Mayday - Revised

Date:  April 16, 2002

Revised:  December 28, 2006

Pairing:  M/K

Rating:  NC-17

Spoilers:  Assume the whole M/K mytharc up through The Red and The Black.

Disclaimers:  Chris Carter is a spoiled rotten brat and doesn't deserve such beautiful toys.  Uh...I mean...all characters herein belong to the all-powerful surfer god and we must bow accordingly.

Summary:  "If it had been anyone but me, you'd be so f*cking dead, Mulder.  *That's* what I mean."

Notes:  I re-read my own stories often.  Some of them I now hate, some of them I love, and some of them I have a kind of love/hate thing with, a bit like the relationship between the guys.  It drives me crazy when I have a story that has elements I love to revisit, but others that I just can't stand reading now.  I finally went through the ones like this that bothered me most and did revisions.  I did them purely for myself, but then decided to share them for anyone who might also enjoy the new versions better.  This story is one of my favorite re-do's.  There were many things I really loved about the original story, but many things that made me cringe when I would re-read it.  I finally decided I'd fix the things that drove me crazy, and ended up doing a complete revision of the story.  I really like this one a lot better, and I'd love to hear from you on whether you do, too.  

---

"Ow-fuck!"

Mulder fell face-first into the crunchy snow as his foot slid into a deep hole in the crust.  He felt pain lance through his ankle and swore again as he pulled himself up on his hands and knees and stood.  He gingerly put weight down on the injured limb and sighed with relief when he was able to bear the pain.  He shifted the pack on his back, brushing the snow from his jacket and launched back into his steady trudge up the slope.

His legs were one big ache from hip to ankle, the new injury a bright spark among many dull throbs.  He didn't let it stop him or even slow him down.  He had to make it to the cave.  He was just certain that *this* time he'd get there in time. But only if he seriously moved his ass.  It reminded him of walking across the frozen tundra of Antarctica on borrowed time to save Scully.

A small, fleeting stab of guilt pulled his lips into a tight line at the thought of his partner, whom he'd ditched once again with not so much as a word about where he was headed or that he was even leaving.  He knew she would have done anything she could to keep him from going, and then would have insisted on accompanying him, despite the obvious idiocy of the idea.  He didn't have time to argue about the former, and wasn't willing to put Scully at risk for the latter. So he was on his own for this one and no one the wiser.

He'd gotten the cryptic email Thursday morning before work, had had it figured out by lunchtime, and had called in sick for the next day before the sky was fully darkened.  He'd been damned lucky to be able to charter a flight up here on such short notice.  The pilot had just finished flight school and was more than happy to earn a few thousand for a quick jaunt to Alaska.

Mulder's eyes narrowed as he scanned the sparkling horizon through dark lenses.  Was that a sliver of darkness in that mound of craggy snow up ahead?  He slowed his steps and pulled out his binoculars. Yes, that had to be it.  His longitudinal locator was indicating that the cave should be right around here.

He didn't see any movement except for the sweeping snow drifts being blown by the frigid breeze.  It looked desolate and silent.  In fact, there was no evidence of human habitation at all, and Mulder began not for the first time to wonder if he'd been a complete idiot to follow this lead.  But the details about the body had been so accurate, describing just the sort of incubated alien he'd seen on the ship in Antarctica.  He had to know.  It was worth the risk.  A preserved specimen, frozen solid and just waiting for Mulder to find it.

After making another sweeping scan of the area surrounding the small cave, Mulder plodded the final fifty feet to what he hoped was his destiny.

He ducked into the low opening of the cave, gripping his flashlight in one hand, gun in the other.

Here, unlike the constantly shifting snows of the outside, there was definite evidence of someone having been here before him.  There were tracks of boots very similar to his own which looked fresh, and others that looked as though they'd frozen into the snow a day or two previously.  Mulder immediately turned his head side to side, whipping off his sunglasses and looking for the person who'd made these other tracks.  He could see no one and heard nothing, but there was a large mound of snow and ice chunks banked up against the back wall of the small cave.

He stepped forward, washing the small hill in the light of his lantern. It looked pretty freshly constructed, and as he played the light to the side, he saw from where.  He stared into the freshly dug pit and his shoulders slumped, his labored, frozen breath leaving his lungs in a defeated sigh.  Someone had gotten here before him and taken the body.

Mulder didn't even have the strength to swear, just clenching his jaw and blinking slowly.  He was so damned tired of walking around the corner one minute too late and missing the parade.  His life was a series of occurrences of him getting there just after the street cleaners had swept up the horse manure.

Shit.

Sighing heavily, he turned back to the cave to look for evidence of who had been here before him.  He worked the light carefully over all of the tracks and noticed that it appeared as if the top layer of the snow had been scraped away in a large area measuring about eight feet square.  He bent to the snow and examined it closely.  The scraping extended in a relatively smooth trail right over to the snow mound.  As if something had been dragged, then someone had removed the snow it had been drug across.

Mulder followed the trail and began pulling down pieces of snow and ice, dissembling the mound.  It didn't take him long to start finding the pink snow, and soon after that, the edge of navy blue parka buried in it.  Whoever had taken the incubating body had left one behind as well.  Mulder dug away the rest of the snow and ice covering the body, revealing the blue, staring face.  Squinting with disgust and anger, he reached forward and felt the exposed dead flesh.

It was still slightly pliable.  This man had been killed very recently. Mulder's breathing quickened.  He turned and made his way to the boot tracks.  He removed the Thinsulated glove and liner from his hand and reached for one of the fresher marks.  The crystals of snow along the edges were still relatively soft and moist.  They had not had even the chance to form a crust.  He rubbed a pinch of the snow between thumb and forefinger and felt his heart begin to pound in his throat.

The cover up had happened this same day, probably within the last few hours.  The individual responsible could not have gotten far.  And now that he knew to look for them, there certainly *must* be some signs in the snow outside that would show him where the person had gone.  After all, whoever it was had the added burden of the frozen body and incubated alien fetus to hamper efforts to get back down the mountain quickly.  Mulder actually felt his chapped, numb lips stretch into a smile and a new surge of energy washed through his overtaxed muscles.

He'd hiked six hours to get up here, and he'd been going at an almost frantic clip for the first four of those.  He checked his watch and saw that it was nearly four p.m., which meant the sun would be going down in the next hour.  There was no way someone could get down the glacier before dark, carrying a dead body, if they'd just started out a few hours ago.  Mulder himself had brought a small pup-tent and supplies, intending to stay a night before taking his prize back down to the camp.  He yanked the plastic topographical map of the area out of his pocket and scanned it for geological features which might offer shelter to a fleeing cleanup guy and his frozen burden.

It looked as though there was a bank of ice, a sort of naturally occurring lean-to along the side of a small ice hill, forming a narrow cave about five miles west of his current location.  It's where he would have headed.  He memorized the layout in his head, programmed the lat and longitude into his locator, slipped the map back into his pocket, replaced his glove, and slipped his shades back onto his windblown face, his cheeks cracking in a smug grin.

He would *find* that son of a bitch, and he would get his goddamned alien back.

* * *

By the time Mulder reached the hill, his legs were trembling and weak, his ankle in agony, his breathing raspy and labored.  He guzzled down some water and secured himself behind a low ridge of snow.  He scanned the area slowly and carefully with his binoculars, leaving them trained on the opening of the cave.  He cursed the wind which had blown away any evidence of tracks just as soon as they'd been made, then, as he steadied the binoculars and adjusted the focus, he grinned once again.

Smoke.

Just a tiny wafting trail, drifting upward from the mouth of the cave and disappearing as soon as it hit the wind, but it was there.  Which meant the cover up guy was there.  Which meant Mulder's alien was there.

Pay-fucking-dirt.

Mulder slid his gun out of his pocket, adjusting his grip to compensate for the slight added bulk of his glove liner.  He was prepared to use lethal force.  After all, the man inside was definitely a killer, and would probably not hesitate a second to make Mulder his next frozen corpse.  Mulder watched the opening for signs of movement in case the man exited the opening, but after twenty minutes of nothing, decided he could wait no longer.  He secured his pack in a snow drift just outside the opening of the cave and took a last long drink, making his load as light as possible before going in.

He crept up to the side of the cave, sliding along the snow with his back to the ice wall.  He breathed deeply, readying his exhausted body for a fight.  He hoped it wouldn't come to that.  His plan was to observe the man, wait until he appeared to be asleep, then knock him in the head and take the body with the alien inside it and secure himself in a smaller cave he'd located nearby.  He didn't want to have to kill anybody, and he figured if the man inside was anywhere near as tired as he was, he'd be sawing logs deeply as soon as the light failed.

He tried to listen for signs of life within the cave, but the wind carried everything away except its own incessant, high-pitched whine. Mulder put his ear band back on and slowly leaned around the mouth of the cave, safety off, gun held against his chest.

He spied movement inside.  The sun was going down, so the remaining light was a dark aqua turning quickly to indigo, and Mulder's eyes burned with the effort of focusing in on the white-clad man in the cave.  He was about ten feet away, with his back to the opening.  Mulder pulled himself back around the mouth, breathing hard with his back to the outside wall.  He'd have to give the man a little more time to bed down.

Still gripping his gun in one hand, he pulled a high-protein bar out of his coat pocket with the other, shoving it down his throat in three hungry bites.  He was too exhausted, shaky and excited to be hungry, but his body needed the fuel.  He drank another long swallow of his water, secured his pack again, and tightened his grip on his gun.

He waited until the sun had fully set, his body cramped and freezing, pressed against the side of the ice wall.  The temperature had dropped to the point where the insides of Mulder's nostrils would crust with ice between breaths, his eyes squinting and burning, wanting nothing more than to close for eight or nine hours.  He kept them shut for short periods of rest, but after falling to the side once, he'd tried to settle for constant blinking to keep the exhaustion and cold at bay.

He really couldn't wait any longer.  He had to get sheltered before he fell asleep and froze to death.  He made a new decision, more dangerous than his original plan.  He would knock out the man inside, cuff him and wrap him back into his sleeping bag securely, then use the lean-to himself as shelter tonight.  He knew he wouldn't make it the few miles to the other cave.  This was really his only chance of surviving the night.  And he deeply hoped the man inside was asleep by now, because if he didn't do this soon, he was going to simply go to sleep against the side of this cave and never wake up. He readied himself, using every ounce of his will to ignore his fatigue and his frozen, aching body.

He slowly came around the mouth of the cave, now not so worried about being spotted in the pitch black night.  He'd worn dark green and blue clothing, not thinking of camouflage, and in the black maw of the cave's mouth, he'd be nearly invisible, he knew.

The man did, indeed, appear to be tucked deeply into a white mummy-style sleeping bag, a ski mask-covered face showing at the small face opening.  Mulder smiled.  It would be nearly impossible for the man to fight him in that sleeping bag.  This was going to be easy.  With renewed courage and confidence, he stepped into the cave.

He walked toward the sleeping man, cursing the crunch of his boots in the snow, but the man didn't stir, dead to the world.  Just looking at the warm, still bundle made Mulder more exhausted, his body craving desperately the rest it watched the other man take.

He stepped over to the sleeping bag and looked down at it, blinking exhaustion out of his eyes.  There was a small fire in the cave which threw meager light over the sleeping form.  The man was one big breathing lump of white in a sea of it, the only relief his eyes and mouth.  Mulder looked up away from the sleeping man for a moment, swaying slightly, trying to find the body he was here for.  He saw a litter tucked in against the wall, a human-sized parcel strapped to it tightly.

Yes.

He looked back down at the sleeping man.  So now what?  Just smack him in the head?  Mulder started to have second thoughts, pangs of guilt over knocking a man out in his sleep and possibly killing him, or lowering his metabolism enough that the cold would do it for him.

Fuck this thing called conscience.  Mulder wryly wished he had the heartlessness of the man below him who'd obviously had no trouble killing the former owner to get his package.

Shit.  He'd have to wake the guy up, cuff his hands behind his back, and zip him back into the bag, then finally, finally, pull out his own bag and go to sleep.  Mulder sighed, swaying again slightly, and swallowed against his painfully raspy throat.

"Wake up," he barked, using his voice for the first time since that morning.  It came out hoarse and weak and he punctuated it with a firm kick to the sleeping form, gun trained squarely on the man's face.

The man jerked instantly awake, eyes blinking rapidly, then widening hugely as they focused in on Mulder's glaring face.  He stayed completely still inside the bag, his rapid breathing fogging the area in front of his stocking-clad face.  He stared wordlessly.

"I don't wanna kill you," Mulder said, trying valiantly to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.  "So don't do anything stupid."

The man still said nothing, staring up at Mulder, eyes fluttering madly.  Then he nodded briefly.  Mulder's shoulders sagged in relief. He appeared to have the upper hand.  So far so good.

"Good," he said, keeping the gun pointed straight down into the man's wide eyes.  He lowered himself to his knees in the snow, his body screaming to fall forward and collapse.  He blinked it away, breathing deeply.

"I'm gonna unzip this bag, and if you move, I'll blow your head off." Mulder gestured sloppily with the gun, now inches from the man's face.  The man nodded again, eyes huge and blinking.  Mulder nodded back and reached for the zipper under the man's chin.  His vision became fuzzy as the zipper moved down the man's body, so he didn't even see the moment the man's arm shot up through the opening, knocking the gun out of Mulder's failing grip before tackling him, laying his body on top of Mulder's, holding him immobile.

Mulder could barely summon the energy to care if the man was going to kill him or not.  At least he was lying down now.  He felt his eyes closing and figured it would be the last time they did.  Sorry, Scully. Thanks for giving a damn if I lived or died.  Sorry this is your thanks.

"Fuck!  FUCK!"

The strained cursing was the last sound Mulder heard before succumbing to the welcoming blackness.

He woke to a screaming pain in his shoulders.  The next thing he noticed was that he was warm.  Blessedly so.  He shifted, trying to work the stabbing pain from his shoulders, and realized he couldn't move.  Panic started to set in and he began to struggle.

