Category: Krycek angst, slash. K/P, M/P and more! Rating: NC-17 for adult language, themes and erotica Archive: Nowhere, thank you. Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. CC does. Feedback: All and any comments are welcome. Send to dbkate@yahoo.com Summary: Alex Krycek tells a story of pain, longing, desire and mercy. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ MERCY by D.B.Kate dbkate@yahoo.com ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ mercy pure and simple longing cold ...and hollow ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was nearly midnight before I saw Mulder and Brian Pendrell leave that hotel together, both of them smiling more than they had a right to. And I'm sure neither one of them were thinking of me. Well, not good thoughts, anyway. Ungrateful bastards. You *might* say that I'd been the cause of all their grief, but I honestly don't think they know the meaning of the word. A few tears, a few days of loneliness, and you'd think the entire world was crumbling down around them. I know what true grief is. And I know what it means to watch the planet you live on, the only world you've ever known, *literally* crumble in front of your eyes. Two things I don't think either one of them can begin to fathom. I was feeling the itch already, but ignored it. I've gotten good at letting it slid by; I can go up to three days now without a hit. Used to be that I counted the hours before they slid me the little packet and the clean needle, counted the minutes as I heated it up on my little silver spoon, then, the seconds before it took its hold over me and made all my grief disappear. I take it for purely medicinal purposes now. They've made sure I can't live without it, whatever it is. It's not heroin, nor cocaine, nor anything else known, as far as I've been able to figure out. It's some creation of theirs; some new and improved drug, so addictive that all it took was one needle on a balmy night to get me skewered onto its hooks. The shits had to tie me into a chair to do it, with that smoking bastard watching every second of the process like some voyeur from hell. "A little more," he'd hissed, "but not too much. I want him alive." Funny, he didn't want me that way for long. I remember so clearly the next morning when I awoke. I was living with Brian back then, and he was in the kitchen cooking bacon and eggs. My entire body itched, and my head was killing me, with the hammering sprawling and spiraling throughout my skull until I was sure my head was going to fall off. Brian had come in a few minutes later, berating me for "staying out all night, and not even calling." I saw five blurry versions of him weaving in and out of my focus, and knew that there was something wrong. Very wrong. But he didn't stay angry for long; reason was always Brian's strong suit. I can still remember his fingers running through my hair, his hand so soft and cool against my cheek, taking away the pain wherever it touched. He was a natural healer, I'd always felt sure of that, as dippy as that may sound coming from me. I tried to ignore the horrible ache and the itch that made me want to take a hairbrush to my skin, but it refused to go away. I couldn't even eat the breakfast Brian had cooked, and the shower I took that morning felt like a thousand needles pricking all at once. It was the most terrible morning of my life. But it was about to get even worse. I got the phone call that afternoon. The voice on the other end was rasping and vaguely familiar. "I know you want something right about now." My throat was tight and so dry that I could barely swallow. "Who is this?" "It's only going to get worse, Agent Krycek. We're the only ones who can help you." "Help me with what?" I was truly growing scared, and my heart was pounding. Sweat was pouring off of me, and I felt as though I was going to pass out any second. But the voice didn't care. "You'll die without it, Agent Krycek. You have thirty hours, maybe less. I suggest that you meet with me." I didn't want to -- my fear was still greater than my pain at that point, but that soon changed. I had no idea what the hell was wrong with me, but knew it had *something* to do with whatever those bastards had pumped into me the night before. I left three hours later without telling Brian where I was going. I met him in a nearby park, his goons watching me from a waiting car. My entire body was trembling with pain and fear, and I'd have pretty much sold my soul to anyone who could have helped me at that point. Which is what I basically did. I was given the packet, the needle, the instructions, and then, I was given my first assignment. Which was to assist in the abduction of Special Agent Dana Scully. I was warned not to tell, or else my life would be forfeit, and my death would be an unimaginably painful one. It would take three weeks for the withdrawal to kill me, and there would be no drug available to relive the agony as I died. And they would make sure that I wouldn't be able to end it myself. I wanted to ask why -- why me, and who the hell were they, but the words wouldn't come out of my parched and burning throat. All I knew was that I had to get some sort relief, -somehow- or life would no longer be worth living. By the time I got home and had locked myself in the bathroom to take my first "dose," my hands were shaking so badly that I nearly dropped the packet's contents down the toilet. But, eventually, I got it right, and my God, there was nothing like it. The relief was so immediate, the high was such a natural one, that I almost forgot that I'd ever suffered in the first place. I nearly forgot to take off the rubber tourniquet when I went into the kitchen, but ripped it off right before Brian saw it. I remember that night so clearly. I remember making love to him as though I'd never see him again, and I wanted to make sure he'd never forget me. And he had only smiled at me, indulgently, and commented how well I'd recovered from my hangover. Little did he know that my hangover was just beginning. And there was no end in sight. In the end, I had to leave. I was going to be the scapegoat, the pawn, of those bastards, and there was no way I could bring that home to him. I was ashamed of the needles and the track marks that were beginning to line my arms, which I tried desperately to hide with varying degrees of success. I was terrified, not knowing where to turn, terrified they would hurt him if I failed them in any way. I was terrified that he would no longer love someone who was now as weak as I'd become. So, I left. I left without warning, without a note; just disappeared. I was already in the shit with Mulder and Skinner, after killing that poor bastard Barry. He was like me, one of their fools, but he was lacking something that I had in spades; the will to live. That was because I had a reason to live, and that reason was a man whom I adored with my very soul. I knew he would hate me for leaving. I knew he'd find out about my betrayals and crimes. But I also knew that if I was smart enough, wily enough, and lived long enough, eventually, I could turn all those things around. I could make him love me again. And I could make him understand. Make him believe. And then, nothing else would matter. So, I did my "jobs", survived numerous attempts by my former "boss" to eradicate what he must now view as the worst mistake of his career, and kept myself alive by any means necessary. I murdered, stole, lied, cheated, seduced and corrupted, all with one goal in mind. To get back to Brian. And to have him love me again. I kept my eye on him, as best I could throughout the years, making sure I didn't draw much attention to it. Once, I was caught surveilling him, but I simply brushed it off as taking an interest in Dana Scully's lab stooge. I'd watch him in that lonely little apartment of his, watched as he puttered around it after staying far too late in his lab, even saw him cry a couple of times, and it took everything ounce of strength I had not to walk up to that door and throw my life away for a single night with him. But after a while, things changed. One spring, I'd been gone for longer than usual, as my circles became international ones, and when I came back from a particularly grueling trip, I noticed something very odd. Brian wasn't alone anymore. Normally, I would have felt jealousy over any lover he'd take in my absence, but I would have understood. Even felt grateful that they'd be able to relieve his loneliness. But I wasn't prepared for who I saw walking into Brian's apartment that spring evening. Who I watched leave at nine the next morning, whom I would listen in as he made love to him, sometimes all night long. It was Mulder. Fox Fucking Mulder. It was impossible. Ludicrous. But true. Suddenly, my plans to snare Brian back were looking shaky. I had no idea what Mulder was telling him about me, but I'm sure it wasn't good. I grew resentful and terrified that all my struggles to survive were for nothing, because my reason for them was gone, lost to me forever. I was insanely jealous of the look that Brian now glowed with, a look that I'd remembered so clearly from years before and wanted reserved for me. When they came back from some vacation wearing a matching pair of gold bands, I nearly packed it in. But I'd spent too long in the game; survival was now ingrained in me as an instinct, it was no longer a choice. I had to fucking live. I had to. And just as imperative to living, was the retrieval of Brian's affections. By any means necessary. So, one day, I got rid of Mulder with a fake tip about some case in Oregon, which was painfully easy to do. Made myself presentable, and went off to see Brian, face to face, for the first time in two years. You know, when first