Trust

Author:  Satina

Date:  June 28, 2003

Pairing:  M/K

Rating:  NC-17

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

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

Series/Sequel:  This stands alone.

Spoilers:  S.R. 819

My website:  http://themkshrine.angelfire.com

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” Scully breathed, realizing the woman was naked. “I…we didn’t bring any clothes…do you have any here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mulder, we’re running out of time,” said Scully, checking her watch.

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

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

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

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

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

Mulder nodded again.  “Where does he keep the phone?”

“It hangs at his belt,” answered the woman.

“Which room does he check first?”

“That one,” she pointed.

“Does he come in the room?”

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

“All right, time’s running out.  He’ll be doing rounds again in three minutes.  Scully, get ‘em out of here.  I’ll call you later.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aaaahhhh!” the nurse screamed in shocked pain as the broken finger smashed into Mulder’s nose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kuh-Krycek?” he panted, mouth falling open.

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

“I…I won’t,” Mulder replied in a breath.  “Wait, let me get a wheelchair.  Just hang on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exsss…sssspiriments,” Krycek said, voice catching.

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

“Not…yet,” said Krycek in two breaths.

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

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

“Mulder!  Are you all right?  Where are you?”  Scully didn’t even say hello.

“I’m fine.  I’m fine, Scully.”

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

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

“Why not?  Mulder, what happened?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Mulder, that doesn’t really tell me much.  What did they do to him?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” Scully answered.

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

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

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

“Mulder…y’rface,” he gasped out softly, and Mulder tilted the rearview mirror to check his reflection with a frown.

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

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

“What are you doing to do next?” asked Scully.

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

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

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

“Mulder, you said his legs were broken.  Someone’s going to need to set them.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll call you later, Scully,” he said.  “And Scully…thanks.”

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

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

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

“I’ve got medication,” said Mulder.  “For the pain.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna have to carry you,” he said, chewing his lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he choked out between catching breaths.

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

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

“Scully’s coming tomorrow to help you with your legs,” said Mulder quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’Lo?” Scully answered sleepily.

“Hey Scully,” Mulder said quietly.  “We just got in.”

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

“We’re in Red Oak, at the Super 8 just off the 12th Street exit, room 109.”

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

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

“All right,” Scully yawned again.  “I’ll grab you some.  I’ll see you then.”

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

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

“Mulder,” Krycek’s voice caught.  “Mulder!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s me.  I don’t know what happened, but…all four of the patients from the lab are dead.”

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

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

“Tracked?” Mulder said, shaking his head.  “Tracked how?”

“I did an autopsy on one and…they’ve all got implants,” she said, sounding weak.

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

“Get it…the fuck…out of me…” said Krycek between breaths.

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

“Don’t…care…” said Krycek.  “Rather…die that way…”

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

“Mulder, what’s going on?”

“Scully, we’re going to try to remove the implant,” replied Mulder, grimacing slightly.

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

“Scully…” said Mulder, feeling sick.

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

Mulder nodded.  “Okay, Scully.  We’ll call you when we’re away from here again.”

“Be careful,” she replied.

“We will,” said Mulder, then he hung up.

“Give…me…a knife…” said Krycek between caught breaths.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I brought the implant,” he said, starting the car.  “I’m going to get on the Interstate then throw it out the window.  Give ‘em something to do.”

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

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

“Where?” panted the other man.

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

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

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

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

“Scully.”

“Scully, it’s me.”

“Mulder, thank God.  Where are you?”

“Pembroke, little place called Pine Shores.”

“How’s Krycek?”

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

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

Mulder smiled grimly.  “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

“Scully,” he said, moving aside to let her in.

“You look terrible,” said Scully, frowning up at him.

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

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

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

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

“Left…femur…right…tibia,” Krycek breathed.

“Does it hurt to breathe?” Scully asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I…gotta piss,” said Krycek with a sigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re welcome, Mulder,” she replied.  “But what are you going to do now?”

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

Scully nodded.

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

Scully arched a brow.  “You do realize what you’re saying, right?”

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

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

Mulder nodded, looking back up at the sky.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m right here,” rasped Krycek, frowning.  “I’m not a child.”

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

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

“Stay in touch, Mulder,” sighed Scully, preparing to leave.

“I will, Scully,” Mulder replied.  “Don’t worry.  We’ll be fine.”

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

“I will, Scully.  You, too,” he said.  “I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

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

“Few weeks?” said Krycek quietly.

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

“You’re…”  Krycek didn’t finish, just staring up at Mulder, frowning and swallowing.

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

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

“Why did I save you?” asked Mulder, hedging.

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

“I told you,” replied Mulder quietly.  “No one deserves that.  I couldn’t just leave you there.”

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

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

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

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

“No, I don’t,” he said simply, running his hand through his hair.  “Are you hungry?”

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

“Thirsty?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’s your arm?” he asked, nodding to it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-I didn’t know it was you…” Krycek began, voice hushed.

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

“Noise?” Krycek asked carefully, glancing at the door.

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

“I didn’t mean to…” Krycek began again, after drinking the cup of soda thirstily.

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

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

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

“Yeah he was,” agreed Krycek darkly.  “What…happened back there, anyway?”

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

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

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

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

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

Krycek breathed in and out shakily.

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

Krycek’s frown deepened, his eyes tightening.

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

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

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

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

“The blood,” Krycek said in a low voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mulder.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um…how…” he started, resituating his hold slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Krycek ducked his head but snorted just slightly.

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

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

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

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

“I…I don’t know,” said Krycek.  “I haven’t eaten in…several days.  I should probably be careful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One?” she asked, picking up a menu.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I could hold the bowl,” Mulder countered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How had he lost his arm?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Krycek’s eyes blinked open and he turned, frowning at Mulder.  “What…what are you talking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Krycek closed his eyes, jaw muscles clenching.  “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” he ground out.  “We were supposed to sneak into the place, not get taken as prisoners!”  His voice rose.  “I had no choice, Mulder! They knew me there!  I had worked for months, gaining their trust and building a little power base.  And then you went off half-cocked and got us thrown in a cell.”

“Me?” said Mulder, sitting up angrily.  “You’re the one who led me over there, giving just enough information to keep me interested.  You wanted me over there!  You led me over there by the nose, just like you always do!”

Krycek pulled himself up against the head of the bed, wincing more.  “I led you over there, Mulder, but we were supposed to be partners, infiltrating the place, going through unofficial official channels!  Instead, you cuffed me and slapped me around and dragged me across the Goddamned countryside and right into the middle of the whole fucking mess!  God, Mulder, don’t you ever think? It’s a wonder you’re still alive at all!”

Mulder stood up quickly and didn’t miss that Krycek flinched back against the headboard.  “If you’d give me more than just the fucking crumbs every time you want to get me to do something, I’d be able to fucking think about it!  You don’t give me enough to even know what the fuck we’re doing, let alone how to do it!  What the fuck kind of partnership is that?”  He turned and walked across the room, slamming himself into the bathroom before he could reach down and start shaking and hitting Krycek the way he wanted to.

Goddamn it!  Krycek actually had the gall to lay out there and berate Mulder for not having all the information!  For going in’half-cocked’ and nearly getting them killed because of it!  “Fuck!” Mulder yelled, punching the wall with the side of his fist, shaking the mirror.  “Goddamn it!” Just once he’d like to be treated like someone who mattered!  Just once he’d like to be given more than whatever the real players could spare.

What the fuck was he doing, holed up in a motel with Krycek, taking care of him like some Goddamned nursemaid?  What the hell made him think that was a good idea?  The same thing that made him follow Krycek’s breadcrumbs, getting him thrown in a Russian gulag, beaten and experimented on and nearly getting his arm cut off?  He stopped, blinking, as a visual of Krycek’s severed arm, which he’d been confronted with several times over the past couple of days, flashed across his inner vision.

Mulder had almost lost an arm over that trip.  Krycek, on the other hand, had lost one.  It sobered Mulder, made him stop pacing and catch his breath, inhaling and exhaling as he unclenched his jaw and his fists, closing his eyes.  As angry as he was, and as justified in his rage at being used and manipulated and then berated for it, Krycek had ended up facing his own justice then, just as he was now.  Mulder sighed, his whole body deflating as he realized that once again, the Universe had taken revenge out of Mulder’s hands and given him nothing really to want for in that department.

Damn you, Krycek, he thought.  I can’t even exact my own revenge, with the way you get yourself into these Godawful situations.  He shook his head, eyes closed. Who had really lost the most in that situation, after all? Mulder had made it out alive, vaccinated against the black oil, with information that gave him a much better understanding of the big picture.  Krycek had gotten out missing a limb, having achieved his objective only in a limited way.  His objective.  Which was to get the vaccine into Mulder’s hands.  For that, he’d risked his life and lost his arm.

Mulder sighed, raking his hand through his hair.  Krycek had a lot to learn about partnership, if that had really been his goal, but Mulder didn’t have any reason to hold onto his rage, seeing how Krycek had suffered for his own mistrust.

Mistrust.  That’s what it really boiled down to, wasn’t it? Krycek had only told him the bare minimum, not trusting Mulder with everything, just sure Mulder would find some way to fuck it up, as usual.  Mulder and Krycek had both paid for that mistrust, but it was getting clearer to Mulder that Krycek had paid more.  Mulder sighed again.  Maybe Mulder trusted Krycek too easily or too much, but the real problem between them was that Krycek trusted Mulder too little.

And maybe that was why Mulder was sitting in a motel in Pembroke, North Carolina, taking care of him when no one else would.  To prove to Krycek that he could trust Mulder.

Mulder laughed softly.  All this time he’d thought the problem was that he couldn’t trust Krycek, when really it had been that Krycek didn’t trust Mulder enough for them to do any good to one another.  Well, Mulder was changing that now.  Surely after being cared for by Mulder like this, Krycek couldn’t maintain his distance and his dangerous mistrust for Mulder.  Surely this would change everything between them.

Mulder inhaled deeply and let it out shakily.  It did change everything between them.  In his eyes it did.  He certainly didn’t feel any of the old feelings about Krycek that he had, didn’t maintain any of the old ideas.  He found himself getting just a little excited again, this time at the prospect of actually breaking through to the man underneath all the mystery and deception and mistrust, seeing the human being he’d been so sure he’d glimpsed back when they’d been partners.  He had a new goal.  A new quest.  To find the man beneath all the bullshit.

He smoothed his hair and licked his lips, taking a steadying breath before exiting the bathroom.

Krycek was sitting up in bed as straight as possible, eyes wide and round, breathing fast.  He was holding the gun Mulder had given him, clutching it tightly in his hand, down on the bed beside him.  Mulder frowned, looking down at it, then up at Krycek’s sweaty, pale face.  Krycek looked, Mulder decided, utterly terrified.  Well of course he did.  He’d just pissed off his only chance at survival. The man upon whom he was utterly dependent for the smallest things, from taking a drink to taking a piss. Mulder actually smiled, remembering the very awkward moments in the bathroom.  Talk about trust.  He walked over to Krycek’s bed, ignoring the gun and the way the man flinched and inhaled sharply.  He picked up the warm milk from the morning and took it over to the sink, dumping it out.

“If you think you’re up to it, why don’t we get moved into a better place,” he said, tossing the cup in the garbage and then returning to the bed, watching Krycek draw back again as he picked up the medication, putting it into his bag.

“You’re…” Krycek started, then swallowed and licked his lips several times.  “You’re not leaving me?”

Mulder smiled at the unintentionally intimate use of words.  As if he were a lover, walking out after an argument.  Then the smile faded, as he realized that Krycek’s expectation was just another example of how much he didn’t trust Mulder, even after all that Mulder had done for him.  “No, you asshole, I’m not,” he said, bending over his bag and unzipping it, pulling out a sweatshirt and a pair of jogging shorts.

