From: satina@hegalplace.com
Date: 28 Jun 2003 09:51:16 -0700
Subject: [atxc-pi] NEW: Trust -NC-17- (0/7)
Source: atxc
 
Title: Trust 
Author: Satina 
Feedback Email: satina@hegalplace.com 
Author's Website: http://www.hegalplace.com/satina 
Archive at Gossamer: Yes to Gossamer 
Status: NEW - Standalone 
Size: 200k 
Category: Drama, Story, Romance, RST, Adventure, Angst, Hurt/Comfort 
Pairings: Mulder/Krycek 
Rating: NC-17 
Gossamer Category: Adventure ~ Romance, Angst ~ Slash 
Summary: Mulder finds a badly battered Krycek and they 
both learn a lot about trust and healing. And yes, love. 
 

Title:  Trust

Author:  Satina

Date:  June 28, 2003

Pairing:  M/K

Rating:  NC-17

Archive:  I'd be honored.  Please let me know where it's
going so I can visit.

Feedback:  That kind of love energy can't be bought.  I'm
deeply grateful for every little vibe.

Series/Sequel:  This stands alone.

Spoilers:  S.R. 819

My website:  http://www.hegalplace.com/satina

Disclaimers:  We all create our own reality, and in mine,
these boys belong to those who love them best.  That's me
and you.

Summary:  Mulder finds a badly battered Krycek and they
both learn a lot about trust and healing.  And yes, love.

Notes:  This story is dedicated to anyone who has ever sent
me an email letting me know my story has helped or
touched them in some way.  Your outpouring of love
energy is more precious and appreciated and valuable than
you will ever, ever know.  It's more valuable than getting
paid for my writing.  Thank you.  Thank you.

May this story go out to as many people as possible and
help them effect a healing in their own heart, contributing
to the growing energy of World Peace.  If Mulder and
Krycek can open their hearts to one another, we can, too.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Nurse should be finished making rounds in a few minutes,
Mulder," came Frohike's voice over the earpiece.

"Gotcha," replied Mulder, nodding at Scully, who nodded
back, her pale face stark against the black turtleneck.  They
huddled just inside the high chainlink fence, waiting for
the Gunmen's go-ahead.

"Showtime," said Frohike.  "The double glass doors at the
end of the unit are now disabled, as are the patients' room
doors.  You should have a half-hour before the nurse comes
back down the hall.  If you're careful, you should be able to
get all four patients out in that amount of time.  We'll
keep an eye on the other end of the hall and let you know if
he comes near it."

Scully double-checked her black bag then nodded, and they
both hurried across the short expanse of lawn to the small,
low brick building.  Mulder pushed on the glass door,
holding his breath, and it opened silently, just as Frohike
had assured him it would.  He waved Scully into the lit
hallway and they quickly entered the first patient room.

The lights were off in the room, just a small pool of dim
light spilling over the head of the bed.  Mulder watched
the door while Scully approached the patient.

"Don't be alarmed," she whispered soothingly, touching
the person's shoulder.  "We're here to get you out of here."

The woman's eyes fluttered open and she gasped and
nodded, swallowing and wincing as Scully helped her sit
up.

"Oh," Scully breathed, realizing the woman was naked.
"I...we didn't bring any clothes...do you have any here?"

The woman closed her eyes and shook her head.  "No.  We
aren't given clothes.  I'm all right.  I'll just wrap the sheet
around me.  I just want out of here."

Scully nodded and helped her, frowning, then ushered her
quickly out the door and across the lawn, where Langly
met them at the gate.  Langly escorted the quietly weeping
woman into the back of the large van they'd brought while
Scully and Mulder went back in for the next victim.

They were helping the fourth patient, another young
woman, limp toward the door, relieved that they were ten
minutes ahead of schedule.

"Are you going to get the man up front?" she asked,
trembling as she tried to put weight on her broken leg.

"What man?" Mulder frowned.  "There are only four
rooms here."

The woman nodded, closing her eyes.  "The fifth one's up
behind the nurse's station.  He's the worst.  I don't know
why they're so...awful to him, but we all hear him
screaming most of the day."  She didn't say anything more,
but her eyes were large, horrified, and pleading.

Mulder looked at Scully, who frowned back.  The plan had
been to get into the ward between bedchecks and get all
four patients out before anyone was the wiser.  They would
be gone by the time the nurse even figured out anyone was
missing.  The informant hadn't said anything about a fifth
patient.  If they went after this one, they'd have to take
down the nurse and risk being caught.  Mulder had no
doubt the nurse could call for help with a single press of a
button.

"Mulder, we're running out of time," said Scully, checking
her watch.

Mulder sighed.  Then he narrowed his eyes and nodded.
"You go, Scully.  Take the others in the van and get out of
here.  Leave me the car.  I can't just leave him here."

Scully frowned and the fourth patient closed her eyes,
sighing with relief.  Her voice was raspy and broken when
she spoke.

"I think they broke both his legs yesterday, so he won't be
able to walk like us.  Like I said, for some reason, they do
more to him than they do to us.  They never break more
than one limb at a time, usually."  She swallowed.  "There
should be wheelchairs at the nurse's station," she added,
trying to be helpful.

Mulder nodded.  "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"The nurse is armed," said the woman, and Mulder nodded,
already aware of this fact.  "And he carries a phone with a
panic button, so that if there's ever any trouble, all he has
to do is press that button and all the wards are alerted."

Mulder nodded again.  "Where does he keep the phone?"

"It hangs at his belt," answered the woman.

"Which room does he check first?"

"That one," she pointed.

"Does he come in the room?"

"Yes, he comes in and...lifts the sheet."  She shuddered,
and Mulder's eyes narrowed again as he tried not to think
about how vulnerable these patients had been, nude and
strapped down to hospital beds, purposely injured for the
sake of nanocyte experiments.

"All right, time's running out.  He'll be doing rounds again
in three minutes.  Scully, get `em out of here.  I'll call you
later."

Scully chewed her lip, obviously not happy with the
situation but not knowing what to say.  Finally she nodded,
starting to lead the patient toward the door.  "Be careful,
Mulder," she said with a worried backward glance.

Mulder nodded and crept quickly to the end of the hall and
ducked into the first room.  He went quickly to the bed,
then climbed up, pulling the light blanket over himself,
putting his hands down at this sides as if he were strapped
down.  He kept his gun in his left hand, away from the
door and waited, breathing shallowly, eyes closed.

He heard the sound of the nurse's key in the lock, then the
soft light brightened the backs of his eyelids as the nurse
stepped into the room.  The door closed behind him and
Mulder held his breath as the man stepped over to the side
of the bed.

"How're we doing, sweetheart?" said the nurse in a mock-
soothing tone.  "Bet that arm's hurtin' like a mother."

Mulder swallowed, heart pounding, grateful for the low
light, but cursing the lamp over the head of the bed.  The
nurse was going to recognize that he wasn't a patient in
another moment.  He tensed, getting ready.

"Well, does it hurt?" cooed the man, stepping over to the
bed and reaching for Mulder's arm.

Mulder flipped it up and to the side just as the nurse bent
over, cracking him a good one in the nose.  The big man
staggered back, and Mulder threw himself off the bed,
diving for the panic-button phone at his belt.  He fell on
the nurse, who was reaching for the phone with one hand,
white-leather-holstered gun with the other, and as they fell
to the floor heavily, he had to let go of his own gun to
wrench the nurse's gun arm up enough that the nurse's first
shot went high, going into the wall.  The nurse jerked the
phone from its own white-leather holster, but before he
could arrange his fingers to push the panic button, Mulder
grabbed one of those struggling fingers and bent it back
viciously, the wet snap letting him know that he'd met his
goal of breaking the bones.

"Fuck!" the nurse yelled, letting the phone fall to the floor,
where it skittered across the linoleum and away from the
struggling men.  Then the bigger, stronger nurse rolled
over on top of Mulder, now holding his gun arm off with
both hands, leaving the one with the broken finger free to
begin punching Mulder in the face.

"Aaaahhhh!" the nurse screamed in shocked pain as the
broken finger smashed into Mulder's nose.

The stunned agony was just enough to allow Mulder the
opportunity to wrench the gun free of the nurse's other
hand, and he gripped it sloppily and whacked it hard
against the side of the other man's head.  The nurse
screamed again, diving for the gun, and Mulder's sweat-
and-blood slippery hands got it turned around just in time
to fire it into the man's face.

The body fell half on top of Mulder, who winced, blinking
the blood out of his eyes and shoving the heavy weight off
of him.  He hadn't wanted it to come down to killing, and
he wasn't sure what would happen now that two shots had
been fired.  He knew he had to hurry.

He grabbed both guns, wiping the gore off his face, then
took the keys from the nurse's body and quickly made his
way to the nurse's station through the set of double doors
off the end of the unit.  It took him a panicky moment to
find the key to the station, and he glanced around, seeing
the wheelchairs the other patient had told him about.  He
hurried over to the door behind the nurse's desk, fumbling
to find the right key as he peered through the dark,
reinforced glass window, unable to see anything.

He got the door open and stepped quickly into the room,
still breathing hard.

"Don't be afraid," he gasped, realizing he looked like an
extra from a Freddy Krueger movie.  "I'm here to get you
out of here."

The figure on the bed moaned softly, and Mulder saw that
it was shaking beneath the thin sheet.  It was dark in the
room, and Mulder didn't have time to look for a light
switch, so he just reached down and began unfastening the
restraint that held the patient's right wrist.  He freed the
heavy leather strap from its buckle and reached quickly
across to the other side, feeling for the second restraint.

"We have to hurry," he said, patting the sheet, unable to
find the second restraint.  There was just...bed.  Nothing
there.  No restraint.  As he patted upward, he encountered
the stump of the man's arm and drew back, frowning
deeply.  My god, these animals had gone so far as to
actually sever this patient's arm rather than just breaking
it.  He thought he might throw up.

"Legs...broken..." rasped the man on the bed, struggling to
sit up.  Mulder stepped back as the man twisted and hissed,
the sheet falling away from the man's neck and down to his
waist.  Mulder gasped loudly, his eyes going round.

"Kuh-Krycek?" he panted, mouth falling open.

"Muh...Muhlller..." the other man croaked.
"Please...please don't...don't leave me here...please."  The
man fell back on the bed, eyes squeezed shut, gasping,
unable to bear the agony of moving his broken legs.

"I...I won't," Mulder replied in a breath.  "Wait, let me get
a wheelchair.  Just hang on."

He whirled and left the small room, grabbing a wheelchair
and wrestling it quickly through the door.  He pushed it
over to the bed, where Krycek was once again panting and
shivering, trying to pull his legs over the side.  He
whimpered, tears squeezing from the corners of his eyes.

Mulder swallowed painfully, blinking back his own
sympathy tears, then stepped forward, putting his arms
around Krycek's upper body.  "Here," he said breathlessly.
"Just let me lift you.  Hold on.  I'm gonna put you in the
chair."

Krycek nodded and wrapped his one arm around Mulder's
neck tightly, and Mulder braced himself and hefted him up
quickly, using every ounce of his strength to get the larger
man off the bed and then drop him in the chair as carefully
as possible.

Krycek panted and shook as he let go of Mulder's neck, and
Mulder stood up, trembling from exertion and adrenaline.
He snatched the sheet off the bed where it had fallen and
placed it quickly over Krycek's naked body, then hurried
around to the back of the chair and started maneuvering it
as carefully but quickly as he could.  So far, no one had
shown up, so it was a good bet no one would.  Evidently,
the `special unit' was far enough from the main ward that
no one had heard the gunshots.