I arrived at Brian's house that afternoon, it was really only a test. To see exactly how far I could go, how much was still left of what we'd had, what I could expect to salvage. I didn't expect much, but to my great surprise and delight, he acquiesced nearly immediately. I'm sure he tried to brush it off on my skill as a seducer, and yeah, I'll admit, I'm good. But not -that- good. I was nearly out of my mind with joy, even when he shoved me out the door, his face lined with guilt and rage. I couldn't help but crow, and, as is my wont, got a bit overconfident. I went to Mulder the minute he came back to Washington, and let it "slip" that in reality, Brian was mine and he could go on his way now like a good little weirdo and I'd mail him his stuff. But, I'd gone a little too far, a little too soon, it seemed. As I suspected, Mulder left the house that very evening, bag in hand. I was delighted and immediately prepared to take Brian back. Sure, I'd have some explaining to do, but once I showed him the proof of my enslavement, he'd certainly understand. Hell, if we were together, maybe we could even find a way out of this nightmare that I've been in. Everything looked possible as I made my way up to his door a few nights later, figuring I'd given him enough time to grieve. I was wrong. Almost dead wrong. Oh, he let me in all right; even offered me tea. He bade me to sit down, relax, take off my shoes, make myself at home. And to just give him one minute, because he was going to be right back. With his 38mm Glock. Brian's a crack shot, so it must have only been his blind rage and tears that saved my ass from the first bullet that whizzed by my head. Luckily, years of avoiding bullets now worked to my advantage. The second shot actually hit me, but in my fake left arm, which I suddenly was grateful for. Like I told Mulder later that night, I didn't mind Brian being mad at me, but not mad enough to shoot at me. I realized that a much subtler approach was needed. So, I decided to start fresh. Got them back together, using my own special techniques of persuasion, which consisted mainly of blowing Mulder stupid. Now, don't get me wrong. Mulder has his charms, but to be honest, it must have been the first time two men got it on while both were thinking of the same man who wasn't even there. We almost connected there for a minute, especially when I told him in no uncertain terms that if I ever saw Brian hurt by him again, I'd kill him. Even told him that I was going to stay away from Brian from now on, and begged him to "take care of him" for me. Which, of course, isn't the -whole- truth. Because the whole truth was that I was -never- going to give up on Brian, come hell or high water. That there would come a day, when Mulder would be a dim memory in some recess of our lives. The life we were going to live together. For eternity. I've lived too damn long, lost too damn much, for it to be any other way. ~~~~~~~~~~ The shakes were starting. But, I ignored them. For the time being. Even after all these years, I can only hold out for so long. The smoking bastard is no longer my supplier, but I've made friends in places that even he hasn't dreamed of. Places higher than his. Places higher than anywhere he could probably show his face. I'm a player now, too valuable to lose, or even use for ordinary jobs. I'm now useful to all sides: good, evil and every shade of morality in-between. This doesn't apply to my "outer-worldly" pals, those whose concepts of "morality" are non-existent. The universe is oddly black and white to them, with "alive" and "dead" being the only recognized states of being. It all boils down to the fact that their world is no longer able to sustain life. Our world is. Therefore, our world must become their's. By any mean necessary. Everything is irrelevant except for survival. I can relate to that, but I can't relate to the absolute lack of emotion in these... these... things. They are inhuman, that's true, but I've seen cuttlefish with deeper senses of self. I loathe them, and would gladly drop kick each and every one right off the face of the Earth, but for now, I have to play by their rules. There are more of them than you might think. Go on the train, look behind you, you're probably staring right at one. They've been sneaking themselves in, assimilating, melding, for nearly sixty years. You can do a lot in sixty years, especially if you've seduced the guys in charge. Those old bastards who thought they were so smart. So clever. And who are now -so- screwed. But I could give a rat's ass about them. I have a world to help save. I found a higher place, a group of people who were like me, survivors of the Consortium's ploys, people who had the greatest will to live. We find each other almost naturally in the course of our work, and once accepted, always a part of. I get my hits from them now, many are addicted like I am. We've heard rumors of some antidote to our addiction, some treatment, perhaps from the Others, but as long as the supply doesn't run out, I'm content. For now, anyway. Mulder thinks I'm the Devil personified, and has probably convinced Brian of the same, but, in some ways, he reminds me of the Others. Everything to him is black and white, good and bad, truth and lies, when in reality, we only *wish* it could be that easy. I'm not a good man, I'm not an evil man, I'm simply a human. And I wouldn't have it any other way. The shakes were starting to affect my ability to function, so it was time for another dose. I hate everything about the drug; the ritual of tapping, mixing, burning and then, the injection. I know every vein in my body by now, even the ones between my toes. I laugh when I remember how I used to hate shots; because now you could shoot me up in the eyeball and I don't think I'd blink. But, I had to do it. I didn't have a choice. I had to make sure I didn't let it go too long because there *is* a point of no return somewhere down the line, and if I push it alone, I'm liable to inject a nice air bubble into myself. I chose my vein, a fat one in my thigh, and did what I had to. There's no longer any pleasure in it, it's simply another means of survival. The shakes calmed down almost immediately, and I continued to drive, working my way in circles around Brian's house, making sure to keep my head low. The Group gave me grudging permission to go back to Brian, with enough provisions attached to make your head spin, but they can't afford to lose me. Once we lost the SRSG, Covarrubias, I've been more in demand than ever. I didn't like Marita, but she sure liked me, so in the interest of peace, I kept her happy. Besides, she was useful as hell for a time, but, one day, like most of us, she outlived that usefulness. Except for me. I plan on being as useful as possible for as long as possible -- meaning the rest of my natural life. Or Brian's life. Whichever comes to an end first. It's frustrating to no end, this pussy footing. I'd always imagined I'd just show up and scoop him up one day and that would be that. Probably, a year or so ago this would have been entirely feasible, but now... No. It was still there. I saw it. Saw it in his eyes when he opened the door. Felt it in his heartbeat which was pounding in his throat where I kissed him. It was in his body, thrusting itself into my mouth, mindlessly -- passionately. His body hadn't forgotteen me, and even if his mind fought, it wouldn't be able to hold out very long. I haven't survived this long without learning how to please people as well as kill them. And pleasing Brian would be the easiest "assignment" I've ever had. There's has to be something that Mulder can't give him, and I was intent on finding it. Hell, there might be something that he's not giving Mulder; I wasn't above finding Mulder another boyfriend, though I seriously doubted that the Human Cuttlefish could actually *connect* with that many honest-to-goodness human beings. It was a great testament to Brian's patience and reason that he could put up with either one of us for any extended period of time. Put up with me, with my intense periods of egomania and self loathing. With my hair-trigger temper, my occasional inability to tell the truth about *anything,* even back in those days. I couldn't cook, I couldn't clean, I couldn't pay bills, but I sure could throw him into the bed and make him scream. And Mulder -- God, I don't even want to -think- about what he must go through with him. But, Brian is an enigma in himself. I never knew exactly -what- it was he saw in me. If it were just sex we wouldn't have lasted as long as we did, but he evidently saw -something- more. And that something is what I had to retrieve, and pray that it was something that Mulder was in severe shortage of. All I needed was an "in." Some fortuitous set of events that would set into motion a situation that my assistance would be required. And, as it happened, that event came almost exactly one month after my ill-fated seduction attempt. It was a bright September morning, at exactly 4:12 am, that Dana Scully disappeared. And, this time...I had nothing to do with it. But I knew how to find her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Of course, the first thing Mulder did when he saw me, was swing. It gets annoying after a few years to constantly duck the man's sloppy punches, but I haven't a choice. He refuses to acknowledge that there might exist in-between shades of morality, that grey area in which I'm forced to live, so he lashes out against it. I wish he'd grow up. "Where the fuck is she, Krycek?" he spat, and I weaved again, well out of his fist's way. "Stop swinging at me, and I'll talk to you," I yelled, wishing to God that I'd pulled my gun on him so he'd be forced to sit down and shut up. Brian was there with