“Why?” Krycek rumbled, as Mulder turned, holding the clothing in his hand.

Mulder chewed his cheek, considering.  “Because I’ve decided that I’m not as fucked up as you are,” he answered. Then he smiled, proud of himself for coming up with such a good answer.

“I think you’re more fucked up than I am,” said Krycek quietly, his voice still unsteady.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one who’s gonna lie there and let my worst enemy put a pair of jogging shorts and a sweatshirt on me,” Mulder answered, reaching for the sheet.  Krycek’s fingers twitched against the gun, but Mulder knew it was only instinct.  “Here, why don’t you give me that before you do something we’ll both find really disappointing and shoot me,” said Mulder, reaching down and taking hold of the barrel of the gun.  Krycek held onto it, breathing harsh.

Mulder turned, his face about a foot in front of Krycek’s, and looked him straight in the eyes.  “Do you want to shoot me, Alex?” he said calmly.

Krycek breathed hard, blinking.  Then he swallowed, shaking his head, and let go of the gun.

Mulder took it and laid it aside, still within Krycek’s reach.  “That’s better.  Now let’s get these shorts on you so we can go find a nicer bolthole.”  His own breathing accelerated as he reached again for the sheet to pull it off.

“Mulder,” said Krycek a little breathlessly.  Mulder looked up at him again.  Krycek’s voice was little more than breath.  “I never wanted to hurt you.”

Mulder stared into the dark, still-scared depths of Krycek’s aqua-jade eyes, considering all the times he’d hit the man and had never been hit back.  “I know,” he said softly, only realizing it just then.  He took a deep breath in and let it out.  “Now let’s do this.”

He slowly pulled the sheet away from Krycek’s body, watching the way Krycek’s hand clenched and unclenched at his side, his jaw muscles jumping.  For the first time, he let himself take a little time to look at the other man’s body as he uncovered it.

Broad chest, lightly covered with dark hair.  Dark pink nipples peeking through, firming a little in the cooler air. Taped ribs above a concave stomach, now expanding and contracting rapidly as Krycek’s breathing went very erratic.  He was an ‘innie.’  Mulder breathed deeply and kept pulling down the sheet.

Krycek’s hips were somewhat broad and square, like his chest, his thighs hard and strong, with the same light covering of hair.  He didn’t let himself look at Krycek’s cock, even though he’d already touched it.  That would just be too much for both of them, he thought, as he quickly pulled the sheet down Krycek’s legs and off, moving to the foot of the bed with the shorts.

He carefully stretched the fleece, placing it over both feet at the same time, then trying to be as careful as possible as he pulled them up the casted legs.  Krycek leaned down to help, obviously very embarassed and frustrated, but gasped as his ribs prevented him from reaching very far at all, and Mulder tugged the shorts the rest of the way up, again not looking at Krycek’s thick, dark, soft cock nestled between his hard thighs.  Mulder let out a long sigh of relief and stepped back.

“How’s it feel to have clothes on again?” he asked, trying to lighten the horribly awkward moment.

“Better,” Krycek said quietly, swallowing.

“Good,” said Mulder, grabbing the sweatshirt.  “Almost done.”

“I can do that myself,” said Krycek, trying not to grit his teeth.

Mulder looked directly into his eyes calmly.  “Just let me help you, Alex.”

Krycek blinked, then blinked again, and Mulder found himself amazed at how young and innocent and even…pretty that made him look.  He smiled and leaned in, not waiting for a reply.  He put the shirt over Krycek’s head first, trying hard not to look at the remains of his left arm, concentrating on gently helping Krycek manipulate the right into the sleeve.  He pulled the shirt down over Krycek’s chest, tugging it down in back as Krycek leaned forward, his face nearly touching Mulder’s neck.  Mulder sighed and stepped away and Krycek relaxed back against the headboard and pillows, breathing deeply.

“As soon as we get moved, you’re getting a bath,” he said dryly, zipping up his bag.

Krycek let out a little incredulous snort.  “You’re not gonna give me a break, are you?” he asked very quietly.

Not until you trust me, Mulder thought but didn’t say, just replying with a smug grin.  “I’m gonna take our things out to the car and pull it up to the door,” he said.  “Be right back.”

Krycek nodded and Mulder crossed the room, opening the door and stepping out into the late afternoon light.  He was, once again, confronted with how much better it smelled out here than in the room, and made a mental note to leave a nice tip for housekeeping.  He threw the bags in the car and went back for Krycek.

Krycek was sitting up in bed, looking very serious and rather pale.  Mulder found himself wanting to apologize for asking him to do this, but figured that would just make things more awkward, so he just stepped in and leaned over, helping Krycek slowly swing his legs over the side of the bed.  Krycek let out a gasp as they touched the floor, and Mulder waited once again, for the other man’s go ahead to help him stand.  When Krycek was ready, Mulder bent in and helped him up, and they struggled their way out the door and into the car, both of them letting out deep sighs of relief at the clearing of the first hurdle.  The next would be getting Krycek into the hotel and up to the new room, but Mulder had already decided he was going to get them booked in a hotel nice enough to get a wheelchair for them.  He pulled out onto the street, scanning the area.

“Yell if you see something,” he said, making a turn. “Something nice,” he added, looking behind him and pulling into the other lane.

They went along for a few minutes until Krycek’s quiet voice cut the silence.  “There’s a Hilton,” he said lifting his hand and pointing casually.

“You like the Hilton?” Mulder asked, looking over at Krycek and taking advantage of an opportunity to ask a question without it seeming like an interrogation.

“’Sokay,” replied Krycek, looking sideways at him.

Mulder laughed at Krycek’s obvious, misplaced suspicion. The man didn’t even trust him enough to tell him he liked the Hilton.  “All right, then,” he said, pulling into the large drive-up valet area in front of the entrance.  “Be right back.”  He left the car running, opening the door and stepping out.  He leaned back in, remembering a rainy night at an airport last year.  “Don’t go anywhere,” he said with an evil smirk, and turned and headed into the hotel before Krycek could reply.

He headed up to the front desk to book a room, telling the concierge that his companion had two broken legs and needed a wheelchair.  “Skiing accident,” he said, shrugging.

“Yes, sir.  Do you want one king bed or two queens?”

Mulder smirked.  The man hadn’t even batted an eye. Evidently they were used to skiing, same-sex couples here at the Pembroke Hilton.  “Two queens,” he said, smiling bigger at the unintentional pun.

“Yes, sir,” said the clerk, not getting the joke.  Mulder continued grinning slightly as the concierge came back with a wheelchair and a luggage cart.

“Thanks,” he said.  “We’ve only got a couple of bags.  I think we can get them.”

“As you wish, sir,” said the concierge, bowing and leaving the chair with Mulder.  “Please don’t hesitate to call if you need anything else.”

“Thank you,” said Mulder, turning and wheeling the chair out the door.  He found the valet standing by the side of his Taurus, Krycek glaring at him from the passenger seat.

“C’mon, honey,” said Mulder, smiling evilly.  “Let’s get you up to that room for your sponge bath.”

Krycek gaped at him, eyes wide.  The valet’s eyes flickered but he said nothing.  Mulder grinned and pulled open Krycek’s door, pushing the chair up as close as possible. He leaned in and helped transfer Krycek from the car to the wheelchair, then went around and grabbed their two bags, slinging them over his shoulder.  He gave the valet his room number and took hold of the wheelchair’s handles, pushing him in through the Hilton entrance, still smiling.

He made his way to the elevators, nodding at the concierge on the way back through the opulent lobby, and said nothing to the frowning Krycek as they rode up to the fifth floor and their new room.  Mulder wheeled Krycek in and turned and closed the door, dropping the bags just inside.

Well, this was certainly better than the Pine Shores.  Two large, sumptuous beds with lots of pillows, a table and chairs, two desks, a 27-inch television, a stereo, a real wooden ice bucket, a small fridge and microwave, and even a vanity with coffee maker and blow-dryer.  “Nice,” said Mulder, going over to the curtains and opening them a bit, letting some light in.  He felt safer doing that here on the fifth floor than he had felt in the little motel.  When he turned around to face Krycek, he was still smiling.  “I told them you broke your legs skiing,” he said, walking over to stand in front of the still-frowning man.  “I think the concierge was a litte disappointed when I told them I wanted two beds,” he went on.  “I think he’d be more than happy to help me get you into one of them, if you know what I mean.”

“Mulder,” said Krycek, blinking up at him.  But he didn’t seem to know how to finish the sentence, just gaping up at Mulder’s grinning face, looking somewhat freaked out.

“Want me to call him?” asked Mulder, face now serious, brows arched.

“No,” said Krycek, looking annoyed.

“Just you and me, then,” said Mulder, reaching down. “Whew,” he said as he put his arms around Krycek’s chest. “I wasn’t kidding about that spongebath.”

“Mulder,” said Krycek again, this time into Mulder’s hair, his one arm hooking over Mulder’s neck.

“Ready?” asked Mulder, and when Krycek sighed and nodded, Mulder leaned back, helping Krycek out of the chair and onto the new bed, then quickly getting him turned and situated, wincing and breathing hard as Mulder adjusted his pillows.

Mulder stepped back and surveyed the situation, looking over Krycek and the bed and the room again.

“I think bath first, then food,” he said, chewing his lip. “That way we can enjoy dinner without the smell.”  Krycek looked up at him from under his lashes, unamused. “Sorry,” said Mulder, not sounding sorry at all.  “Okay, so we need water and washcloths, towels and soap,” he started, heading into the bathroom.  He grabbed the things he listed, filling the ice bucket with warm water and bringing it all back out to the table beside Krycek’s…Alex’s bed.  He frowned and stood back, once again looking at Alex, who just looked back worriedly. Finally Mulder pulled out his cellphone, and Alex frowned.

“Scully, it’s me,” said Mulder.  “We’ve moved into a different hotel, I thought I’d let you know.”

“Where are you, Mulder?  Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” replied Mulder, looking over at Alex, who was still frowning, but not as deeply.  “We’re at the Hilton.”

“The Hilton.  Nice, Mulder.  You never booked the Hilton for us.”  Scully sounded a little pouty.

Mulder smiled.  “I figured it would be easier to get the food and other things we need this way.  We can just send out the pretty little concierge guy whenever we need something.  And there’s nothing like room service,” he added, his stomach growling in punctuation.

“Mulder, you’re scaring me.  You sound way too cheerful. Have you been sneaking Krycek’s Vicodin?”

Mulder laughed softly.  “No, Scully.  I’m leaving the narcotics for Alex.  I promise.”

“Alex??”  Scully’s voice rose and Mulder was almost sure Alex could hear it from across the room.  He turned away, facing the door to the room.

“Don’t make a big thing out of this, Scully,” he said, keeping his voice down.

“Mulder, you haven’t called him Alex since you two were partners,” said Scully, sounding worried.

Mulder sighed, hunching over the phone even more.

“And you know, come to think of it, Mulder, you used his first name after being partnered with him less than a month.  Why is that?”

Mulder’s heart started to pound and he looked around as if the answers to her difficult questions could be found written into the emergency exit map on the back of the door.

“How are you two getting along?” asked Scully, voice now frighteningly calm.

“Fine,” mumbled Mulder, playfulness scared into submission.

“Well, that’s good,” said Scully.  “How are his injuries?”

Mulder glanced back at Alex, who looked away quickly as if he hadn’t been trying to hear Mulder’s now-nearly- whispered conversation.  “He’s still in some pain,” he said, voice returning to normal.  “But he’s breathing a lot better and I got him to eat something earlier.”

“That’s good,” Scully repeated.  It was quiet a minute, and Mulder was terrified of what Scully might choose to say. His fear was not unfounded.  “It’s probably about time for his first spongebath, isn’t it?”