Mulder took a deep breath and shoved the wheelchair
through the doorway, being excruciatingly careful not to
bump Krycek's legs into anything on the way through the
nurse's station and down the hall.  He wheeled him out of
the building and down to the hole they'd made in the fence,
then cursed and let go of the chair handles, glancing
around as he pulled out his bolt cutters and went to work,
making the hole big enough for a wheelchair.

When he had the opening made, he shoved the cutters back
into the strap on his utility belt and got behind the chair,
shoving Krycek through.  Krycek was quiet except for
deep, throaty grunts of restrained suffering as Mulder
navigated quickly through the fence and down the
sidewalk, bumping the chair down off the curb in front of
his car.

He hurried around and opened up the front passenger door,
sliding the seat back as far as it would go.  It was the most
room he could give Krycek for his mangled legs, and he
thanked God that at least he drove a big Taurus with lots of
legroom.

He went around to the front of Krycek, glancing around to
see if anyone was coming after them.  Only the cold, dark,
quiet night surrounded them, though the street lights
would make them easy targets should anyone spot them.

"I'm gonna have to lift you into the car," he told Krycek,
telling himself at the same time, assuring himself that he
could, indeed, do this.

Krycek blinked up at him blearily through gleaming eyes
and nodded, holding up his trembling arm.

Mulder took a deep breath, steeling himself, then bent in
and wrapped his arms once more around Krycek's chest,
knowing it would take every bit of strength he had to get
Krycek up out of the chair and then drop him down onto
the waiting seat of the car.   He took another deep breath,
inhaling deeply of Krycek's panic-sweat and hospital-
smell, then visualized himself lifting the man as he hefted
upward, knowing this was a one-shot deal.

He was barely able to clear Krycek's body of the chair and
dump him into the car seat, banging his head against the
top of the door frame before letting him fall down onto the
seat with a cry.  He then quickly, not letting himself think
about what it must feel like to Krycek, grabbed the man's
broken legs and lifted them as quickly as humanly
possible, placing them inside the car and turning Krycek to
face more to the front.  Krycek cried out, clutching the
seat, but used his meager reserves of strength to pull them
in further so Mulder could shut the door.

Mulder ran around to the other side of the car and jumped
in, starting the engine and driving quickly but not
noticeably out of the parking lot and onto the darkened
city streets.

He drove for fifteen minutes, glancing into the rearview
mirror every few seconds, giving his passenger nothing but
the most brief, fleeting looks before returning to the road,
setting his shoulders and lifting his chin as if to steel
himself against the other man's suffering.

And he could tell he was, indeed, suffering.  Krycek lay in
the seat, making tiny, broken grunting sounds, never
taking a full breath, shivering and pulling the sheet up
around himself.

Mulder leaned forward and turned on the heater, even
though he was sweating from his exertions.  Krycek said
nothing, just squeezing his eyes shut and breathing
shallowly, haltingly.

Suddenly he started panting and reaching for door handle.
"Gottathrowup!" he gasped, and Mulder swerved over to
the side of the road, spraying gravel, then without thinking
about it jumped out of the car and ran around to Krycek's
side as Krycek lunged against the door, throwing it open.

Krycek vomited, holding himself twisted sideways, his
arm shaking violently under the strain.  Mulder wrinkled
his nose but stepped in and hesitated a moment before
leaning in, holding Krycek's shoulder while he threw up.

There wasn't much coming out of him, much to Mulder's
relief, but the heaves were tearing forth pitiful sobs of pain
from Krycek, making Mulder cringe and reach out his
other hand helplessly, as if barely touching Krycek on the
top of his head would offer some measure of comfort to the
man.

Krycek gasped and pulled himself back into the car,
wiping his badly shaking hand across his mouth, breath
catching, small moans issuing forth from his throat,
trapped behind his pale, dry lips.

Mulder went back around to his side of the car, leaning
across Krycek's body to open the glove compartment and
pull out some Jack-In-The-Box napkins, offering them to
Krycek with a frown.

Krycek took them and wiped his mouth, clutching the used
napkins in his hand as he laid his head back on the seat,
eyes closed.

"What did they do to you?" Mulder half-whispered,
pulling back onto the road.

"Exsss...sssspiriments," Krycek said, voice catching.

"Don't talk," said Mulder, feeling incredibly guilty.  He
hadn't even meant to ask the question out loud, and he
certainly didn't mean for Krycek to answer it in his
condition.  Scully had brought a syringe and pain
medication as well as antibiotics, but they were with her
and the other four patients, who should by now be tucked
into real hospital beds under Federal guard.  Mulder had
nothing but fast food napkins and his warm half-full bottle
of Sparkletts water to offer his passenger.  "Thirsty?" he
asked, reaching for the bottle.

"Not...yet," said Krycek in two breaths.

Mulder nodded, pulling his hand back.  "The seat lays
back," he said quietly.  "There's a lever on the right side."
He looked over and Krycek's hand twitched in his lap.
"Do you need help?"

Krycek shook his head no, eyes still closed, but made no
move to reach for the lever.  Mulder nodded again and
turned back to the road, controlling his sigh.  Getting an
idea, he reached into his vest for his cellphone and pulled
it out, hitting speed dial.

"Mulder!  Are you all right?  Where are you?"  Scully
didn't even say hello.

"I'm fine.  I'm fine, Scully."

"Where are you, Mulder?  Are you back in D.C. yet?  Are
you at the hospital?"

"We're not going to the hospital, Scully," he said, looking
over at Krycek, who appeared to be asleep, still breathing
raggedly.

"Why not?  Mulder, what happened?"

"I've got the fifth patient," he said, looking over again.
"And it's not someone we can take to the hospital."

"You know him?"  Scully asked, concern and surprise
making her voice higher.

"Yeah, I know him," answered Mulder, licking his lips.
"Scully, you're not gonna believe this," he looked over at
his quarry again.  "It's Alex Krycek."  The other's man's
lashes fluttered slightly.

"Krycek!" Scully replied, obviously as surprised as Mulder
had anticipated she would be.  "What's his condition?"

"Bad," said Mulder, swallowing.  He took a deep breath
and let it out.  "Really bad."

"Mulder, that doesn't really tell me much.  What did they
do to him?"

"I don't know," said Mulder quietly.  "Other than his legs
are both broken and we just had to pull over for him to
throw up nothing for five minutes."

"My God," said Scully.  "What are you going to do?"

Mulder chewed the corner of his lip.  "I don't know," he
replied.  "But Scully, could you call in a prescription for
George Hale for some powerful pain meds and some
antibiotics?"  He looked over at Krycek and could see his
eyelashes flutter again slightly at that, punctuated with a
small, broken sigh.

"Of course," Scully replied.  "But where should I call them
in to?"

Mulder checked the upcoming sign and answered,
"Emporia.  Just a second and I'll see if I can find a Rite-Aid
or something."

"Okay," Scully answered.

Mulder took the exit, scanning the area for the familiar red
white and blue.  He actually felt himself smile vaguely as
he spotted a Walgreen's.  "Walgreen's, Scully, 34765
Clemente," he said.

"Do they have a drive-through?" Scully asked.  Mulder
sighed as he saw that they did.  "If so, Mulder, just drive up
and hand them the phone and I'll give it to them right
there."

"All right, Scully, hang on."  Mulder pulled into the
parking lot and headed for the drive-through.  Krycek
opened his eyes, looking slightly panicked.

"Mulder...y'rface," he gasped out softly, and Mulder tilted
the rearview mirror to check his reflection with a frown.

Jesus!  His face was a horror mask of blood, the whites of
his eyes glowing against the dark smears.  He felt himself
gag and lunged for the glovebox, startling Krycek into
jumping slightly.  He pulled out napkins and started
frantically spitting on them, wiping the dried, sticky blood
off his face, trying to get the bulk of it out of the hair
around it.  "Jesus," he muttered.  "Jesus."  It took him
nearly five minutes to look close to normal, and he was
grateful for the all-black clothes that hid the spatters there.
He looked over at Krycek, brows arched in question.

Krycek looked him over briefly and nodded, closing his
eyes.  Mulder nodded back and pulled up to the pharmacy
window.  After a short exchange, he handed his phone up
to the puzzled pharmacy tech with his request.  The tech
listened, frowning, then handed it back and went to fetch
the medication.  As they waited, he and Scully continued
to talk on the phone.

"What are you doing to do next?" asked Scully.

"Find some place to hole up for the night, I guess,"
answered Mulder.  "I can't just bring him home with me."
He watched Krycek's eyes move beneath his lids.

"No," agreed Scully.  "But Mulder, who's going to take
care of him?  He's going to need round the clock care for
awhile, it sounds like."

Mulder looked over at the still silent Krycek, who was
now only shivering intermittently, though his breathing
was still hitched.  "I guess I am," he said, seeing how the
sweat from the other man's body was soaking the sheet.

"Mulder, you said his legs were broken.  Someone's going
to need to set them."

Mulder glanced down at where the sheet fell over Krycek's
legs and found himself nodding.

"Give me a call when you get where you're going and I'll
come down there tomorrow and do what I can," said Scully
in a voice that didn't brook argument.

Mulder nodded again, not seeing any other option.  "All
right," he said.  "I'll call you tonight when we check in.
Might be late," he added.  "I'd like to put another hour of
road between us and them before we stop for the night."

"That's okay," Scully answered.  "Just call me as soon as
you get in.  I'll just put the phone by my bed."

Mulder smiled at his partner's willingness to go the extra
mile for a man they'd both considered their bane of
existence for several years now.  But Scully was a doctor
and a humanitarian before anything else, and she couldn't
see even someone like Krycek suffer.  Mulder looked over
again at his wretched passenger and thought she hadn't
even seen suffering yet.  The tech came to the window
with the medications and Mulder paid cash, pulling out of
the drive-through and into a parking spot.

"I'll call you later, Scully," he said.  "And Scully...thanks."

"For what, Mulder?  I'm a doctor.  I'll talk to you later,"
she replied, hanging up before he could respond.  He hit
End and put it back in his pocket, turning to his passenger.

"Krycek?" he asked, then when he didn't get a response, he
cleared his throat and spoke more loudly.  "Krycek, are
you okay?"  Relatively speaking, that is, he added to
himself.

Krycek's dry lips parted, his tongue swiping across them
vaguely.

"I've got medication," said Mulder.  "For the pain."

Krycek gasped, his eyes fluttering open, dazed and wet.
"Pain...meds?" he asked, taking a breath for each word.

"Yeah, Scully called `em in for us," said Mulder,
wondering at how he'd just referred to himself and Krycek
like they were some sort of Bonnie and Clyde team.

"God..." Krycek replied, and Mulder nodded, reaching for
the warm water, wishing he had something more palatable
for the obviously-nauseated man.

"Here," he said, ripping open the bag and opening up the
bottle of Vicodin quickly, shaking one, then two out in his
hand, extending them on his palm.  He watched as
Krycek's hand rose a few inches off the seat and fell back
down.  He swallowed hard, blinking, then lifted his hand
the rest of the way, putting it against Krycek's lips.
"Open," he said softly, tipping the pills in, then switching
the water bottle to his hand quickly, sliding his right hand
behind Krycek's head to help him lean forward and take a
drink.  Krycek downed the bottle and Mulder pulled it
away as Krycek let out a long, broken, gasping sigh.