him, looking no less distressed, but much calmer. I swear, sometimes I think -- no, I know, that Brian is the wisest one out of all of us, and that he simply has bad taste in companions. Or maybe we just don't know what we have. Or had. "She's probably been taken in for examination," I began, and I saw Mulder turn white. He must have guessed what that probably meant. "But not by the same people she was taken by the last time. The ones who have her now are much more dangerous." The questions came babbling out. Panicked. "Who are they? What do they want? Where are they? How can I find..." I interrupted. No time for dramatics. "They want to examine the chip that was stuck back into her neck a few months ago. They want to find out more about it." Mulder's face darkened. "Why the hell would they do that? They're the ones who put it in there, for God's sake." I shook my head. "No, these are the Others. Contrary to popular opinion, the chips are a man-made device. Used to fight against the Others. They are a memory storage and retrieval system, used with the theory that whoever controls the memories; the history, of a populace controls the populace. They were to be saved for future use, as a weapon against the invaders." God, did Brian look confused. Guess Mulder was too busy telling him what a bastard I was, and forgot to mention that the Earth is being invaded by unfriendly life forms in diabolical disguise. "They tried to simply destroy all the implantees with the bridge fire last year," I continued. "When that proved unsuccessful, they decided to examine the survivors." I took a deep breath. "And that's where she probably is. In one of their "labs." But, of course, Mulder wasn't convinced. He just swung again. I ducked, but Brian caught his arm this time. "Fox," he said, gently, but with that -tone- that I knew very well. "He can't tell us anything if you break his jaw." Thank God for Brian. Always the reasonable one. "Look," I said to Mulder, who was glowering at me, his entire face flushed and enraged. "I don't know exactly where she is, but I can help you find her. That's it. Take it or leave it." "Yeah, right," Mulder hissed. "Like I'd believe that, you lying rat bastard." Again with the names. I fought the urge to roll my eyes, and turned to Brian instead, knowing that even if he was angry, he'd at least listen. "Look, it has to do with that chip that's in her neck, that's all I know. I have a couple of leads, but you'll have to take it from there." But Brian didn't look exactly convinced either. I guess Mulder had done an excellent job in dissecting "Krycek The Rat" for him. I bit back the frustration and ache I felt at the coldness in his eyes. Mulder began to pace the room and I heard Brian sigh. "Well, I'd assume we don't have much of a choice. I don't know any of these people, and Fox's contacts..." Here, he hesitated, not knowing if he would be leaking "classified" information to me, but I waved it off. "Marita is dead," I said. "X is dead. Your "Deep Throat" is dead. All that's left is me. I'm sorry if that's inconvenient for you, but that's how the cards played out." "Son of a bitch," Mulder whispered, and Brian shook his head. I only shrugged. "Like I said -- take it or leave it." Brian looked up at me, and examined my eyes carefully for a long moment. I could feel my cheeks start to burn, and the choked feeling in the my throat began to reach distressing proportions. How many things there were that I wanted to say to him. And I didn't think that I ever was going to get the chance. But, evidently, Brian saw -something- in my face that changed his mind. "I think we can trust him, Fox. Or, actually, whether we can or not, we probably don't have a choice." But Mulder only glared at me. "Fine. All right, Krycek. But, one false move..." I cut him off. "Yeah, one false move, and I punch you right in the mouth, Mulder. Ratty don't play that shit anymore, "Fox," so you'd better...." But a sharp voice cut me off as well. It was Brian's. "Enough. Both of you. If we're going to find Agent Scully, we have to act like adults." He glanced at both of us disapprovingly. "Starting now." And like the two chastened children we were, Mulder and myself, shut up. But neither one of us were turning our backs on the other any time soon. ~~~~~~~~~~ The first and best stop for the search was a shithole town called Deluise on the outskirts of Richmond proper. A dirty little town, with rickety signs dating from the soda shop era. Just the kind of place the Others liked to hide, usually in small numbers, as to not attract any attention to themselves. Just ordinary folks, doing ordinary things, and planning to take over the world while they mopped their kitchen floors. Only Others can *truly* tell one of their own by sight, but I've gotten to know a few of their quirks. They never look a human directly in the eyes; they always look away, just slightly. They never laugh, they can pretend to cry, but humor confuses them. One of their ticks is a slight drooping of one side of the face when frightened or surprised, like a stroke victim caught getting a blow job. It's not much, but it's better than nothing. Because those bastards can break your neck with one swing of their arm. Of course, explaining this to Mulder would be fruitless. He's never interested in the practical side of problems, only in their ethics. Brian would be perfect to explain these things to, he's ever practical and observant, a scientist through and through. Of course, that would never work either. Because first I'd have to explain to him a few million things, things that I didn't have any of the answers to. I just know what I know, and I work with that. Believe me...that's more than enough. We drove there in a rental car; Mulder didn't trust that his own wasn't being traced. I got the back seat, which I didn't like, but accepted. I got to observe them both and noticed a strange tension between them every time Scully was brought up. I didn't know what the deal was, but I could guess that she wasn't exactly warm and approving of their relationship. It must have been some surprise to her to find out that the two men she counted on to bow in her general direction had abandoned her for each other. And, if I know Dana Scully at all, I can also guess that she wasn't very fond of the idea. Actually, it probably had pissed her off to no end. I sort of liked that thought. Would have paid good money to see her face when she'd found out. She'd probably puckered up so sourly a couple of teeth loosened. Another part of me wondered if Skinner knew, and then decided that he probably did, but didn't care one way or the other. I know Skinner better than they do. He has his fingers in more pies then even Mulder can imagine; some of them are deeper contacts than even I can boast. We run in different circles, Skinner and I, but they are parallel ones, and when the shit hits the fan, he's going to be a player that none of us will be able to ignore. Not even our alien friends. I pointed out various places of interest to Brian as we drove on, such as the communications center disguised as a gas station, and the gathering area pretending to be a duck farm. He was disbelieving at first, but not too many boarded up gas stations boast state-of-the-art 500 kilowatt satellite antennas And not too many duck farms have landing pads. It was creeping him out, I could tell, but he fought against showing it. Mulder ignored my little lessons as he drove, though he could probably have benefited from them the most. But, then again, where Dana Scully was concerned, Mulder always did turn a bit dense. And careless. I'd have to watch him carefully on this trip, or he could get all our asses fried. I wasn't there to be a hero, I had a goal in mind that had nothing to do with rescuing Agent Puckerfish from the Pod Men. I wanted to gain Brian's trust back. Gain his respect back. I wanted -him- back. By any means necessary. Mulder slowed the car down and pointed to an enclosed area about a hundred yards ahead. It looked like a corn farm, but, nothing is the way it looks. I debated it, and thought he might have the right idea. It was a little more obvious than usual for their experiments, but I knew they didn't do their "physicals" in outer space like everyone imagined they did. They don't do space travel at all anymore as far as I knew -- the UFO's that Mulder has been chasing all these years are almost exclusively man-made from retrievals of crafts that crashed here when they first arrived in the '40's. We had barely rolled to stop when Mulder was already out of the car and running in the general direction of the farm. Where the hell he thought he was going, I had no idea, but I quickly debated the pros and cons of shooting him in the leg. Brian leapt out after him, and I decided that I'd shoot Brian in the leg first and let Mulder kill himself as he pleased. Soon, Mulder was gone, through the high grasses, with Brian in hot pursuit, crying out his name, begging him to stop, and I silently cursed as I followed. Those bastards had unbelievable senses, and they probably could hear us from as far away as the farm house. I lost sight of Mulder, but made sure to keep Brian within my range. Let the dumb ass kill himself. He's not taking Brian...and by default, me, with him. I was just about to try and tackle Brian down when he slowly ground to a halt before me. I puffed up behind him, and saw that his shoulders were shaking with sobs -- and anger. "Asshole," he was saying over and over again, covering his eyes with his hand and breathing hard. I could see that he was crying, and trying very hard to hide it. I shook my head, and put my gun back in its holster. Asshole was right. "It's okay, Bri," I tried to soothe. "He'll be all right." "No, I've