Mulder gasped.  Fuck!  What the hell?  “I have to go,” he said a little too loudly.  “I’ll call you if we need anything.” He winced at his use of the word ‘we’, closing his eyes.

Scully sighed.  “Mulder, I’m trying very hard to trust your judgement here, but you’re making it very difficult. Remember how you are around him.  Be careful.”

How I am around him? Mulder thought, frowning.  But he didn’t say it, deciding it was best just to get the hell off the phone and now.  “I am, Scully.  I’ll talk to you later.”  He pushed End, letting out a shaky sigh of relief and putting away the phone.  He turned and faced Krycek, who turned and looked at him as if he had not been paying any attention to the phone call.  “Well,” he said, swallowing back a flash of embarassment that hadn’t been there before the call.  “Ready for your bath?”

Alex frowned at him, looking a little frightened.

Mulder smiled.  “Hey, you can do most of it yourself. Don’t worry.  I’m not going to take advantage of your weakened state and force myself on you.”  He bent to dip a washcloth in the water and added, “No matter how disappointing that might be to our concierge.”

Alex didn’t say anything as Mulder handed him the washcloth.  He began to wash his face, closing his eyes and sighing at the pure joy of being clean.  Mulder moved the rest of the supplies closer so Alex could reach all of them then walked over to the TV, picking up the room service menu.

He perused it, trying not to watch as Alex carefully struggled out of the sweatshirt and began washing his body, sighing with relief as he got cleaner and cleaner. Mulder heard him hiss and looked up from the menu to seem him scowling as he tried to wash his thighs, his ribs curtailing his reach.  Mulder put down the menu.

“Need some help?” he asked, his embarassment strangely fading as he bent and dipped a fresh washcloth in the water, soaping it up without waiting for an answer.

Alex’s lips parted, but seeing that Mulder didn’t seem to require permission, they just closed again as he leaned back against the headboard, trying to relax.

Mulder bent down and began rubbing the soap into Alex’s thigh, sliding his hand underneath to lift it carefully, getting behind Alex’s knee and up the back of his leg under the shorts.  He felt Alex’s whole body tense as he washed then rinsed the area, and he watched it relax as he leaned back, Alex’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly.

“Lean forward and I’ll do your back,” said Mulder quietly, moving up.

Alex looked at him then obeyed, leaning over as much as his injured ribs would allow.  Mulder could see that he was incredibly tense, even shaking slightly as Mulder bent toward his truncated arm.  Mulder placed his left hand on Alex’s shoulder, and Alex jerked, then sighed, trying to relax as Mulder steadied him.  Mulder reached forward and quickly scrubbed and then rinsed his back, noticing that the muscles there were bigger and harder than his own, the skin pale and scarred.  He exhaled and swallowed, leaning back and helping Alex lie back down against the pillows, helping resituate them.

“All that’s left is your hair,” breathed Mulder, trying to get his own thrumming heart under control.  Being this close to Alex, touching him, did something to Mulder’s composure.  It always had.  But now he was…washing him, instead of hitting him.  It was downright weird.  “Let me get you some fresh water and shampoo.”  He took the bucket and emptied it, grabbing the complimentary shampoo from the bathtub and bringing it back out.  He took them over to Alex, whom he could tell had still not relaxed but was trying hard to.  “Here, he said, handing him a new cloth and the shampoo.  “Let me know if you need help.”

“I think I’ve got it,” said Alex in a low, breathy voice.  He slowly reached up, squeezing water into his hair, and Mulder rushed to catch the runoff with a towel.  Alex jerked as Mulder leaned in quickly, holding the towel around his shoulders.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, and Alex swallowed, awkwardly opening the plastic shampoo bottle then tipping it onehanded into his own palm, massaging the froth into his hair looking anywhere but at Mulder, who was inches from his face.  He grunted a few times as he reached higher than his ribs would allow, but soon he was done and painstakingly, slowly, he used a wet rag to remove all the suds he could.

Mulder dumped out and replaced the water once again, then returned to holding the towel as Alex finished rinsing his hair.  Finally, Mulder took away the bucket and emptied it, bringing Alex a complimentary toothbrush and toothpaste, along with a glass of water and the empty bucket to spit in.  Alex used it silently, brushing a long, long time, and Mulder cleaned up everything when he was done, coming out of the bathroom to a clean-smelling, pink-scrubbed, somewhat relaxed Krycek.

“Well,” he said, picking up the menu again.  “That’s gotta be better.”  He met Alex’s eyes for the first time since they’d started this project, and Alex stared back at him, expressionless.  “Hungry?” he said, indicating the menu. “Uh, Alex,” he said, remembering.  “If you need to go to the bathroom, let me know.”  He bit his tongue as he realized that made him sound like he was looking forward to helping Krycek pee again.  “I just mean, if you need to, don’t feel bad about…” he trailed off, feeling more and more embarassed by the moment.

“Relax, Mulder,” said Alex in a voice that made Mulder want to suggest that he take his own advice.  “My bowels are moving really slowly, thanks to the medication and the trauma to my body.  You’re off the hook.”  He stopped, then ducked his head, looking up from under his lashes. “For now.”  He gave Mulder a sarcastic smile, fluttering his lashes.

Mulder grinned back, immensely relieved that Alex was making light of this awkward subject.  “Okay then.  So, what do you want to eat?”

“Why are you calling me Alex?” said Krycek quietly, looking down at his lap.

Mulder parted his lips to speak, but froze, mouth open. “Don’t…you want me to?” he asked helplessly, feeling himself blush.

Krycek sighed, closing his eyes and frowning.  Then he opened them and spoke.  “You do it because you think I want you to?” he asked, voice low.

“No,” said Mulder honestly.  “I do it because I want to,” he shrugged, lifting his chin as if to say ‘what are you gonna do about it?’

Krycek sighed again, squinting down into his lap.  “What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“Taking care of you,” Mulder shrugged again, trying to look unconcerned.

“Mulder, that makes no sense.  None at all.  You hate me. You’ve hated me for a long time.”  Krycek’s voice trailed off into another whisper.

“I don’t hate you,” said Mulder, his own voice failing.  He sighed, looking down at the menu, then looked up, meeting Krycek’s intensity with his own.  “Listen,” he said, narrowing his eyes.  “You don’t have any choice in this. I’m taking care of you.  I don’t have to tell you my reasons.”  He didn’t look away as his challenging tone brought out the defiant spark in Alex’s eyes.

“You don’t hate me,” Alex said in a tone that let Mulder know he wasn’t buying it.

“No, I don’t,” said Mulder steadily.

“You’ve hit me every chance you got.  You cuffed me and left me on a balcony all night in early spring.  You tried to shoot me,” he finished, going quiet.

“You killed my father, Krycek!” replied Mulder, voice rising.

“I know that, Mulder!” said Alex, voice matching Mulder’s.  “That’s my fucking point!  What the hell are you doing, taking care of me after I put a knife in your back, killed your father, and all the other shit you think I’ve done to you?”

“Why the fuck did you bring me the Weikamp information?” Mulder yelled back, narrowing his eyes.

Alex’s mouth fell open, eyes blinking.  “I told you,” he said, recovering his composure.  “I was sent by the resistance.”

“And why did you kiss me?” asked Mulder, heart racing as he said something he’d had no intentions of saying.

Alex swallowed, blinking rapidly.  “I didn’t know what else to do…” he started.  “You wouldn’t trust me.  I had to show you…”

“What?  How great a kisser you are?  And how was that supposed to reassure me of your trustworthiness?  You can be a great lay and still be a lying scumbag, Alex!”  Mulder blinked as he realized what he’d said.  Now he was seriously scared of his own mouth.

Alex licked his lips, breathing hard.  “I just wanted you to know,” he said haltingly.  “That there was more…than just…betrayal and violence between us…” he finished, his breath catching.

“What’s between us?” breathed Mulder, leveling his stare at Krycek.  When Krycek just stared back, breathing hard and swallowing, Mulder yelled, throwing down the room service menu.  “What?  What, Alex?  What’s between us that I don’t know about?”

“You tell me!  You’re the one that’s got us holed up in the Hilton, giving me spongebaths!” Alex retorted, shaking. “What’s this about, Mulder?”

Mulder stared at him, chest heaving, jaw clenched, and realized he didn’t really have an answer, other than the one he’d come up with in the bathroom.  He blurted it out helplessly.

“I want you to trust me.”

Krycek gasped.  “Trust you?  What the hell are you talking about?”

“You don’t trust me!” Mulder yelled, getting his head of steam back at the way Krycek was playing dumb.  “Even now, you keep looking for the ulterior motive, thinking it’s all a trick, unable to just believe that I want to…” Mulder snapped his mouth shut, frustrated and not wanting to explore what he might have been about to say.

“Be NICE to me?” said Krycek incredulously, eyes wide. “Why the FUCK would you want to be nice to me, Mulder?  Why the fuck should I believe you’d wanna be nice to me?”

“I liked you!” yelled Mulder.  “I told you, you stupid son of a bitch, I liked you!  And I still do, even though you’re a goddamned asshole!”  His voice rasped with sudden tears, and he stormed across the room and out the door, slamming it behind him.  He started to stride down the hall, then turned and paced, not wanting to leave Krycek unattended.  He dashed the unwanted tears from his eyes, pacing up and down, never ten feet from the door.  Finally, he strode over and pulled open the door, breathing hard. He stepped in, scowling, and slammed the door behind him.  He stalked over to his bed and sat at the foot of it, hands on his knees.  He breathed hard, trying to calm his racing heart, tears gone.

“H-how…” Krycek whispered from the bed next to him. “…can I believe that, Mulder?  How could you like me, after what I’ve done to you?”

Mulder sighed, blinking as the tears threatened to return. He swallowed and turned his head, still bowed.  “Do you like me?” he asked, voice thick.

Krycek gasped, blinking and breathing hard.

“Damn it,” Mulder said tiredly, voice choked.  “Do you like me, Alex?”

Krycek inhaled slowly.  “Yes,” he breathed.  “I like you, Mulder.”

Mulder let out his breath, closing his eyes as the tears welled up full-force.  He found himself unable to control them now, and he dropped his face into his hands and sobbed quietly, shoulders shaking.  He was mortified as he cried into his hands, his heart breaking open at the revelation that Alex Krycek liked him.  He sniffed and wiped his eyes and nose with his hand.

“Mulder?”  Krycek’s voice sounded thick and scared.

Mulder couldn’t face him, hiding his face in his hands.

“Mulder…I’m sorry,” rasped Krycek.  “I’m sorry for all of it.  I’m sorry.”  His voice trailed off into a whisper and Mulder heard his throat catch.

Mulder stared at the thick carpet through his fingers, feeling his heart pounding in his throat.  What they had here was more than friendship.  Friendship didn’t evoke this kind of emotion, this kind of…passion.  Friendship wasn’t this extreme, didn’t make you feel this completely unraveled.  Mulder gulped back terror and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the heels of his hands into them.

“Alex,” he whispered, terrified.  “Have you ever…been interested…in a man?”

Krycek gasped, and Mulder breathed into his hands, willing himself not to throw up.

“I…” Krycek choked.  “Mulder, I mostly…I have sex with men most of the time,” he finished in a breath.

Mulder exhaled heavily into his hands, trembling.

“What…about you?” Krycek said breathlessly.

Mulder sniffed, feeling juvenile.  He spoke into his hands, muffled.  “I’ve had experiences with other guys,” he said, swallowing.  “In college.  I had a nickname,” he laughed, then sniffed again.  “Fox-Try-Anything-Once-Mulder.” He laughed again, throat catching.

“I had no idea,” breathed Krycek.  “I didn’t…they didn’t know that…” he trailed off.

“Alex,” Mulder rasped, throat closing, still speaking into his hands.  “You must have noticed that I can’t keep my hands off you.  Grabbing you and hitting you and throwing you around…”

Krycek said nothing.