"Thanks," he panted.  "Thank you."  Mulder watched as
Krycek's eyes squeezed shut and tears welled out from
beneath the longest lashes he'd ever seen on a man.

"I'll get you some 7-up," Mulder replied, "Then you can
take the antibiotics and maybe eat something."

Krycek barely nodded, and Mulder turned back to the
wheel, backing out of the parking spot and pulling back
out onto the road.  He stopped at a Jack-In-The-Box and
ordered a large Sprite for Krycek, getting a Coke for
himself to help him stay alert.  He didn't even let Krycek
try to hold the cup himself, lifting the straw to his lips and
letting him take small sips every little bit.  Krycek just
drank when the soda was offered, laying back against the
seat and breathing the rest of the time.

Mulder drove down the Interstate another hour or so,
finally taking a side road to a small town called Red Oak,
across the state line in North Carolina.  He found a Super 8
Motel and quickly changed into the extra shirt he had in
the bag in the trunk, then, hoping the clerk didn't look too
closely at his red-toned highlights, he asked for a ground
floor room with two beds on the side of the motel away
from the road.  The tired, bored clerk barely gave him a
second glance, sliding the key over through a small slot in
a scratched plexiglass partition that separated him from
Mulder.  He took it and drove around to the back, grateful
for the late hour and the fact that the motel seemed close to
deserted.  He got out and opened the room door, then came
around to Krycek's side of the car, readying himself for the
trauma of getting Krycek from the car into the room.

They didn't have the wheelchair this time, and after a few
panicked moments, Mulder decided he'd have to do a
fireman's-carry-hold and get Krycek into the room.  He
opened Krycek's door, and Krycek slowly opened his eyes,
which were now dazed as well as red and bleary.

"I'm gonna have to carry you," he said, chewing his lip.

Krycek frowned, and Mulder noticed it made a little, deep
wrinkle form right between his brows over the bridge of
his nose.  "You can't," Krycek rasped out.

"I'll have to sling you over my shoulders," replied Mulder.
"You'll have to help me out here, Krycek, as much as you
can.  It's not far," he added.  Then, in a lower voice.  "We
can do it."

Krycek blinked then nodded, taking a deep, halting breath
and raising up his arm again.  Mulder leaned in, bracing
his back, which was already protesting slightly from the
heavy lifting he'd already done.  He bent down low so that
Krycek could basically fall out on top of his shoulders, and
as Krycek did so, Mulder took all the weight in his thighs
and lifted, grunting and nearly collapsing as Krycek's dead
weight settled in over the back of his neck.

He gasped and staggered backward, then headed himself in
the direction of the open door and let the momentum of
Krycek's weight carry them both the few feet through it.
He tried to lower Krycek onto the bed as gently as
possible, but the other man still cried out as he was
clumsily deposited onto the mattress.  Mulder stumbled
over to his own bed and sat down heavily, catching his
breath before going back out to the car to grab his ever-
ready overnight bag from the trunk, as well as the meds
and the Sprite.  He headed back into the room and made
sure the door was locked securely, dumping his stuff on the
counter/dresser before sitting back down on the bed, still
breathing heavily.

Once he'd recovered his breath, he looked over to see that
Krycek was sprawled, legs half on and half off the bed,
breathing rapidly.  He'd pulled the blanket haphazardly
over his torso, trying to cover his nakedness.  Mulder
realized he'd have to lift those legs onto the bed for
Krycek.  He hoped the Vicodin was doing its job.  He stood
up.

"I'm gonna help you get your legs up on the bed," he said,
already wincing slightly at the thought.  He watched
Krycek's white face tense, then nod once.  He nodded back,
though Krycek couldn't see it through his tightly closed
eyes, then took a deep breath and bent down.  He took hold
of both legs at once and swung them as quickly and gently
as possible, jerking as Krycek cried out once then bit his
lip tightly, shaking.  "Sorry," Mulder murmured, and
Krycek nodded tightly, eyes still closed.

"Thanks," he choked out between catching breaths.

Mulder nodded.  He looked around the room, frowning
deeply, then grabbed the Sprite and took it to the head of
Krycek's bed.  "Here, take another drink," he said, bending
the straw so Krycek didn't have to lift his head.

Krycek wrapped his lips around the straw and sucked
weakly, then his mouth fell open and he just breathed.

"Scully's coming tomorrow to help you with your legs,"
said Mulder quietly.

Krycek just nodded again, the blanket still pulled
awkwardly just across his middle, his chest and legs
sticking out either end.

Mulder sighed deeply.  "Let's get you under the covers," he
said, unable not to feel deep sympathy for the man's utter
vulnerability.  He gritted his teeth before pulling the
blanket off Krycek's naked body, then very carefully, very
gently, tugged and pulled until he had the blanket and
sheet pulled out from under Krycek.  He pulled it all up
over him, smoothing it down just under his chin.  He
watched as more tears squeezed out from under Krycek's
dark lashes, and he didn't embarrass either one of them any
further by saying anything, just stepping away from the
bed and then heading into the bathroom, both to take a piss
and to get some space away from the suffering man.  He
also took his spare pair of jeans in with him, anxious to get
out of the blood-soaked clothes.

It was hard to be near someone in such pain, and harder
still to be near someone he wasn't supposed to care about
at all.  He found it impossible to think about any of his old
negativity toward Alex Krycek, instead finding himself
remembering the fresh, sharp, hero-worshipping young
agent he'd been so few years ago.  Reconciling that
healthy, vibrant young man with the pale, thin, trembling,
broken, sick creature in that bed was close to impossible.
It was as if two different people had had those experiences.
He found he couldn't decide which of the two should take
responsibility for what had happened in between the short
partnership and the present situation.

Well, this Krycek was certainly in no condition to be
called on his crimes, thought Mulder.  Hell, what justice
could really be any more harsh than this anyway?  How
can you wish anything but healing on something suffering
this much?  Mulder's father certainly hadn't endured this
kind of torture when Krycek had shot him.  Scully's sister
had been unconscious in a coma until she'd finally left this
existence.  Even if Krycek was responsible for their deaths,
what more could Mulder wish on him than the horrible
conditions under which he'd found him?

Mulder shook his head as he peeled off his bloody, black
jeans and pulled on fresh ones.  No, Krycek owed no more
penance to Mulder.  He'd received his come-uppance and
then some, enduring an ordeal of which Mulder could only
speculate the true depravity.  Of course, that didn't mean
Mulder trusted him not to betray him again, but the man
was certainly no threat as he was, unable to even drink
from his own cup of Sprite.  Now when he had recovered,
that would be another matter altogether.

Mulder frowned, leaning over the sink and scrubbing the
remaining blood from his face and hair.  What was he
going to do when Krycek was recovered enough to leave?
Let him walk away?  He already knew Krycek could never
be held for trial.  For one thing, they didn't have any
charges against him, only Mulder's accusations and
suspicions.  For another thing, he wouldn't survive one
night in a holding cell, being quickly removed from the
game like Luis Cardinale had been.  No, Mulder had
reconciled himself awhile ago to contenting himself with
his own personal justice where Krycek was concerned, and
now, as he'd decided moments ago, there was really no call
for that.

He sighed and finally stepped out of the bathroom,
combing through his damp hair with his hand.  He checked
in on a sleeping Krycek before stretching out on his own
bed, still fully dressed.  He didn't intend to sleep.  Didn't
think it would be possible.  He reached for his cellphone
and dialed Scully.

"'Lo?" Scully answered sleepily.

"Hey Scully," Mulder said quietly.  "We just got in."

"Lemme get my pen," Scully answered, then, "Okay, go
ahead."

(Continued in part 2)

Part 2
See part 0 for story information.


"We're in Red Oak, at the Super 8 just off the 12th Street
exit, room 109."

"Got it," said Scully, yawning.  "I'll see you in the late
morning, Mulder.  Anything I need to bring?"

Mulder chewed his lip.  "Yeah, actually.  We could both
use some clothes."

"All right," Scully yawned again.  "I'll grab you some.  I'll
see you then."

"See you then," said Mulder, and Scully hung up the phone.
Mulder pushed End and set the phone down, staring at the
blank, silent television.

He was lying on his side, facing away from Krycek and
staring at a spot on the wall, listening to the other man's
horrible, trembling breathing when suddenly it was
punctuated with a small whimper.

"Mulder," Krycek's voice caught.  "Mulder!"

Mulder quickly turned over and rose to a seated position,
swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  "What is it?
What's wrong?"

"Can I..." Krycek swallowed, staring at Mulder through
dazed, blinking eyes.  "...have more...meds?"

Mulder looked at clock, seeing that it had been just under
four hours since they'd left the Walgreen's parking lot.
"Yes, sure, just a second," he said, getting up quickly and
getting the pills, bringing them over and picking up the
Sprite, now warm.  "Here," he said, putting two pills
between Krycek's lips then putting the straw between
them.

Krycek sucked desperately, downing the pills quickly,
nearly finishing the warm soda, then pulled off the straw,
gasping.  "Thank you," he panted.  "Thank you, Mulder."
His eyes were closed, tears caught in the lashes again.

"You're welcome," said Mulder, fighting an urge to brush
the sweaty hair off Krycek's forehead.  He didn't think the
man had enough strength to lift his one hand and do it
himself, but he resisted anyway, setting the almost-empty
cup down on the nightstand between the two beds.  He
sank down on his own bed, still facing Krycek.  "You don't
deserve this," he said to himself, very, very quietly, staring
at Krycek's dark, wet lashes against his cheeks.  "No one
does."

Krycek didn't reply, but Mulder watched a thin trail of
tears cut through the sweat on his face, running down into
the curled hair at his temples.  He wanted to wipe those
tears off the man's face, too, again thinking that Krycek
was probably too weak to do it himself.  But again he
resisted the urge, finally lying back down on the bed,
glancing at the clock which told him they had about two
hours before the sun came up and their first day together
began.

Mulder turned his face to the ceiling and stared at the
water stains.  Scully would wake at around 6 am and be
out the door by 7, stopping by his apartment to pick up his
clothes then getting on the freeway to come tend to
Krycek.  From there, it was about a three or four hour
drive, depending on traffic, which was bound to be better
heading out of DC than in.  So they could probably expect
her before noon.  He'd have to figure out a way to get them
some breakfast, and...oh God, he'd probably have to help
Krycek relieve himself somehow.

Damn, he hadn't thought about that.  He wasn't exactly
experienced with a bedpan.  At least until now, Krycek
didn't appear to have much on his stomach except some
Sprite.  Mulder wrinkled his nose as he decided he could
probably help Krycek piss into the cup, then flush the
contents and throw the cup away.  This nursing stuff was
not fun.

He was still staring at the ceiling, trying not to notice how
Krycek's breathing never really evened out, when his cell
phone chirped.  He leaned over and snatched it off the
bedside table, clearing his throat.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me.  I don't know what happened, but...all
four of the patients from the lab are dead."

"Dead!" Mulder exclaimed, sitting up on the bed.  "How?
What happened?"  Krycek opened his eyes and frowned
deeply at Mulder, blinking.

"I don't know, Mulder, they were just dead," Scully
replied.  "We had them under guard, but someone must
have gotten to them anyway!  I think maybe...Mulder, the
palm pilots have to be within close range to work, so they
must have tracked them to the hospital.  We were so
careful!"