He heard an annoyed grunt in his ear and struggled harder, realizing he was very tightly encased in a mummy sleeping bag, and that for some godforsaken, unknown reason, he wasn't the only one.  The arm wrapped around him from behind tightened, its owner growling as he jerked Mulder painfully up against him, attempting to still his frantic movements.  The enforced embrace battered Mulder's ribs, forcing air from his bruised, stinging throat and he stilled.  He realized with a sneer that his captor had used the same trick on him that he had planned to use.  His hands were cuffed behind his back and he was zipped tightly into the mummy bag.  But his captor had added one very strange detail to the mix, wrapping himself around Mulder inside the same bag, their coats and boots removed.

Mulder blinked in the low light of the cave, assessing his situation. He decided the man must have thought that the only way to keep a close eye on Mulder was to sleep in the same bag, thus staying alert to any movement.  It had worked, of course, as Mulder had come awake and his captor had squeezed him into compliance.  Now it seemed his captor was falling back to sleep, nuzzling slightly in his hair with a snort before sighing deeply and relaxing against his back.

This was just about the strangest fucking thing ever to happen to Mulder.  Why the *hell* hadn't the man just shot him?  He was obviously a killer, as evidenced by the body in the cave, so why did he decide to keep Mulder alive rather than making things easy and eliminating him?

Mulder breathed deeply, renewing his struggle against the man's hard embrace, and then he suddenly started coughing.  The man stirred awake again, both men's bodies shaken with Mulder's attempts to calm the tickle in the back of his throat.  Mulder began to panic again as the coughs went on and on, stealing what little oxygen he was managing to draw in the iron grip of his captor's arm.  His vision began to sparkle and he felt the hold loosen.

"Shit."  He heard the mutter right at his ear and gasped in some breaths between coughs, finally coming to a panting, rasping stop. He took several deep, desperate, trembling breaths before sighing deeply and feeling his body relax again somewhat.

"If you're done now, can we get back to sleep?"

Mulder's body stiffened, flooded with hot adrenaline, and he gasped. He knew that voice.  On a primal level.  He felt his body wind itself into a tight coil, desperate to break free and strike.  He struggled to control his breathing, trying not to let on that he recognized his enemy.  He didn't say a word, breathing stiffly, his body a taut whipcord.  His enemy chuckled warmly in his ear.

"Figured it out, huh?  Goddamn it, Mulder.  Why couldn't you use some of that brilliant intellect of yours to keep yourself alive, you asshole?"

Mulder's mind worked furiously, trying to unravel the meaning behind the man's words, but he'd only gotten a couple of hours sleep, and he was still extremely foggy.  He waited several minutes, tense and shaking, then with a resigned trembling sigh, spoke.

"What the hell do you mean, Krycek?"

Krycek snorted in his ear and Mulder gritted his teeth, staying absolutely still.

"If it had been anyone but me, you'd be so fucking dead.  *That's* what I mean."

Mulder's eyes narrowed as he tried to give Krycek's comment serious thought.  Why *was* he still alive?  Krycek had been given the perfect opportunity to kill Mulder.  Hell, Mulder had passed out under him. But instead of killing him, Krycek had cuffed him and wrapped him up in a sleeping bag.  In *Krycek's* sleeping bag.  With him in it! Mulder breathed hard but said nothing.

"I've got an early morning appointment with a helicopter," Krycek yawned in Mulder's ear.  "So let's get some sleep, okay?"

It was Mulder's turn to snort.  "Sleep?" he rasped.  "Huh!"  He started coughing again, shaking the tightly-packed sleeping bag violently.

"Goddamn it," Krycek snarled.  He waited for Mulder to stop coughing, and Mulder heard words through the sound of his own wheezing, shallow breaths.

"Wha-what?" he asked, still not caught up with his body's needs for oxygen.

"I said, did you even bring a pack, you asshole?"

Mulder swallowed, deciding it wasn't worth it to use his limited voice and air to get smarmy with Krycek.  "Yes," he answered simply in a quiet rasp.

"Got any dex?" Krycek asked, his irritated voice a low rumble in Mulder's ear.

Mulder swallowed against the pain in his throat.  "Dex?"

"Dextromethorphan," Krycek sighed.  "Jesus.  How the hell have you stayed alive this long, Mulder?"

Mulder began to wonder that himself as he considered his incredibly vulnerable situation.  He didn't care.  He didn't care if he survived the night at this point.  His body was suddenly and undeniably ready to go back to sleep.  He let his eyes flutter closed, breathing deeply, thinking there was something he should care about but not having the energy or focus to do so.

He woke fifteen minutes later, wracked with another coughing fit.

"Jesus fucking Christ," muttered Krycek in his ear.  "All right, Mulder, I'm going to get *my* dex and give it to you so that I can get some fucking *sleep.*"

Mulder could only wheeze in response, panting as the coughs subsided once again.  He felt Krycek squirming around behind him, cursing, and heard the sound of the zipper being lowered.  His body was hit with a knife of cold air as Krycek peeled back the edges of the bag, leaning over Mulder.  Mulder shivered under the warm weight of Krycek's body as he felt him tugging something out of the pack at their sides.  Mulder opened his eyes just in time to see Krycek tap the side of a syringe full of strange green fluid, leaning back, holding it over Mulder's chest.

"No!" he croaked, writhing away from Krycek with all his meager strength, dislodging the sides of the bag and working himself out onto the snow.  He felt his shoulder muscles tear as he was quickly jerked back onto the bag by his cuffed arms.  He opened his mouth in a silent scream as he was turned onto his back, putting all his weight on those tortured limbs, then it became worse as all of Krycek's weight settled on them as well.

"Don't fucking *move*!"  Krycek's spit hit Mulder's cheek as he snarled just inches from his face.  "You goddamned paranoid prick! I'm trying to help you!  This will stop the coughing so we can both get some fucking sleep!"

Mulder could barely focus on his words, the pain in his shoulders and back leaving him breathless and scattered.  He felt Krycek lean up off his upper body, straddling it, and squeezed his eyes shut tight, forcing himself to trust.  He had no choice.  He felt the sharp bite of cold air on his bare skin as Krycek lifted his shirt and long underwear top, then the quick sting of a needle sinking into his chest. The pain lasted only a moment, then Krycek pulled Mulder's clothing back into place, securing the medicine back into the pack, still sitting on Mulder's hips.

Mulder felt Krycek's weight lift from him and took several deep, relieved breaths, then felt himself being rolled onto his side once again.  Krycek settled in behind him, pressing close and zipping them back into the bag, and finally Mulder was beginning to get warm again.  Krycek sighed loudly in Mulder's ear as he got resituated, wrapping Mulder back in his embrace.  Mulder trembled as his body slowly reacted to the warmth, and he heard Krycek's teeth click together softly as he shivered at his back.  He wanted to try to figure out what was making Krycek do all of this, but his brain rebelled and shut down without his permission, throwing him into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

* * *

He woke to the feeling of Krycek shifting around behind him.  He gasped as his arms were jostled, feeling unwelcome tears spring to his eyes.  He was sorely afraid he might start begging Krycek to release him if he wasn't careful.  He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth as Krycek reached over him for the zipper of the bag. He felt Krycek slide into his coat and get it zipped up before extracting himself from the sleeping bag, then Krycek quickly zipped the bag back up, trapping most of the warmth inside.  Mulder swallowed back the unbidden flash of gratitude, reasoning that Krycek was only trying to keep him fully restrained, as he would have if he'd been the captor instead of the captive.

Mulder gritted his teeth against the wave of hopeless black anger. He was facing the center of the narrow little cave, so he watched Krycek as he pulled on his gloves and ski mask.  Krycek turned to face him and Mulder cringed inwardly at the sight of his enemy hidden behind the knit fabric.  There was something so much more sinister about Krycek when you couldn't see his face.  Mulder wasn't sure why, and didn't want to expend his limited energy reserves trying to figure it out.

"Where is it?"

They were the first words Krycek had said to him since the middle of the night, and they filled the small, cold space with their low rumble.

"Where's what?" Mulder whispered.  He frowned and cleared his throat, coughing very briefly.

"Your pack," answered Krycek patiently.  "You said you had one.  I don't see it.  Where's your pack, Mulder?"

Mulder's eyes narrowed at the slightly condescending tone in Krycek's voice.  The tone you'd use with a puzzled first grader.  Then he considered the contents of his pack.  More protein bars, a tiny pup-tent, water, the locator, first aid kit, cuffs...wait, no, those were in his coat...actually they were around his wrists, Mulder realized with a sick swallow.  The only other things he had were his sleeping bag and a spare gun.  He didn't really like the idea of giving Krycek the location of his other weapon, quite sure he wasn't going to see his Sig any time soon, but he was damned hungry and terribly thirsty, and he didn't think Krycek would take too kindly to sharing his rations with Mulder.  Mulder only hoped he'd take kindly to sharing Mulder's with Mulder.

He cleared his throat again.  "Just outside the mouth of the cave," he rasped.  "Buried in that snow drift on the right.  Well, left from in here."

Krycek nodded and turned to make his way the ten or so feet to the small opening of the cave.  Mulder's eyes drifted closed again, then fluttered open as the sound of Krycek's swearing echoed on the thick walls.

"Shit shit shit shit shit!"  It was a low, enraged hiss and Mulder couldn't help but flinch a little at its vehemence.  He shifted a little to get a better view as Krycek came back into the cave.  He was covered with a thin crust of ice and snow, and Mulder's pack dangled from his upraised prosthetic arm.

Mulder wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he didn't want to say anything more to the man than was absolutely necessary.  He waited as Krycek tossed the pack against the ice wall and paced, ripping his ski mask off and flinging it across the room.

Mulder frowned and bit back his need to speak.  Finally, curiosity won out over will power and good sense, as usual.

"What?"

Krycek's step faltered a bit, his eyes narrowing, but he continued pacing, not even offering Mulder a glance.  Mulder cleared his throat and asked again, "What?  What is it?"

Krycek spun on his heel and fixed Mulder with a glare icier than the surrounding cave.  "*It* is a fucking blizzard, Mulder."  His one hand clenched and unclenched at his side.

Mulder stared back, swallowing painfully.  His sense of hopelessness was only marginally increased due to the fact he'd pretty much already given up hope of making it off this glacier alive.  He watched as Krycek resumed pacing, his panting breaths puffs of fog around his tight, angry face.  Mulder waited for him to stop, his eyes drifting open and closed.  He heard Krycek come closer and opened his eyes in alarm, but Krycek only grabbed the packs where they were lying beside the sleeping bag and began viciously tugging on zippers, snaps, and Velcro.  He pulled all the things out of Mulder's and threw them on the ground, carefully checking through each and every little pocket.  He gave no more attention to the gun than he did the ten remaining bottles of water.

Mulder eyed the bottles and licked his chapped lips unconsciously, and the slight, wet sound made Krycek look up, once more pinning him with an angry glare.

"Thirsty, Mulder?" he grated out, teeth clenched, jaw muscles working.

Mulder debated for only a moment, thinking that this would be a sign of weakness if Krycek didn't intend to give him anything and he could chew on the snow if he had to.  Krycek waited, staring him down.  He swallowed.

"Yeah."

Krycek stared at him a minute more, then reached over and snagged one of the water bottles, putting the cap between his teeth and gripping it as he turned the bottle with his hand.  He spat the lid on the ground between them and sighed irritably.  He then shoved the bottom of the bottle down into some softer snow at the outer edges of the cave floor where they hadn't trampled it down, and moved over to Mulder on his knees, still scowling.

Mulder draw back slightly, forcing himself not to flinch as Krycek grabbed him the shoulders through the thick white sleeping bag.  As Krycek turned and lifted his upper body, getting him into a sitting position, he couldn't help the sharp gasp caused by his tortured shoulder muscles being jostled.  Krycek settled him in, leaning him back against the cave's wall, still zipped inside the bag, just his face exposed.  Mulder's jaw worked, trying not to reveal the pain this position put his shoulders in.  Krycek turned and pulled the water bottle out of the snow and brought it to Mulder's lips with an irritable sigh.

He was very, very careful and patient as he tipped the water into Mulder's cracked lips, making absolutely sure not to spill a single drop.  He pulled the bottle away before Mulder was fully ready for him to, but Mulder said nothing, settling back against the wall of the cave.

"Ssssssss!"  He couldn't help the sharp inhalation at the jolt of agony.

Krycek narrowed his eyes, lips pursed.  Then he dropped his gaze to the ground and shook his head.

"Fuck."

Mulder just breathed back the pain and watched Krycek stare at the snow.  Finally Krycek looked up and pinned him with another glare.

"What the hell are you doing here, Mulder?"  His voice was soft, his eyes looking genuinely confused and unhappy.

"Getting my alien," answered Mulder, unable to be anything but blunt with his limited store of energy.

"*Your* alien?" replied Krycek incredulously.  "Jesus, Mulder."  He shook his head, looking back down at the snow on the ground.  Then he looked up, eyes squinting.  "Who told you about this, anyway?"

Now his eyes flashed with dangerous rage and Mulder blinked as if looking into a too-hot blaze.  He tried to shrug but aborted the attempt as it took his breath away.  "Anonymous," he said truthfully, making no attempt to either convince or deceive Krycek.

"Mother *fucker*," growled Krycek, grinding his teeth together. Somehow, Mulder could tell he didn't mean him.  He didn't hold a lot of hope for the person he did mean.  Krycek looked like he was just looking for a reason to kill something.  Or someone.  Mulder swallowed painfully and shifted slightly, closing his eyes against now-familiar pain.  He heard a loud, resigned, angry sigh.

"Hurt bad?"  Krycek's voice was so quiet that Mulder barely heard it. It didn't sound like Krycek really wanted to be asking that question at all.  Mulder decided he had nothing left to lose by being honest.  So far, Krycek had made no attempts to hurt him, and had in fact gone out of his way to keep him alive.