“I always told myself it was anger…hate…that I hated you for what you’d done.  What you’d done to me,” he clarified.

He could hear Krycek breathing, but the other man still said nothing, so Mulder swallowed and continued.

“But it’s not hate,” he said quietly, feeling sick.  “I already told you that.  I don’t hate you, even though I’m angry at you.  I like you, Alex.”  He knew there was more, but he couldn’t even think about that without the very real threat of throwing up, so he just breathed and let Krycek figure out the rest for himself.

“Mulder…” Krycek finally said, voice low.  “I’ve always wanted you.  I’ve always thought you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.”

Mulder gasped, feeling his whole body react to those words, that voice.  He was instantly so hard it hurt, trapped in his jeans.

“That’s why I let you hit me,” Krycek went on in a quavering voice.  “You were touching me.  I just wanted…I just wanted so much for you to touch me,” he finished on a breath.

Mulder actually laughed wetly into his hands.  “You wanted me to touch you, so you let me hit you.  And I hit you because…I wanted so bad to touch you.”

Krycek inhaled and exhaled.  “You want to touch me, Mulder?”

His body throbbed again, the ache sharp and stealing his breath.  He couldn’t look up, just nodding his head where it was held in his hands.

“Mulder…please…” Krycek half-whispered, breath shallow and fast.  “Please…touch me, Mulder.”

Mulder gasped, hands shaking as his whole body relaxed, just wanting to follow that voice.  He pulled his hands away from his face, raking them back through his hair, breathing out a shuddering breath.  He closed his eyes then opened them, finally getting up the courage to look back over his shoulder at Krycek.

Krycek was staring at him, eyes dark and gleaming, licking his lips which were parted on shallow breaths. Mulder’s own lips parted on another soft gasp as he got up from the bed and slowly walked around until he was standing at the head of Krycek’s bed, looking down at him. Krycek looked up at him, dark and intense, chest rising and falling rapidly, still bare from his bath.

Mulder swallowed and reached out one trembling hand, slowly lowering it toward Krycek’s chest.  As it made contact, Krycek gasped, arching into the touch, mouth falling open.

Mulder gasped in response, stroking down Krycek’s chest, brushing over one nipple, making Krycek’s breath catch in his throat with a little grunt.  Mulder fell on him, pressing him down against the pillows at his back, moaning as he put his mouth on Krycek’s, forcing it open with lips and tongue.

“Mmnngh!” Krycek cried out into Mulder’s mouth, his arm coming up to grip Mulder tightly, despite his injured ribs.

“Sorry,” Mulder whispered, remembering them and trying to raise himself off Krycek.  Krycek held him fast, not letting him get away, and Mulder moaned and sank back into the kiss, sliding his hand down over Krycek’s taped ribs and abdomen, slipping his fingers under the waistband of the shorts he was letting Krycek wear.

“MMM!” Krycek yelled into his mouth, bucking hard as Mulder’s hand came in contact with his stiff, hot cock, and Mulder heard both pain and pleasure in that cry, and pulled his mouth away, his hand still firmly in place.

Krycek was panting, eyes half-closed, lips wet and swollen from Mulder’s violent kiss, and he blinked slowly, confused, as Mulder licked his lips, catching his breath.

“Jesus, I want you,” Mulder panted.  “Wanna make you come.”

“Fuck!” Krycek hissed.  “Mulder, please…”

“But you have to be careful,” Mulder said, looking down at Krycek’s casted legs.  “Don’t move around too much.”

“Oh God,” Krycek groaned, closing his eyes.  “Mulder…”

“Jesus, I love it when you say my name like that,” breathed Mulder, beginning to move his hand up and down Krycek’s cock.  “Say it like that when you come, Alex.”

“Ohhhh fuck,” whined Krycek.  “Oh God, Mulder!”

“Mmmm…” said Mulder, leaning in again and sealing his mouth to Krycek’s, this time careful not to put weight on his injured ribs.  Krycek’s hand grasped at Mulder’s back frantically as Mulder stroked harder, squeezed, stroked some more.

“Mmmm!  Mmmm!”  Krycek tore his mouth away. “Gonna…come…Mulder!” he yelled, throwing his head back and cracking it loudly against the headboard as his cock swelled and then pulsed in Mulder’s hand.

“Oh God yeah,” moaned Mulder, watching Krycek’s body arch as he came all over Mulder’s hand and shorts, Mulder’s fist moving quickly, milking the last of it out of him.  As Krycek’s body relaxed back down into the bed, Mulder carefully removed his shaking hand, laying his body on the small sliver of bed beside Krycek, breathing hard.

“Alex,” he breathed, taking Alex’s hand in his with one hand while quickly unfastening his jeans with the other. “God, touch me,” he gasped, shoving Alex’s hand down his jeans and arching into it hard.

“Uhn!” Krycek groaned, moving his hand as Mulder humped it, turning his head and trying to catch Mulder’s mouth with his.

“Awfuck, Alex!” Mulder cried into Krycek’s mouth, and he was coming, bucking hard into Alex’s hand, throat closed, mouth open on a silent scream as Alex pumped him. “God…” Mulder gasped, coming down.  “God.”

“Yeah,” Krycek agreed, kissing Mulder’s trembling, slack lips.  He pulled his hand out of Mulder’s pants and Mulder moaned, snuggling up against him and pressing his face into Alex’s neck.  Sooooo good.  It just felt so good and so right and so amazing to be next to him like this.  He sighed, putting his arm gently on Krycek’s chest, careful of the taping.

He felt the tears come again, silently, and he tried not to cry them onto Alex’s neck noticeably, breathing in shallow, shuddering gasps.  How much time had they wasted hurting each other when all either of them ever wanted was this?  This…incredible, pulsating magic between them.  Mulder finally had to lift his head, the tears making Alex’s neck wet where Mulder lay against it. He sniffed, embarassed, and looked into Alex’s face.  And he saw that Alex’s eyes, too, were gleaming, his lashes waterlogged and blinking.  Alex shrugged, giving an embarassed smirk.  Mulder smiled and he knew Alex knew it, too, and that he wasn’t alone.  Then his stomach growled very loudly between them and he looked down, laughing.  He looked back up and found Alex smiling at him, open and beautiful.  It hurt Mulder’s heart, and he bit his lip, eyes filling up again.

“You’ve never smiled at me like that,” he whispered, voice catching.

“I never heard you really laugh,” Alex replied, smiling again, lips trembling.  He shook his head.  “Never.”

Mulder bent in and pressed his lips against Alex’s softly, feeling like now that he was allowed to touch this body, kiss this mouth, he’d never want to do anything else again. His stomach growled once more, and he smiled against Alex’s lips, which smiled back.  “Food,” he said into his mouth.  “We need food.”  Alex sighed and kissed him again, then Mulder pulled back and nearly fell off the small expanse of bed, laughing again.  He grabbed a washcloth, cleaning himself up, then went over to Alex, grinning as Alex looked up at him from under his lashes, smirking.

“Time for another spongebath,” said Mulder, waggling his brows.

“I think I’m going to need more help this time,” Alex said, ducking his head and purposely using his amazing eyes, his phenomenal lashes to pin Mulder with an intense gaze.

“And another pair of shorts,” sighed Mulder, looking down at the cum-spattered ones.  “That is,” he added.  “If I decide to let you wear clothes.”

Krycek’s eyes narrowed, sparkling, and he smirked up at Mulder with mock-threat in his eyes.

“What, Alex?  Have you forgotten?  You’re entirely at my mercy,” Mulder said, pulling out the waistband of the shorts with one hand and sliding his washcloth-holding hand down inside.  Krycek inhaled sharply as Mulder cleaned him, never looking away from his eyes, smiling with promise.  By the time he was finished, Krycek was half-erect again and breathing hard.

“Let’s order some food, then get those shorts off you,” said Mulder, going over and picking up the room service menu. “Any requests?”

“Your mouth on my cock,” Alex breathed roughly.

Mulder gasped, eyes closing.  God, what that voice, that man reduced him to.  He licked his lips, breathing hard. Food.  They needed food.  First.  He opened his eyes and went back to the menu, chewing his bottom lip.

“God, yeah, that beautiful fucking bottom lip of yours, Mulder,” Alex went on, breathing hard.  “Let me chew on it for you.  That’s what I want for dinner.  Bring it here. Do you know…God, Mulder, you have no fucking idea how many nights I’ve fantasized about that mouth on me…jerking myself until it hurt, coming over and over yelling your name.”

“Fuck,” Mulder breathed.  “Shut up, Alex.  I can’t…”  He looked up to find Alex’s head lowered, those eyes leveled at him hungrily, mouth open, tongue stroking back and forth across his bottom lip quickly.  “Fuck,” Mulder gasped again.  “Oh God, Alex…”  He threw down the menu, striding over to Krycek and grabbing his head in both hands roughly, taking his mouth brutally, groaning. It seemed the only way to shut it up.

Alex moaned into his mouth, grabbing his hair roughly, pulling it as he kissed Mulder back as hard as Mulder was kissing him.  Mulder ripped his mouth away, gasping and licking his lips.

“You want me to suck your cock, Alex?” he panted.

“Oh fucking GOD,” Alex groaned, closing his eyes, head falling back.  He still had hold of Mulder’s hair tightly and he began pushing it down.

Mulder grabbed his hand, fighting the pressure.  “Don’t make me cuff this hand, Alex,” he said, squeezing his wrist tightly.  “I may need it to get off later.”  He squeezed harder and Alex let go, letting Mulder put his hand down at his side, where it immediately curled into a fist, grabbing sheet.  “Now,” Mulder said, taking hold of the waistband of the shorts Krycek was wearing.  “Let’s get you naked.”

He tugged the shorts down Alex’s hips carefully, then worked them down over his legs and casts, slipping them off and tossing them to the floor.  Now Alex was naked once again, as he had been when Mulder found him, but Mulder’s new outlook on life made the experience decidedly different now.  And supremely better.

“We’re gonna need that king bed after all,” he murmured, climbing up onto the bed next to Alex’s legs.  There was barely room for him there but he was slender and graceful and fit himself to the space carefully.  He let himself just look at Krycek, basking in the man the way he had not yet let himself until now.

Alex’s eyes fluttered open and closed, his chest heaving with shallow, fast breaths.  His cock was hard and ready, laying against his hip, twitching.  Mulder reached down and Krycek moaned as his hand wrapped around the base firmly, pulling it toward him.  He leaned in, opening his mouth slowly, looking from Alex’s cock to his face, and when his eyes met Krycek’s, they both moaned with the intensity of it.  Mulder lowered his mouth over Krycek’s cock and groaned, eyes closing.

Alex whined, hurting himself as he tried to lift his hips, and Mulder pulled off with a wet slurp.

“I’m not gonna do this unless you hold still,” he told Alex, brows arched.

“OhJesusfuckplease,” gasped Krycek, eyes fluttering open and closed.

“Then hold still,” Mulder said firmly.  “All right?”  He waited.

“All right,” groaned Krycek.  “All right, Mulder, all right, just PLEASE…you don’t know how long I’ve waited…”

“I think I know,” Mulder breathed, then he licked his lips and opened his mouth again, lowering it down over Krycek’s cock slowly.

“GAH!” Krycek cried out, but this time he did not raise his hips, and Mulder hummed in approval, beginning to move up and down, flicking his tongue.

“Oh Jesus, Oh Mulder, Oh Jesus OH MULDER!” Krycek yelled, ripping at the bedsheet as Mulder sucked him and licked him, humming and slurping, eyes closed.

Mulder worked the cock in his mouth the best he knew how, which wasn’t actually all that good, probably, since he’d only done it a few times and was going more on being the receiver and on the many, many hours of videotape he’d viewed on the subject.  The way Krycek was lumping him and the messiah together, though, it didn’t sound like he had any complaints.