"Tracked?" Mulder said, shaking his head.  "Tracked how?"

"I did an autopsy on one and...they've all got implants,"
she said, sounding weak.

"Implants.  Shit," Mulder breathed.  "Scully, we've gotta
get out of here.  They're probably on their way right now."
He looked over at Krycek, whose eyes were open and
blinking.  "What should we do about the implant?"

"Get it...the fuck...out of me..." said Krycek between
breaths.

"But...the cancer," said Mulder helplessly.  Why should he
care?  And what was the alternative?

"Don't...care..." said Krycek.  "Rather...die that way..."

Mulder frowned deeply, but nodded.  He'd have made the
same choice.

"Mulder, what's going on?"

"Scully, we're going to try to remove the implant," replied
Mulder, grimacing slightly.

Scully was quiet.  "I...guess that's your only option...*his*
only option," she finally said.  "It shouldn't be hard to
find," she added more quietly.  "You should be able to feel
it just under the skin."

"Scully..." said Mulder, feeling sick.

"Hurry," said Scully.  "They're probably tracking him
down right now.  The palmtops have to be close in order to
control the nanos, I think.  Maybe Krycek would know
more."

Mulder nodded.  "Okay, Scully.  We'll call you when
we're away from here again."

"Be careful," she replied.

"We will," said Mulder, then he hung up.

"Give...me...a knife..." said Krycek between caught
breaths.

"Krycek, I'm going to have to do it.  You can't even hold
your own drink cup, let alone cut an implant out of the
back of your neck."  Mulder stood up, reaching into his
pocket for his keys, pulling out the pocket knife attached to
the ring.  Fortunately, it was quite sharp, as Mulder never
knew when he'd have to cut some weird sample off some
unidentifiable object.

Krycek nodded, closing his eyes.  He rolled sideways
immediately, pushing his face down into the pillow,
baring the back of his neck for Mulder.

Mulder leaned over him, examining the area.  He put his
finger to the skin there, and Krycek jerked slightly at the
touch, probably expecting it to have been the blade.
Mulder found the little bit of hardness there just under the
surface, rubbing over it thoroughly to get a good visual of
what he would be doing.

"Found it," he murmured, and Krycek nodded into the
pillow, breath held.

Mulder sighed and lifted the point of the small knife to the
back of Krycek's neck.  His hand was shaking just slightly,
and he stopped, closing his eyes and breathing deeply,
getting steady.

"Please..." Krycek said into the pillow urgently, and
Mulder took hold of the knife and once again raised it to
Krycek's skin.  He tried not to think about what he was
cutting, pretending it was plastic, or leather, or even a
dead body.  But as the tiny blade sliced a line in the flesh,
Krycek let out a single, strained whine into the pillow,
making Mulder cringe.

He had to move the knife around just a little to get the tip
of it under the implant, then he lifted it out on the blade,
letting out a relieved sigh.  "Got it," he breathed, and
Krycek breathed hard into the pillow.  Mulder quickly
fished a bandage out of his shaving kit, using a washcloth
to dab away the blood before covering the little wound.
He needed one of those little butterfly tapes from Scully,
but all he had was a standard-issue Band-Aid.  It would
have to do.

"We've gotta get out of here," he told Krycek, who was
lifting his face out of the pillow and rolling back onto his
back shakily.

Krycek nodded.  "Give...me some more...meds...and I
think I...can limp on...my left leg."

Mulder frowned, not feeling really good about Krycek
having four Vicodin in his system within the same four
hours, but he figured it was that or leave Krycek here to
die, since he didn't think he'd be able to do the same carry
to get him in the car that had gotten him in the bed.

He brought the pills to Krycek's mouth, helping him down
them with some water from the tap.  He quickly gathered
up their things, giving the drugs some time to work while
he packed them into the car.   He scanned the area as he
worked, but didn't see any signs that anyone had tracked
them there yet.  He pulled the car up so that the passenger
side door was just three feet from the motel room door,
then went back in for Krycek.

"Ready?" he asked, looking at the still-reclined man.

Krycek's eyes were closed, but he firmed his lips and
nodded.  Mulder stepped in and pulled back the covers,
once again confronted with Krycek's nudity.  He didn't pay
any attention to it other than to feel sorry for the man's
vulnerability once again, and he leaned in and placed his
hands on Krycek's hips, helping him slide to the edge of
the bed.  He pulled Krycek to a seated position, waiting for
his go-ahead.  When Krycek nodded, Mulder reached
down and took as much of the other man's weight as he
could, pulling him up to a standing position.

Krycek cried out but immediately began hobbling toward
the door, and in a few agonized steps, he was sinking down
into the seat, gasping.  Mulder shook his head at the
absolute surreality of helping a naked Krycek get situated
in his car, then went back into the room for the sheet,
throwing it over Krycek before going around to his side of
the car and climbing in.

"I brought the implant," he said, starting the car.  "I'm
going to get on the Interstate then throw it out the
window.  Give `em something to do."

Krycek nodded, his head against the back of the seat.

"Why don't you just sleep off that Vicodin," said Mulder.
"I'll wake you up when we get there."

"Where?" panted the other man.

Mulder frowned.  Where, indeed.  "Somewhere not here,"
he finally said, pulling out onto the early morning streets.

Krycek nodded again, and Mulder settled in, driving away
from the motel, once again glancing in the rearview
mirror every few minutes.

After tossing the implant into what looked like a good,
thick copse of trees by the side of the Interstate, Mulder
drove for three solid hours before pulling over and getting
them both smoothies for brunch.  After a couple of more
hours, he was reasonably sure they weren't being followed
or tracked, and he took a turn off the main freeway onto a
little side road in the southern end of North Carolina.  He
found another small motel, this time an independent place
called Pine Shores, which was a puzzling name, since
Mulder could see neither pines nor shores anywhere near
the small, neat establishment.

He got them another room in the back of the complex, and
after another four-Vicodin trip from car to bed, he settled
Krycek in, collapsing onto his own bed.  He pulled out his
phone and hit speed one.

"Scully."

"Scully, it's me."

"Mulder, thank God.  Where are you?"

"Pembroke, little place called Pine Shores."

"How's Krycek?"

Mulder couldn't help but be grateful for Scully's concern.
"He's holding up, thanks to the Vicodin, but we're going to
need more, and he needs a doctor."  Mulder looked over at
the now-sleeping Krycek.  "Bad."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," replied Scully, all business.
"In the meantime, keep him well-hydrated and try not to
jostle the fractured limbs."

Mulder smiled grimly.  "Okay."

"I'll see you soon, Mulder.  Be careful."  Scully hung up
before Mulder could answer, and he slipped the phone into
his pocket with a sigh.

Krycek was sound asleep, and Mulder was completely
exhausted, so after checking the lock on the door, then
propping a chair against it for good measure, he checked in
on Krycek one more time, then curled up on his own bed,
facing Krycek's, letting the man's shallow breathing lull
him into an exhausted, but restless sleep.

He woke to knocking on the door, startling and grabbing
his gun from under his pillow, bolting to his feet quickly.
He looked over at Krycek, who had also awakened at the
sound, pulling himself up in the bed, wincing.

"Mulder, it's me," came Scully's voice from the other side
of the door, and Mulder sighed deeply, putting the safety
back on his gun before going to the door.  He removed the
chair and opened it with a tired smile.

"Scully," he said, moving aside to let her in.

"You look terrible," said Scully, frowning up at him.

"I'm fine," said Mulder, cutting his eyes to the figure
behind him.  Scully looked past him at Krycek and her lips
parted on a surprised gasp.  Mulder figured she wasn't
ready for the dark purple smudges under his eyes, or his
completely sweat-soaked hair, white skin, bleary eyes and
trembling breathing.  Mulder had almost gotten used to
Krycek looking like a walking dead man.

She went to his side, taking the large bag she'd brought
with her and setting it on the free space beside her patient.
She began taking vitals, pulling the blanket away from
Krycek's body, frowning.

Krycek blinked, eyes going a bit wider, but made no move
to stop her and said nothing, letting Scully poke and prod
him.

"Where are the fractures?" she asked, donning her
stethoscope.

"Left...femur...right...tibia," Krycek breathed.

"Does it hurt to breathe?" Scully asked.

Krycek's lips actually moved in what might have almost
become a smile if given a little more time.  "Yes," he said.
"Broken...ribs."

Mulder's mouth fell open.  Broken ribs?  He'd had no idea!
And all the lifting and hauling and twisting they'd
done...God, Mulder couldn't even imagine how the man
had endured it.  He closed his mouth, sighing and frowning
deeply, holding himself in an embrace unconsciously.

Scully nodded, listening then to his breathing and his
heart.  "No punctured lungs," she said with a little relief in
her voice.  "But we'd better tape these up before we cast
the legs."

Mulder stood around feeling stupid as Scully laid out her
supplies and then got to work, rolling Krycek this way and
that carefully, wrapping the tape tightly around his chest
until she was satisfied with her work, then sitting back,
wiping the sweat from her brow.  Mulder felt like offering
her a sponge, then decided a drink might be more helpful.
He was about to go get one when she turned to him.

"Mulder, we're going to have to cast his left leg all the
way down.  Fortunately, we'll be able to get by with just
casting the bottom half of his right, though."

Mulder nodded, swallowing.  "What can I do to help?"

The next few hours made him feel well-used as Scully
directed him in helping her to wrap Krycek's leg from
upper thigh to ankle, finishing up by wrapping the other
leg from just below the knee.  When she was finally
finished, all three of them were panting and sweaty, and
Krycek had two more Vicodin in him.

"There," she said, wiping a smudge of plaster on her
forehead unknowingly.  "Now don't move a muscle for an
hour or two, Krycek."

"I...gotta piss," said Krycek with a sigh.

"I don't doubt it," said Scully calmly.  "Mulder, get the
Johnnie from my bag, will you?"

Mulder fished around, bringing out a strange-looking jug
with an open neck.  "This?"

"Yes, thank you," she said, taking it.  "Do you need help?"

"No," rasped Krycek, trying not to look at her.
"Just...could I have...a few minutes?"

"Of course," said Scully.  "Come on, Mulder.  Help me
take some of this stuff out to my car."

Mulder nodded, and they both picked up some of the
supplies quickly, Scully leaving others in case Mulder
needed them.  They left Krycek in the bed, stepping just
outside the door and loading up the car.  Mulder finished
up then closed the door, leaning against it and staring up
into the early-evening sky.  "Scully, I don't know what to
say..."

"I'm a doctor, Mulder.  I couldn't let him suffer.  No one
deserves that.  Not even Alex Krycek."  Scully stretched,
popping her back and rolling her head on her shoulders.

Mulder nodded, hearing her echo his earlier statement, and
wondering if Krycek had heard him make it.  "Thanks," he
said, looking over at her.

"You're welcome, Mulder," she replied.  "But what are you
going to do now?"

Mulder sighed.  "I don't know.  But he needs someone to
take care of him, and I don't think he really has anyone
else...I guess I don't know that for sure, but..."

Scully nodded.

Mulder sighed.  "I at least have to stay with him until he
can leave under his own power again," he said.

Scully arched a brow.  "You do realize what you're saying,
right?"

Mulder let one half of his mouth tilt up in a self-
deprecating grin.  "I'm going to nurse the spy back to
health so he can go back to lying, stealing, and killing," he
said, letting the irony drip from his monotone.  He sighed.
"What option do I have?"