Mulder just nodded, keeping his eyes closed.

Another deep sigh.  "If I take 'em off, will you *not* be an asshole?" Krycek sounded tired.  Mulder opened his eyes and found Krycek looking at him expectantly, brows slightly raised.  Mulder nodded again.  Krycek nodded back, apparently ready to take Mulder at his word.  Then he put his fingers in his mouth, gripping his glove in his teeth and pulling his hand out.  He spat out his glove and dipped his hand into his pocket, retrieving a small key.  He did everything with his right hand, his left bent, the fake hand tucked into his coat pocket, looking casually relaxed.  One would hardly know he had only one arm.

Krycek bent forward and held the key between his middle and ring fingers as his thumb and index tugged the zipper down slowly. Mulder watched the descent of Krycek's large, square hand, giving a fleeting thought to its careful dexterity.

"Can you lean forward for me?" Krycek asked quietly, shifting the key to a better grip, fingers moving like a magician doing the coin trick. Mulder nodded once more, using his abdominal muscles to pull himself forward away from the wall.  He was shivering now as the cold air hit his scantily-clad body.  Krycek leaned in close, shielding Mulder's body from the cold with his own, balancing on his knees while reaching very gently around Mulder's back with his one hand. His voice was loud and low in Mulder's ear.

"Hold your hands steady, Mulder.  I can't grip the cuffs and slide the key in at the same time."  Mulder shivered and nodded yet again, flexing his screaming muscles in an effort to stay still as Krycek breathed against his neck, feeling carefully for the lock in the cuffs. Mulder breathed hard, awash in Krycek's scent as Krycek found the tiny hole, slid the key in, turned it, then used his hands to very gently free Mulder's wrists from the cuffs.

Mulder wondered at his care, feeling more than a little ashamed at the thought of his opposite comportment with Krycek's cuffs in Skinner's apartment.  He carefully cleared his throat, readying it to speak, despite the pain he knew it would afford him.

"Thanks."

Krycek leaned back away from him, blinking rapidly, not meeting his eyes.  He nodded and dropped the key back into his pocket.  Mulder attempted to bring his arms around in front of him, biting his lip with the effort.  As he dragged his limp, sore, tortured limbs around his sides, he whimpered just once, immediately feeling vulnerable and scared of his own admission of weakness.  Panting, he leaned back against the wall, much more comfortable now despite the pain singing through his muscles, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

Krycek looked up at him, and Mulder's eyes opened and closed, trying to focus on his face, as Krycek leaned in and zipped Mulder back into the bag.  Wonderful warmth surrounded him once again and he sighed.  He saw the dark brows furrow, and the lips parted to speak.

"I'm...I didn't..."  Krycek stopped and shook his head and returned to the inventory of the packs, now laying his own stores out along with Mulder's.  Mulder tried to stay awake and watch him, but the exertion of sitting up and moving his arms into a better position had been enough to wipe him out once again.  Sleep claimed him quickly, the quiet sounds of Krycek's sorting reassuring him in a way he found very discomfiting.

* * *

Mulder woke to the sensation of a hand on his forehead.

"Scully?" he rasped.  He heard a deep, wry chuckle very close to his ear.

"Don't I fucking wish."

He forced his eyes open to a fuzzy Alex Krycek's face a few feet in front of his.  His teeth rattled together as shivers worked through his body violently.

"You're feverish," stated Krycek redundantly.  "Damn it."

"Sorry," whispered Mulder, feeling like he should say something to the man crouched in front of him.  He got another quiet chuckle in response.

"Fortunately, *I* brought some meds," said Krycek, reaching to his side for Mulder's bottle of water.  "Can you lift your arm?"

Mulder made every effort to do so, getting his hand a foot off the ground before it flopped down uselessly.  He closed his eyes and shook his head no.  In a moment, he felt warm, calloused fingers touching his lips gently.  He opened his eyes and Krycek's face was closer, tight and...almost...worried?

"Here, open your mouth, Mulder, and take this.  It's just acetaminophen.  You know," he added, with a ghost of a condescending smirk.  "Tylenol."

Mulder's lips immediately parted, accepting the proffered capsules with just a twinge of fear, the gratitude far outweighing it.  Krycek's fingers slipped past his lips, placing the capsules on his tongue, and for a moment, Mulder tasted Krycek's skin; warm, a little rough, clean, and just slightly salty.  He moved his tongue, mouth open, holding the capsules obediently while Krycek reached for the water bottle.  Krycek pressed the bottle against Mulder's lips, tipping it very carefully, giving Mulder little swallows of water with which to wash down the pills.  As Mulder finally felt them slide down his swollen throat, he nodded and Krycek pulled the bottle away.

Mulder closed his eyes and laid back against the ice wall again, breathing heavily.

"Can you eat?"

He opened his eyes again, wanting nothing more than to just sleep for a year.  Krycek was still kneeling in front of him, now tearing open one of Mulder's protein bars with his teeth.  Mulder thought briefly about how useful Krycek's mouth had become since the loss of his arm.  He was tired and slightly dizzy with fever, but he knew his body desperately needed fortification to fight off this sickness.

"I think so," he whispered.

Krycek nodded and used his hand to push the bar up out of the wrapper a bit, then leaned in once again, placing the corner of it against Mulder's lips.  Mulder licked them slowly, then forced them open, already a bit queasy at the thought of actually eating.  But he made himself bite off a small piece of the bar and resolutely chewed before forcing it down his stinging throat.

"Throat hurt?" asked Krycek quietly, holding the bar up for another bite.  Mulder nodded and opened his mouth to take it.  "Tylenol should help with that, too," said Krycek even more quietly, breathing deeply and softly as Mulder slowly consumed the protein bar.  He pushed the wrapper into his pocket and brought the water bottle back up to Mulder's lips for another drink.  Mulder swallowed it thirstily, gratefully, feeling a little of his strength returning as the highly concentrated energy bar's nutrients leached into his bloodstream with the aid of the water, and the Tylenol started to work against his fever.

"Thanks," he said again, voice a bit stronger after eating and drinking.

"You're welcome," Krycek replied, barely audibly, leaving Mulder's side and crossing the cave.  He sank down against the wall opposite Mulder, directly across from him, about eight feet separating the two of them.

Mulder's whole body still shivered and ached, but he wasn't as fatigued after two bouts of sleep uninterrupted by coughs.  He stared at Krycek, watching him stare at the darkened opening of the cave, his eyes squinting in obvious anxious frustration.

Mulder had absolutely no idea what to expect next.  Would Krycek leave him here in the cave as soon as the snow let up, taking the body with him?  Would he take Mulder along, turning him over to some eager black ops faction?  He found himself feeling a little panicky at the thought of Krycek leaving him like this, then cursed himself for the worst type of fool, reminding himself that this man was his enemy and he really needed to be as far away from him as possible.

Except that Krycek was taking care of him.  He was seeing to his needs for food, water, and even medicine from his own supply. Mulder stared at the tightly wound man across from him as if he could catch a glimpse of Krycek's motivation if he just looked hard enough.  Krycek felt him looking and turned his face to lock his gaze with Mulder's.  He sighed, not looking away.  Mulder didn't look away either.

"It's the real thing, isn't it," Mulder croaked, jaw trembling slightly with the receding shivers.

Krycek closed his eyes on a heavy sigh.  "Why does it matter so damned much?" he finally asked, his voice genuinely curious.

"Just once...just once I'd like to hold the truth in my hands," replied Mulder, feeling a strange weight lift as he confessed his need to his arch enemy.  It was scary, but it was also liberating.  Here in the recesses of a tiny ice cave, he felt he had nothing left to lose.  Why not unburden himself?

Krycek turned his head, looking toward the mouth of the cave again.

"I tried to give you that," he said very, very quietly.

"I don't remember anything," replied Mulder just as softly.

"I know," was the low reply.  Krycek continued to stare at the cave's mouth, not meeting Mulder's eyes.  Mulder stared at his profile, stark against the white snow.  Krycek had changed so drastically in the few years since he'd been Mulder's partner.  He'd faked innocence, ignorance and adoration so well back then, but Mulder didn't think the face he was studying now would ever look innocent again.

"How old are you?"

Krycek's face jerked around to face Mulder's once again.  "What??"

Mulder wondered at his feverish brain's choice of questions, then decided he didn't have the energy to censor himself and besides, he wasn't really giving anything away or anything.

"How old are you?" he repeated, shifting in the bag, feeling the last of the shakes subside.

Krycek just stared at him, his mouth opening and closing helplessly. Mulder actually felt himself smile.  He'd caught Krycek completely by surprise.  Where's that cool facade now?  Krycek's brows pulled down into a deep frown as he squinted at Mulder suspiciously.

"Why do you want to know?" he finally asked, evading the question.

"You seemed so young," said Mulder without hesitation, "And now you...you don't."

Krycek let out a tired, sardonic laugh.  He studied Mulder's face again, and Mulder began to feel somewhat uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny.  He shifted in the bag, realizing he could now lift his arms high enough for one hand to rub the opposite shoulder.  As Krycek stared at him, he willed himself not to look away, massaging the aches from his battered arms.

"Thirty-three," Krycek finally replied, looking down at the snow- covered cave floor.

"So you were only twenty-nine when you were assigned to me," asserted Mulder thoughtfully.  "That *is* pretty young."

Krycek said nothing, brushing away imaginary snow from his pants with his begloved hand.

"So what are we gonna do now?" asked Mulder baldly, changing the subject.  Krycek looked up at him, one eyebrow cocked as if to ask Mulder what the hell that had to do with his age.  But he didn't ask.

"I...I don't know," Krycek finally confessed, chewing on his bottom lip and wrapping his one arm around himself, stilling some mild shivers. He looked away again.  "Stay alive, I guess."

Mulder nodded, thinking that Krycek looked like he was getting cold. He realized that with the blizzard outside, it was always rather dark inside the cave, except for the fire, so he didn't know what time it was.

"What time is it?"

Krycek looked up, a tiny smirk playing at one corner of his mouth. "Finally, an easy one."  He used his teeth to pull up the cuff of his coat sleeve and checked his watch.  "One hour to sunset," he said, shaking the sleeve back into place and wrapping his arm around himself once more.  Mulder thought about how a fake arm didn't offer the warmth that a real one did.  Krycek had slept with his real arm wrapped around Mulder.  Of course, he reasoned, that was so that he wouldn't be lying on his one good arm.

"Why am I still alive, Alex?"  Mulder's belly flipped anxiously as he used his former partner's first name, but it felt right somehow, especially when asking this particular question.  

Krycek's mouth dropped open slightly, and he blinked, staring at Mulder, but he didn't answer.  Mulder stared back, feeling more calm.  The silence stretched out between them, neither man wanting to lose the contest.  Finally Mulder broke the quiet.

"I don't think I could kill you, either," he said quietly, dropping his eyes from Krycek's face to his chest, where the one arm still held it in a half-embrace.

"You almost did," whispered Krycek, and Mulder quickly looked back up at his face.  It was stone.  Or was that ice?  Mulder swallowed hard and chose his words carefully.

"If you've chosen a dangerous path, Alex, you can't hold me responsible for the risk you've put your life in."

"I'm not talking about that," Krycek replied, his voice low, expression still betraying nothing.  That blank stare was really starting to creep Mulder out.  He wanted the feeling-Krycek back.  He wanted Alex back.

"Then what..."

"The night..." Krycek started, then pressed his lips together in a thin, tight line.

Mulder frowned, watching a flicker of emotion play over the face in front of him.  Then he got it.

"The night you killed my father," he said softly, without venom. Krycek's eyes squinted and he blinked rapidly, still looking at Mulder across the rapidly-darkening cave.  He didn't have to answer for Mulder to know he'd figured it out.

"It wasn't me," Mulder said, unconsciously echoing words he'd forced Krycek to gasp desperately at his hands.  At Krycek's open frown, Mulder relaxed somewhat, just happy to see some emotion back on that face.  "You know I was poisoned," he went on calmly, stifling a yawn as his body began to crave sleep again.  "You most likely did it."

Krycek blinked rapidly and Mulder watched the shadows from his lashes move on across his tense cheeks.  Finally, Krycek seemed to come to some sort of private decision and nodded, just barely, looking at the fire, the flames gleaming in his eyes.

"So, why am I still alive?" Mulder repeated, his own eyes blinking slowly as they began to succumb to the calls for sleep.

"They don't want you dead," Krycek said softly, avoiding Mulder's suddenly more alert gaze.

"They've tried to kill me before," Mulder retorted.

Krycek's lips tightened, the flames still throwing tiny reflections of themselves onto the dark pupils as he stared into the fire.  "I don't wanna do this," he finally said, his voice a broken rasp.  "I'm tired."

Mulder watched him for a few minutes more, but it was obvious he wasn't going to get anything else out of his captor on this subject.

"I have a sleeping bag," Mulder said, knowing full well that Krycek had already unpacked every single item he owned and taken careful inventory of it all.

Krycek finally looked up, nodding.  "Let's eat something and get some sleep," he said, rising from the floor gracefully, crossing the room to where the packs were stored beside Mulder against the wall. He pulled two protein bars from Mulder's pack, and some dried fruit and nuts, as well as some small paper packets, from his own.  He ripped the first packet open with his teeth, then held an open bottle of water firmly between his thighs as he carefully poured the powdery contents into it.  He discarded the packet and picked up the bottle, covering the mouth of it with his thumb and shaking vigorously. Mulder watched, frowning, as the powder dissolved and left the water a dark, murky purple.  Krycek then extended the bottle toward Mulder.

Mulder lowered the zipper on his bag just enough to get one arm free and took it, studying it curiously, brow furrowed.

"It's not poisonous," said Krycek with an edge of irritation.  "Or drugged," he added more softly.  "Do you want me to take a drink and show you?"

Mulder shook his head.  "No, I didn't think it was poisonous," he said, swirling the cloudy purple liquid around.  "I'm just pretty sure it's gonna taste like shit."