“OHHHHahhhhh!”  Alex whined.  “Mulder…God, Mulder…”

“Mmmmm…” Mulder hummed, cock throbbing every time he heard his name in that helpless, breathless tone.  If he wasn’t wearing jeans, he could reach down and make himself come in about ten seconds, just listening to Krycek lose it like that.

“Please…” Alex gasped.  “Oh God please…yes, Mulder…”

Mulder heard that tight catch in the throat that meant Alex was probably ready to come.  He moved his head faster, tongue rubbing hard against the underside.

“AH!  AH!  AAAAHHHHHHHH!” Alex cried out, coming hard down Mulder’s throat, pulsing and pulsing and pulsing until Mulder wondered if Alex was ever going to stop coming.

“Ah Jesus fuck Mulder you have no idea…” gasped Krycek, trembling as he came down.  “No idea how long…how many times…Jesus…”

Mulder slurped off Krycek’s cock, licking his lips, not exactly loving the taste of cum but not really minding it, and being turned on enough that having Krycek come in his mouth only made things that much hotter.  He was so hard it hurt again, once more trapped inside the Goddamned jeans.  He was so close again.  He just wanted to strip naked and hump Krycek’s hard hip, coming all over his spent cock.

He moaned at the thought, climbing off the bed carefully on trembling legs and reaching for the button on his jeans. His hands were shaking as he unbuttoned and unzipped, and Krycek’s eyes opened, watching him as he stripped them and his sticky underwear off, pulling his Tshirt over his head and tossing it to the side, now as naked as Krycek.

“God, you’re so…fucking…beautiful…” Krycek gasped out between breaths.  “Just wanna fucking eat you alive…”

Mulder eyes closed and he swayed, soaking in the adulation, picturing Krycek on his knees, able to make good on his promise.  Months!  It would be months before Krycek was out of his leg cast and could actually do anything remotely like that!  He cursed the labs again, this time for embarassingly selfish reasons.  He opened his eyes and climbed onto the bed carefully, Alex pulling him in close with his arm as he pressed himself into his body, sighing.

“Can’t stay away from you,” he said, beginning to thrust into Krycek’s hip.  “Just wanna feel you…”  He took Alex’s nipple into his mouth roughly, sucking as he thrust hard, moaning.  “Want you,” he gasped, Alex’s hand in his hair once again but not pulling, just stroking.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” Alex murmured breathlessly, watching Mulder move against him.

“Oh God want you so fucking bad…oh…love you Alex…” he groaned, bucking hard as his climax hit him, pulsing out hotly over Alex’s hip, some of it hitting his own spilled cum, just as Mulder had fantasized.  He shuddered and shook, coming off his orgasm and sinking down against Alex, ever mindful of the ribs and the legs.  He was so exhausted that this time he could have sworn he slept, or at least dozed, glued to Alex with both their cum.

He woke to a hand stroking through his hair, his ‘pillow’ shaking him.

“Mulder…Mulder…” Alex said, jostling him awake. “Mulder, please…”

“Hmm…” said Mulder, raising his head, blinking. “What…what’s wrong?”

“Fuck, Mulder,” Alex replied, half-laughing.  “My one arm’s asleep, my ribs are killing me and I have to take a piss.”

“Shit, sorry!” Mulder said, backing off so fast he fell right off the bed and onto his ass on the floor, making Alex laugh harder.

“It’s…it’s…all right, Mulder…” gasped out Alex between breaths, laughing.  “But if you don’t get me to the bathroom, we’re gonna have to change the sheets!”

Mulder smiled, throat closing at the totally unfamiliar sound of Alex’s laugh, and he scrambled up, reaching down to help Alex get to his feet quickly.

“Ah!  Shit!” Alex hissed as he put his arm around Mulder’s neck.  “Fucker’s still asleep!”  He winced as Mulder helped him bring his legs over the side, gasping as Mulder pulled him to stand, panting and trying to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry, Alex,” said Mulder, sobering as Krycek obviously suffered through the effects of their sex and Mulder’s cuddle session.  “Sorry,” he said again, starting to walk them to the bathroom.

Alex nodded, smiling tightly but genuinely as Mulder helped him limp over to the bathroom.  “I kind of need to sit down,” Alex said, wincing and looking embarassed now.

“Okay, here,” said Mulder, turning and helping him get lowered carefully, one leg sticking straight out.  “I’ll just…go order us some food…finally,” he said, giving Alex a smirk.  “And if you need help, call.  Okay?”

Alex nodded, eyes closed, obviously embarassed in this situation, and Mulder hurried out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him.  He sighed, grabbing the washcloth that had started this whole thing and rinsing it out at the vanity, cleaning himself up again.  Then with a huge sigh, he grabbed up the menu once again and sank down on the end of his bed, practically shaking with hunger.

He grabbed the phone and ordered steak and baked potatoes and salad and cake and ice cream and milk (good for bones) and coffee, along with a meat and cheese tray, a vegetable tray, chips and dip and soda, to keep on hand in the fridge for snacking later.  He put down the phone, stomach snarling at being kept waiting so long.  “Sorry,” he murmured down at it.  “Man’s gotta have his priorities.” He stood up and slipped into a pair of sweatpants.

After helping Krycek back into bed, then receiving the huge bounty of food and consuming large portions of it, watching Krycek carefully fill his stomach with the potatoes and some vegetables and cheese, Mulder stowed the leftovers in the fridge and went over to his own bed, licking frosting off his fingers.

“Mulder,” Krycek said, shifting in the bed.  “Do you think I could have some clothes?”

Mulder tilted his head, considering.  “No,” he said, pursing his lips infuriatingly.  “I kinda like the view.”

Krycek smirked and sighed, then went serious.  “Just the shirt?” he said in a low voice, dropping his eyes.

Mulder sighed, frowning, but nodded.  He retrieved the sweatshirt from the floor where it had gotten dropped, and took it over, handing it to Krycek.  He thought maybe he shouldn’t help this time, and so he turned his back and walked to the TV, picking up the remote and scanning the program guide.  Krycek’s arm would never heal, not like his ribs and his legs.  It was permanent evidence of their horrible past, and it made Mulder’s full stomach feel a little queasy, dampening his new good mood.  He glanced up to see that Krycek had the sweatshirt on, laying back against the headboard, face blank.  Mulder turned, taking the program guide over.

“I’m sorry I fucked things up in Russia and got you…in trouble,” he said, unable to meet Krycek’s eyes.

Krycek sighed, staring down at his hand, which was a fist in his lap.  “It was my fault,” he said in a near-whisper.  “I never held you responsible.”

“But you said…”

“Never mind what I said,” replied Krycek quietly.  “It was never your fault.  Any of it.  I got what I deserved.”

Mulder inhaled deeply and exhaled, frowning deeply.  He wanted to tell Alex that he hadn’t deserved that, but truth was, maybe he had.  And maybe if he hadn’t experienced such rough justice at the hands of the Universe, they wouldn’t be here now, Mulder able to let go of all the old hate and hurt and anger and just let the…good feelings in.

“I suspected you were a plant from the start,” Mulder said quietly, turning and sitting down on the edge of his own bed, facing Krycek’s.

“Of course,” nodded Krycek.

Mulder smiled sadly.  “I figured they must have thought I was gay because I didn’t go for Scully, so they sent in a pretty boy this time.”

“Really,” said Krycek, brows arched.  “Now that I didn’t know.  You thought I was pretty, Mulder?”

Mulder breathed out a soft laugh.  “Alex you’re gorgeous,” he answered, ducking his head and looking up at the other man.  “That’s why I held you at arm’s length.  Or tried to,” he added.  “I didn’t do a very good job.”

Alex sighed.  “I didn’t know…Mulder I never had any idea whatsoever that you were attracted to me,” he said quietly. “I just knew that…I admired you so much, and…and I couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.”  He inhaled and exhaled slowly.  “Are,” he finished, very softly.

“I-I wondered a little, that day at the pool,” Mulder said, looking up from under his lashes and smirking shyly.  “I thought you looked a little nervous.”

“Oh GOD that day at the pool,” groaned Krycek, closing his eyes and laying his head back on the pillows.  “I couldn’t even fucking walk out to the car I was so hard. Do you remember?  I excused myself to go to the restroom. I jerked off so hard and fast I saw stars and nearly fell down.”  He smiled, remembering.

Mulder let out a slow exhale.  “I…guess I was preoccupied with the case at that point,” he said, blinking.

“Thank God,” said Krycek, opening his eyes.  “From that time on, it was so hard to keep my mind on my work, picturing your long, hard, naked body beneath your suit, your beautiful cock, your perfect tight ass and long legs…” He sighed.

“Did…did you ever consider…not…”  Mulder couldn’t finish, staring down at his hands, still holding the program guide.

“I thought about it every night,” said Krycek quietly. “Every night when I would…bring myself off thinking about you.  But I didn’t know how, Mulder.  I thought you would hate me and turn me in, get me thrown in prison.  I didn’t see any way out.”  His voice trailed off into a whisper.

Mulder thought about it, staring down at his hands.  “I would have been angry,” he said in low voice, not looking up.  “But I would have forgiven you.  I wanted to trust you, Alex.”

Krycek swallowed hard, sighing.  “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore, Mulder,” he whispered.  “Please?”

Mulder nodded, feeling the weight of the road not taken settling on his own shoulders painfully as well.  “So…what now?” he whispered, afraid now to look up.

Krycek let out a long exhale.  “I don’t know,” he whispered back.  “You’re running the show.”

Mulder chuffed out a laugh.  “Guess we’re all fucked then,” he said.  “I always mess everything up.”

“Knock it off,” Alex said darkly.  “Damn it, Mulder, I told you I didn’t mean what I said.  I know it was my fault, for not trusting you and telling you more of what I knew.”

“Just imagine how good we could be together,” Mulder murmured.  “If you trusted me.”

“Mulder,” Krycek breathed.  “It’s…more than that.  Not only that.  I didn’t want to tell you because…I didn’t want you to have to join me in my world.  I liked thinking about you in yours.”

“What do you mean?” asked Mulder, looking up.

“You’re the good guy,” said Krycek, shrugging.  “If I told you everything I know and we did things my way…” he trailed off.

“We could try something new,” Mulder said, shrugging, too.  “A blend of your way and mine, based on trust.”  His voice was quiet.

“I don’t want you to have to do things my way!” Krycek said, suddenly angry.

“Alex, my hands are hardly clean,” said Mulder levelly.

Krycek firmed his lips, rolling his eyes in frustration.

“This good guy, bad guy shit is ridiculous!” Mulder said, throwing his hand up dramatically.  “Look at you!  You take all the risks, doing all the shitwork, paying all the prices!”

“Paying all the prices?” said Krycek incredulously. “Mulder, you lost your sister, your father…Scully…”

“My father lost himself and my sister,” Mulder ground out, knowing the truth of it and sick with it.  “And I got Scully back.  You can’t get your arm back, Alex,” he said, looking up at him darkly.

“Actually,” said Alex quietly.  “I can.”

Mulder frowned.  “What?  What are you talking about?”

“The nanocytes,” said Krycek, lowering his chin.

Mulder was quiet, frowning.  Obviously, Alex was infected with them.  Had gone through experiments using them to heal his body.  “They can really do that?” he asked, biting his lip.

“Theoretically,” said Krycek.  “Of course, as part of their eternal sense of humor, they never attempted to heal my arm during the procedures.”  Krycek’s jaw clenched, his body shuddering slightly.  “But yes.  Preliminary research shows that it’s possible to regenerate an entire limb using the nanotechnology.”

“Wow,” said Mulder, unable to think of anything else to say.

Krycek arched his brows and nodded and they were both quiet awhile.