Scully sighed.  "I don't know," she finally answered.  "I'm
worried about you, though, Mulder.  You're taking a huge
risk, even being with him."

Mulder nodded, looking back up at the sky.

"What are you going to do about work?" she asked.

Mulder actually laughed a little.  "What, this isn't work?
Taking care of one of the smoking man's favorite errand
boys?  Think of the secrets I could get out of him," he said,
only half-joking.  "Just call it extended interrogation."

Scully frowned disapprovingly at the dark humor.  "Is that
what you're going to tell Skinner?" she asked, arching her
brows again.

Mulder sighed, smile fading.  "I dunno.  I guess I'll take
vacation time.  Road trip with Alex Krycek and me
without my video camera."

Scully sighed this time.  "Well, you'd better call him and
let him know whatever you're going to let him know,
Mulder, because he's already asking me why you're not at
work today.  I told him you're sick, but that's not gonna
work for the few weeks it's gonna take before Krycek's
back on his feet again."

Mulder shook his head, once again struck with the
ridiculousness of his situation.  He was going to take care
of his worst enemy until he was healed up enough to go
back to screwing Mulder over again.  "I'll call him in the
morning."

Scully nodded.  "Well, we've probably given Krycek
enough time to pee, and I've gotta catch a flight back up to
DC tonight."

Mulder nodded and leaned up away from the car, rolling
his shoulders, working the strained muscles and feeling
sorry for himself for only a second before remembering
why they hurt.  They knocked on the door to give Krycek
time to get decent, then stepped in, Scully calmly
emptying the Johnnie and rinsing it out while Mulder
gathered up the medical supplies she was leaving them
with, putting them into his own bag.

Scully stepped over to Krycek, feeling his forehead with
one cool hand.  "Make sure you give him the whole course
of his antibiotics," she said to Mulder, and Mulder nodded.

"I'm right here," rasped Krycek, frowning.  "I'm not a
child."

"No, you're just completely under my care, Krycek," said
Mulder, leveling a challenging stare at him, unable to help
himself.  He didn't need his patient getting testy.

Krycek closed his eyes, pursing his lips angrily and letting
out a deep sigh, broken by the pain it caused his chest.

"Stay in touch, Mulder," sighed Scully, preparing to leave.

"I will, Scully," Mulder replied.  "Don't worry.  We'll be
fine."

Scully shook her head and gave him a worried smile.
"Take care," she said, and he surprised her by stepping in
and taking her in a warm embrace.

"I will, Scully.  You, too," he said.  "I'll see you in a few
weeks."

They parted and he stood at the door, watching her get in
her car and drive away, then he came back inside, closing
the door.

"Few weeks?" said Krycek quietly.

"Scully said it will take that long for you to be able be up
and around on crutches," answered Mulder in a level voice.

"You're..."  Krycek didn't finish, just staring up at Mulder,
frowning and swallowing.

"Unless you've got someone else I should call to come take
care of you," said Mulder, sounding a bit snide.  He didn't
like his own feeling of vulnerability now, and he wanted to
make it very clear who was beholden to whom.

Krycek dropped his gaze to the bed, closing his eyes.  He
just sat there, head bowed, for several long seconds, then
his voice came out broken and raspy.  "Why?"

"Why did I save you?" asked Mulder, hedging.

"For starters," said Krycek, opening his eyes, but not
looking at Mulder.

"I told you," replied Mulder quietly.  "No one deserves
that.  I couldn't just leave you there."

"Even after what I've done?" said Krycek, lifting his face to
cautiously meet Mulder's eyes, a spark of defiance there.

Mulder frowned.  He didn't really want to have to go into
all of this with Krycek, but he supposed if they were going
to be spending three weeks together, he may as well get it
over with.

"What you did was reprehensible," he said, narrowing his
eyes coldly.  "You gained my trust, stabbed me in the back,
helped them take Scully, murdered my father, killed
Scully's sister, stole the digital tape, betrayed me again to
the Russians, letting them experiment on me, leaving me
for dead..." he trailed off, watching the accusations take
more and more of the defiance out of Krycek's eyes,
making him squint and blink.  "But," he went on.  "No
punishment I could ever have fantasized could beat what
you got yourself into."

Krycek breathed, staring at Mulder's steady gaze.  "So you
don't feel the need to hurt me anymore?" he said very
quietly.  There was still the faint hint of challenge there,
but Mulder ignored it, recognizing that Krycek was trying
to hold onto some semblance of pride.

"No, I don't," he said simply, running his hand through his
hair.  "Are you hungry?"

He heard the man on the bed let out a careful, shaky sigh
and watched him shake his head `no' briefly.

"Thirsty?"

Krycek looked at him, eyes narrowing slightly, then
nodded curtly, looking down into his blanketed lap.

Mulder nodded.  "I'll go down the sidewalk to the soda
machine and get us something," he said, putting his gun at
the back of his pants and putting on his jacket.  Krycek
tensed, looking around the room, pulling himself up in the
bed slightly.

Mulder could tell Krycek was afraid of being left alone in
such a vulnerable condition, but it couldn't be helped.
Mulder glanced over at his bag, where he'd stowed the
nurse's gun.  He considered leaving it with Krycek, to give
him some way to fight back on the off-chance that
something did happen in the few minutes it took Mulder to
get Cokes.  But in the end, he sickly realized he still didn't
trust Krycek enough to give him a loaded gun and turn his
back on him.

"I'll be right back," he said, stepping over to the door.  "I'll
be able to see the door the whole time," he added more
quietly.  He didn't turn to get Krycek's reaction, figuring it
was kinder to just go and get back as quickly as possible.

He stepped outside and breathed in the cold night air
deeply, then strode purposefully the thirty feet or so to
where the soda machine stood against an outer wall.  He
quickly dropped several quarters into it, loading his arms
with soda cans, then went back to the room.

As he struggled with the key in the lock, his arms
burdened, he realized just how dangerous Krycek's
situation was.  If anyone...anyone at all wanted to hurt
him, they wouldn't even have to try.  He couldn't even
leave the bed on his own, let alone put up any kind of fight.
It made Mulder sick to see anyone in that precarious a
situation.

He stepped in and greeted a very alert Krycek, dumping
the sodas on the bed.  "Gotta get ice," he said, grabbing the
plastic bucket and heading back out without looking at
him.  He quickly filled it, looking longingly at the vending
machines he could just see through a door leading into the
snack room, but if he went in there, he wouldn't be able to
keep his promise of always being able to see Krycek, and
besides, he didn't feel right eating in front of the other
man.  He'd already figured out that Krycek probably was
too scared to eat solid food, after having been through the
ordeal of using a Johnnie to take a simple piss.  Mulder
was grateful, and gladly forewent the HoHo's in favor of
not helping Krycek use a bedpan.  Surely he could figure
out a way to help Krycek to the bathroom tomorrow, after
he'd had a good rest.  He decided not to worry about it for
now and headed back into the room.

As he entered again, he realized how not-fresh it smelled
in there, with Krycek's fear-and-pain sweat, and Mulder's
own exertion-smell hanging thick in the air.  It was too
cold outside to even open a window.  He didn't want to
risk Krycek getting a chill.  So he added bathing to the list
of interesting activities he'd try with his new charge
tomorrow.

He poured a cup of soda and ice for himself and one for
Krycek, then took the cup to the side of the bed.

"How's your arm?" he asked, nodding to it.

"Better," Krycek said roughly, using it to push himself
higher against the headboard.  Mulder automatically
grabbed the pillow off his own bed and shoved it in under
Krycek's back, propping him up.  Krycek frowned at him
as he did it, but relaxed back into the cushions with a sigh.
Mulder then handed Krycek the glass of soda, grateful on
behalf of both of them that Krycek could finally do this
one little thing for himself.  Krycek took it, his hand
trembling just a little, and drank deeply, eyes closed.
Mulder sat on his own bed and took sips of his own soda,
watching Krycek drain his.  When it was empty, he took it
and refilled it, placing it on the table to Krycek's side
where he could reach it.  Then he sat down again, facing
Krycek, sipping his Coke.  He realized he was staring at
the other man's covered lap when Krycek startled him by
clearing his throat.  He looked up into Krycek's averted
eyes.

"Thanks, Mulder," said the other man in a near-whisper.
"I...I don't know why...but..." he swallowed and let out a
deep sigh of relief, and Mulder was made glad by the fact
that Krycek seemed to be able to breathe deeply without
too much pain now.  "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," said Mulder, meaning it.  He was very
uncomfortable with Krycek's gratitude.  Somehow it
pointed up what he was doing even more starkly, and it
made him consider his motives and his possible options.
He could just get Krycek set up somewhere with a home
nurse or something and leave, or he could, of course, just
walk out, leaving Krycek to figure things out for himself.
He'd make sure Krycek could reach the phone first,
naturally.  He closed his eyes against the frightening
speculation, knowing he would do neither.  For some
reason, he knew this was his lot, and he settled into it with
a sigh.  "Do you need anything before I turn in?"

"No," said Krycek quietly, and Mulder nodded, getting up
and putting his own soda on the nightstand between them.
He reached for the hem of his shirt, beginning to pull it
over his head, then stopped.  He was really uncomfortable
taking off his clothes in front of Krycek.  It felt too
vulnerable.  Then he actually snorted out a quick laugh,
realizing how ludicrous that was.  Krycek was still naked
and Mulder had carried, arranged, bandaged, and covered
his body countless times.  He felt the inequity of their
vulnerabilities and stripped the shirt off over his head,
reaching for the button on his jeans.

Krycek wasn't watching him, but he hadn't closed his eyes,
either, staring down at his hand resting in his lap as
Mulder stripped down to his underwear.  Mulder decided
it was really no different than wearing his little red
Speedos in front of the man at the pool.  In fact, those had
provided less cover than the soft, gray boxer-briefs offered
now.  He remembered how...cocky he'd felt that day,
exhilarated after a good swim, his body warm and tingling.
He'd felt strong and invigorated and a little bit proud as
Krycek tried not to look anywhere but his face.

He'd thought it was funny and cute, and had not rushed to
cover himself in front of his junior partner, wondering if it
was just his imagination that the man actually seemed to
be blushing a little, slightly out of breath as Mulder
walked with him to the locker room.  Krycek had acted
then much as he was now, not leaving as Mulder changed
into his suit, just trying to find other things to look at as
Mulder stripped naked, rubbing his body dry before
stepping into his clothes calmly.

He'd wondered if the young man was...interested, or if he
was just uncomfortable with seeing his senior partner
nude.  He'd never really had a chance to test out either
hypothesis in the short time they'd been together, and
when Krycek had disappeared, Mulder had figured it was
all part of the doe-eyed act.  He frowned and breathed back
the resulting surge of old anger, lying down on the bed and
pulling the covers over him.  It wasn't a good idea to think
about things like that when he was trying so hard not to
hate Krycek.  In some ways that initial betrayal still hurt
the worst of all, and Mulder distracted himself with
thoughts of Krycek's injuries in order to not let himself
consider why.

He was curled up on his side, actually sleeping deeply,
when he started, eyes flying open.  He listened for what
had dragged him out of his weird, vaguely sexual dream
about ice cream, breath held.

Whimpering.  A kind of low, choked-off throat sound,
getting louder and interspersed with sharp intakes of
breath.  He rolled over quietly, looking across the space
between the beds in the low light of the room.