Krycek actually snorted a little at that, and it felt like the tension bled out of the small, enclosed space.  "It's actually not too bad," he said, reaching for the second packet and preparing a bottle for himself. "It's made from desiccated sea vegetables and aloe vera juice.  It has a highly concentrated vitamin and mineral content, and since it's made liquid, it's absorbed quickly into the bloodstream."  With that, he took a long drink of his purple stuff and licked his lips with a ghost of a smile.

"You sound like Scully," Mulder muttered, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly.  He looked into Krycek's eyes as he took a drink, and as he lowered the bottle, Krycek's expression appeared pleased, even encouraging.  Mulder smacked his lips.  "Not too bad," he said.  "Is this some weird government experiment?"

Krycek's eyebrows arched with amusement, and then Mulder watched as Krycek's expression sobered, and his tongue swiped across his upper teeth thoughtfully.

"My sister sells it, actually," said Krycek, and it was Mulder's mouth's turn to hang open in stunned silence.  Krycek didn't look at him, calmly downing the rest of his reconstituted seaweed juice and licking his lips.

"You...have a sister?" Mulder asked, sounding totally incredulous.

"Yeah, I do," answered Krycek, using his teeth to open one of the energy bars and tossing the other into Mulder's lap.  "Eat, Mulder. And finish your Body Balance."  He took a big bite of his own bar, and around a mouthful of food, asked Mulder if he wanted some dried fruit and nuts.

Mulder stared at him, then closed his mouth and nodded, bringing his bottle of Body Balance back up to his lips and steadily downing it, finishing the whole bottle at once.  He got an approving grin from Krycek and started in on his own protein bar, smiling as Krycek tossed him a small baggie of dried pineapple, apricot, raisins and nuts.

"Thanks," Mulder said softly, swallowing the last of his bar and reaching into the baggie, delicately picking past the raisins to get to the pineapple chunk.

"Welcome," said Krycek around a mouthful of dried apricot.  The rest of the meal passed in silence.

* * *

Mulder shifted in his sleeping bag and finally sighed, grimacing.

"Uh...Krycek?"

His reply was immediate and more alert than Mulder would have expected after an hour or so of sleep.  "Yeah?"

"I didn't see a restroom on the way in here..."

"Out of order," replied Krycek with a huge yawn.

Mulder frowned.  "I just wondered where...I mean...how..."

"I've got a portable john.  I go outside to empty it.  Do you need to use it?"  He turned and pointed at a short, stout, lidded bucket sitting at the other end of the cave.

Mulder swallowed, feeling himself blush hotly, and nodded.

"How are you doing?" asked Krycek.  "I mean, can you...get up and walk on your own and everything?"

"I think so," answered Mulder in an almost-not-there voice.

Krycek nodded and snuggled his way back down into the other sleeping bag, turning his back.  Mulder was grateful that he wouldn't have to do this in front of Krycek.  He unzipped the mummy bag, gasping as the cold air immediately knifed into him.  He forgot how cold it really was, the sleeping bag having kept him toasty warm all day and night.

"Uh...where's my coat?"  Mulder pulled the sleeping bag around him and shivered.

"Couple feet to your right," replied Krycek.  Mulder looked over and saw it laid neatly on a tarp so it wouldn't get wet.  He rose to his feet unsteadily.

"Shhhit!"

Krycek turned around quickly.  "What is it?"

"Ankle," Mulder replied, grimacing.  "I'm fine."

Krycek raised his eyebrows but shrugged and turned to face to the near wall, giving Mulder his privacy once more.

Mulder slowly limped his way to his coat, shivering horribly, then quickly donned it and made his way to the mouth of the cave.  The wind sliced in and stole his breath as he quickly used the facilities. Then he rose up and took the john in hand, heading out into the black to empty it.  He took three steps, wanting to get far enough from the cave that he didn't soil their camp, and squatted, dumping the contents blindly, the wind at his back.  Then he turned back around and started back toward the cave.  He couldn't see anything, and after he'd taken five steps he realized he couldn't be going in the right direction.  His heart sped up as he peered into the black, feeling snow and ice crystals driving against his numbing face.

He took several calming breaths.  He wasn't far from the cave.  Just steps away.  He could find it if he just walked a few steps in each direction, returning to his original spot, until he hit the ice wall.  He took three steps and encountered nothing, then walked backward, the wind knocking him around, throwing off his sense of direction.  His body began shivering violently, both in reaction to the biting night cold and the escalating panic.  He tried taking three steps in another direction, but retraced his steps jaggedly when he again encountered no ice wall.  He needed help.

He drew a huge lungful of icy air into his lungs and screamed at the top of his voice.

"Alllllllex!"

He didn't even stop to question the use of the man's first name, just stopping long enough to draw enough breath to scream it again, his strength disappearing as the cold settled deeply into his body.  He thought he heard an answering shout, but it was carried away on the wind before he could convince himself it was real.  His eyes welled up and the tears froze on his cheeks before they had a chance to fall. His breath was snatched away by the cold and the wind, but he marshaled his strength again and yelled.

"Alllllex!"

The shout took the last of his strength and he sank to his knees in the snow.  He thought about how freezing to death was really not that bad of a way to go, considering.  The last sensation was that of incredible sleepiness, so it just felt like falling into a slumber.  A slumber from which you didn't awaken.  It didn't sound bad at all to Mulder as he knelt in the snow, his eyes squeezed shut tight against the driving ice particles in the air.  His body swayed to the side and he had one last thought.  Krycek was going to feel bad that he was dead.  He wondered a bit at that, deciding he felt it was true, and fell to the side, sinking into the drifting snow.

* * *

"Jesus, Mulder!  Mulder, wake up!"

Mulder tried to surface, but his eyes felt too heavy and he couldn't feel his body.  He abandoned his efforts and started to sink back into unconsciousness.  Then his eyes flew open as it felt like someone rubbed coarse grained sandpaper over his arm and chest.

"Ow!" he hissed.  He heard a strange, choked gasp in his ear, but the sanding didn't stop, the pain everywhere at once.  He began to struggle, writhing away from the stinging touch.

"Shhh...God, Mulder...Jesus...Just be still.  It's okay.  It's okay." That was Krycek's voice in his ear, and it did cause Mulder to weaken his attempt to get away.  That was Krycek's hand, rubbing over his body vigorously, moving quickly from arm to shoulder to back to chest to hips.  But why did it hurt so much?

"That hurts!" he whined, trying not to squirm away, slowly becoming aware that he was no longer cold, was in fact hot, at least along the back of his body.

"I know, I know," Krycek whispered, right in Mulder's ear.  Mulder shivered and not from the cold, and came back to a more normal state of consciousness.  He dimly realized that he had hypothermia and Krycek was attempting to rub his skin back to normal temperature, which was always a painful process, like the pins and needles of a sleeping limb awakening.  He gritted his teeth and bore the sensations, and gradually the stinging gave way to a pleasant, tingling warmth.

"Okay," he said finally, as the hand on him slowed but didn't stop moving.  "I'm warm,"  he said tiredly, exhaustion threatening to claim him as his body loosened and warmed.  The rubbing continued.  "I'm warm," he said more firmly, feeling his mind fight its way through the fog that wanted to claim it.  As he became completely aware of his surroundings, his body tensed.

He was naked.  So was Krycek.  And Krycek was still moving, though Mulder didn't think it was to warm him up.  A soft, high grunt in his ear confirmed his suspicions and he felt Krycek's erection grind into his buttocks, his hips thrusting slowly.

"Alex..."  Mulder breathed, body tensing even further.

The arm around his body tightened, hot breaths panting into his ear, causing his body to shudder as he fought to control his breathing, and the rising panic.

"I thought you were dead," he heard in his ear.  It was definitely a quiet sob this time, and he raised his arm and placed it over Krycek's reflexively at the pain in it.  "I'm sorry..." Krycek whispered, still moving against Mulder, his movements becoming more desperate.  "God...please..."

Mulder's whole body jerked, as he realized what Krycek intended to do.  He gasped, arching away, and Krycek grunted as Mulder's head knocked back into his.

"Wait...stop..."  Mulder breathed, trying to hold himself away.

"Please..." Krycek sobbed in his ear, his voice breaking as his arm squeezed Mulder in a breath-stealing grip.

Mulder sucked in another breath.  "Alex wait...stop!"  And then, when the movements became harder, more urgent, Mulder gasped out, "Please!"

Krycek pressed hard against Mulder's body from behind and Mulder could feel him shaking.

Mulder swallowed, feeling the stiff length of Krycek pressed between his buttcheeks.  His heart was pounding.

"I'm sorry..." Krycek sobbed quietly in his ear, pressing tightly to Mulder but no longer moving.

"Let go," said Mulder softly, pulling at the arm bruising his ribs.  Krycek let out another choked sob and loosed his hold, his fist clenched tightly as he moved it haltingly back off Mulder's body.  When Mulder was free to move, he shifted, pulling his backside away from Krycek and rolling onto it, moving awkwardly in the tightly filled sleeping bag.  He sighed, feeling safer now that he was in control.  Krycek was at his side now, his hot erection pressed tightly against Mulder's hip, smearing it with pre-ejaculate.  Mulder gasped softly and shifted again, pulling his hip away and turning.  Then suddenly, like magnets locking onto one another's pull, he was face to face with Krycek's tear-stained face, their bodies mashed tightly together, their moist breath bathing one another's faces.  Krycek's erection was painfully hard and prodding against Mulder's cock, rapidly stiffening it.

"I wanted to see you," Mulder breathed, shifting some more and watching Krycek's eyes flutter closed as they rubbed together. He raised his arm and put it around Krycek, holding him in a firm embrace. He couldn't believe how good it felt, how quickly his dick was filling, pressed hotly between their bodies.  He felt Krycek's arm come up around him haltingly, and he snuggled in a little closer, gasping at the increased stimulation as he let Krycek know that his arm was more than welcome.  He had stopped Krycek from penetrating him, terrified at the prospect of experiencing that at all, let alone with someone he couldn't see or really get away from.  But face to face, able to set the pace, he definitely wanted something more than just the warmth of Krycek's body.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and undulated his hips.

Krycek groaned desperately and his hips immediately thrust back, hard.

Mulder gasped and moved again, slow, but Krycek's fingers sunk into his skin painfully and Krycek thrust against him purposefully, gritting his teeth.  Mulder realized that Krycek was close to coming, and he exhaled hard and gave his body over to Krycek's use of it, caught up in the heat of the other man's need.

"Mulder..." Krycek growled, grinding against him, and he lowered his mouth to Mulder's shoulder.  Mulder felt his teeth press against, but not bite into, the skin there.

"Let it go," Mulder whispered, leaning forward and breathing hotly into Krycek's ear.  Krycek let out a long, high-pitched groan, his hips moving urgently against Mulder.  Mulder scraped his nails gently down Krycek's back, and as Krycek arched into him with a hiss, he spoke once more in his ear.  "Do it.  Come for me."

Krycek yelled out, jerking and grinding against Mulder's body as Mulder felt hot, thick cum pulse from Krycek's trapped cock.  They were pressed so tightly together that he felt each throb of Krycek's orgasm, and he groaned and closed his eyes, riding the wave of the climax, feeling it swell his arousal very near its own peak.  As Krycek slowly relaxed against him, still trembling with the aftershocks, panting against his neck, Mulder slid his hand up the side of his body, coming to rest on Krycek's shoulder.  He waited until Krycek had recovered his breath and was breathing against his body steadily, then spoke again in his ear, his voice a breathy whisper.

"Touch me."  He stroked his hand down Krycek's arm to show exactly what he wanted, and immediately felt that arm twist and flex, working its way between their two bodies.  He gasped into Krycek's ear as that hand wrapped firmly around his aching cock, slicking it with Krycek's own semen, then beginning to slide up and down in an even rhythm.

Mulder closed his eyes, thrusting into Krycek's grip, lips parted and brushing against Krycek's neck.  Krycek moaned and quickened his hand on Mulder, and Mulder whined, moving his hips faster, keeping up with Krycek's strokes.  Krycek's lips were at his ear, and he felt hot breaths pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

"C'mon Mulder," Krycek gasped in his ear, his lips moving against it.  "Cmon...give it to me."  

Mulder whined, pressing his mouth into Krycek's neck and tasting his salt.  He fucked himself into Krycek's fist desperately, digging his nails into the other's man's back and raking the sweaty skin there.

Krycek's gasp into his ear triggered one of his own, and then Mulder threw his head back and groaned, long and loud as he came, feeling his hot fluids mix with Krycek's on their bodies.

As he came down off his own euphoric peak, he felt Krycek's hand unwrap itself from around his softening dick, and he hissed as it was dragged up his body, through the smeared mixture of their cum, leaving a trail of it all the way up to his chin.  He realized how close they were, how intimate, now that it wasn't about sex and raw need.  He felt a desperate need to make sense of what had just happened, to somehow get control again.  To understand what he never could before; Krycek's motivation.  He felt the awkwardness grow between them, Krycek keeping his eyes closed, trying to hold his spunk-covered hand away from Mulder, but really having nowhere else to rest it, except on Mulder's arm.  Mulder could feel Krycek's heart thudding hard against his chest.  He could feel his own match the pounding rhythm.  He swallowed and took a deep breath.

"Why did you do that?"

He felt Krycek's body tense against his own, his deep, heavy breathing coming to a halt.  Then Mulder heard Krycek sigh and could have sworn the body against him dropped five degrees in temperature.

"I'm sorry."  Krycek's voice was a flat rumble in the dark, and Mulder felt him try to withdraw his arm further.  He realized Krycek had misunderstood his intentions in asking his question.

"No, no," he said, tightening his own arm around Krycek's back.  "That's not what I meant.  I wanted it too.  Don't apologize.  I just want to know...what made you do it?"

Krycek was still for a few more minutes, then tightened his arm around Mulder again.  Mulder tried not to gasp.  "I...thought you were dead."