“So as soon as you’re well enough, we need to go after that technology,” Mulder said, pinching his lower lip between finger and thumb.

“We?” Krycek asked, eyes widening.

Mulder sighed.  It seemed so natural to him to just assume that he and Krycek were…partners, now.  Maybe in every sense of the word.  But Krycek was obviously not on that wavelength yet.  Mulder wondered if he really wanted to be.  All Krycek had really admitted to was being attracted to Mulder.  That didn’t mean he wanted any kind of lasting relationship with him, personal or professional.  He swallowed, looking down at the carpet.  He was in deep, here, and was starting to swallow water fast.

“I could go after it on my own right now,” he murmured. “And get you healed up that way, instead of waiting for weeks or months, until you were strong enough to go with me.”

“No,” said Krycek firmly.  “Mulder don’t.  You could end up…”  His whole body shuddered, eyes closing.

“Is that how it happened?” Mulder said, looking from under his lashes, head still bowed.

Krycek swallowed, then sighed and nodded.  “I broke into the labs to steal the technology.  I infected myself and stole a palm pilot…but I didn’t know how it worked, so I didn’t realize that they could still control the nanos from anywhere in the facility.  I didn’t even get as far as the gates before they dropped me,” he finished, rasping.

Mulder pinched his lip, nodding and frowning, horrified.

“I woke up…strapped down to a table in four…well, three point restraints,” said Krycek sarcastically.  “And then the fun began.”  His whole body shivered again.  “They started by just beating on me, systematically punching me as hard as they could, three guys working on me at the same time.” Krycek closed his eyes.  “I was coughing up blood, and I knew my lung was punctured, and I passed out thinking that was it, I was dying.”

Mulder swallowed, blinking, remembering the times he’d hit Krycek.  He wanted to reach over and soothe the long- gone bruises, caressing the old pain away.

“When I woke up again, I realized that was only the beginning.  They’d come in and activate the nanos for about an hour, charting their progress as they repaired damaged organs, broken bones…”  Krycek swallowed. “Then they’d leave and turn them off, leaving me like that until the next round of tests.”  Krycek sighed deeply.  “It usually took less than a day to get me healed up from a…session,” he said.  “Then they started over again, only after the first time, they’d do things more precisely, bringing in a heavy iron bar and breaking my arm in two places the first time, taking a couple of days to heal it, then doing my legs, all my fingers, my ribs over and over…the only thing they never fractured was my skull.  I guess brain damage isn’t as easy to repair,” he whispered, eyes closed.  “But never once…never once did they attempt to regenerate my arm.”

Mulder let out his breath in a long, shaky exhale.  It was too horrible to contemplate, except that he’d found Krycek himself, with two uncasted broken legs, strapped down and terrified.  He shook his head, trying to dispel the images of Krycek screaming while they broke his body over and over again.  “There must be a way,” he said.  “I wouldn’t infect myself…they couldn’t control me.”

“No, Mulder!” said Krycek, sitting up in bed and wincing as his legs were jostled.  “The people in that place…they never even flinched…”  He shuddered, closing his eyes. “They never even flinched.”

“I can get in,” said Mulder calmly.  “I even have an informant, and you can tell me everything you know.  I can do this.”

“Fuck,” Krycek hissed.  “Mulder, don’t.  It’s not worth it.”

“Not worth it?” Mulder stood up, angry.  “This isn’t just about your legs, Alex, you’re going to die from the cancer because of that damned implant!”

Krycek looked up at him, scowling.  “I know that, Mulder. I never said I wasn’t going to do something about it.  I just…”  He firmed his lips.  “Mulder, I swear if you do this, I’m gonna kick your ass.”

“Yeah, well, after I heal your legs and give you back your arm, I’ll take you up on that, Alex,” he said, a slight, dark smile playing on his lips.  “We’ll just see what you’re made of.”  He was getting turned on just thinking about facing a completely healed and whole Alex on equal terms. Although, he didn’t really think they’d end up fighting.  He smiled bigger.

“You stupid, stubborn, son of a…” Krycek ground out, then stopped, exhaling slowly.  “Mulder, please.  I’m begging you.”  Krycek looked at him, deadly serious.  “Stay out of this.  It isn’t your problem.”

“If I don’t want to spend the next three weeks helping you go to the bathroom it is,” he said, equally serious.  “I can’t just sit around here playing nursemaid now that I know what needs to be done, Alex.  It’s not my style.  It may be Scully’s, but it’s not mine.”

“Damn it,” Krycek said, closing his eyes.  “Damn you, Mulder.  Do you see now?  Do you see why I don’t tell you anything?  I’m trying to keep your fool ass alive and safe, you…”

“I know, I know, stupid, stubborn son of a bitch,” Mulder finished dryly.  “Since when is it your job to protect me from the world, Alex?” he said, narrowing his eyes.

Krycek exhaled sharply.  “Since I decided I wanted to keep you in it,” he grated out quietly.  “God, Mulder, do you know what I’d do if…if you got killed because of…”  He closed his mouth, lips pressing together, quivering slightly.  “Getting killed in the line of duty is one thing,” he rasped.  “But dying just to get me back my fucking arm…it’s not worth it, Mulder.  Not even close.  I won’t let you do it.”

Mulder smiled mirthlessly.  “And what are you going to do to stop me, Alex?” he said dangerously.  “You said it yourself.  I’m calling the shots now.”  He walked over to the bureau, picking up his cellphone and beginning to dial.

“Fuck!” Alex roared, throwing himself forward and then falling back, gasping at the pain, eyes closed, yelling at the ceiling.  “Fuck you, Mulder!  Goddamn you to fucking hell!”

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, too,” said Mulder, turning to face the door.  “Hey Scully, it’s me,” he said when she picked up.

“Mulder, hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine, Scully, great, actually.  I just…I need to ask you a really, really, really big favor.”

“What is it?” she asked cautiously.

Mulder sighed.  “I need you to take care of Alex for me. Just for a little while.  A day or two.  I shouldn’t be gone long.”

“What are you doing, Mulder?” asked Scully suspiciously.

Mulder sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “I’m going back in for Alex’s palm pilot,” he said quietly.

“Mulder,” Scully began, barely being heard above Krycek’s continued repetition of the F-word in the background.

“I know, Scully.  It’s dangerous.  It’s stupid.  It’s likely to get me killed.  I’ve heard it all before.”  He looked over at Krycek, who glared daggers at him.  He calmly met his gaze, unflinching.  “Loudly.”

Scully sighed.  “I don’t think this is a good idea, Mulder.”

Mulder actually smiled.  Scully, queen of the understatement.  “I know, Scully.  I’ll be careful.  I know what I’m doing.  Don’t worry about me.”

Scully’s sigh was loud and heavy over the phone.  “What do you want me to do,” she said, defeated.

Mulder let out a sigh of relief.  “Thank you,” he said quietly.  “Okay.  I need to gather some information and call the guys again, then I just need you to come down here and take care of Alex while I’m gone.”  His heart pounded, waiting to hear her answer.

“Okay, Mulder,” she said tiredly.  “Anything else?”

Mulder gasped softly.  Anything else?  The woman was amazing.  “No, nothing else right now, Scully, thanks,” he said, voice thick.

“I’ll just wait for your call then,” said Scully quietly.  “Be careful,” she sighed.

“I will,” he replied, smiling, touched by her concern and awed by her loyalty.  “Bye, Scully.”  He hung up the phone, closing his eyes and turning to meet the hailstorm.

“That’s her idea of backing you up, supporting you while you go off on some idiotic scheme that’s likely to get you killed?  Some partner,” scowled Krycek, glaring at Mulder.

But Mulder was beyond falling for Krycek’s baiting anymore, and he just smiled.  “Yeah, she is,” he said.  He picked up the phone again, dialing another number.  “It’s Mulder,” he said as Frohike picked up.  “Turn off the machine.”

“It’s off,” said Frohike.

Mulder sighed.  “Turn it off, Melvin, I’m serious.”

“Melvin, eh?” grumped Frohike.  “Playing dirty, I see. Okay, it’s off.  What can I do for you…Fox?”

Mulder rolled his eyes.  “I need to go back into that lab,” he said quietly.

“How’s Alex Krycek?” asked Frohike calmly.

Thanks, Scully, he thought sardonically.  “He’s not doing so great,” he said.  “That’s why I’m going back in.  I need to get hold of a palm pilot.”

“Pretty risky, since they’re sure to be on full alert after your break-in,” said Frohike.

“Yes, I know,” said Mulder, annoyed.  “Will you help me or not?”

“Sure, Mulder,” the little man answered.  “Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Frohike,” said Mulder, smiling over the phone. “I’ll call you back when I’ve worked out the details.”

“We’ll be waiting with bated breath,” said Frohike dryly.

Mulder laughed politely.  “See ya later,” he said, and he hung up.

“Dragging more people in with you to get killed,” Krycek said in a low rasp.

“Damn it, Alex!” Mulder stalked over to the bed and stood over him, glaring.  “I’m doing this, all right?  I get it that you don’t want me to.  I get it that you think I’m a fucking loon.  But if you don’t stop getting in my way, I’m gonna go in there with less than I need the way I did in Russia, and then I really will get myself into trouble.”  Mulder narrowed his eyes, as willing as Krycek as to play the almighty guilt card.

“Fuck,” Alex muttered, closing his eyes on Mulder’s intense stare.  He just laid there, breathing, for several moments, and Mulder just stood over him, waiting.  “All right,” he finally grated out.  “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

“Ooh baby, talk dirty to me,” said Mulder, grinning and sitting down on his bed.  “If you wanted to get me in bed, Alex, that’s all you ever had to say to me, you know.”

Krycek’s eyes narrowed, but they sparkled behind his scowl.  And then he started telling Mulder everything he knew about the facility in which he’d been a prisoner for three long weeks.

At the end of the intense discussion, Mulder was nodding and stroking his thumb back and forth across his lip thoughtfully.

“I used to just look at your hands and get hard,” said Krycek quietly, eyes fixed on where Mulder was touching his mouth.

Mulder let out a breath, stopped, then lowered his hand, looking at it.  “My hands?” he asked a little breathlessly.

Krycek nodded.  “I didn’t even let myself look at your mouth,” he added, one corner of his own lips quirking up slightly.

Mulder found himself licking his lips and watched as Krycek’s eyes darkened, tracking the movement.  “You know that night in the car, when I came down from Marita’s apartment?” he said, voice breathy.

Krycek nodded, blinking slowly as he looked up from Mulder’s mouth to his eyes once again.

“I had you cuffed to the car, and I came down and saw you sleeping there, head thrown back, looking so…”  He sighed.  “Young and innocent, I guess.  It made me so angry.”

“You hit me,” breathed Krycek.

Mulder nodded, closing his eyes.  “That’s not what I wanted to do, though,” he said, opening them and looking into Krycek’s rapt gaze.  “I wanted to just grab you by that too-short hair and shove your face down into my lap,” he ground out, eyes narrowing in lust and remembered frustration.

Krycek’s mouth dropped open on a panting breath.  “I wanted that, too, Mulder.  I was even halfway hoping…maybe since you were keeping me cuffed…that you’d…force me or something…” he trailed off, looking down shame-facedly.

“I’m no rapist,” murmured Mulder.

“No, I know,” said Krycek softly.  “Just…wishful thinking on my part, I guess.”  He smiled self-deprecatingly and shook his head.  “I never expected you to actually want me. Ever.  I thought maybe you’d wanna do that just to…hurt me.  I figured it was all I’d ever get.”

Mulder sighed.  How could he blame Krycek, given that Mulder had never, since their partnership, shown him anything but violence and cruelty, disdain and detachment. Until now.  He stood up, then bent in and just brushed a short lock of hair away from Krycek’s temple.  Krycek sighed, closing his eyes.