lost him," he sobbed as I gently took him into my arm -- my only arm. "Maybe not," I tried to comfort. "Mulder's smart. And tough. He'll be back. He's always come back before." But Brian only shook his head. Hard. Still sobbing. "No, no, you don't understand. I've lost him. Christ, I've lost him." I pondered this, wondering exactly what he meant, knowing it was more than it appeared. And wondering what it might mean for us. ~~~~~~~~ Later that night, in a Motel Six just down the road, we were alone. Alone for the first time since my little faux pas nearly two months before. I watched as he stared out the window, looking vainly for some sign of Mulder's whereabouts, watched as he glanced to the phone, waiting for the call that probably wasn't coming. I heard him murmur under his breath. "Goddamn it." Yeah, goddamn it. After all these years, Brian, I thought. After all these years, He hadn't changed very much. He looked a bit older than the man I'd met in Quantico, but his face was still young -- his eyes still clear. There was only more knowledge shining through those eyes now, a greater understanding of pain. I hated the fact that I'd probably been the cause of most of that pain, and if I could go back and do it again, I would have let the drug run its natural course and let it take my life. Sure, that would have hurt him, but not with the impossible pain that permeated him now. I actually wished that I'd died instead of seeing him hurt. Yes, I loved him that much. He threw himself onto the crappy hotel room sofa with a groan, and I averted my eyes to the formica coffee table, then to the rug, then, to the window -- anywhere but at him. I'd felt so sure of what I wanted when I began this game, so positive of how I would snare him back, and now, I wasn't so sure. I wanted what he wanted. But, if all he wanted was Mulder, and for me to get the hell out of his life for good, there would go quite a chunk of my reasons for hanging on as long as I have. Sure, I like saving the world, but a world where I couldn't have him didn't look nearly as worth living in as it should. I heard his voice, soft, to my right. "Do you think he'll find her?" "I don't know," I answered, as honestly as I could. It was true. She was in the hands of the Others, those I didn't understand, ones I just hated and feared. "He might find something. I just wish he'd waited." Bri nodded. "Yeah. But he's rather... attached... to Dana." He paled and looked away. Dana. Always Dana. I never understood it, but it was true. Mulder obsesses over the women in his life -- his sister, his mother -- and his partner. It's almost incestuous, in a strange way, his mindless passion for her -- forbidden by nothing by his own neuroses. But I said nothing about that to Bri. "So," I began, trying to ease some of the tension. How did she take it when she found out about you two?" His mouth opened, and then, promptly closed. He shrugged noncommittally, but I saw the tension in his movements. "Scully's been, uh," he stuttered and then sighed. "Well, she's been difficult, to be honest. And it's made our lives difficult, but I don't hold that against her. It's not really her fault. She's had a terrible time." My poor, polite Brian. Too kind to put down even a bitch on wheels. "So, she popped a artery, huh?" I asked, not mincing words. He nodded. Smiling. "Yeah, that would sum it up." "And now?" I asked, knowing what the answer probably was. He shrugged. "Let's just say that I'm not waiting for her to buy us a toaster any time soon." I nodded. "I see. And yet, you're still out here, chasing after her, like a pair of madmen. Why?" Brian looked uncomfortable. "Because Fox loves her. He needs her. And I... I need him. It's just... just one of those things." Ah, yes. One of those things. Like the simple thing that had torn myself and Brian apart all those years ago. Just a simple needle, and a group of evil men who had their own plans for my life, whether I wanted to go along or not. We sat in silence, neither one of us looking at the other, for nearly a quarter of an hour. I could hear a clock ticking somewhere, watched as the shadows lengthened through the room. It wasn't uncomfortable, it just -was-. Until Brian spoke again, this time his eyes looking directly into mine. "Can I ask you some questions, Alex?" Instinctively, my guard went up, but I forced it down. I no reason to lie to him anymore, and if there was ever a time for honesty with Brian, this was it. Besides, I might have never gotten another chance. "Sure," I said casually, hoping he couldn't tell that my heart was pounding in my throat. But, he was probably just going to ask more questions about the Others, and Scully, and Mulder, and... "Why did you leave me?" he asked quietly, and the world came to a stop around me. For a good minute, I couldn't have spoken if it meant my life. I tried, tried so hard to force my lips to work, and force the overwhelming emotions back into the place they'd taken up residence all those years ago, but it wasn't working. I could feel my eyes burn, and tried to swallow the choking lump that had suddenly formed in my throat. He made it worse by moving closer and putting his hand in my only one. "If you don't want to tell me, Alex, it's all right. But, I've been wondering lately, almost more than I did when it happened. I just wish...I wish I understood. Did they make you an offer, Alex? Did they promise you money?" I shook my head. Frantically. Wishing I could fucking speak. He peered at me. Thoughtfully. "Power, Alex? Was that it?" I coughed, forced myself to swallow and shook my head again. "No," I croaked. "No, Brian, they didn't offer me anything except life. But I didn't know that all they were truly offering me was a living death." I looked up at him. felt the tears falling and the world was getting so miserably blurry. "I wish I hadn't taken their offer, Bri. I wish I'd had the courage to turn them down and die. But I was so young then, I didn't know... I just didn't know." I swallowed hard. Took a deep breath. "If I had to do over again, Bri, I swear to you, I would have let them kill me. Even death would have been better than what I've been through." His eyes widened as he took in what I was saying. Widened with shock. And, then, with horror. "What do mean, Alex?" he asked, suspicion mingling with shock. "Did they threaten to kill you? Because, you could have gone to..." I shook my head, held up my hand for him to be quiet. His voice slowly faded, and I told him. Told him about the night in the chair, about the smoker, the needles, the fire and the pain. I told him about the terror -- the terror that they'd hurt him as well, and how frightened I'd been. I showed him the packet; showed him the track marks, showed him with all the honesty that I had left in myself. I told him about my cowardice. And about all the evil things that I'd done, even when I no longer was afraid. I told him everything. Everything except why I'd come along on this trip. But, I think my eyes told him all of that. I was crying without shame by the time I was done, and wondered why I still didn't feel better. Pouring out your heart was supposed to be good for you, supposed to lift the weight from your heart, but it wasn't working. Slowly, I realized why it wasn't. He owned my heart, and he was the only one who could save whatever was left of it. I didn't move when I felt his arms go around me, didn't even notice when he pulled me against him, rocking me back and forth, silently... gently. I was babbling nonsense by this time, and heard him shush me, but I couldn't stop. It was like a river that had been dammed for all those years, and it had finally burst from its gates. Once I'd begun, I couldn't stop, I couldn't stop telling him how worthless I was, how terrible I felt and how much I'd missed him... loved him... Couldn't live without him. Finally, I suppose he'd heard enough, because he silenced me. Not with his hand, or with harsh words, but with his lips against mine. A very gentle kiss, not passionate at first, a kiss between brothers even, but that didn't last for long. I arched into it, fed into it, wanting more of the light that it filled me with. I was starving for it, and it was as good as I'd dreamed it would be after all this time. Suddenly, the weight had lifted from my soul, and I was soaring. Everything shone in bright colors behind my eyelids, indigo and crimson, such glorious shades. My entire body ached, and I entangled myself with him, kissing every patch of skin I could find, searching out more and more, until finally, after what seemed like only a second, but what I knew was much longer, I felt him pull away. Gasping. "Alex..." His voice was hoarse. Frightened. I opened my eyes, looked at him. He was beautiful, flushed, with bright blue eyes. I would have done anything for him at that moment. Anything at all. "Yes?" I whispered back, wanting to kiss him again, but willing to wait. But, his eyes were tearing. Terrified. "Alex. Please, Alex. I've made a promise. To Fox. I promised him." My heart thudded to what seemed like a stop. "What?" I asked, not wanting to believe my ears. He took my face between his hands and I could see his heart beat in his throat. "Have pity on me, Alex. You're stronger than I am. Have mercy on me," he whispered. "Have mercy." And the colors faded from before my eyes. The world turned dull and ugly again as I painfully pulled away, and slowly...miserably... I rose. Trembling, I looked down upon him, at his disheveled hair and rumpled clothing, at the flush that now colored both his cheeks and chest. At blue eyes that shone too brightly in the dull lamplight. I took a deep breath and nodded. "Of course, Bri. I understand," I lied. But that didn't matter now. I would leave him. Leave him and Mulder alone for good. Even if it meant the end of my hope. End of my reason. End of my life. Yes, I loved him that much. His expression turned impossibly grateful, but I turned away from it. I couldn't bear his gratitude, it was worse than his hatred. At least there is passion in hatred, but in thankfulness, there is nothing. I walked, shaking, to the door, wondering how much longer I had to live, knowing now that it wouldn't be very long, when I heard him call out to me. "Alex..." I didn't turn to face him. "Yes?" I asked, feeling the darkness fill even the better parts of my soul. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Alex," he said, softly, and I just shook my head. Before walking out and shutting the door behind me. ~~~~~~~~~~~ The next morning was one of those awful, bright ones, with blinding sunshine hurtling toward me through the chill. Even sunglasses didn't help, or maybe my eyes were just hurting me from a night of burning misery. I felt blinded, numb... already dead. You know, it was actually almost a pity. I'd been -so- sure all along that I was going to make it. But I now knew, deep in my heart, that I wasn't. I finally understood that this entire charade had been for nothing. I knew that I would die. Alone... and lost. And there would be no one to bother mourning me when it was done. Bri and I drove back in silence to the farm and I could see him sneaking glances at me as the fields shot by. I didn't return his looks, I kept my eyes on the road, but my peripheral vision was so fine-tuned by then, I couldn't miss them. For a second, the odd idea of veering off of that road and forcing him to come away with me ran through my mind, but I shook it off. I knew he would eventually come along; he probably wouldn't even fight it that hard. But... He would regret it. What -might- have been is too tempting a thought for us mere mortals, and, eventually, it would destroy him. Wondering what had happened to Mulder in that farmhouse, wondering what their lives might have been like when things went wrong with us. Wonder what the hell he'd done. No, I had to let Fate run its course, I had to give up the fight. I was now in the undertow of the tide, and I had no choice but to surrender to the open ocean. And let myself, finally, sink into its peace. The farm loomed into view again, and I pulled the car over. Brian's face was pinched with uncertainty and fear; his eyes spoke of a sleepless night. "Now what?" he asked. His voice was dry. Harsh. I shrugged. "We don't have a lot of choices. We can wait to see if something comes out, or we can go in." I could see that neither one of those prospects looked very inviting. "Maybe," he said hesitantly, "maybe we can call..." I shook my head at him. Ominously. "There's no one to call, Bri. Forget it. Those bastards will come swarming out of there before you hang up the phone." He gulped. Swallowed hard and set a determined look. "Well, I guess we have to go inside." I nearly laughed at this. "This isn't the amusement park, Bri. They don't give out tickets to come in and play on the rides." I could see his eyes flash angrily at me, even through my sunglasses. "That's irrelevant. I'm going in. I don't have a choice." Oh, Brian, I wanted to say. You have a choice. You just don't know it. But I remained silent. Accepting. "All right. But, there's a good chance not all of us are coming out. The odds are what I'd call shitty." Shaking hands through short hair. "Then I'll just go in by myself." His jaw set in that strange determined way it sometimes did. Even back in those days so long before. He turned to me formally. Coldly. "Thank you for your help, Alex. I hope that one day, you find peace." And I just nodded. "Yes. I hope I do too," I said quietly. Sadly. Before grabbing his lapels and head-butting him unconscious. For a second, I swooned from the pain and dizziness, but I held onto him tightly, making sure he didn't hit his head on the way down. He flopped against me, heavily, and I slowly slid out of the car, arranging him as comfortably as possible on the front seat. I tried to shake a bit more pain out from behind my eyes, and then, I tilted his quiet face up from the seat. He looked exactly like he was sleeping, and being unable to resist, I gave him a small kiss on the forehead. Another on both cheeks. Then on his lips, which were silent except for the short breaths that wheezed out from between them. "Sleep tight, beloved," I whispered, before backing away, shutting the car door... And following the yellow lined rows of corn to the farmhouse ahead. ~~~~~~~~~~~ I'll admit I took my time walking to my execution. It was such a nice day after all, and I'd not gotten enough sunshine over the past few years. I'd been running at night for so long, my skin had turned an odd, piercing shade of white, with my hands gleaming out from the sleeves of black leather that covered my arms. I listened to the dried grass crunching beneath my feet; took a moment to check out a groundhog that peeped up, then scampered away at the sound of my footsteps. I tried to soak in everything, all what I'd been ignoring all these years, even if it was just a cloud that looked so thick, you could imagining yourself lying in it, rolling and laughing through its cotton folds. Even if was just the rotting shutters of a battered farm house that I knew I probably wasn't going to be returning from. Mulder, I thought to myself. I should have known you'd be my death in the end. I should have known from that first time I shook your hand and felt the static shock that made me wince and want to pull away. Why I didn't give up then, I can't even fathom now. I wonder how much could have been avoided, or, conversely, if it would have mattered either way. I always thought I was important to -something- that was going on here in this world. I thought I at least had a place among its dark folds and secrets. But, the more I looked at the sunshine, the more I looked at the open green field that stretched out before me, I knew that it made no difference where I'd end up. The outcome probably would have been the same. I knew that Mulder didn't believe in Fate. But I did. And knew what mine was going to be. I approached the farmhouse, not stealthily, but with a steady, forthright pace. They knew I was coming, they'd probably heard me from the road, probably had seen me through the corn. I'd been already identified, classified... and measured for a box. They don't fuck around, these...things. But then again, I had no intention of fucking around either. The first one was just standing there waiting for me. Looking ridiculous in beaten overalls and a plaid shirt that was a size too small. I could see the blankness behind its eyes, almost smell the calculations that were whizzing through its head at light speed. Yes. Wasn't that cute? It was trying to think. It spoke. In that monotone rasp they all have. "Alexander Vladmir Krycek. Birth date unknown. Second level operative for The Group, former operative for the United States and Soviet Consortiums." I shrugged at it. "You forgot my Granny Lulu's maiden name. I'm disappointed." It didn't laugh. Like I said, they have no senses of humor. "Why have you come here so openly Alexander Krycek?" "Sneaking up on perspective business partners is rude," I replied. Shrugged again. "I'm here to make a deal." "There are no deals," it replied immediately. By rote, like a tag line from a commercial. "All right, I'll call it something else," I said, digging my boot into the dirt. I noticed an earthworm wriggle away from my toe and hide itself in its burrow. "How about calling it a trade?" The Other looked confused. Then curious. "What could you have that we'd want?" I looked it straight in its eyes. Right into its horrible, blank, emotionless, soulless eyes. "I have myself," I replied. "And all the nifty things that go with me." The Other seemed surprised. At least from the droop of its lower lip that always indicated surprise. "You would trade your own self for what?" "For two abductees you have in there. Dana Scully and Fox Mulder," I said, taking a deep breath of the clean air around me. I should have visited the country more often. Oh, well. The thing looked uncertain. Shook its head slowly. "That does not sound feasible." "Aw, come on," I almost groused. Annoyed. "Don't tell me I'm not worth more than a couple of chipheads." I felt the old anger rise. "I used to be the number one hit on your play list. Don't tell me times have changed." Again. A shake of the head. "No. No, Alexander Krycek, you are still an important enemy. But, these two.. they are no common vessels." Vessels. Yes, that's what they called us. I'd almost forgotten. "They are merchandise of higher value than most," it continued, in its blank thoughtful way. "There is something dangerous about the male one, especially when paired with this particular female. We are interested in finding out what that is." I could feel my teeth grind into my jaw. Slowly, I pulled out the shar-peit; the "icepick," from my jacket. I could feel the heat in my face and the hairs on my arms rise. I glinted the sunlight off of the weapon, making sure the thing saw it. I heard myself snarl. "Aren't you interested in finding out what makes -me- dangerous?" The thing's face drooped, sharply this time. It studied the weapon I held and considered. They were slow when inhabiting human bodies, they had trouble with the skeletal forms they'd taken over. He wouldn't be able to outrun me, not by a long shot, and he knew it. It nodded. "Yes. We'd actually be very interested in finding out more about you, Alexander Krycek. We shall make the trade." "Good," I replied, hearing the *hiss* of the blade as it sunk back into its handle. I took another deep breath of fresh air, looked up and stared at the sun until black dots were floating in front on my eyes. "However," it replied, as it pulled some sort of communications device from its pocket, and squinting, I saw a blue light rise over the farm house. "We cannot guarantee your continued existence. You understand this, of course." "Of course," I replied, as the blue light seemed to grow before me, enveloping me, and I could no longer see the green of the fields... Or the might of the sun. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I had no idea where, when or how I awoke. The place I was in had no definition, no natural light, nothing. It seemed like a white world unto itself, and I felt no pain, no fear, even though I was naked and strapped upon the cold steel of some sort of table. -They- were looking into my eyes, swirlingg in and out of my conscious mind, and I didn't avoid their stares. I returned them, grateful for another chance to use my senses. For some odd reason, they no longer looked malevolent or evil, just miserable and blank, like a dead field or a starless night. They spoke, but not aloud. It was their silent language and I found that if I concentrated hard enough, I could hear it as well. But it was garbled...foreign, and after a while, it was nowhere near as interesting as the coldness of the steel against my back, or the wiggle of a toe I could manage through the restraints. I was oddly comfortable and unafraid, even when my eyelid was pulled open and the needle started its descent. Like I told you, you could shoot me up in the eye, and I wouldn't even blink. The room faded then, swirling into its dark point of nothingness. The voices inside my head faded; I no longer felt the bindings and the cold. I thought I saw a face, right before the darkness took me, a smiling face with blue eyes, filled with life and every emotion imaginable, even love, but... I was probably only dreaming. ~~~~~~~~~~ Oddly enough, however, the dream refused to go away. Brian's face kept fading in and out of my vision, like a smiling ghost. His shirt even seemed to change occasionally, from white starched dress to t-shirt then to plaid. It seemed strange to me that a hallucination would be so fashion conscious, but I mentally shrugged it off. I just wanted to go back to sleep. And, with any luck, not wake up. But it grew harder to sleep, as I kept hearing voices, kept feeling jostled and prodded. Even Mulder began to appear in my dream, looking at me with wincing curiosity, as if I were a fetus in a jar. I heard Brian talking to me, telling me in a soothing voice that everything was all right, that I was all right, and that it was over. All of it. I was safe, and he was going to take care of me. It was a shame I didn't have the strength to respond. So I could tell him to shut the hell up. Soon, the dream began to truly aggravate me. I had been hoping that death, or at least imprisonment by the Others, meant -some- form of peace and quiet. But no, I was actually starting to experience pain again, both physical and mental. I didn't feel the restraints anymore, but I couldn't lift my arms anyway. It felt as though I were made of lead, and at first, it wasn't that bad, as long as the numbness lasted. But , that too faded, and I could feel everything. My legs ached: I wanted to stretch them; my eyes were dry and beginning to itch in the most infuriating way, which was driving me insane, especially since I couldn't reach up and rub them. I began to get the most disconcerting feeling that I was not dreaming. I tried to will it away, but soon, there was no denying it. I *was* alive. Awake. With Brian, and Mulder there with me. Or, I was somewhere with them. I wasn't sure. When I first opened my eyes and truly focused them, Brian's face was the first thing I saw. "Hey," he said, gently pushing some hair out from my eyes. "Welcome back." Welcome back? Who the hell was he kidding? I tried to speak, but all I was capable of was an anemic croak. "Yeh." Mulder came into view over Bri's shoulder, peering at me with that incredibly annoying grimace. "How is he?" he whispered, as though I wasn't even in the room. "Is he conscious?" "No, I'm not," I coughed out weakly. God, this sucked. "Shhhh," Brian insisted, pulling the comforter up higher around my neck. He motioned at Mulder to leave the room, and then, he himself rose up from the edge of my bed. He gave the blanket a few last tucks, before leaning over me closely. I could smell him, the warm scent of soap and aftershave, even smelled his morning coffee and the detergent of his shirt. It was a wonderful smell, but there's was no way I wanted to become lost in it, letting it stamp its way into my memory as so many other things about Brian had, but, in the end, I could only close my eyes and surrender to it. I felt him lean in even closer, the wonderful smell of him becoming stronger, and suddenly, I felt something warm and soft against my forehead. And then, against each cheek. Finally, against my lips, with a swift and gentle pressure. "Sleep tight, beloved," he whispered, and immediately, the darkness took me, before I could even think of responding. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Any sense of time was lost by the time I truly regained consciousness. Day, hours, minutes... they all seemed the same. The entire process of the first morning was incredibly slow, miserably boring. I was in pain, stiff and helpless, and there was nothing coming to relieve my thirst and the deep aches that filled me. Closing my eyes didn't help, for I no longer had the same desperate need for sleep. Opening them didn't help, because I was in a room that had incredibly bad wallpaper; a pattern that would surely drive me out of my mind sooner than the pain. Not being able to move without restraints was a terrifying condition, one that I swore I'd never let happen again. Finally, the door opened and Mulder walked in, hesitantly, with that sick-room tip-toeing, that may as well been a herd of elephants stampeding through my room for all the good it did my nerves. "Hey, Krycek," he whispered, loudly. "Are you awake?" I think I merely groaned. "Do you know who I am?" I definitely groaned at this. I think he got my message. "Right," he said. He seemed at a loss to say anything else, so I, of course, had to help him along. Some things never change. "Water," I croaked, and he looked at me gratefully, glad for the instruction. He quickly filled a glass, popped a straw into it, and held it gingerly next to my mouth. I squirmed my lips around it and began to sputter as the cold wetness filled my mouth, some of it going down the wrong pipe. I began to cough and choke. Wincing, he put down the glass and helped me into a sitting position, and patted my back with tiny slaps, making it worse. I shook my head, but he continued, so I raised my arm to wave him off. It took me a full minute to realize which arm I was waving him off with. It was my left arm. My left fucking arm. Finally, when I looked down and saw what exactly was hanging off the place where my stump used to end, I suddenly found my voice. And they must have heard those screams a mile away. Mulder's eyes grew huge at the sound I was making, and he jumped up from the edge of the bed, letting me howl and shriek, and looking around the room frantically as if wishing he could find a baseball bat to knock me unconscious again. There was a good minute of this... a full minute of my screams and his panic before the door burst open and Brian came flying in. "What the..." he gasped, before taking in the situation. He sat down, snatched me into his arms and held me close, putting his hand gently over my mouth, muffling my incoherent panic. He rocked me back and forth making soothing noises, and I heard him say something to Mulder, who left the room in seconds flat, as if it were on fire. "It's all right, Alex. It's perfectly fine," he said firmly, and I slowly quieted, but continued to shake with shock. My eyes were shut tightly; because, oh, I couldn't stand the sight of it. It was much worse seeing that horrible, unnatural arm there, than when I first noticed that my real one was gone. "Come on, Alex," Brian said. Sternly. "You can handle this. I know you can. You're strong. The worst is over now. There's nothing here that can hurt you. I know you can deal with this. It's actually better than it was, if you think about it." Yeah, right. I'd grown fonder of that stump than he might have imagined. "What the hell is going on? Why am I here?" I babbled, still too afraid to open my eyes. "Where is here? I don't even know where I am." He continued to rock me, slowly, and the shakes started to dissipate. "You're in a safe house in Martha's Vineyard. You've been here for eight days, after we retrieved you from the farm house in Richmond." Retrieved me from the Others? How the hell... "Skinner helped," he said simply, as if hearing my silent question. Jesus. Skinner. I should have known. Gingerly, I opened my eyes, and glanced down at the weak and pale arm that hung down at my side. I shuddered and closed them tightly again. Brian continued, in the same firm, gentle tones. "And this is how we found you. Fox says that these...these... "Others" have some sort of advanced DNA regeneration technology. Maybe they're the ones who did this. It's the only thing we could think of." Well, of course they were the ones who did it, but why? The possible answers to that question frightened me more than my new limb. But...at that moment, in that room with Brian, I decided that I really didn't want to know. I just wanted peace, and an end to my pain. By any means necessary. I allowed him to help me back underneath the covers, even tried to smile at him, as he tucked the blankets up higher. I felt his lips against