Krycek still lay on his back, of course, since that was the
only position really available to him, his right arm held
stiff at his side, fingers clenching and unclenching.  His
eyes were shut, mouth a tight line as he continued to jerk
and make those awful, deep, restrained choking sounds.

Mulder very quietly climbed out of bed, rubbing his eyes
and blinking, trying to clear the sleep out of his mind.  He
leaned over Krycek, reaching out his hand to shake the
other man's shoulder and wake him out of what appeared
to be a horrible nightmare.

"Krycek," Mulder said quietly, giving his left shoulder a
little shove.  He staggered back as the pain exploded in his
nose, not even having seen the hand that caused it.  He held
his nose, blinking, staring down at the wild-eyed man on
the bed.

Krycek's mouth was open, his eyes blinking as he looked
from Mulder face to his still upright hand and back again.
He Lowered it and looked up into Mulder's blinking eyes,
breathing hard and swallowing.

Mulder backed away from the bed, feeling the blood begin
to drip down his lip, then turned and went into the
bathroom, bending in and washing his throbbing nose,
wincing.  Maybe Krycek wasn't quite as helpless as he
looked, after all.  Mulder couldn't help but actually feel a
little relieved, as some of the burden of his total care fell
away from his shoulders.  He got a cold washcloth,
holding it over his nose and coming out of the bathroom,
sniffing slightly.  He stopped just outside the bathroom
door, looking over at a still staring Krycek.

Mulder sniffed again, readjusting the cold cloth and tilting
his head back, and Krycek just continued to stare, his hand
now held stiffly at his side again.  Mulder got his bloody
nose under control and slowly made his way over to his
bed, sinking down onto the side facing Krycek.  He noticed
Krycek drew back away from him slightly as he sat down.
Krycek looked terrified.  Mulder sighed.

"Guess you got me back for the phone in Hong Kong, huh?"
he said, sniffing again.  He watched the frown line between
Krycek's brows deepen as the other man swallowed again.
"I'm guessing you don't really like to wake up to someone
looming over you in the dark."  Mulder smiled mirthlessly
to himself, taking full responsibility for being so
thoughtless.  He'd have done the same thing.  If he'd had a
gun, he'd have pulled that, too.  He was grateful Krycek
didn't have a gun.

Krycek just breathed in deeply and licked his lips, still
frowning.  Mulder sighed again, wiping away the last of
the blood from his upper lip.  "Need some Vicodin?" he
asked, getting up.

"I-I didn't know it was you..." Krycek began, voice
hushed.

"I know, I know," said Mulder, waving him off.  "My fault.
I was half asleep when the noise woke me.  I wasn't
thinking."

"Noise?" Krycek asked carefully, glancing at the door.

Mulder grabbed the Vicodin and brought it over to the
bed, along with a cup of soda poured over the last of the
ice.  "Yeah, you were...making noises in your sleep.  It
woke me."  He shook out two tablets into his hand, which
Krycek took shakily and brought to his mouth.  Mulder
handed him the cup and sat back down, running his hands
through his hair.

(Continued in part 3)
 
Part 3
See part 0 for story information.


"I didn't mean to..." Krycek began again, after drinking the
cup of soda thirstily.

"I know," said Mulder.  "Forget it.  Next time I wake you
from a nightmare, I'll do it from over here."  He gave
Krycek a weak smile which faded quickly when it wasn't
returned.

"No one's ever...the only time..." Krycek started, then
cleared his throat.  "It was never a good thing when I'd get
woken up before," he finished, readjusting himself in the
bed with a wince.

Mulder nodded, remembering the sick look on the
woman's face as she had informed them that the nurse had
`lifted their sheets' at every bedcheck.  He'd experienced
firsthand the glee in the man's voice as he'd prepared to
`check on' Mulder's injuries as he'd lain beneath the
blanket.  The sick fuck had obviously been very happy in
his work.  "Guess the nurse was lucky you were strapped
down," he mumbled, feeling it was the wrong thing to say
as soon as it was out.

"Yeah he was," agreed Krycek darkly.  "What...happened
back there, anyway?"

"We got a tip," said Mulder with a sigh.  "Someone who
worked there on one of the other wards.  They'd found out
about the nanocyte experiments being done on this one
ward, and they hadn't been able to let it go on.  They
emailed me about it, describing the...procedures in
graphic detail, then providing information on how security
could be breached."

Krycek just swallowed, the frown line never fading.
Mulder went on.

"They faxed me copied records on one of the patients,
along with a crude drawing of the floor plan and a time
schedule of bedchecks.  They warned us if we went in
officially, there'd be nothing there by the time we reached
the back building, so Scully and I and some friends decided
to handle it ourselves."

"Jesus," Krycek breathed, closing his eyes a moment.
Mulder wondered if he was disgusted with Mulder's lack
of professionalism or frightened by how badly it could
have gone, since Mulder was flying solo.

"We only knew about the four main patients though,"
Mulder continued.  "It wasn't until we got the last woman
out that she told us there was another one."

Krycek breathed in and out shakily.

"She said she'd heard the other one...you..." Mulder
swallowed.  "Screaming from behind the nurse's station.
She was worried that I wouldn't go after you because of the
risk, since we were able to slip past the notice of the nurse
and get the others out with no trouble."

Krycek's frown deepened, his eyes tightening.

"So I sent Scully away with the first four and stayed behind
to get him...you," said Mulder, staring again at Krycek's
blanketed lap, uncomfortable with the other man's intense
gaze.

"You had no idea it was me," Krycek supplied, staring at
Mulder's hands, resting on his knees.

"No," replied Mulder, still not looking at him.  "I didn't.  I
just knew I couldn't leave anyone behind in that place.
Especially someone being tortured as badly as she said you
were."  His voice dropped near a whisper and he ran a hand
through his hair.

"So I hid in one of the rooms, pretending to be a patient
asleep in one of the beds, until the nurse started bedchecks
again.  When he came in, he went to touch me and I
basically did what you did, cracking him a good one in the
nose.  I jumped on him before he could shoot me or use the
phone, and we struggled for a little bit before I got his gun
away from him and shot him."

"The blood," Krycek said in a low voice.

Mulder nodded.  "It was point blank in the face, so there
was quite a mess."  He looked up in time to see a dark
smile of satisfaction relax Krycek's eyes for a moment
before it was gone, replaced by the quiet intensity.  "Then I
just got the keys and unlocked the door and...there you
were."

Krycek let out a trembling sigh, closing his eyes.  Mulder
watched his bottom lip quiver and knew he was
remembering.  He stayed quiet, waiting.

"When you came in, I thought it was him," Krycek
whispered, breath catching.  "Then when you spoke, and I
recognized your voice, I thought I was hallucinating."

Mulder frowned, very disturbed by the idea of Krycek
giving his tormentor Mulder's face.

"Then when you...realized it was me, and I heard the
shock in your voice, I came to realize it really was you,
and I was..." He trailed off, getting control over his
breathing, which had become erratic.  "I was so afraid
you'd leave me there."  He closed his eyes and Mulder saw
the wetness gather in his lashes again.

"I'd never leave you there," said Mulder softly.  "Jesus,
how could you..." Then he trailed off, realizing exactly
why Krycek might think Mulder capable of such cruelty.

"Because I deserved nothing less," said Krycek brokenly,
eyes still closed.  "Nothing else even makes sense."

Mulder inhaled deeply at that, frowning and blinking, then
exhaled, really considering it.  He had reason to hate
Krycek, that much was true, but that Krycek would think
his hate so strong that it would cause Mulder to leave him
in a situation like that...it made Mulder sick.  "I would
never have left you there," he said again, his own voice
coming out thick and low.

Krycek breathed in and out shakily, holding back tears that
barely made it past his lashes, trickling down his temples
and into his hair.  "Even if..." he started, then had to stop
and gain control over his voice.  "Even if you're only doing
this to see me at my worst, to take your revenge by
watching me suffer, thank you, Mulder."  His next word
was a sob, and he choked it off quickly.  "Thank you."

Mulder opened his mouth to protest, frowning deeply, then
closed it.  Was that what he was doing?  Were his
motivations actually that dark after all, and was he only
hiding that from himself, pretending he cared about
Krycek?  The thought made his head hurt, made his gut
clench.  No.  No, as much as he should want to see Krycek
in pain, all he wanted was to help him feel better.  He just
wanted to do what he could to take the hurt away.  He
watched Krycek's body shake with his silent tears in the
dark for several minutes, then spoke, his voice barely
audible.

"I don't know why I'm doing this for sure," he said, feeling
his own eyes burn with unexplained emotion.  "But that's
not it."  He swallowed, swinging his legs back up on the
bed, then slowly curling himself up on his side, facing
away from Krycek.  "That's not it," he said to himself,
squeezing his eyes shut and letting inexplicable tears fall,
holding himself.  He finally fell into a deep, exhausted
sleep a few hours before dawn, still holding himself
tightly.

"Mulder."

He started awake, grainy eyes blinking open, arms
unfolding from around himself as he rolled onto his back.
"What?" He swallowed, clearing his throat.  "What is it?"

"I need to take a piss," said Krycek tightly, obviously
frustrated.

Mulder rolled out of bed, reaching for the Johnnie on the
floor, but Krycek stopped him.

"I think...I think if I take the Vicodin, I can put weight on
my leg...with help," he finished quietly with a sigh.

Mulder yawned.  He couldn't blame Krycek for wanting to
try it.  Again, it's what he would do in the same situation.
He scrubbed both hands through his hair and stood, getting
the drugs.  He brought them and a can of warm Coke over
to Krycek, who took the pills from him with a steady hand,
placing them on his tongue then taking the opened soda
and drinking deeply.  Mulder stood there, yawning again
as Krycek leaned to the side, putting the can on the table.

"I'll just...take care of my own business while we wait for
those to kick in," said Mulder awkwardly, feeling guilty
about his ability to take a piss unassisted.  Krycek just
closed his eyes and nodded, sighing and relaxing back
against the headboard.

Mulder went into the bathroom and did his thing, startling
a little as he caught his reflection in the mirror while
washing his hands.  His hair was a complete mess, dirty
and spiky and sticking up all over his head, dark red
evidence of blood still crusted around the scalp line.
"Jesus," he murmured, trying to comb through it with his
hands, vowing to shower as soon as he'd taken care of
Krycek's situation.  Then food.  Oh God, yes, food.  He was
going to buy out the whole Denny's menu.

He came out of the bathroom, salivating at the thought,
and stopped as he caught sight of Krycek.

He'd thrown the blankets off his naked body and struggled
to a sitting position, and he was grimacing and hissing as
he tried to move his leg over and off the side of the bed.
Mulder hurried forward, grabbing the half-casted leg and
helping Krycek turn his body, lowering the leg to the
floor.  Without being asked, he wrapped his arms around
Krycek's chest, waiting for Krycek's nod before leaning
back, helping lift Krycek off the bed.

"Fuck...fuck..." Krycek hissed as his weight went onto the
half-casted leg, the fully casted one hanging heavy but
bearing no strain.

"Ready?" Mulder gasped, resituating his hold so that
Krycek was hanging over his neck with his arm, Mulder's
arms both around Krycek's chest, taking as much of his
weight as possible.

Krycek nodded grimly and they started across the short
expanse to the bathroom, Krycek making little grunting
noises all the way.  Mulder decided to let Krycek have his
bed, which was the nearer one to the bathroom, when they
were finished.  They got into the small room, banging
elbows as they wrestled through the doorway, and Mulder
guided Krycek to the space in front of the toilet.  He held
him up, wondering how the hell Krycek was going to do
this, given that he only had one good arm and it was
draped over Mulder's neck, bearing his weight.