Mulder waited, feeling like that was only the beginning of an answer, feeling both a little claustrophobic and a little comforted by Krycek's solid embrace. Finally, when no more was forthcoming, Mulder quietly prompted, "And?"

"And...I realized that was not okay."  Krycek's voice faded out at the end of the sentence, becoming tight and strained.

Mulder again tried to be patient, giving Krycek more time to continue, then prompted him again.  "That doesn't explain..."  He trailed off, hoping Krycek would pick up the hook.

Krycek did, his voice a choked rasp, and Mulder realized that although it was too dark to see, and Krycek hid it well, he was silently weeping.  Mulder gasped quietly, feeling his body flash with heat.  "I realized it was really fucking not okay, Mulder," Krycek ground out, tears clogging his throat.  "All right?"  His voice broke and he burrowed tightly into Mulder's neck, and Mulder felt the vibration of his words on his sweaty flesh.  "It's not okay."

Mulder laid there, silently processing everything, feeling Krycek's shuddering, silent sobs quietly subside as he held him.  He wanted to be able to say something to Krycek in return.  Confess his own feelings about Krycek, giving back what Krycek had just given him. But he honestly didn't know how he felt about the man, and certainly couldn't lie here and put it into any words that would convey it adequately.

This man had saved his life.  Twice in the past two days, and possibly other times before that, if Mulder's intuition could be trusted.  He'd also killed his father, and lied to Mulder, probably aiding in the abduction of Scully, and had possibly been involved in her sister's murder as well.  He'd taken the digital tape from them when they'd thought it was their only trump card for survival, and he'd walked out and left Mulder in a filthy Russian cell, leaving him to be beaten and experimented on while he laughed with Mulder's torturers and lit their cigars.

He'd also given Mulder information about an alien hostage, as well as a kiss that made much more sense now.  He'd been overly willing to bargain with Mulder, offering to give him back the digital tape in exchange for his freedom, when Mulder knew that Krycek had passed up several opportunities to get away from him in Hong Kong and upon their return to the States.

"Why didn't you run away?" He asked quietly.  "In Hong Kong.  You didn't make any effort to fight back or run.  Why?"

Krycek was silent for several long minutes, then Mulder gasped softly as his lips moved against Mulder's neck.

"I don't know."

Mulder breathed in and waited, not about to let Krycek get away with just that as his answer.  When Krycek said nothing else, Mulder prodded, "Come on, Krycek," but he kept his voice gentle.

Krycek sighed against him, his hand clutching at Mulder's arm once and then releasing it.  "I guess I didn't care anymore," he said very quietly.  "I was so tired and..."  Krycek sighed against Mulder's neck, and Mulder's hand pressed reflexively on his back.  "When you showed up, it was like a reprieve from hell," Krycek whispered.  "I just wanted to give up and go with you."

Mulder felt his thumb stroke Krycek's back absently, and just when he realized he should stop, Krycek sighed and relaxed against Mulder's body.  He thought about how pathetic Krycek had looked, dirty, exhausted, crazed...and he could believe that he might just feel like giving up.  But he hadn't given up.  They were separated by forces beyond either one of them's control, but Krycek had shown up again, this time with leads that took them both to the Tunguskan forest.  Mulder frowned and stilled his hand.

"What about Russia?" he asked, his hand resting against Krycek's back and feeling obscenely intimate as he conducted this bizarre interrogation.  But he couldn't stop.  If he was going to take this kind of risk, let Krycek in this far, he had to know.  "If it's not okay that I'm dead, Krycek," he asked, feeling his voice harden.  "Why did you leave me there to be tortured?"

Krycek's body sagged against him with a sigh.  "Mulder," he said quietly, "I was working.  There were things going on that you didn't understand."

"And whose fault is that?" Mulder asked, feeling the old anger flare up, familiar and comfortable.  And suddenly he remembered what it felt like to sink his fist into Krycek's mouth, crack it into his jaw.  He clenched his teeth, tensing his whole body where it was pressed against Krycek's.

"I was going to get you out," Krycek whispered tightly, and his hand didn't move from Mulder's arm.  "It would have been incredibly stupid to leave you there, Mulder."  His voice fell, and he repeated it again, much more softly.  "I was going to get you out."

"Couldn't you have told me that?" Mulder asked, his hand clutching at Krycek's back, nails scratching slightly.

"I..." Krycek started, then stopped, pressing his mouth firmly into Mulder's neck.

It was intimate, and awkward given Mulder's anger.  It was also just slightly arousing, and Mulder firmed his lips and tried to decide what to do about it.

The words were pressed into Mulder's skin, and he felt them rumble through him as Krycek said them in a tight, small voice.  

"I'm sorry."

Mulder exhaled, feeling angry tears fill his eyes.  Sorry.  Krycek was sorry.  He'd pretended to be Mulder's friend and then betrayed him, he'd murdered Mulder's father, and he'd left Mulder to be tortured to death in a foreign country.

And he was sorry.

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the hot tears make their way out of the corners of them anyway, and let out his breath carefully, trying to hide the hitch in it.  He considered Krycek's actions from a whole new place, one where he knew that Krycek didn't want him dead, and in fact had saved his life at least three times.  One where he knew Krycek wanted him.  One where he knew Krycek was sorry.

"I'm tired," he said quietly, and he finally began to gently disengage himself from the hot, sticky embrace.  Krycek released him completely, and Mulder wordlessly, if a little awkwardly, turned over, once again facing away from Krycek, naked and pressed against him tightly.  But this time, he knew he had nothing to fear from Krycek, and though it was a strange position to be in, it wasn't an unpleasant one.  He felt Krycek shifting around behind him, stretching and getting situated, and noticed that he was careful to keep his free arm off Mulder's body as much as possible.  He squirmed a little himself, unable to take any position that wasn't pressed up against Krycek from back to calves, then let out a huge sigh as he felt a wave of exhaustion break over him.

He realized, as he heard Krycek's own breathing even out, and then felt his hand drift to rest lightly on Mulder's hip, that he felt more than just warm, here in this smelly sleeping bag with Krycek at his back.  

He felt safe.  

He nestled himself a little more firmly into Krycek's sleeping body, then felt the welcoming blackness quickly suck him down.


* * *

When the morning arrived, safe and warm had somehow transformed to cramped, sticky, and sweaty.  Mulder shifted slightly and Krycek was immediately awake, tensing at his back.  Mulder felt small hairs being tugged as they pulled their bodies apart, and he grimaced.  "Shit, I...really need to..."  He firmed his lips, not remembering when the call of nature had ever seemed so inconvenient.  Even daunting.

Krycek yawned hugely, and Mulder felt his hot breath against his back.  "I tied a rope," he said. "Hold onto it so you can find your way back."  His voice was hoarse with sleep and very quiet.  "If it's still storming," he added.

And if it's not? thought Mulder.  What then?  He started to feel sick and far too naked.  He suddenly wanted very much not to be touching Krycek any more.

"Um, I'm just gonna..." Mulder twisted around and took hold of the zipper tab, then he stopped.

"Krycek?"

"Hmm."

"Where did you put my clothes?"  Mulder's voice nearly disappeared.

Krycek's reply was equally quiet.  "Oh.  I...just...scattered, I guess.  You should be able to find them."

Mulder nodded, and although Krycek probably couldn't see it, he could feel it, as closely packed as they were.  He looked around the hazy interior of the cave.  His shirts were wrinkled in a heap against one wall, his pants in a tangled knot almost too near the fire.  His coat was hanging haphazardly over the end of the litter holding the incubating alien, and his boots were each on opposite ends of the cave.  He guessed Krycek had been in a hurry to get him undressed.  He felt overly warm and uncomfortable.  And he didn't see his underwear.  He debated going without, then figured he needed every last layer of clothing he had.

He swallowed hard, feeling himself blush.  "I don't see my underwear," he murmured.

"Mm," Krycek grunted.  "In here."

"Oh."  Mulder felt around with his hands and feet and encountered a small wad of cotton in the bottom of the bag.  It was damned tight in there and he wasn't real sure how he was going to retrieve them.  He reached with his toes and finally snagged them, then writhed and shimmied, bringing his foot up high enough and his hand down low enough that they could meet.  There was not enough room in there to put the underwear on, though.  The bag had been made for only one man.  It was extra-large, and held them both without straining too much, but movement was limited.

"What is it?" asked Krycek.

"I'm not sure how we're gonna do this," answered Mulder.  "If either one of us steps out of this thing naked, we're likely to turn into an ice sculpture."

"I'll go," said Krycek without hesitation.  Mulder opened his mouth to say something, though he didn't know what, and Krycek added, "You're sick.  I'm not.  It just makes sense."

Mulder swallowed his unformed thought and nodded slowly.  He supposed it did.  As he began to turn his body around in the bag so he faced away from Krycek again, giving him a little more room to move, he felt Krycek quickly turn over, grab the zipper, pull it down, climb out without a pause, then zip it back up quickly. Mulder didn't turn around, somehow feeling awkward about looking at Krycek naked, even after everything that had happened between them.  It was only a minute before Krycek was tapping him on the shoulder, and Mulder turned over to find Krycek holding his clothing out to him, his coat laid neatly beside the bag.

"Thanks," he murmured, taking the clothes.  As he got dressed in the bag, he became aware that his body was still very achy and his throat sore, although he had more of a voice, somehow, than he had had the day before.  His head hurt.  He wanted more of Krycek's medicine but didn't feel he had the right to ask.

He slid out of the sleeping bag and into his coat quickly, stepping into the boots Krycek had placed side by side nearby.  Krycek was pulling paper logs out of his pack and building up the dwindling fire, using both prosthetic and hand to get the job done quickly.  Mulder glanced around, looking for the portable toilet.

"Do you know where the john is?" he asked.

Krycek didn't look up from the fire, squinting slightly.  "It's still out there, I guess.  I didn't notice."

Because you were dragging me back in, finished Mulder in his head. He nodded and put on his ear band and sunglasses, picking up Krycek's rope in his gloved hands.  The storm was still screaming outside the opening of the cave, and Mulder found himself actually relieved when he didn't encounter a clear, sunny day.  He didn't look forward to the decision they were going to have to make.  Possibly, it wouldn't be his decision at all, but Krycek's.  Either way, he couldn't look forward to the end of the storm, just yet.  Things still weren't clear between them.

Holding onto the rope, he worked himself in an arc through the blinding snow, and finally felt the edge of the john sticking up out of it.  He pulled it up, imagining Krycek pulling his body off the ground.  Did he carry me?  Did he drag me?  Mulder found he couldn't picture it.  But it had happened.  That he was here was proof of that. He followed the rope back to the cave and set the john just inside. He quickly used it, emptied it, and brought it back.  He came back into the cave and found Krycek surrounded by neatly organized packets and baggies.

"I got the toilet," said Mulder quietly.  Krycek looked up for a second and nodded, then got to his feet.  Mulder wondered how long it had taken Krycek to learn to compensate for the altered balance so well. Krycek's body was hard grace, tightly controlled.  For a moment, Mulder could feel it pressed up against him.  He closed his eyes, willing the sensation to leave, and it did.  When he opened his eyes, he was alone in the cave.  He surveyed the arrangement of items Krycek had made.

It was all of their provisions combined and organized in tidy lines. He saw that it included not only packets of Tylenol, but other unlabeled capsules and tablets as well.  He felt his mouth water and heard his stomach grumble but waited for Krycek to return, taking a seat on his sleeping bag.

Krycek returned, stomping the extra snow from his boots, ski mask in place.  Mulder glanced up, then looked down until Krycek had removed the mask.  He'd sat on the other side of the laid out supplies, leaving the opposite end of the bag for Krycek to sit on. Krycek pulled off his gloves, warmed his hand at the fire a moment, then turned to Mulder, still squatting.

"I figure we have enough for about three more days if we're careful," he said, answering Mulder's unasked but obvious question.  Mulder nodded slowly and looked back at the provisions.  Krycek stood up and stretched, then neatened up the few other items in the cave, and finally came over to the sleeping bag and lowered himself onto it, cross-legged.  Controlled, efficient grace.

"So what's for breakfast?" said Mulder, going for a lighter tone to lift some of the heavy awkwardness between them. Krycek didn't smile, reaching for two of the six remaining energy bars, a packet of his sea veggie powder, and two bottles of water.  He tossed the bars to Mulder.

"You open those while I mix this stuff," he said, not looking at Mulder. He raised the packet to his lips and tore it open, then laid it carefully between his legs, against his inner thigh.  He grabbed one bottle and opened it with his teeth, then placed that in the 'v' of his bent leg and opened the other, placing it in the other 'v'.

Mulder opened the energy bars without looking at them, too intent on watching Krycek's careful, methodical preparation. Krycek carefully split the powder between the two bottles, then lifted one and shook it up, only looking up at Mulder as he handed him the purple liquid.  He looked tense and nervous and slightly flushed.  Mulder murmured his thanks and traded a bar for the bottle.  Krycek took it and laid it on his thigh, then prepared his own bottle of juice.

"We don't have to conserve water," said Krycek, taking a long drink, then licking his lips, looking past Mulder to the wall behind him. "Glacier snow is about the cleanest water source there is."

Mulder nodded in agreement and took a bite of his bar, washing it down with his own liquid.  "Do we have something to melt it?"  He knew he had brought very little that was of use to them.

"I have a small tin pan," answered Krycek, chewing slowly.

"What haven't you got?" Mulder murmured wonderingly.  He finished his bar quickly, his hunger returning as the food hit his stomach.

Krycek didn't answer, although he was too close not to have heard it.  

Mulder was bothered by the silence and found himself babbling between gulps of juice.

"You have a lot of stuff in there.  I'm impressed.  I don't know what we'd do if..." and he trailed off, realizing that it wasn't about 'we'.  *He* would be up shit creek without Krycek right now, but Krycek would be just fine without him.  In fact, Mulder realized, Krycek would be more than just fine without Mulder.  He'd actually be much better off.  Mulder, on the other hand...Mulder swallowed hard as he realized that even if he hadn't been killed by someone else up here to retrieve the alien, with this storm hitting, he really would be dead if not for Krycek.  Mulder suddenly lost his remaining appetite, which wasn't really a problem, since his breakfast was gone anyway.