my forehead, and as he left, shutting the door softly behind him... I wondered where the hell he kept his gun. So I could turn it on myself and end this fucking nightmare the way I should have ended it all those years ago, that morning when I awoke and found myself a pawn in this rigged chess game; the one with an eternal stalemate. Well, that was going to change. This game would have a checkmate; the king would most certainly die. Even if I had to blow his goddamn head right off his shoulders. ~~~~~~~~~~ It was nearly a week before I had the strength to sit up in the bed, nearly two before I could move in and out of it on my own. It was humiliating, depending on others for everything, and I could feel my resentment grow by the moment. I felt helpless, useless.. beaten. It was bad enough when Brian helped me, but it was so much worse when it was Mulder. He still stared at me as if I were a freak he'd somehow missed when cataloging his X-Files, and seemed more perturbed than grateful by the fact that I'd actually traded myself to the Others for him and his petulant partner. Little did he realize what my true goal in making that trade was. And how miserably I'd fallen short of it. For I was still here... still alive. I wasn't expecting to come out of this one intact, and certainly not in the place I'd ended up. The weather was growing cooler; it was almost fall by this time, and I felt frozen inside and out. I made a vow not to see the coming winter, come what may. I was too damn tired of everything, to try and face yet another snowfall. I was sitting up, shivering, at the small desk in the spare room when Mulder brought in my lunch. It was a bowl of soup, colored a strange shade of muted green/brown, and I looked up from the bowl into his eyes. Questioningly. "I didn't piss in it, Krycek," he said wryly. "It's not poisoned either." I wasn't sure if I believed him, but I was hungry enough not to care. I took a taste. And promptly spat it out. "What the..." I sputtered, as a horrible sourness seeped down my throat. Mulder shrugged. "I said it wasn't poisoned. I didn't say it was good." With a grimace, I shoved the bowl away. "Whatever," I grumbled, as he continued to stare at me with those impossibly intelligent eyes. How someone could be so smart, and yet, so stupid, all at the same time, disturbed me. But, it didn't seemed to bother him. I assumed he accepted it as a matter of course. "I brought something besides lunch today, Krycek," he said calmly, pulling out a small bag. I immediately tensed. I'd grown wary of surprises over the years. "Yeah," I asked, keeping my eyes on his hands. I didn't know why I was still so jumpy. It seemed as though I was debating death with one hand, and while still juggling survival with the other. I had to work on that. "What is it?" Slowly, Mulder pulled out a small, folded chessboard, with the wooden pieces rattling inside. He raised his eyebrow at me, and shook it. "I heard Russians love chess. I'm not much of a player, but if you're interested..." Well, he was right. I did love chess. It -was- the national sport, after all. I shrugged. "Yeah, I'll play a round." Tried to sound indifferent, but, actually, I looked forward to something a bit competitive. Something I could do, and perhaps even win, without having to run at top speed for miles, while dodging both bullets and shape shifting ball-busters from another planet at the same time. He nodded. Somewhat pleased as he proceeded to set up the board. Incorrectly, of course. Americans, I thought with slight disdain, as I pulled the board away from him and set it up the right way in a matter of seconds. Chess is far too subtle a game for them. Yeah, it's snotty, but to this Russian, it's true. He took my corrections with good humor and we proceed to play. To my surprise, he wasn't that bad a bad player. He wasn't a great one, but it took me longer than fifteen minutes to win. Seventeen minutes precisely. And considering that I learned chess from my grandfather, a certified master, I can honestly say that Mulder didn't do so badly after all. But, he wasn't going to win. Not in this lifetime. However, he kept playing with me. Growing neither frustrated or discouraged with each loss, trying his hardest to learn from what I did, and taking each checkmate gracefully. He grew better with each game, and it was challenging keeping up with his mind, which was both adaptable and lightening quick. I have to say I enjoyed that afternoon with him, and it certainly went more quickly than my usual afternoons in the safe house, which consisted mainly of staring out of the window and wondering if there was any way to end it all. I was almost sorry when Brian finally came back, and told us that dinner was ready. Mulder simply smiled and shrugged at me, and I attempted to smile back, as I put away the pieces inside the board. "Glad I didn't bet on those games," was all he said, when he rose stiffly from the chair he'd been sitting bent over in for the past five hours. I shook my head. "Give it a few more sessions. I'd bet on you in a month or so," I lied. He seemed grateful for this, and helped me up from the chair. Slowly, we walked together into the dining room, where our dinner... and Brian... were waiting for us. The three of us ate our meal silently... But now, something new was understood. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was almost three weeks later, when I noticed that I no longer needed the drugs. This disconcerted me, and I was left wondering if there had been some mistake, but no, there wasn't even an inkling of the itch that had been come such constant in my everyday life for the past two and half years. It must have been related to my "treatment" by the Others, and I wondered desperately why they didn't simply kill me or wipe me out completely, turning me into one of the vegetables that I've seen them leave behind. Or worse, choose one their own to inhabit me. There was something going on here I didn't understand, a deception within a lie, and I was too tired... too beaten, to even try to figure it out. I had no idea what I was going to do with the rest of my life, whatever was left of it. I kept debating suicide, but as I grew healthier, sitting down to dinner nightly with Mulder and Brian, reading... relaxing, it gradually faded. It didn't hurt that my hosts' treatment of me, was beyond reproach -- they were concerned, interested, kind even. The fall weather grew colder, and I began to debate my next moves. I couldn't stay here forever; it wouldn't only be pointless, but dangerous as well. The Others weren't my only enemies... the smoking bastard still had a couple of beefs left with me to say the least. It was on one late fall night, that I decided to discuss my next moves with Mulder and Brian. We were sitting in the living room of the house; a large comfortable area with a fire, thick rugs and none of that horrible wall paper I'd been subjected to in the spare room. Dinner had been one of Brian's better ones, goulash, probably made for me specially, since Mulder made a slight face at its appearance. But, he ate anyway, and it was a pleasant meal, as most of them had been, a quiet affair of small talk and pointless commentary on topics sure not to offend. We were up to the after dinner wine, sitting in the living room, all three of us on the floor, when I finally brought it up. "I've been thinking about the future," I said, not sure how else to put it. It was so strange, so bizarrely mundane, but Fate is funny that way. I saw Brian glance at Mulder, who stared at the fire as he replied. "You're welcome here as long as you want to stay, Krycek. We've gotten leave to protect you for the time being, but as you know, that can't last forever." "I wouldn't expect that," I replied quickly. "But, you might realize that my former "employers" aren't exactly going to trust me now. After these *favors* the Others did for me, they're sure to think I have some sort of alliance with them now." "That's probably why they did it," Brian said. Softly. I nodded. It had taken me a while to figure it out, but it grew quite clear. "I'd be surprised if there wasn't a price on my head by now. From *all* sides. But, that's not your problem. If I can get a hold of some cash..." Mulder interrupted. "We've gotten up twelve thousand for your use. I'm sorry it couldn't be more..." I shook my head. "That should get me started." Or, at least, I hoped it would. I watched as Brian glanced down, then at me, then at the fire, clearly uncomfortable. "Where will you go?" he asked, his mouth turning at the corners, a sign of distress that I knew well. I'll admit, I melted a bit at the sight. I shrugged. Try to make light out of it. "Well, duck farms are out of the question. I can try Disneyworld. They might find use for an ex-spy. I can make sure no one throws gum wrappers on Pluto Street." Bri rolled his eyes at this. Motioned for me to hold out my glass. I complied and he filled it to the top with the sweet, red wine. I took a sip and our eyes met. I was shocked to see the look in them; they were filled with sadness... And obvious desire. I shied back when I felt Brian's hand caress my cheek, and even more, when his thumb ran over both my lips, with a slow, smooth motion. Instinctively, I glanced at Mulder, waiting for him to thwack me with the iron poker from the fireplace, but he continued to casually drink and stare at the flickering flames. Ignoring us. Or so it seemed. Maybe he didn't see Brian do that, I thought desperately, and I tried to scoot away, but Brian caught me, and pulled me into his arms, kissing me with abandon. I responded mindlessly, but soon, I was shaking, with both desire and terror. Maybe Mulder's on drugs himself, I thought, as Brian's assault continued, and