way up his trembling legs. Small
whimpering sounds erupted from him as I gently pried apart his ass
cheeks and ran my tongue up the cleft, wetting it thoroughly. 

Standing, I spread the slick fluid leaking from my cock around it
and then placed it against his waiting hole. He moaned and I
thought about teasing him some more but I was too ready. I held
his hips and pushed in slowly, steadily until I was all the way in.

I stood for a moment, wrapped in him, feeling the hot, soft, tight
walls of his ass hugging my cock. He began flexing his muscles,
working on my shaft from the inside, wringing a throaty moan
from me as I began to thrust easily.

Krycek wasn't having it. He thrust back against me hard, reaching
back to grab my hip. A fierce whisper in the darkness, "Harder,
damn it." I smiled and pulled back until just the tip of my cock
remained in his ass and then, slammed into him, rocking him
forward. 

He cried out and his body danced in perfect rhythm with mine and
I was lost. One arm I wrapped around his waist, pulling him to me,
trying to get as close to him as I could. With the other hand, I
stroked his fully hard cock in time to my thrusts. He was wrapped
in me as I was in him. I was no longer sure who was who as we
spiralled up and up and the cold and the dark and the confines
meant nothing. Our voices mingled in a song of pleasure that rang
off the stone walls. 

And then it was there, thundering through my body. I arched and
wailed like a wolf at the moon as it hit. The man in my arms
shuddered and cried as his life shot out of him, hitting the wall in
front of him, marking it.

It seemed we stood for an eon, clutching at one another before I
withdrew and pulled up my pants. He did the same and then
reached for me in the darkness. The kiss was gentle, probing. We
slid down the wall to the floor, neither wanting to let go of the
other. This was our night, perhaps the last we'd have. 

I didn't know how long this was going to last. I didn't know what
was going to happen to us. And at that moment, it really didn't
matter. He had said earlier that I would need him in here. He was
half-right. We needed each other. Together, we could ward off the
cold, the fear and the dark. Both his and mine. 



Epilogue: The Way Home
November 28, 1996


It figures. I can usually fall asleep on planes. Not this time. And I
desperately want to sleep so I don't have to think. The last few days
have been about survival and I didn't have time to think. Now... it's
going to be a long flight. 

It's a good thing that I have the row of seats to myself because I
think I'm going to cry. And here I thought my days of crying over
Alex Krycek were long gone. He'd laugh if he could see this. The
son of a bitch. He's done it to me again. 

No, let's be honest. I did it to myself. I believed him when I know
he's incapable of telling the truth. He told me he loved me and I
believed it. He told me he was going to try to get us out of there
and I believed it. He left me in that cell. He let them....

Christ, I don't even really know what they did to me or what the
effects will be. I have no memory of it. Thank God. At least that's
one thing that I won't be cursed with reliving over and over. 

Did he sell me out? Did he tell me loved me that night and then the
next day sell me to them? Is that what happened? He looked
awfully cozy, standing there in that warm coat, schmoozing with
the camp commander. 

Bastard. I should have killed him. I could have. I had the knife; I
had him down. I could have just plunged it up to the hilt in his
chest and ended his miserable, stinking life right there. I didn't and
I don't even know why. Yes, I do. He was right. I'm not a killer.

Maybe someone else killed him or he got killed jumping off the
truck or he died of exposure or ...it doesn't matter. Just let him be
dead. Please. Don't let him come back. I can't stand the thought of
having to see him again. It takes weeks to get my equilibrium back
after each encounter. 

If I don't see him again, I can convince myself that I hate him. I can
make myself believe it.

Please. I don't want to love him. It hurts too much. 

End.