"I stay alive," said Krycek very quietly.  So quietly Mulder didn't really hear him.

"What?" asked Mulder, leaning forward, encouraged that Krycek was talking to him again.

"I said, I stay alive, Mulder.  It's what I do."  Krycek finished his drink and reached for Mulder's empty bottle and wrapper, standing up quickly.  Mulder watched as he secured the bottles in Mulder's pack, tucking the wrappers into a small zippered pocket.  Mulder wondered if Krycek was just not keen on polluting, didn't like to leave evidence, or thought he might have a use for the plastic wrappers later.  He decided that, based on the man's resourcefulness, it was probably the last one.

After Krycek had arranged everything all over again, banked up the fire, and checked the cave opening twice, Mulder interrupted his restless putterings.

"Can I have some more Tylenol?" he asked quietly.  

Krycek looked up quickly as if he'd forgotten Mulder was there with him.  He frowned.  "Of course.  Whatever you need."

Mulder blinked at that.  "Thank you, Alex," he said, firmly and clearly, looking directly at the man's narrowed eyes.  He was confused when Krycek just sighed, not looking away.  "What?"

"What the fuck is this?" Krycek suddenly spat, startling Mulder.

"I...just...whaddya mean?" asked Mulder, thoroughly confused and a little worried.

"We're...stuck here!" Krycek ground out, clenching his fist.  "You and me, Mulder!  We spent the night naked in each other's arms after having..."  He firmed his lips as if he was frustrated to have to put words to it.  "Sex!"  Mulder's eyes widened a little at how the word fairly bounced off the ice walls.  Krycek looked at the ground and then up at Mulder again.  "And now we're just...stuck here...staring at each other!  It's fucked up!"

Mulder chewed his lip, studying the freaked out man in front of him.  "Maybe it's not so fucked up," he said finally.  "Maybe it's the only way to keep us from being cowards."  He swallowed, his sore throat feeling even more swollen with what he he'd just uttered from it.

"What?" Krycek snarled.

Mulder took a deep, steadying breath, keeping his voice even and calm.  "I mean...maybe what we're supposed to do is *be* stuck here with each other,"  He swallowed hard again, wincing now.  "For however long it takes.  To work out some of the shit between us."  He shrugged.

Krycek gaped at him, not even trying to hide his shock.  Mulder stayed quiet, although it was difficult, watching the play of emotions over Krycek's face as he processed Mulder's weighty answer.

"You actually think the shit between us *can* be worked out?" he said finally, sounding incredulous.  But also, maybe, a little hopeful.

Mulder sighed and shrugged again.  "I don't know, Alex," he said softly.  "But right now, we've got nothing but each other, some sea vegetable juice, and time."

Krycek narrowed his eyes, staring at Mulder so intensely that Mulder felt he was naked all over again.  Krycek licked his lips, and his voice came out low and deadly serious.  "Three days," he said, looking down, and then back up at Mulder.  "We have three days."

Mulder nodded slowly, and they both looked at each other for several intense moments, feeling the urgency settle between them.  Then Mulder cleared his painful throat, and then suddenly coughed for a few seconds before quickly getting it under control.

Krycek crossed the cave and bent down, reaching for a small white box in their stash.  "Do you want some more dex?"

"No," croaked Mulder, catching his breath as the coughs subsided. "Not unless it gets bad again, or happens at night.  We might need it. We need to be careful."  Mulder knew...just *knew* that Krycek wouldn't use that dex for himself until he was coughing up blood.  But here he had offered it to Mulder at the first bit of hacking.  "Sit down with me," he said, looking up at Krycek, who was looking restless again.  "I'd pace with you, but my ankle's fucked up, and I don't want to make things worse."  He gave Krycek a self-deprecating smirk.

Krycek blinked, then nodded and walked back over to his end of the sleeping bag and lowered himself down.  Mulder offered Krycek a small smile and got a twitch of the corner of Krycek's mouth in response.  They both stared at the bag between them for a few minutes.

"So how did it happen?"  Mulder finally asked quietly.  He looked up.  "The arm."

Krycek looked up, eyes glittering fiercely.  "Why?" he snapped.  "Do you wanna get off on it?  Will that make up for what I did to you, Mulder?"

Mulder's mouth dropped open.  "What?"

Krycek stood up, thrusting his hand into his pocket and standing over Mulder, lips firmed.  "If I give you your pound of flesh, Mulder, will that be enough?"

"I..." Mulder started, then closed his mouth as he realized what Krycek was asking.  Would Mulder be able to forgive him, if the story of the loss of his arm was horrific enough?

And *was* that why Mulder had asked the question in the first place?

Mulder closed his mouth and frowned, then looked down at the ground.  It was a fair question.  And it deserved a real answer.  *Would* that be enough?  Could he forgive Krycek the horrendous things he'd done, if he knew that Krycek had suffered horribly?  Mulder sighed, closing his eyes.  He knew Krycek was sorry.  Krycek had said so, in a voice that Mulder couldn't take for anything but sincere.  He opened his eyes and realized it wasn't about that.  He just didn't want to be hurt anymore.  He sighed, "I'm sorry it happened."  

"What?" Krycek asked sharply.

Mulder looked up into Krycek's intensely frowning face.  "Why is that so hard to believe?" he asked impatiently.  "What kind of a person do you think I am?  I wouldn't wish something like that on my worst..." Then he stopped, shutting his mouth abruptly.  

Krycek laughed mirthlessly.

Mulder sighed heavily and looked at the ground.  It was hard to run away from anything in such a small space.

"You're not my worst enemy," he finally said very quietly.  When Krycek didn't answer, he looked up.

"I know that, Mulder," said Krycek quietly.  "I just didn't think *you* did."

Mulder's lips parted, and he frowned.  "So..." He licked his lips.  "What are you?"  His voice came out low and and he hoped it didn't sound as scared as he felt.

"An invertebrate scum-sucker whose moral dipstick is about two drops short of bone-dry," said Krycek, with a slight lift to his chin.

Mulder narrowed his eyes, not at all happy with Krycek's tone.  "You killed my father, Krycek!"

Krycek's face tightened, his eyes chips of jade.  They stared at each other for several long seconds.

"You're right, Mulder.  I did."

Mulder gasped.

"Come on," Krycek said, scowling.  "Don't play dumb after you accused me over and over.  You already knew the answer!"

"But...you told me you didn't do it!"  Mulder exclaimed.

"I'm a liar, Mulder," replied Krycek simply.  "Deny everything.  Ever heard that one?"

Mulder stared at him open-mouthed.

"Mulder," Krycek said with a surprised exhale.  "You're acting like you didn't know I was a liar!  I really don't get you..."

Mulder closed his mouth with a sigh.  He thought about it for several long minutes, chewing the inside of his bottom lip.  "I guess it wasn't that I didn't know," he finally said, his voice a low rumble.  "It's that I didn't want to know."

"What do you mean?" asked Krycek quietly.

Mulder's sigh filled the cave.  "Well, at the same time I was accusing you and...hitting you and...hating you...part of me really wanted to believe there was something else there.  Something real."  Mulder stared at the bag underneath him, eyes burning.

"Besides a scum-sucking punching bag?" Krycek said, sounding more sad than snide.

"Yeah."  Mulder continued to stare at the space between them.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Krycek said roughly.  

Mulder looked up at that.  "You saved my life," he said.  "Twice."

Krycek looked away, frowning.

Mulder went on.  "You gave me your medicine and your food, and you...you told me you realized it wasn't okay if I died, Krycek!"  Mulder tried to get to his feet, then hissed as his stiff ankle stopped him.  He sank back down on the bag gingerly, then looked up at Krycek, who had looked over at Mulder's hiss, then looked away as Mulder made eye contact again.  Mulder's heart pounded in his chest, and he felt dizzy as he said it, but he did it anyway.  "You made love to me, Alex.  That seemed pretty fucking real to me."

Krycek's head whipped around and he stared at Mulder, mouth agape.

Mulder forced himself to maintain eye contact, swallowing painfully.

"Sex," Krycek breathed.  "It was just sex."

Mulder felt his stomach turn, but held Krycek's gaze.

"It was just sex!" Krycek yelled.  "Why does everything have to be so fucking personal with you, Mulder!"

Mulder blinked back sudden tears, furious at the obvious sign of vulnerability.  He was even more furious that he was going to have to substantiate his claim with evidence of Krycek's intentions.  "You held me," he said, his voice gravelly and low.  He swallowed, feeling his rage ache and burn in his chest.  "You cried," he whispered.

"I don't want to talk about this!" Krycek yelled, turning and stalking across the floor.

"Did you fake that, too, Krycek?!" Mulder yelled.  "Deny everything?"  His voice came out garbled and sick.

"I don't wanna talk about this!" Krycek shouted back.

Mulder rose to his feet, ignoring the stab of pain from his ankle.  "Well you're going to!" he snarled.  "You're stuck here with me and the only thing there is to *do* in here is talk!"

"Fuck you, Mulder!" Krycek roared back, his face red and sweaty, twisted with rage and what looked a hell of a lot like fear.

"For once, just answer the question, damn it!" Mulder yelled, his sore throat torn with the violence of it, his vision blurred with angry tears.

"FUCK YOU MULDER!"  Krycek screamed, then he spun around and practically ran out of the cave and into the storm, leaving Mulder staring after him, blinking the moisture out of his eyes.

He waited for Krycek to stumble back in, defeated by weather, so he could continue to force the confession that he needed so badly.  He wasn't going to let Krycek out of this.  He was going to get the truth, no matter what it took.  He limped over to the mouth of the cave and stared out into the gray oblivion.  He could see nothing.  "Krycek!" he yelled, frowning.  The only answer was the scream of the wind.  He started to worry a little bit.  It felt like Krycek had been gone twenty minutes, but it was probably only ten.  Mulder checked his watch and saw that it was twelve to be exact.  Fuck.  He swallowed and winced, readying his aching throat for another yell.  "Krycek!"  He felt a flash of shame at the fact that he was Alex when Mulder was in trouble, and Krycek when their plights reversed.

"Alex!" he screamed this time, feeling his tender throat rent raw with the force of it.  He bent down and grabbed up the rope Krycek had fixed to make sure they could get back, cursing the other man for not having grabbed it on his way out.  Stubborn son of a bitch!  He put on his gloves, ear band, boots and sunglasses, and stepped into the swirling whiteness, gripping Krycek's rope tightly.

The rope played out about ten feet before becoming taut, and Mulder's voice was gone by then, just a raspy croak that Mulder himself couldn't even hear over the screaming winds.  Mulder was truly panicking now.  Please don't have gone further than the rope reaches, he prayed. Please be smart, Alex.  Stay alive.  It's what you do.

He began to work the area in an arc, walking as far in one direction as he could until he came up against the ice wall.  He pounded it uselessly with his fist and started back the other way, feeling tears freezing in his lashes.  He took small, careful, limping steps back to where he'd been, the wind fighting any effort he made to move, then worked further in the other direction until he'd made the entire circuit back to the side of the hill.

Mulder began to realize that Alex might be lost to the storm.  Because Mulder had pushed him too far, too fast.  Hopelessness began to set in, and his burning throat clogged with tears.  They weren't done, damn it!  There were too many things unfinished between them!  Krycek couldn't be dead!  He just couldn't!

But as Mulder squinted into the screaming, swirling madness, he had to face the fact that even Krycek couldn't survive long out here.  It had taken Mulder only minutes to get lost, after all, and Krycek had now been gone five times that long.

Then another thought hit Mulder.  If Krycek was gone, he was alone.  Of course, he could survive on his own now, thanks to Krycek.  He had food and medicine and tools and a warmer sleeping bag...all thanks to Krycek.  "NO!" he screamed silently.  He's gotta be close!  He couldn't have gone far.  He's too smart for that!

He started back in the other direction and felt the rope snag on something.  He stopped with a gasp, his heart in his throat.  He carefully pulled the rope gently taut and started following it back to its origin to see what it had caught on.  He took three steps and nearly fell on his face.  Krycek was on his knees in the snow, totally invisible in his white parka and snow gear.

Mulder practically threw himself at him, unable even to tell if he was in front of, to the side of, or behind the man on the ground.  He yanked with all his strength, holding onto the lifeline desperately.  He felt Krycek slowly give, rising to his feet and finally letting him lead him back to the cave.  Mulder's cheeks were coated with his frozen tears, his eyes threatening to freeze closed with them, silent sobs working their way out of his tortured throat.  They reached the mouth of the cave and Mulder shoved Krycek violently forward, not caring if he fell on his face so long as he was inside once again.  He deserved it for going out in that and scaring the hell out of Mulder that way.  He stepped in right behind him and found that Krycek had not fallen, but was standing in the center of the cave, shivering violently.

"Alex!" Mulder whispered, finding that even here away from the wind, his voice was gone.  He took three staggering steps forward, the pain now making his ankle practically useless, and grabbed Krycek in a hard embrace.  "You son of a bitch," he whispered silently.  He squeezed and sobbed with relief for a few seconds before he realized he wasn't getting any reaction.  "Alex?" he whispered again, stepping back to really look at the man's face.

Krycek's lips were slightly parted, his lashes coated with ice and weighing his lids down to the point where his eyes were barely open. His teeth had stopped chattering, and Mulder knew that this was not a good sign, because Krycek damn sure wasn't warm yet and shivering was the body's survival response to lowered temperature.  If that had stopped, he didn't have much time.

Mulder gasped and grabbed Krycek's coat and ripped it off him, yanking off the gloves and then pulling his layers of shirts off over his head.  Krycek's expression was blank, his arms, real and fake, limp at his sides. Mulder hurriedly unfastened Krycek's snow pants and jeans and fell to the ground, cursing, ripping the buckles of Krycek's boots open.  Krycek's skin was pale...pale and even blue in some places.  