I felt the rug underneath my shoulders grow warm with the friction our bodies created. And still, Mulder did nothing but sit... and then, watch us casually, his dark eyes shining in the firelight. I gasped underneath Brian's kisses, which were working their way down my chest, arched under his hands which were roaming in places that they shouldn't be, least of all in front of his lover. I kept staring at Mulder, who finally returned my questioning gaze with a look that reminded me of our chess game... an understood competition, undertaken in the most graceful manner. Brian was his, but he was mine as well in some strange way, and Mulder was willing to accept that... learn from it. He also seemed to enjoy watching, if the bulge in the front of his sweatpants was any indication. I'd heard that Mulder was a confirmed voyeur, and there was something terribly exciting... electrifying even, to watch him examine us, myself and Brian as we made love in front of him. Soon, my clothes were gone, and then, I was no longer thinking about Mulder. Instead, I was arching into Brian's warm mouth, watching myself disappear between his lips and pull out again. It was wonderful -- the heat and velvet of his tongue and throat, and I heard myself make those noises that only came with true pleasure. My fingers entwined through his hair, and I fought the urge to pull his head down, to control his movements, make him mine by force. I merely caressed him and he rewarded me by taking me thoughtlessly, swallowing me whole, until I could stand it no more, and I came, crying out, seeing those colors again, the indigo and crimson, in all their glorious shades. For a long moment I lie there, unable to do anything but pant, and when I finally opened my eyes again, I noticed that Brian had left and Mulder was holding his hand out to me. I took it, gingerly, expecting him still to break a couple of my fingers, but he simply pulled me to my feet... And pulled me into his arms. When I felt Mulder's lips against mine, I nearly panicked, remembering all the times he'd tried to shoot, strangle or beat me, but that feeling soon disappeared, to be replaced by another heat, this time the heat of desire. He was an incredible mix of challenge and softness, heat and ice, every bit as intriguing as I'd imagined he might be. It was surreal and wonderful, growing even more fantastic when he pulled away. "Come on," he whispered against my neck, tugging at my new hand. "Come on." I simply nodded. And followed. Followed Mulder into the bedroom that lie next to the spare room, the one where I'd heard the soft noises, the muted moans, even the arguments float from night after night. Laying awake, I'd often wondered what it had looked like in there, what Brian and Mulder looked like entwined together, sometimes even imagining myself next to them, watching, or even between them, touching. It was a large room, and Brian had lit candles along the dresser and window sill, giving it an outer worldly, golden, glow. Appropriate, I thought, wondering if this truly was a dream. But, when Brian walked up to me, kissed me again, his body so very warm and very real against mine, I knew that this was no dream. I could feel Mulder's hand around my waist, the proof of his desire against my lower back, and I moaned into Bri's mouth, for the sensation of both of them against me was almost too much. We fell into the bed, and the night sped by, tangled, wet and hot. I tried, at first, to be fair, tried not to play favorites, but soon, I forgot about formalities entirely, and took what I wanted, from whoever was within my reach. My mouth was filled, again and again, by someone unknown, and when my legs were raised, and I was entered, I never even saw the face that looked down on me. For hours, I reached out blindly with my mouth and hands, working both the familiar and the strange, simultaneously at points, hearing both swearing and groans, each sounding as sweet as the other. The candles finally burned down, leaving the three of us in near darkness, covered with sweat and breathing harshly. I curled back into Brian's arms, and felt Mulder's long legs wrap around us both. I was completely lost, but brilliantly so, every part of my soul feeling filled and content. The sky outside the window was lightening, and I fought against sleep, if only to hold onto the feeling of happiness that finally permeated me. But, as everything else, it faded and my eyes shut of their own accord, as the darkness, this time a beautiful and sweet one, took me under its fold. ~~~~~~~~~ When I awoke, the sun was far past the horizon, and I stretched stiffly between the two heavy bodies beside me. Both Mulder and Brian were still deep asleep, and it took more than a few minutes to disentangled myself and get up from the bed. I fumbled around to choose some clothes from the ones that had been strewn everywhere, and settled on a pair of Mulder's pants, and Brian's pullover, both of which didn't exactly fit, but were more comfortable than anything I'd worn in a very long time. I padded out of the bedroom, searching for a drink of water, when I saw a figure in the living room...sitting quietly on the couch. My heart thudded with the adrenaline of fear and preparation, and I was just about to go back to wake either Mulder or Bri, when the figure motioned for me to come closer. I squinted at it, and then, a sense of relief, albeit slight, filled me. Skinner. He put his finger to his lips, motioning for quiet, as I slowly snuck forward, not exactly trusting him. As I've said, Skinner is a dangerous man, no matter which side you're on. He peered at me intently through his glasses and motioned for me to sit on the loveseat next to the couch. "Well, Krycek. The first act is over. Are you ready for the next step?" he asked, as if this whole thing were some sort of test that I'd been subjected to, and I'd passed it to his satisfaction. I answered. Warily. "Depends on the what the next step is," I said, hoping that was neutral enough to keep my ass in one piece. He took a moment before answering, examining me with that infuriatingly cold and calm face of his. "You know, Krycek, I told them not to kill you. A man as stubborn -- as impossible, as yourself only comes along once in a great while. I think it's time that iron will of yours is taken advantage of for something more important than the games of fools." He peered at me. Intently. "So, why not come with me, and find out what the *real* deal is? I think I can make it worth your while." I shrugged. Hiding my wariness -- my fear. "I never asked to be in this game," I said casually, but my heart was pounding. "And, to be honest, I don't know what you can offer me that I can't get on my own." At this, he smiled. Dangerously. Enticingly. He slid forward, this trenchcoat wrinkling under powerful legs. Holding my chin between his thumb and forefinger, he moved in closer and I could feel his breath against my lips, and then his lips against my own, simple and warm. I felt a shock, almost a bolt lightning, rip through my body, but I pulled away. Truly frightened. I glared at him, but he only smiled back with the same dangerous, impossibly enigmatic smile. "I can offer you a life you've never imagined, Krycek," he said, the laugher rumbling softly from his chest. "I can also offer you a position of power you've never even dreamed of. I think you know that by now." Yes, I knew it, and I realized that he might have been the only chance I had left. The chance for life, and to realize a greater goal than even the one that had kept me alive this long. A chance to become a real player, and finally make a difference with the work that I appeared destined to do. I thought for only another moment. Then... I agreed. "What about..." I asked, nodding toward the back room. He shook his head and rose, his huge form towering over me. "You won't need anything else here. Everything's been arranged, the car is outside as a matter of fact." Everything prepared already, I thought, ironically. He knew me that well all along. Figures. I nodded. And then rose. "Give me a minute," I said, and he didn't reply. It seemed as if we knew each other now, and everything that would follow would be a simple matter of course. Well, I told you that I believed in Fate. And what better proof could I have ever had? I strode back to the bedroom, taking only a second to slid on a pair of shoes. Quietly, I opened the door, and saw that Mulder and Bri were still deep asleep, but now entangled within each other's arms. I felt a twinge, perhaps of regret, perhaps of something else, before bending down and kissing each one of them softly on the forehead, silently saying my goodbye. I said a special one, before kissing Bri on the lips, and he shifted uncomfortably, as if he knew that I was leaving him again, perhaps for forever this time. It was nowhere near as painful as the first time; for this time I had hope. Hope for a better future. Hope for honor instead of pain; hope for him and Mulder together. Hope, at last, for Fate's mercy. I didn't turn around when I left, I simply closed the bedroom door behind me and followed Skinner to the waiting car. As we drove away, the house grew smaller in the distance behind me, and I forced myself to look forward. Straight down the long road, and intent on the endless horizon ahead. ~~~~~~~~~~~ THE END All comments are welcome. Please send to: dbkate@yahoo.com SPECIAL THANKS: To my Zoot, who inspired and encouraged this piece. GRATEFUL THANKS: To Alicia and Te who encouraged me to share it with kind words and good suggestions. I also thank the kindness of so many folks who helped me out after my problems with my old ISP, they gave me the strength to continue, not only to be a part of everything, but to write as well.