"Um...how..." he started, resituating his hold slightly.

"I don't know," Krycek said, voice heavy and thick.  "I
don't fucking know!" he yelled, his voice loud in the small,
tiled room.  "Goddamn mother FUCKER!" he screamed.  "I
can't even take a fucking PISS by myself!"  His voice
broke, and so did he, shattering into wracking sobs which
shook Mulder's body right along with his as Mulder held
him.

"It's okay," Mulder said, panicked.  "It's okay, Alex, it's
okay."  He knew it wasn't, but he so wanted to make it that
way, and Krycek's total breakdown was bringing tears to
his own blinking eyes.  "We'll do this, okay?  Hey, guys
hold each other's dicks all the time, right?  Some really get
off on that stuff."

Krycek turned his face as far away from Mulder as
possible, still inconsolable in his misery.  Mulder finally
decided to take things into his own hands.  So that's what
he did, working his right hand down the front of Krycek's
body, trying not to think about what he was about to do.

Krycek gasped, his stomach contracting hard as Mulder's
hand skimmed down over it, and he blinked the tears out
of his eyes, his sobs choked off suddenly as he looked over
at Mulder's face, which was a studied mask of indifference
as he stared at a spot on the wall just beyond Krycek's
head.

Mulder kept his hand sliding down, jerking just a bit as he
encountered silky, warm cockflesh, then sliding his hand
around it, taking a gentle grip and directing it toward the
toilet.  "Go ahead," he said airlessly, afraid to even breathe,
just waiting for the whole thing to be over.

"Jesus...fuck..." gasped Krycek, staring into Mulder's face
as Mulder resolutely stared at the wall behind him.  They
stayed like that for a few very weird minutes, then finally,
blissfully, to both of their immense relief, Krycek began to
empty his bladder into the toilet.

He peed a nice long time, and Mulder shook him off
quickly, taking hold of Krycek's body again for the trek
back.  Neither man said anything as they negotiated the
doorway, then as they reached the foot of Mulder's bed, he
spoke.

"I'm putting you in my bed," he said, then at Krycek's
sharp inhale, he clarified.  "I mean I'm giving you this one
because it's closest to the bathroom," he said, feeling
himself blush.  He felt Krycek swallow and nod, and he
lowered him to the bed carefully, shaking as he finally
disengaged himself from Krycek's body and stepped back,
breathing hard.  "Just because I touched your dick doesn't
mean I wanna pick out curtains or anything, Alex," he said,
his voice shaking a little as he tried to lighten the moment.
It felt good to use the man's first name again.  Really good.

"Damn, I thought we were having a moment," Krycek
rasped out, also breathless from the exertion,
surreptitiously wiping the tears from his face that he'd
been unable to get to with his arm wrapped around
Mulder's neck.

"Yeah, well," Mulder replied, relieved at the change of
tone.  "Don't get any ideas about me succumbing to the
temptation of your naked body.  You smell like a dead
pig."

Krycek ducked his head but snorted just slightly.

"We'll see what we can do to clean you up later," Mulder
added, not looking at him directly, but watching him out
of the corner of his eye.  Krycek glanced up from under his
lashes, his brows arching slightly.  "But first I'm going to
take a shower, because I don't smell much better than you
do, and I don't want to get thrown out of Denny's for
emitting noxious fumes."  He didn't miss the way Krycek's
face tightened, his throat moving as he swallowed hard.
Mulder knew he didn't like the idea of being left alone, but
he didn't know how else he was going to get food.  He
didn't wait for an answer, walking back over to the
bathroom and closing the door, sighing heavily and then
stripping off his underwear.

He took a long, hot, thorough shower, thinking alternately
about Denny's Grand Slams and how the hell he was going
to bathe Krycek, and by the time he was finished, he was
light-headed with hunger and relatively freaked out.  He
toweled off, again reluctantly remembering the day in the
locker room, then wrapped the towel loosely around his
middle, exiting the bathroom in a cloud of steam.  It was
then that he realized he was going to have to get dressed in
front of Krycek once again, and this time he didn't feel any
of the self-assured arrogance he'd had the first time.

He didn't look at Krycek, but he knew he was awake and
alert, watching as Mulder went to the bag Scully had
brought for him, digging through it and pulling out
underwear and a clean T-shirt, picking his jeans up off the
floor where he'd dropped them the night before.  He
decided to act like he wasn't concerned at all, and took a
steadying breath before unwrapping the towel and letting
it drop.  He quickly but casually stepped into his
underwear, then got into his jeans and T-shirt with much
more calm.  He felt Krycek's eyes on him the whole time
but didn't look up, concentrating only on getting clothed
once again.  His breathing was a little unsteady as he
turned to the mirror, using a brush to tame his hair.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, glancing at Krycek
in the mirror, meeting his eyes for the first time since
coming out of the bathroom.  His breath caught and held at
the intensity there.

"I...I don't know," said Krycek.  "I haven't eaten
in...several days.  I should probably be careful."

Mulder nodded.  "Sorry I didn't get us a room with room
service," he said, the option occuring to him only then,
making his stomach growl at the thought of having food
brought to him effortlessly.  "As soon as you're able to
move, we'll get a better place," he added, getting excited
by the prospect and kicking himself for not thinking of it
sooner.  He wouldn't have to leave Krycek.  They could
just order up whatever they wanted and wait for it to be
brought to them.  He wasn't used to such opulence, living
on a Bureau budget.  He turned and picked up his gun,
securing it at the back of his jeans.  His eyes went once
again to the bag with the nurse's gun, lingered there, then
settled on Krycek, narrowed.

Krycek frowned and swallowed, obviously worried by the
way Mulder was staring at him so intently.

Mulder continued to stare at him, brow furrowed in deep
thought, then he made a decision and crossed the room,
reaching into the bag and pulling out the still-bloody gun.
He grimaced and took it into the bathroom, using a wet
washcloth to get it relatively clean, then brought it out to
Krycek, who was looking at him, lips parted.

"Here," Mulder said casually, handing the gun to Krycek
by the barrel.  "It's loaded.  Don't shoot housekeeping or
anything, though, okay?" he said, stepping back and trying
to appear unconcerned as he slid into his jacket.

"I'm not making any promises," Krycek said quietly, then
Mulder turned to find him actually smiling at him, gun
resting in his right hand at his side.  "Better put out the Do
Not Disturb sign."

"I'll do that," said Mulder, smirking a bit in response and
picking it up.  "I'll be back as soon as I can be," he said,
getting serious, and Krycek's face sobered as well as he
nodded, breathing out slowly.  "It's just down the street."

Krycek nodded again, and Mulder checked his pockets,
making sure he had his keys and his wallet, then nodded
and went to the door, stepping out and locking it before
closing it securely behind him.

It was a relief to be in the sun again, but it didn't feel good
leaving Krycek there, even armed.  Mulder hurried around
and got in the car, pulling out quickly and heading for the
Denny's he'd glimpsed as he'd chosen the motel.  He'd
been thinking enough to get a motel close to a restaurant,
but not enough to get a motel or hotel with room service.
He mentally slapped himself upside the head and pulled
into the parking lot, drooling again.

Just up the road was a Ramada Inn, and though it wasn't
the Hilton, he knew that the nicer Ramadas usually had at
least limited room service.  He decided he'd try to get
them moved over as soon as possible, if Krycek was
willing.  He thought he probably would be, since he'd been
almost white when Mulder had stepped out the door to
leave him to get food.  Maybe he could even find them
something better, once he got Krycek in the car.  After all,
he didn't have to get something close to where they were.
It was the matter of getting Krycek into and out of the car,
not driving to another hotel, that had Mulder's stomach in
knots.

He stepped up to the counter, picking up a menu and
scanning it impatiently as the waitress approached him.

"One?" she asked, picking up a menu.

"No, this'll be to go," answered Mulder, not looking up.
"And I'm in a really big hurry."

"All right," said the woman, laying her own menu down.
"What can I get you?"

Oh it all looked so GOOD.  Mulder's stomach growled
loudly and he blushed.  "Give me one of these and one of
these," he said, pointing to the incredibly seductive photos.
"And three milks, some oatmeal, a peanut butter sandwich,
and some fruit."

"Got it," the woman said, hurrying off to fill his order.
Right then and there, Mulder decided he'd eat his in the car
quickly so that he didn't have to do it in front of Krycek,
and so that he could concentrate on getting the other man
fed and taken care of rather than being distracted by his
own hunger.

The waitress brought his food and he paid for it, pulling
out the ham and egg sandwich and shoving half of it in his
mouth before he even got into the driver's seat.  He
moaned and chewed, washing it down with some of the
milk, then shoved in fried potatoes, using his hands and
licking them clean as he pulled out of the parking lot.  He
finished the rest of his food quickly, sitting in his car just
outside the motel room door, then cleaned himself up as
much as possible, feeling full and queasy after having eaten
so much so fast.  He belched and loaded his arms up with
bags, struggling not to drop them as he unlocked the door
and pushed it open.

He nearly dropped the whole load as Krycek bolted
upright in bed, pointing the gun at his forehead, eyes cold.
Then Krycek relaxed, immediately flipping the safety back
on, turning the barrel to the ceiling, letting out a huge
sigh, closing his eyes.  "Don't you ever knock?" he grated
out, not opening his eyes.

"Sorry," said Mulder, willing his heart to slow.  For an
irrational moment, he'd been certain that Krycek had
meant to hold the gun on him, and all the old feelings had
surfaced.  He realized it wasn't anger making his heart
pound but hurt, and he frowned as he placed the bags on
what was now his bed.  "I got you some oatmeal and a
peanut butter sandwich," he said, taking out one of the
milks.  "How does that sound?"  He turned, brows arched,
holding out the milk in the styrofoam cup.

"Like fucking manna from heaven," growled Krycek,
setting down the gun at his side and taking the milk.

Mulder smiled briefly, glad to have made a good choice,
and proceeded with taking it out of the bags, laying it out
on the table and bed where Krycek could reach it all easily.
He watched, trying not to appear too interested, as Krycek
opened packet after packet of brown sugar with his teeth,
using every single one of them on his oatmeal before
drowning it in milk.  It nearly spilled over the sides as he
balanced it on his lap in front of him and picked up the
spoon.

"Do you...want help with that?" Mulder asked, watching
the oatmeal bowl tip precariously, imagining how not-fun
it would be to clean up a mess like that.

"Ya gonna feed me?" Krycek asked, lifting his brows.

"I could hold the bowl," Mulder countered.

Krycek shrugged just slightly, and Mulder took that as his
cue to step in and take the bowl, seating himself carefully
on the bed beside Krycek.

"I suppose after letting you hold my dick this is nothing,"
Krycek said, obviously still put-out by needing Mulder's
help.  He took a big spoonful of oatmeal and Mulder
moved the bowl close to his mouth as he put it in.
"Mmm...God, that's good," he said, eyes closing in rapture
as he chewed and swallowed.

"Yeah, but this seems to bring you more pleasure," said
Mulder, wondering at his own boldness even as he said it.

Krycek just opened his eyes and looked at him
expressionlessly for a moment before taking another bite,
sighing as he ate.

When he'd emptied the bowl, Mulder set it down and
handed Krycek his milk.  "Do you want the sandwich
now?" he asked, getting up and reaching for it.