Mulder grabbed Krycek's shoulders and shoved him over to the mummy bag, unzipping it and shoving him down.  He had to push Krycek into place, pulling his pants and boots off and shoving his legs down into the bag before zipping it up quickly.  He didn't stop to see if Krycek was responding yet, quickly ripping off all of his own clothing, his breath stolen by the cold as he stripped naked.  He pulled the zipper down and climbed into the bag with Krycek, thinking of nothing but getting the other man warm again.

Krycek's skin was freezing against his own and he was immediately shivering violently, his body twitching involuntarily away from the source of the cold.  Mulder pressed himself as tightly as he could to Krycek and began rubbing him gently, remembering his own pain with a wince.

He whispered, teeth chattering, as he rubbed, tears running unchecked down his face. "Alex...cuh-come on, Alex, duh-don't pussy out on mmmme now."  His teeth clacked together, and he winced as they closed on his tongue. "I'm nuh-nuh-not luh-letting you get off that easily, you sssson of a buh-bitch!"  He rubbed harder.

He heard a tiny groan and it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.  He smiled through his tears and rubbed faster, lying on top of Krycek on his left side, scratching and bruising himself on the prosthesis but not letting himself take the time or energy to care.  He moved his hands rapidly over Krycek's chest and hips and thighs and even his penis, reasoning it might be the fastest way to get blood flowing down that way.  He rubbed his leg over Krycek's, writhing, rubbing every inch of Krycek's body he could with every inch of his own.

Finally, he felt him stir, then start to shiver, teeth clacking together loudly.

"Yes!"  Mulder whispered.  "Yes, Yes, come on back to me, Alex."  His eyes filled with tears, and he closed his eyes on them, continuing to use his body to warm Krycek's, which was now trembling violently beneath him.  He opened his eyes after a moment and bent his face to Krycek's, brushing the cold, trembling lips with his own, warming them with his breaths.  He laid his cheek on Krycek's, warming that, and felt the body underneath him start to move.  A series of low, raspy whines came from Krycek's throat.

"I know," he whispered.  "It hurts, doesn't it."  He grinned against Krycek's lips, feeling them warm immediately.  "Now you know how I felt."  And I know how you felt, he thought.  He closed his eyes and pressed his mouth against Krycek's firmly.  He felt Krycek's long, wet lashes tickle his face and pulled back, grinning hugely.  Krycek's eyes blinked and squinted, his mouth pulling into a grimace of pain as the feeling came back into his limbs. Mulder continued rubbing, more slowly and gently now, as he watched Krycek's consciousness surface, the eyes focusing in on his face.

"Wha...you...doing..." panted Krycek, trying to raise his prosthesis and finding Mulder's body holding it down.  His other arm came up and touched at Mulder, vaguely pushing at him.

"Saving your frozen ass," whispered Mulder, beaming.

"Why...whispering?" asked Krycek, blinking and looking more and more like himself with each shivery breath.  His hair was flattened and hanging in his eyes a little.  Mulder reached up and smoothed it back, watching Krycek's eyes go wide as he did.  Further signs of life.  Mulder couldn't get the smile off his face.

"No voice left," whispered Mulder, grinning.  "Lost it yelling."

"Yelling?" said Krycek, brows furrowing as his shivering began to subside.  He stopped pushing at Mulder, his hand falling to his side.

"For you," answered Mulder.  "Trying to find you."  He felt the plastic under him attempt to shift again and started climbing over Krycek's warming body so he could move it.  "Do you want me to help you take it off?"

Krycek just stared at him.  Mulder situated himself along the other side of his body, pressing in close, his right arm across Krycek's body, still rubbing in slow circles.

"How do you feel?" Mulder whispered, his face just inches from Krycek's.

"Cold," answered Krycek shortly, still shivering intermittently.

"I'm working on it," Mulder said, smirking.  "Do you need anything?  Do you want a drink?  Are you hungry?"

Krycek blinked several times.  "No," he finally answered.  Then a huge yawn stretched his face.

"Tired?" asked Mulder, remembering how the exhaustion had dragged him down after his own bout with hypothermia.  And sex, of course.

Krycek closed his eyes and nodded.

"Then let's sleep," whispered Mulder, settling in more comfortably against Krycek, cherishing the warmth, the life of the body touching his own.  Krycek said nothing else, and soon Mulder felt his chest settle into a deep, healthy rhythm, and only then did Mulder let himself stop stroking him and fall asleep.

* * *

Mulder woke to the sound of groaning in the chest directly below his ear.  He lifted his head blinking and found Krycek awake and frowning.

"Hey--" Mulder whispered, then stopped, hissing.  His decimated throat had finally given up completely and it was agony even to whisper.  Mulder swallowed painfully, wincing.  He wanted to ask Krycek how he was feeling, but he couldn't use his voice.  How the hell were they going to communicate?  He sure as hell hadn't brought along a pad and paper.  He wondered if Krycek...Alex had one of *those* in his bottomless pack.  He smirked.

He lifted himself off Krycek, yawning.  Krycek withdrew his arm, wincing, then flexed it to work out the kinks.

Are you okay? Mulder mouthed silently.

Krycek frowned.

Can't speak, Mulder mouthed.  Are you okay?

Krycek blinked.  "Yeah, I think so."

Mulder nodded.  He looked down into Krycek's face, waiting.  Krycek licked his lips.

So, Mulder finally mouthed.  Are you ready to get up?

Krycek blinked a few times, lips pursing.  He cleared his throat.  "What do you want?" he asked, his voice low and quiet as if he didn't feel he had the right to talk when Mulder couldn't.

Pain in the ass to get dressed, answered Mulder.  But I'm hungry.

"You're hungry?" asked Krycek.

Mulder nodded.

Krycek turned his head to the side where the food was stored in Mulder's pack.  Mulder followed his gaze, then his train of thought.  If they reached really far, they might be able to snag it without leaving the bag.  He smiled and climbed back over Krycek, wriggling his way up, unzipping the bag slightly.  He reached with his long arm and just caught one of the straps with a slender finger.  He dragged the bag over, feeling very proud of himself, then settled back in, zipping up once more, leaving one arm out.  If Krycek could do things with one hand, so could he.  He reached in and groped around, bringing out some dried fruit and nuts in a small ziploc baggie.  He pictured Krycek in a grocery store line buying baggies and grinned.  Krycek really was, after all, just a man.  He brought the baggie inside the sleeping bag with them, then cheated, using both hands to pull it open.

He reached into the bag, carefully bringing up a dried apricot between thumb and forefinger, remembering that those seemed to be Krycek's favorite.  He settled in, lying on Krycek's right arm once again, and lifted the fruit to Krycek's lips.

"I can feed myself," Krycek said, frowning.

Not with me lying on your arm, mouthed Mulder slowly, with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Then move," replied Krycek, trying to pull it out from under him.

I don't want to, replied Mulder, eyes serious.  Please, let me do this.

He felt Krycek's breathing speed up and realized he was making him nervous.  He sighed.  He'd have to tell Krycek everything without his voice.  Then again, somehow it was easier to imagine mouthing the words rather than hearing them out loud.  Maybe he could do this.

He lifted the apricot back up to Krycek's lips and pressed it against them gently.  Krycek finally parted them and Mulder smiled and placed the fruit inside.  He dug around and found the lone pineapple chunk and popped it in his mouth happily.  He savored the fruit, chewing slowly and swallowing before licking his lips.  Then he made sure he had Krycek's full attention.

He'd have to be slow, careful, and succinct.  No dancing around the truth with obscure language, no going off on tangents to distract himself from the hard stuff; just the truth, quick and blunt.  He stared into Krycek's eyes.

You said you need me to stay alive, he mouthed.  I know you meant it.  I want you alive, too.

Krycek blinked rapidly, and Mulder pinched an almond out of the bag and placed it in his mouth to keep him quiet.

There's something between us, he continued.  Something strong. Sometimes bad, but sometimes good.  I can't get rid of you.

He gave Krycek a sad half-grin.  Krycek didn't grin back, slowly chewing his almond.

You do awful things, and I hate that, Mulder went on, smile gone.

Krycek's expression didn't change, but he blinked.

But I don't believe you do it because you like it, he continued.  You do it because you think you have to.  

Krycek squinted, swallowing.

Mulder went on.  You're not just a thug.  I understand that, now.  I wish I could understand you better.

Krycek blinked, and Mulder took a deep breath and grabbed some nuts, tossing them in his mouth, then fished out one of the remaining few apricots and brought it to Krycek's lips.  Krycek took it and chewed it slowly, then swallowed and drew a deep breath.

"You could never understand me, Mulder," he said quietly.  "You'd never make the choices I have.  You're not a liar or a thief or a murderer.  I am."

Why? Mulder mouthed, knowing it was a juvenile question.

"It doesn't matter *why* I do the things I do, Mulder.  I do them.  I am what I am."  He shook his head, closing his eyes.

Mulder frowned.  If Krycek's eyes weren't open, he couldn't read Mulder's lips.  Mulder put his hand on Krycek's cheek, and Krycek's eyes fluttered open.

It matters to me, replied Mulder.

"Why, Mulder?" asked Krycek, frowning and blinking.  "You said it yourself, I have to do awful things, and you hate that!  It doesn't matter why!"  He firmed his lips, but he didn't look away.

Mulder thought a minute.

I guess I want to like you, he answered sadly.

"Well, don't," said Krycek, closing his expression.

You like me, said Mulder.

Krycek's lips firmed and he sighed but didn't deny it.

I want to like you back, Mulder said, realizing it sounded childish, but needing to keep it simple and to the point.

"Mulder," said Krycek, sounding frustrated.  "I couldn't be what you want me to be."  He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again right away.  "Even if I did want to."

You *do* want to, said Mulder, feeling hope make him strong.  You want to be something different.  You want me to like you!

Krycek sighed heavily and looked away.  "You don't understand, Mulder," he said.  "Things have to be done...things that won't be done by men like you, Mulder."  He swallowed.  "They'll be done by men like me."

Mulder grabbed Krycek's face, turning it back to face him.  I don't believe that! he said emphatically, leaning into Krycek's face.

"I do," replied Krycek quietly.

We have the same goal, Mulder said, still holding Krycek's face.  Why can't we work together, instead of against each other?

"Mulder," said Krycek, sounding frustrated again.  "I'm not working against you!"

Mulder just arched his eyebrows.

"Jesus, I don't want to revisit every shitty thing I've done to you, Mulder," said Krycek, pulling his face away from Mulder's hand.  "But you have got to know, I haven't worked against you in years!"  He squinted, then swallowed.  "Not since I went with Cardinale for the hit on Scully."  

Mulder felt grief stab at his heart physically, and Krycek's body retreated from his, readying for violence, he could tell.  Mulder closed his eyes, sighing heavily.  Krycek wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know, that he'd been present when Melissa was killed, and that they'd been gunning for Scully.  And that was then, and this was now, and if he really wanted Krycek to *be* something different than he had been, he had to be willing to believe he *was* something different than he had been.  And the fact that Krycek would tell Mulder the truth about Melissa so bluntly, taking such a huge risk to make his point, had its desired effect on Mulder.  He believed Krycek was telling the truth.  He opened his eyes, and Krycek looked away instantly, then he looked back and they stared at each other for several long minutes, blinking but neither one looking away, as if Krycek could make Mulder believe if he stared hard enough, and Mulder could figure out what the truth was by looking at Krycek long enough.

Finally Mulder looked away, and decided he wasn't ready to get up yet.

I'm tired, he said, and he leaned back, away from Krycek's face.

Krycek licked his lips, then sighed and nodded.

Mulder nodded back, then turned and got re-situated, facing away from Krycek.  He felt Krycek turn and face away, their asses pressed up against each other.  It wasn't nearly as comfortable or comforting as having Krycek's chest at his back, but Mulder was still sick, and his body craved sleep even more than it craved Krycek's warmth.  Mulder nestled a little more deeply into the sleeping bag and willed his body to sleep, his mind to stop trying to decide how to feel about what Krycek had just told him.

* * *

When Mulder woke up this time, he was alone in the bag.  He turned over quickly, sighing with relief at the sight of Krycek shoving things into his pack.  Taking things out of Mulder's pack, dividing them, and putting half into his own pack.  Mulder frowned.

"The storm's stopped," said Krycek without looking up.

Mulder stared at him until he finally raised his eyes.

"It's too dark to go anywhere now," Krycek went on, his eyes darting around, alighting on everything but Mulder's face.  "But we need to be ready to leave at first light."

Mulder was still, then slowly nodded.  

Krycek licked his lips.  "We'll go down the glacier together and split up at the bottom.  You have to forget you ever saw me or this damned body, Mulder."

Mulder frowned deeply.

"Mulder," said Krycek, sounding a little desperate.  "If I let you take it, you'll be dead within the week."  He looked at Mulder pleadingly.

Mulder swallowed.  Well, this was it.  Reality crashing in.  Time to trust Alex or not.  After a moment, Mulder nodded slowly.  Krycek sighed deeply, and closed his eyes, then nodded and opened them.  Mulder could have sworn there was a glimmer of wetness there.  Then Krycek went back to packing up both of their packs.  He laid them out ready, then turned and looked down at Mulder's empty sleeping bag, a few feet away.

"Alex," Mulder rasped.

Krycek looked over, lips pursed.

Mulder unzipped his bag a little, then reached out through the widened opening, extending his hand to Krycek, palm-up.

"Mulder..." said Krycek uncertainly, staring at the offered hand.  He swallowed.  "Are you...sure?"

Hurry up, I'm getting cold, replied Mulder, gesturing with his hand and then pulling his arm back in and zipping the bag, looking directly into Krycek's eyes.  

Krycek nodded and started taking off his clothes.