“Why don’t you try to rest?” suggested Mulder.  “I’m gonna make a couple of phone calls.”  He watched as the crinkle appeared between Krycek’s brows, and he satisfied another fantasy of his by brushing the pad of his ring finger very, very softly over it, smoothing it out.  “Don’t worry, Alex,” he said quietly.  “I’m actually pretty good at this shit.  I got you out, didn’t I?”

Krycek sighed and nodded.  “I know you’re good, Mulder. I know you’re good.”

Mulder thought about making another sexual innuendo, but Krycek’s deadly serious face seemed to preclude that, so he just pulled back and left Krycek with his eyes still closed, going for his phone.

He arranged for Scully to arrive in the morning, and his plan was to fly back and meet the Gunmen, then break into the facility that night, with the objective of getting a palm pilot and the master programming for Krycek’s nanocytes and then getting back out quickly.

When he got off the phone, he went over to the bed again, bending in and pressing his lips very softly to Krycek’s high, cool, smooth forehead.  He looked so young, so pretty when he was asleep, pink lips slightly parted, long lashes sweeping down over pale cheeks.  He looked like an angel and a devil all in one.  Mulder smiled, excited by the contrast, delighted to get to see both sides of him now.  He stepped back and pushed his sweats down, then climbed into bed naked, and spent a couple of hours staring at the ceiling, visualizing a successful mission, before finally drifting off to sleep.

He was surprised to find that he actually slept in until he woke to the sound of knocking on the door.  He rolled out of bed, yawning, and saw that Krycek was already awake, glancing from the door to Mulder, frowning.

“It’s Scully…I think,” said Mulder, scrubbing his hand through his hair.  He stood up and walked toward the door, scratching his stomach.

“Um, Mulder,” said Krycek quietly.

“Hmm?” Mulder turned, fingers still scratching at the patches of dried semen he’d missed in his cleanup efforts the day before.

“You’re nude,” said Krycek, pursing his lips.

Mulder looked down, arched his brows, then amidst another set of knocks on the door, went back over and slipped into his sweatpants.  “Thanks,” he said as he passed Krycek’s bed.

“Don’t mention it,” Krycek said with a nod.

Mulder went to the door, peeked out the viewhole, and yep, sure enough, there was Scully’s worried, fresh- scrubbed face.  “Morning, Scully,” he said, swinging the door wide to admit her.

“Good morning, Mulder,” she said, giving him a cocked eyebrow and walking past, carrying her bags in and setting them inside the door.  She didn’t greet Krycek, just giving him a quick glance before turning back to Mulder, who was shutting the door.  “So, what’s the situation?” she asked, like a doctor coming on duty.

“Um, I guess we’ll have breakfast, then I’ll take off for DC,” he said, sitting on the end of his bed.  It was then that he noticed that Krycek had pulled the blankets up over his half-naked body.  Mulder frowned at his own thoughtlessness.  He’d have to get Scully out of the room and get Krycek’s shorts on before she left.  The sleep fog cleared from his brain rapidly as it kicked into gear.

“What’s the status of Krycek?” she asked, all business.

“Well, for starters, I’m right here behind you,” Krycek muttered.

Scully ignored him.  Mulder frowned.  “He needs help getting to the bathroom and back, although he’s fine once he gets in there.”

“This is going to be one big party,” murmured Krycek.

Scully just nodded.  “Can he get into the wheelchair by himself?” she asked, nodding to where it was parked in the corner.

“I…think so,” said Mulder, giving Krycek a look.  Krycek nodded curtly, looking determined.  “He’s taking the meds every four hours or so…guess you know that part…he probably won’t need a…” Mulder swallowed. “…spongebath until I get back.”  Then he blushed, realizing how that sounded.

Scully nodded again.  “And this is the menu for room service, and the hotel numbers?” she said, going over to the nightstand and picking it up.

“Yeah, everything’s on my George Hale card, so just…enjoy yourself, Scully,” Mulder said, gesturing to the room.

Scully gave him a tight, wincing smile.

“Okay then, I guess I’ll get into the shower and change, then we can have some breakfast and whatnot,” he said, looking at both of them.  Krycek glared sullenly and Scully nodded coolly.  Mulder sighed and headed into the bathroom, careful to grab his bag before he went in.

When he came back out, Scully was sitting at the table, her back to Krycek, tapping away at a notebook computer. Mulder ran his hands through his wet hair and glanced over at Krycek, who gave him a second’s worth of scowl before returning to staring at CNN on the television.  He started to think that he had the better part of the deal, risking his life breaking into an experimental facility where they tortured people to see how quickly they could heal them and do it again.

They ordered breakfast, and Scully went down to the drug store to pick up new meds, giving Mulder the opportunity to quickly get a pair of shorts on Krycek after helping him make a trip to the bathroom.  Krycek gave him no more than grunts as replies to his questions, refusing to look him in the eye, obviously not happy with the impending day or two of Scully-care.  Mulder gave up trying to talk with either of them, and when Scully returned, he grabbed up his things, giving them both a hasty good-bye before catching his flight home.

…

Scully was tapping away at the laptop, glasses perched on her nose when she stopped, fingers still poised over the keys.  “If he gets hurt, Krycek, I’ll kill you myself,” she said softly, not looking at him.  She stared at the report in front of her, lips pursed.

“I know,” she heard Krycek rasp out behind her.

She said nothing, returning to her report.  When she was finished, she packed everything up into her bag and walked over to the television, scanning the guide.  She saw there was a Lifetime Movie Network miniseries on that she’d enjoyed before, and went over to Mulder’s bed, wrinkling her nose in distaste before making it and carefully perching in the middle of it, cross-legged.  She changed the channel, putting on the show.  She pointedly did not look at Krycek, pretending he was not in the room.

She didn’t have to care about him, just keep him alive and safe until Mulder’s return.  She readjusted herself on the bed with a put-out sigh.  She found it very hard to concentrate on the movie in front of her, feeling Krycek’s eyes on her from time to time, a million questions running through her head.

“Let me know if you need to use the bathroom,” she said without looking at him, not letting herself feel petty for rubbing in his vulnerable condition.  When he didn’t answer, she glanced over at him and he nodded once.  She went back to watching the show until her cellphone rang. She fished it out and sighed as she read on the display that it was Mulder.  She noticed Krycek’s keen alertness as she answered.

“Scully.”

“Hey Scully, it’s me.  Just letting you know I got into DC and I’m heading over to the guys’.  How’s Krycek?”

Well, she thought, at least he’s not calling him ‘Alex’ anymore.  Maybe a little distance was just what he needed to get his head together.  “He’s fine,” she said, glancing over at him and watching him swallow.  “We’re watching the Lifetime channel,” she said, smiling smugly.

“Damn, Scully, talk about cruel and unusual punishment,” replied Mulder.

“He is not my friend or my partner or my…roommate,” she said coolly.  “He is my prisoner, Mulder, and I have no interest in his programming tastes whatsoever.”

Mulder sighed over the phone.  “Scully, I really appreciate this.  I know how hard it must be for you, with the history between the two of you.”

“I don’t have personal feelings about him like you always have, Mulder,” she said, glancing over again, feeling Krycek’s eyes on her like too-hot rays of sun.  “He’s just a criminal.  A thug.  One of their errand boys.  I’m here because you asked me to be, and frankly, Mulder, I have no idea what’s gotten into you.”

“I…I don’t have time to get into it,” Mulder said, sounding miserable.  “Just…try to be…” he trailed off.

“Nice?” Scully asked tightly.  “Mulder, I will keep him alive and unharmed to the best of my ability until you return to…take custody of him again.  I’m not going to promise anything more than that.”

“Thanks, Scully,” said Mulder quietly.  “Guess I’ll get going.  Tell Krycek…never mind.”

“Good-bye Mulder.  Godspeed,” said Scully, punching the End button.  She tossed the phone on the bed, settling in to watch the end of the movie.

“Thanks,” said Krycek very quietly.

“For what?” Scully squinted at the screen.

“Taking care of me…not arresting me…not shooting me…” Krycek’s voice dropped close to a whisper.

Scully lifted her chin.  “I don’t hold any personal grudges against you, Krycek.  I never have.  We have no charges to hold you on, and I’m a doctor.  You’re in need.  I took an oath.”

Krycek cleared his throat.  “Why did you…stop Mulder from…shooting me, that night?” he asked huskily.

“To save him from taking the fall for your dirty work,” answered Scully dispassionately.  She turned on the bed, facing him coldly.  “It had nothing to do with your safety. Mulder was out of his head, and killing you would have ruined his life.  I simply stopped him to protect him from himself.”

Krycek’s eyes narrowed, and he blinked.  “Thanks, Scully.”

She became angry.  “I told you, Krycek!  I didn’t do it for you, I did it for him!” she said, voice rising.  She could almost understand why Mulder would want to hit him.  He could be extremely infuriating in his cold indifference.

“I know,” he said quietly.  “Thanks.”

Scully let out an incredulous gasp.  “Oh, what?  You expect me to believe you…care about Mulder?  Is that the game you’re playing, Krycek?  Making Mulder think you give a damn about him like you did when you were his…” She ground out the word.  “Partner?”

Krycek squinted and chewed his lip.

“Well, you might have Mulder fooled with that act, but you don’t fool me,” said Scully.  “And by God, Krycek, if he gets himself hurt or…killed,” she ground out.  “…over YOU, I tell you I will pull the trigger myself and remove you from this life for good.”  She was actually shaking when she finished speaking, and she tucked her hair behind her ear compulsively, willing her heart to slow down.

“You won’t have to,” said Krycek, looking at her levelly.

“What?” she snapped, irritated.

“Scully,” Krycek said, then sighed.  “I do care about what happens to him.  I care about him,” he said, almost too quietly to hear.

“You CARE about him?  Krycek, what makes you think I even believe you know it means to care about anybody? You’re a murderer!  You kill people for a living!  Even if you think you have some…fascination with Mulder or some sick attraction, I’ll never believe there’s any actual feeling there.”

“I love him,” said Krycek in a choked breath.

Scully gasped.  She just stared at him, blinking, watching as the deep, dark eyes in front of hers blinked back tears. God, was the man shameless?  Faking tears to make her believe him?  No wonder Mulder had been sucked in by him.

“You…do not…love Mulder…” she said tightly.

“I do,” he replied quietly.  “I know I’ve fucked up his life repeatedly, Scully, but I love him more than anything.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard.

“Oh my God,” breathed Scully.  She backed away from him and climbed off the other side of the bed, shaking her head. “Oh my God!” she repeated.  “You…this is why he’s risking his life, isn’t it?  You told him you loved him to get him to go after that technology for you?  What are you, some kind of monster?”

“No, Scully, no!  I tried to get him not to go!” said Krycek, sitting up, eyes glistening.  “I never told him!  I swear it Scully, I never told him!”

“Does he…does he think you…”  She couldn’t say the words, just firming her lips and gritting her teeth.

“I…don’t think so…I don’t know,” said Krycek miserably, dropping his gaze finally.

“Just…don’t talk to me!” Scully finally yelled, turning and heading for the bathroom.  “Not one word!”  She slammed the door behind her and paced, tears streaming down her face.

It couldn’t be true.  It couldn’t!  Krycek was just a really good con artist, and he was trying to convince her so that she would let her guard down and let him hurt Mulder again.  She dashed the tears from her eyes and bent over the sink, rinsing her face with cold water.

She knew she couldn’t stop Mulder.  She’d been through this with him enough times to know that trying to stop him would only make him rush headlong into danger faster, so she hadn’t even really tried.  She had suspected that Krycek had given Mulder some kind of sob story, been acting sicker or more badly injured than he was or something, and had aroused Mulder’s natural sympathetic nature and curiosity to the point of no return, whereupon Mulder had made the decision to go on this dangerous mission.  She had always known that Mulder had a strange…connection with Krycek.  She’d assumed that it was due to their short partnership, that Mulder had a hard time with the fact that Krycek had turned out to be so worthless.  Mulder never liked to give up on anybody.