"I think I'd better not," answered Krycek, setting the milk
on the nightstand.  "Later?" he asked, his voice quiet and
tentative, as if he believed Mulder might decide to
withdraw any offer of food if it wasn't consumed right
then.

"Sure," said Mulder, cleaning up the used dishes.  "Ya
know, I was thinking that if you were up to it, we could try
moving to a better place.  You know," he added, dropping
the garbage into the little can.  "Room service."  He turned
to Krycek and arched his brows questioningly.

Krycek licked his lips and narrowed his eyes, considering
the question very carefully.  He frowned and sighed.  "I
guess that's the best thing to do," he said quietly.  Then,
even more quietly and not looking at Mulder, "It's not
going to be easy."

"No," Mulder sighed, already starting to pack up their
things.  "I know, but I don't think it's good to leave you
alone like that."  He didn't look at Krycek as he said it,
feeling more vulnerable than when he'd been naked,
showing such concern for his well-being.  "But we can
wait a few hours.  Let you rest up, that kind of thing," he
said, straightening up his bed before climbing on and
grabbing up the remote.  He'd left the Vicodin within
reach of Krycek, and he watched as Krycek nodded silently
and dosed himself, then shifted and winced, getting as
comfortable as possible in his own bed.

Mulder flipped channels, finding nothing interesting at all,
glancing over from time to time to check on his patient.
Krycek appeared to be asleep, finally breathing normally
and looking a little more pink than gray, much to Mulder's
relief.  As a documentary on penguins droned on in the
background, Mulder found himself spending more time
looking at Krycek and less time looking at Antarctica.

His hair was shorter than the last time Mulder had seen
him.  He wondered if the hospital had cut it or if Krycek
had had it cut himself.  Did Krycek prefer his hair shorter
or longer?  It had been quite long when Mulder had
encountered him behind his apartment building, falling
into his face as Mulder punched it repeatedly.  He'd
seemed so young, then.  Younger even than when he'd been
Mulder's partner, wearing those ill-fitting suits and that
Johnny B. Goode hairdo.

He'd looked like the perfect little yuppy ex-football star
overachiever back then, just the sort of person Mulder
usually took great pains not to know.  Mulder had been
more than a little surprised at Krycek's sharp intellect
and...spirit, as the man had tracked him to the sleep
disorder clinic and confronted him on the sidewalk.

Mulder shifted onto his side slightly, now completely
ignoring the penguins in favor of studying Krycek's long
lashes, pale cheeks, pink lips slightly parted, chest moving
gently beneath the sheet.  He'd proven himself to be a good
partner back then.  A worthy asset on the few cases they'd
worked together.  More than that, Mulder had liked him.
He enjoyed being around him, enjoyed the man's spark as
they figured out some new puzzle together, enjoyed the
way Krycek looked him directly in the eye, unflinching
and fascinated as Mulder proposed one of his theories.  It
had been nice to be around someone who believed in him.

Someone who `pretended' to believe in him, Mulder
reminded himself, eyes narrowing.  He'd felt like such an
ass when it had all turned out to be bullshit.  Here he'd
been, preening and smiling and forming an actual
friendship with this eager young partner, when all the
while he'd been getting strung along, manipulated, and
stabbed in the back.

Mulder sighed heavily and turned back to the TV,
watching it without seeing.

Who the hell was Alex Krycek, anyway?  Who was this
man in the bed beside him, recovering from torture and
malnutrition?  How had he gotten in with those men,
convinced that their way was the one he should choose and
that Mulder was nothing but a mark, an annoyance, and
someone who could be used from time to time.

Mulder reached up and absently rubbed at his right cheek.
What the hell had that been about?  Just a way to fuck with
Mulder's head and keep him off-balance, so he'd be unable
to marshall enough clarity to shoot when handed a gun?

It had worked.  Mulder hadn't been able to do anything but
stare, then sit in the dark and think, for a long time after
Krycek had left him on the floor of his apartment.  Then
he'd shook himself, deciding that he had to take the chance
that the information Krycek had given him was legitimate,
and so he had gone, the spring back in his step for the first
time in months, if Mulder were to be honest with himself.

And even when the night had ended with Mulder confused
and empty-handed, it had been enough to convince Mulder
that for some reason, Krycek had given him an actual piece
of the puzzle.  After that, Mulder had been unable to stop
thinking about Krycek, wondering what he was doing at
this moment or that, what piece of the puzzle was Krycek
pursuing right now, and would he show up to invite
Mulder into his dark, nasty corner of the world once
again?

He had actually been hoping so.  He'd fallen into a habit of
expecting to see Krycek in his apartment again, just a little
breathless and tense each time he'd unlock his door.  But
Krycek had never shown up, and Mulder couldn't fool
himself and pretend he hadn't been a little disappointed
each time his apartment had proved to be empty.

Now he knew what Krycek had been doing for at least part
of the few months between that night in Mulder's
apartment and the night Mulder had found him in the lab
hospital.  How long had Krycek been there?

Mulder turned and studied the sleeping man again.  What
had he gone through already by the time Mulder found
him?  What had he gone through before that?

How had he lost his arm?

Mulder frowned and blinked, looking at where the top of
Krycek's shoulder disappeared under the pulled-up sheet,
obscuring the stump from his view.  They had cut off his
arm.  Not the lab people, he knew.  The peasants.  They'd
found Alex Krycek in the woods and they'd cut off his arm,
just as they'd offered to cut off Mulder's.

Obviously, Krycek's offer had been a little more
aggressively made than Mulder's.

Jesus, the things this man had been through.  Was it worth
it?  Did he believe so strongly in what he was doing that
losing his arm, risking his life, even being tortured like
that was worth it all?  He found he really, really wanted
the answer to that question.  He wished Krycek was awake
so he could ask him.

That was when he realized it.  He had Krycek completely
at his mercy.  He had total dominion over this man and
could ask him any damned thing he wanted to, and Krycek
would have to answer.  That didn't mean he'd have to tell
the truth, of course, but in his vulnerable state, Mulder
wondered how far Krycek would go, trying to evade
Mulder's questions.

Mulder started to get excited.  He pinched his lower lip
and waited impatiently for Krycek to wake up.

When Krycek's lashes fluttered and he shifted under the
sheet, grunting, Mulder inhaled sharply, feeling his heart
begin to pound.  Krycek's eyes opened to find Mulder
staring at him and he frowned deeply, making the crease
appear over the bridge of his nose.  "What?" he asked,
voice rough from disuse.

Mulder didn't even wonder at having been caught staring,
he just narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, licking his lips.
"There are so many things..." he exhaled.  "So much I don't
know."

Krycek sighed, closing his eyes and swallowing.  He
nodded in resignation.  "Guess it's time for the
interrogation, huh?" he said quietly, eyes closed.

Mulder frowned.  It didn't feel like an interrogation to
him.  He was lying on a bed in a motel across from a man
who was the second biggest mystery of his life.  He wasn't
shining a bright light in his face or cuffing him or holding
a gun on him like all the other times.  He just wanted to
know things he didn't know.  He sighed, a bit frustrated.

"I liked you," he said, surprising himself with the quiet
words.

Krycek's eyes blinked open and he turned, frowning at
Mulder.  "What...what are you talking about?"

"In the Bureau," answered Mulder, voice still quiet, nearly
a murmur.  "When I thought you were my partner."

Krycek's eyes closed again, and he sighed.  Then, to
Mulder's surprise, a sardonic grin stretched across
Krycek's lips.

"Yeah, I know," said Mulder, smirking in self-deprecation.
"Pretty stupid, buying your act."  He shifted on the bed,
lying on his side, holding his head up with one hand.  "You
weren't even that good at it.  I was just easy."

"You were not easy," Krycek replied, brows arching as he
turned his head to face Mulder again.  "Are you kidding?
You were impossible.  I couldn't even get you to let me
drive the car."

Mulder smirked again, then sobered.  "No, but I trusted
you way too easily," he said thoughtfully.  "I bought the
whole hero-worship thing, I guess.  When you said you
believed in what I was doing."  His voice fell as he looked
away from Krycek's eyes, at a spot on the wall behind him.

Krycek sighed deeply, turning to stare straight ahead.
"That's because it wasn't an act.  I really did admire you,"
he said very quietly.

Mulder focused in on Krycek again, watching his profile as
Krycek stared at the television.  He didn't say anything,
just waiting with a suspicious frown on his face.

"That's why they chose me," said Krycek, lifting his chin a
little and narrowing his eyes.  "They knew I could get you
to believe me, because what I was saying was true.  You
know what they say," he went on, his tone a little sarcastic.
"The best way to get someone to believe a lie is to bury it
between two truths."

Mulder frowned more deeply, recognizing the words as
having come from his old source, the one Scully called
Deep Throat.  He chewed the inside of his lip, willing
himself not to speak, wondering if his source had been
Krycek's mentor, anxious to see if Krycek would say more.

"I was ordered to prove myself by essentially taking down
my hero," Krycek said in a voice broken by whisper.

Mulder's brows arched on a soft gasp and he stared at
Krycek, who in turn stared straight ahead, looking old and
sad.  Why? Mulder wanted to shout.  And how.  How
could you do that to me if that's true?  But he didn't.

"Any more questions?" Krycek asked, casting his eyes
down, half-lidded.

"My father," Mulder murmured, all the old rage replaced
by a deep, exhausting sadness.

Krycek closed his eyes, sighing and nodding.  "You want to
know why?" he asked, opening his eyes and turning to
Mulder, who tried not to gasp as their eyes met.

And it was then that Mulder realized he didn't want to
know why.  He knew why.  His father had been about to
squeal.  To break down and tell Mulder things he
shouldn't.  So they had had him killed.  By Krycek.  So it
wasn't that he wanted Krycek to tell him why he had killed
his father.  It was more that he wanted him to tell Mulder
how he could have.  How he could hurt Mulder in such a
deep, awful way after he had once had Mulder's trust.

But he couldn't ask him that.  Because then Krycek would
know how much Mulder wanted to be able to trust Krycek.
Wanted Krycek to not keep hurting him over and over.
And Mulder couldn't let him know that.

Mulder shook his head no.  "Scully?" he asked, nearly
choking on the word.

Krycek sighed again, still looking intently at Mulder.  "I
didn't know about that," he said, eyes tired.  "I knew they
wanted her out of the way, but I had no idea what they
were capable of back then.  I didn't even know where they
had taken her until you figured it out."

Mulder inhaled, narrowing his eyes and staring into
Krycek's as if he could discern truth from lies by just
looking hard enough.  Maybe he could, because he was
suddenly sure that Krycek was telling the truth.  And he
was suddenly as tired as Krycek looked.  He sighed deeply.
"Why did you screw me over in Russia?" he asked in a low
voice.  "Just saving your own skin?"  He arched his brows
in challenge.

"Mulder," Krycek said, shifting on the bed and wincing as
he did so.  "That whole trip turned out one big fucked-up
mess."  Krycek's eyes narrowed but he didn't look away
and neither did Mulder, just staring intently and listening.
Krycek blinked slowly.  "I wanted to get the vaccine into
your hands," he said, looking just to the side of Mulder,
staring at the wall behind him.  "Everything got so fucked
up."

"Yeah, no shit it did," said Mulder, getting a little of his
energy back, a little of his old anger.  "You went off with
my torturers, lighting their cigars and laughing while they
beat me and used me in their experiments."

(Continued in part 4)