Mulder watched him.  They'd never done it like this before...awake, aware, consciously choosing to climb into a sleeping bag nude together.  Consciously choosing to have sex.  Mulder found he was trembling as Krycek slid in beside him, against him.  And it wasn't because he was cold.  Krycek shifted around and got comfortable, lying on his prosthesis, right arm free, facing Mulder.  They looked at each other and breathed, and every breath seemed to drive Mulder's panic higher.  He was panting, short and shallow, and his body was truly shaking now.  He felt a little dizzy.

"Mulder, it's okay," Krycek said in a low rumble.  "We don't have to do anything."  

Mulder felt Krycek growing hard against him, and he pressed in a little closer, closing his eyes.  It wasn't that he was trying not to see who he was with.  He just wanted to *feel* everything as intensely as possible, without torturing himself about who made him feel this way.  He put his hand on Krycek's back, and felt Krycek's arm come up around his waist. Even through the panic pounding in his chest, Mulder's cock was already half-erect, and nudging against Krycek's.  He'd never felt anything so thrilling before in all of his life.

His thoughts started chasing one another through his mind even as his body started to slowly move against Krycek's.  Why does this feel so fucking good?  Is it the life or death situation?  Is it an overdose of adrenaline?  Is it the loneliness and complete lack of physical touch in my life?  Is it just the male sex drive, willing to settle for any kind of sex as long as it's getting some?  Or is it more?

He suspected it was far more complicated and far more intense than that.  He gave in to the knowledge that every time he'd ever seen Krycek since he'd disappeared from the FBI, he'd felt compelled to put his hands on the man.  It wasn't fair.  He wanted to grab him.  He wanted to squeeze hard, leaving deep marks, and never let go.  He heard a gasp and realized he was, indeed, digging his fingers into Krycek's back, nails cutting into firm skin.  He relaxed and forced himself to breathe.  He moved to press his lips against Krycek's neck, wrapping his arm further around him, pressing their upper bodies as closely together as their lower bodies already were.

Why can't you be what I want? he mouthed, beginning to kiss him softly.  Krycek's breath came faster, and he bucked against Mulder.  Why can't you be what I need?  Mulder's kisses became more urgent, pressing hard, tasting salty sweat.  Mulder squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hips in hard.  Do you want me like I want you?

As if in answer, Krycek grunted and pulled Mulder even closer, tilting his head to give Mulder better access to his throat.  Krycek's hips were moving steadily now, and he was pushing Mulder backward slightly, pushing his way between Mulder's legs.

Mulder let them be nudged open a little more, panting as he sucked and bit the hard flesh of Krycek's neck and shoulder.  And he realized he wanted to *really* touch Krycek.  Did anything ever really touch Alex Krycek?  Mulder wanted to.  He wanted to be the one that Krycek remembered, late at night, lying in the blue glow of the television.  Mulder knew he'd remember Krycek.  Making a decision, he moved his lips to Krycek's mouth.  Krycek grunted softly and pulled him in harder but didn't kiss Mulder.  Mulder spoke silently against his mouth.

This changes everything, he said, then pressed in for a hard kiss. Krycek grunted again and parted his lips just slightly.  Mulder took his advantage, shoving his tongue in, trying to force Krycek to feel him, need him, remember him.

They hadn't done this yet.  They hadn't kissed.  It was somehow so much more than even coming with each other.  Mulder scratched his nails across Krycek's back, and Krycek moaned and took him deeply for a moment, letting Mulder have the kiss.  Then Krycek's tongue became hard and demanding, pushing its way back into Mulder's mouth, forcing him to accept it.  It was odd to hear only Krycek's sounds as they touched one another, Mulder only panting, hissing, and sighing to express his own intense pleasure.  But Krycek's noises drove Mulder's need higher and higher, and he rolled Krycek over, sliding on top of him, straddling his hips.

Krycek slid his legs underneath Mulder's, parting them to let Mulder lie down between them.  Mulder's body jerked as their cocks pressed up together, lying side by side, mashed between their bodies.  He was moving frantically now, sliding cock against cock, sweat and precum reducing the friction just enough to keep it from being painful.  Krycek's hips rose up to meet him, and soon they fell into the same rhythm, grinding together, mouths locked on one another, Mulder swallowing Krycek's deep groans and sucking on his hard tongue.

Mulder felt his cock oozing and smoothing the way even more, and he pressed in hard, squeezing his eyes shut, hips driving him into Krycek nearly painfully.  Suddenly Krycek's body arched beneath him, lifting and nearly knocking him to the side as Krycek groaned a long, shuddering orgasm into Mulder's mouth.  Three strokes later and Mulder was coming, teeth bared in an ecstatic grimace against Krycek's lips, breath leaving in a loud hiss.

As Mulder's body relaxed down onto Krycek's, his mouth closing and pulling away from the one below it, he realized he tasted blood.  He ran his tongue over his lips and teeth and couldn't feel any cuts.  It must be Krycek's blood.  He opened dazed eyes and looked down, and sure enough, Krycek's lips were bruised and bleeding from Mulder's violent kiss.  He climbed over Krycek's leg and laid at his left side, one leg draped over Krycek's.  He reached up and gently touched the abused lips.  Krycek's eyes opened lazily.

"Sorry," Mulder whispered, mouth turning up in a sad half-grin.

Krycek ran his tongue over his top teeth, licking away the blood, then licked his lips with a smile.  It was the first real smile Mulder had ever seen from Krycek, and it took his breath for a second.  He let out a soft laugh and smiled back.  Then he laid his head on Krycek's shoulder, laying his arm across the cum-slickened body with a deep sigh.  He didn't want to think anymore.  There would be time enough for thinking in the morning. Right now he just wanted to feel.  And he felt good.

* * *

Mulder grimaced and pulled away from Krycek's body, leaving a few hairs behind, he was quite sure.  The smell in that bag was absolutely overpowering...sweat and cum and unwashed man.  Mulder breathed deeply, knowing this was the last time he'd smell it.  Krycek groaned and stretched as much as he could in the confines of the bag, scratching furiously at the dried splotch of semen on his stomach.

"We are officially absolutely disgusting," Mulder whispered, testing his throat, finding it slightly less painful, somewhat bearable to speak.

"Uh oh, Mulder's got his voice back," said Krycek sleepily.  He yawned.  "Fun's over."

Mulder smiled and then let the smile fade as he realized it was true.  It was over.  The storm had cleared and it was time to move on.  Krycek saw the change in his expression and sobered as well.

"What next?" asked Mulder in a low whisper.

Krycek shrugged.  "The people who were waiting for me will assume I'm dead.  I'll have to charter a plane or something, I guess.  My helicopter's long gone."

"Were you...up here on your own?" Mulder whispered carefully.

Krycek sighed.  "I'm not under orders to be here, if that's what you mean."

Mulder nodded.  "You did this on your own."  He looked deeply into Krycek's eyes.  "Because if I took that alien, I'd be dead within the week."

Krycek blinked and looked down.  

Mulder nodded again.

They ate a hearty breakfast, fueling their bodies for the trip down the glacier, then dressed in all their gear and rolled up their sleeping bags, securing them to the packs.  Mulder took several Tylenol, washing them down with Krycek's sister's sea juice.  He finished it off and tucked the bottle into his pack, which was much fuller than it had been on his way up.  Krycek had given him part of his equipment and provisions.  Mulder didn't say thanks, knowing it would only embarrass the other man, but his expression was open and soft as they prepared to abandon their shelter.

Mulder's ankle still hurt rather badly, but he promised himself he wouldn't burden Krycek with it, setting out into the blindingly sunny morning with hardly a pause in his stride.  Krycek dragged the litter with the body and alien, as well as their packs, behind them, the runners sliding easily over the snow.

Mulder figured it would take them about six hours to reach the bottom of the glacier.  He'd have to figure out a way to get in touch with his pilot, who would have left after Mulder didn't show up the next day, and who might have even gone back to the states, figuring Mulder was dead.  He'd probably end up walking the extra two hours to the tiny town where the pilot had holed up for the night Mulder was to be gone.  These thoughts kept his mind busy and off the pain in his ankle for the first hour of the trip.  Then he began favoring his foot, walking more slowly despite his best efforts not to.

"Got anything stronger than Tylenol in there, Alex?" he croaked, pulling the collar of his parka down away from his mouth.

Krycek stopped and Mulder sighed silently with relief.  He turned a ski-mask-covered face to Mulder, and Mulder wished for the tenth time since they'd headed out that he wasn't wearing it.

"Yeah, actually, I do, but it might slow you down some," answered Krycek, going for his pack.

"At this point I don't think I'll be moving very fast without it," replied Mulder with an embarrassed frown.

Krycek nodded and unzipped a small outer pocket, bringing out a little baggie of unmarked white caplets.  He pulled a bottle of water out of his own pack as well, and handed both to Mulder.  Mulder didn't even ask him what it was, just gratefully washing it down with a long drink of water before handing the bottle to Krycek, who took a long drink as well before securing it back in his pack.  He resituated it and started out again, walking slowly.

Mulder was still feeling the effects of his sickness, dizzier and weaker than he should have been after only a couple of hours of walking.  But the pain in his ankle was almost gone, so he pushed ahead more quickly, ignoring the fog falling over his senses.  He walked on automatic pilot until suddenly the ground rose up and smashed itself into his face.

"Mulder!"  He felt something tugging on him and blinked.

"Sorry...sorry," he said faintly, as Krycek pulled him out of the snow.  "Strong stuff, I guess."

Krycek's eyes in the mask squinted.  "Get on the litter, Mulder."

"No!" Mulder said, horrified.

"Listen, Mulder.  We'll make better time.  With the runners it moves over the snow easily.  Your weight won't really make that big of a difference.  Now get on the fucking litter or I'll knock you out and strap you to it myself."

Mulder glared from behind his sunglasses, studying Krycek's eyes to see how serious he was.  There wasn't a hint of give in that flinty green gaze.  "I'm going sledding with Alex Krycek," he muttered, moving the packs around to make room for him to sit on the tightly wrapped corpse.  "Oh this is great.  I'm gonna ride a dead guy and an alien down to the bottom of the glacier."

Krycek actually smirked, then turned and took a better grip on the rope, tugging the litter into a resumed glide.

They did make better time, Mulder had to begrudgingly admit.  He hadn't realized how much he'd been slowing them up.  But without compensating for Mulder's limp, Krycek descended the gentle slope at a steady jog, using gravity to make the fastest progress possible.

Mulder realized, looking around, that this was not the way he had come up the glacier.  He and Krycek hadn't really discussed it, Mulder just following Krycek's lead when he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.  Jesus.  He hadn't even consulted his map.

"Alex," he called, his voice raspy but the drugs keeping it from hurting. Krycek didn't turn, plodding steadily through the snow.  "Alex!" he called again, but his voice was weak and Krycek's ski-mask covered his ears, the crunching of the snow loud in the dry air.  Finally, Mulder couldn't figure out any other way to get the other man's attention, so he pitched off the litter, landing on his knees in the snow.  Krycek stopped, a deep frown in his eyes.

"What the fuck?" He said, hurrying over.  "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," said Mulder, brushing the snow off.  "I just couldn't get your attention."

Krycek's frown deepened.  "You've got it.  What do you want?"

"I was just wondering where the hell we were at," replied Mulder, scratching ineffectually at the three-day growth on his jaw.  Krycek looked macho and dangerous with stubble.  Mulder knew he just looked sleazy.  He wished he could see Krycek's stubble as he stared at him from the eye holes of the ski-mask.  He watched as Krycek lifted his arm and tugged up the sleeve with his teeth, checking his watch.

"Well," Krycek finally answered.  "I think we're about an hour and a half from Caribou."

Mulder gasped.  "Hour and a half?  It took me six hours to get up this damned slope!  You mean there was a shorter way?"

Krycek just smirked.

"Could...you..." Mulder trailed off, licking his lips and making them sting in the cold.  

Krycek tilted his head and cocked his eyebrow, encouraging Mulder to go on.  

"I was just wondering if maybe you could take off the ski-mask," Mulder murmured.  

Krycek frowned.  

"I just...wanna see your face."  Mulder shrugged.

Krycek blinked a few times then reached up and pulled off the mask. Mulder smiled at the way his hair was sticking up all over his head. He stepped forward without thinking and smoothed down a particularly vertical bit. Krycek jerked back from him at first, then just frowned as Mulder fussed over him.  

"Better?" he growled good-naturedly.

Mulder smiled, taking his hand away.  "Much. Thanks."

Krycek shrugged and nodded.

"So what's the plan when we get down there?" asked Mulder.

"I make a few calls, grease a few palms, and get the fuck out of Dodge."  Krycek shrugged.  "Or Caribou.  Whatever."

Mulder smiled again, thoroughly enjoying the return of Krycek's face. "So...do you think you'll be...coming around...ever?"

"You mean to your place?" Krycek's voice rose in disbelief.

"Yeah, to my place," replied Mulder.  "I hear the lock's real easy to jimmy."

"Do you...would you want that?" Krycek asked, his voice strained.

"Well," said Mulder, feeling himself blush.  "I mean...things are different now, right?"

Krycek studied him, then after a moment, just barely nodded.

Mulder chewed the corner of his lip.  "I just want you to know that...if you ever really need a place...or...help, you can...come around."

Krycek stared at him for a few long moments.  "Thanks, Mulder."

"Sure," answered Mulder.  "Just know that...if you need to..."   He licked his lips again and looked down, then back up at Krycek.  "You can come to me."  It was only after he said it that he realized what he was really trying to imply.

Krycek's eyes narrowed a little, then he nodded slowly, a subtle smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

Mulder took a breath as he realized Krycek had picked up on his nearly unconscious offer.

"Let's get down this mountain, Mulder," Krycek said, still smiling vaguely, "and I'll buy you a bowl of chili before we have to part ways."

Mulder nodded, a new warmth seeping through his limbs.  He tried to radiate a little of it in the smile he returned to Krycek.  "Deal."


END If you liked this revision, or if you liked the first one better, I'd love to hear about it. Send your feedback HERE! Thanks!