She patted her face dry on a towel and exited the bathroom, holding her chin high.  She went back over to the table, which was as far as she could get away from Krycek without leaving the room, and pulled out her laptop, determined to immerse herself in work while she waited for Mulder’s return.  Krycek said nothing, eyes closed, head lying back against the pillows.  But she knew he was awake.  I will see you suffer if he gets hurt, she told him silently.  I swear it.  And she booted up her computer.

She wasn’t able to sleep, checking her watch and thinking about Mulder all night, but finally she curled up on her side on top of the blankets, facing away from Krycek, who had not opened his eyes or his mouth since Scully’s tirade earlier in the evening.  She was praying for Mulder’s safe return once again when her phone chirped, and she jumped up, grabbing it quickly.

“Scully,” she said breathlessly.  She looked at the clock and saw that it was just past three in the morning.  She also saw that Krycek was awake and pushing himself up on the bed.

“Scully, it’s Melvin.  Melvin Frohike.”

“Yes, Frohike, I know.  What is it?  Where’s Mulder?”

Krycek swallowed loudly beside her, and she couldn’t help but frown over at him a moment.

“He got the palm pilot, Scully, but…he was hurt.  He’s in the hospital.”

“Hospital?” Scully gasped.  “How is he?  What happened?”

“He’s not…” Krycek gasped, ignoring her earlier orders. “They didn’t get him, did they?”

“He got shot trying to run away,” Frohike explained.  “In the leg.  It nicked the femoral artery, so it was close, but he’s gonna be okay.”

“God, not again,” breathed Scully, remembering a similar injury.  A wound like that could easily be fatal.  She turned and glared at Krycek.

“He’s asleep right now.  They just removed the bullet.  I’ll make sure he calls you as soon as he wakes up.”

“Thank you, Frohike,” sighed Scully.  “Thank you.  Please call me if anything changes.”

“Will do,” said Frohike.  “You call us if you need anything, okay?”

“I will,” said Scully, nodding.  “Thanks.”

“Anytime, Scully.  Good night,” said Frohike.

“Good night,” said Scully, and she punched the end button, laying the phone on the bed with a sigh.

“How is he?  Is he all right?” asked Krycek, pushing himself upright.

She frowned at him.

“Scully, please…please!” he said, eyes wild.

“He got the palmtop,” she said coolly.

“Who gives a fuck!” yelled Krycek.  “Scully, is he all right? What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath in and exhaled, willing herself to stay calm in the face of Krycek’s outburst.  “He got shot as he was running away,” she said, wondering why the hell she was even telling him.

“Shot where?” asked Krycek breathlessly.

Scully frowned again.

“Scully, please!” Krycek begged, raking his hand through his hair.

“In the leg, the thigh,” she said angrily.  “He’s in the hospital recovering from surgery right now,” she went on, narrowing her eyes.  “It hit the femoral artery.  He could have died.”  She glared at him defiantly.

“Shit,” Krycek said, throwing his head back against the headboard.  “Shit,” he said, his lip quivering, voice breaking.  Then he opened his eyes, sitting up again.  “You have to go to him,” he said roughly.  “You have to make sure he’s okay.  You’re his doctor…and his partner.  He needs you,” he finished in a voice like gravel.

Scully blinked, lips parted.  “But…you…”she said helplessly, torn between her need to go to Mulder and her promise to stay with Krycek.

“Go!” he yelled, tears catching in his lashes, shocking her. “Don’t worry about me!  I’ll call somebody!”  He made a fist in his lap, blinking rapidly.  “I’ve got people I can call.”

Scully frowned, completely indecisive.  Krycek was totally vulnerable, that much she could see for herself.  And she’d promised Mulder she’d take care of him.  But Mulder was hurt, and he needed her himself, now, and Krycek was a grown man, able to make his own decisions.  She nodded, swallowing.  “I’ll…I’ll catch the first flight back,” she said hesitantly, bewildered by Krycek’s behavior.  If she went back now, leaving Krycek to his own defenses, and something happened to him…she knew Mulder would never forgive her.  “Wait,” she said, sighing.  “I’m taking you with me.”

Krycek gasped, eyes wide.

“I told Mulder I’d take care of you.  I don’t break my promises,” she said accusatorily.

“Scully,” Krycek breathed.  “Thank you.  I can’t…I owe you, Scully.  Anything you want.  Anything.”

“I don’t want anything from you, Krycek, except for you to leave Mulder alone,” she said, raising her chin.

“But…I thought…”

“I’m not doing this for you, Krycek.  I’m not taking you to him.  I’m just keeping a promise.”

Krycek blinked, then nodded.

“Oh, I forgot.  The palmtop.  I’ll make sure you get it,” she said, angered by the dramatics Krycek was putting on. “I’m putting you under guard in a private medical facility until such time as you are well enough to leave under your own power.  Because I told Mulder I would take care of you,” she repeated.  “Not to do you any favors.”

Krycek sighed, then nodded, blinking.  “Whatever you say, Scully.”

Scully nodded.  Maybe after nearly losing his life while trying to save Krycek’s, Mulder would realize how insane he was being and just let Scully turn over the palmtop, ending his recent foray into madness with Krycek.  Scully picked up the phone, making the necessary preparations to travel with a patient, praying that it was so.

…

She finally got Krycek tucked away in a small, private hospital, posting the Gunmen as guard, and hurried to Mulder’s hospital.  She walked into Mulder’s room after being told by a nurse that he was awake.

“Hi,” she smiled brightly.

He frowned.  “Where’s Alex?” he asked, looking behind her.

Her smile faltered.  “He’s in a private hospital, Mulder. He’s fine.”

“What happened?  Why is he in the hospital?” asked Mulder, sitting up.

“Because I wanted to see you,” said Scully, now doubting her own decision.  “I’ve got the Lone Gunmen keeping watch on him, and he’s in the hospital under a fake name.”

“You’ve got to get the palmtop to him Scully.  He isn’t safe there.”

Scully sighed.  “Mulder, I’m more concerned about you. How’s your leg?  How do you feel?”

“I’m fine, Scully,” said Mulder.  “You need to take him the palmtop.  Please, Scully.  Just take it to him so he can get healed up, then I’ll be able to relax.”

“All right, I’ll take it over.  But Mulder, when I get back, we’re going to have to have a talk.”  Scully sighed. “Where is it?”

“I had the guys take it to my apartment,” said Mulder.  “It’s under the couch, taped to the bottom.  Hurry, Scully.”

Scully nodded, frowning and turning to leave.

“Thank you,” said Mulder as she reached the door.

“You’re welcome,” she said, closing it behind her.

She headed over to Mulder’s apartment, using her key to get in and get the palmtop and the tiny disk attached to it, feeding Mulder’s pathetic fish and heading over to the hospital, annoyed.  She checked in with the Gunmen, who were camped on chairs outside the room, scanning for anyone who might get within nano-range.  They reported having seen nothing unusual, and she went into the room, frowning.

“Scully, how is he?” Krycek said, sitting up in bed.

Déjà vu, she thought dryly.  “He’s awake,” she said coolly. “I’ve brought you the palmtop.”  She pulled it out of her bag, handing it over, glad to be rid of it, seeing its leaving as a sign that perhaps Krycek would leave now, too.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it carefully.  He looked down at it, running his thumb over the display.

“You’re welcome,” she said, wondering why she said it even as the words left her lips.  She turned to leave, having nothing else to say to this man.

“I owe you, Scully,” Krycek said.  “I owe you both.”

Scully said nothing, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.  “Thanks, guys,” she told Langly and Byers, who were reading magazines in chairs in the hallway, giving Frohike a break.

“No problem,” said Langly.  Byers just smiled at her.

“He should be able to leave very soon,” Scully said.  “The nanos work incredibly fast, according to Mulder.”

“Far out,” said Langly.  “I wonder if he’d let us play with it once he’s done healing himself.”

“I’ll leave that between the two of you to work out,” she said, smiling unamusedly.  “I have to get back to Mulder, now.”

“Tell him hello from us,” said Byers.  “Please?”

“Of course,” she said, genuinely smiling now.  “I’ll talk to you later.”

She left the hospital and drove across town to the other one, heading back up to the room she’d visited just hours before.

“How is he?” said Mulder upon seeing her.

Hello to you, too, she thought but didn’t say.  “He’s fine, Mulder.  I gave him the palmtop.”

“Did he use it?  Is he healed?” Mulder asked, frowning.

“I left as soon as he had it,” said Scully, losing patience. “Mulder, what is it with you and him?  Why in the world do you care so much?”

Mulder sighed, closing his eyes and sinking back against his pillows.  “It’s hard to explain,” he said quietly.

“Well try,” said Scully, less than patient, pulling up a chair.

“I’ve always…felt this…thing around him,” said Mulder, looking uncomfortable.  “It was there from the beginning, really.”

“You’re attracted to him,” Scully clarified, trying not to sound judgemental.

“Yes,” said Mulder, not looking at her.  He stared at his hands.  “And he’s attracted to me, Scully.  He said so.”

That’s not all he said, thought Scully, frowning.  “Mulder, I don’t think you’re thinking straight, here,” she said, and Mulder laughed.

“Great choice of words, Scully,” he said, and she was so happy to see him smile again that she smiled back, ducking her head.

“That’s not what I meant,” she said.  Then she sobered.  “I know you really wanted to trust him, Mulder.  I know you really liked him when he was your partner, when they split us up.”

“I’m sorry, Scully,” said Mulder, looking sad.

“It’s okay,” said Scully.  “I was jealous, don’t get me wrong, but I’m over that now.”  She gave him a gentle smirk to reassure him, and was happy to see him smile back.

“I didn’t know you were jealous,” he said.

“How could I not be?” she asked.  “You two hit it off so quickly.  Mulder, you didn’t even trust me that quickly,” she said, brows arched.

Mulder sighed.

“So I knew there was something between you, even though I didn’t know you had that kind of…interest…in him,” she said, feeling herself color slightly.  The thought of the two of them together…sexually…made her a little breathless.

“I didn’t really either,” said Mulder quietly.  “I mean, you’re right.  I really liked him.  And if he’d stayed around a little longer…”  Mulder trailed off, voice soft.

“But he didn’t, Mulder.  He turned out not to be what you thought he was.  He was playing you,” she said, trying to be gentle and realizing she was failing.

“I know,” said Mulder, blinking.  “But Scully,” he looked up.  “I think he really cares about me, too.  He didn’t want to hurt me.”

Scully took a breath and let it out slowly, remembering Krycek’s breathless confession.  And his assurance that he hadn’t given it to Mulder.  It appeared that he was telling the truth.  Mulder wasn’t telling her Krycek loved him, just that he thought Krycek cared about him.  “What are you going to do now?” she asked helplessly.

“I don’t know,” said Mulder.  “I just…Scully, I couldn’t watch him suffer, and then knowing the cancer was activated…” he swallowed, looking down again.  “I’m sorry, Scully.  I know you don’t care about him.  I know you can’t just use the nanos to get rid of it like he can.  I’m sorry.”  His voice fell to a whisper as his eyes closed.

Scully licked her lips and looked around the room, feeling panicky at mention of her own illness.  She didn’t begrudge Krycek the nanos.  They made him a slave to whomever held the palmtop, just as the implant made her one.  Would she trade one for the other?  She didn’t know. And it didn’t matter.  She wasn’t given the choice.  He was.

“Did you…tell him where I was?” Mulder asked, opening his eyes but staring at his lap.

“I…no, actually, I didn’t,” replied Scully.  “But he could probably get it from the Gunmen.”

Mulder nodded, not looking at her.  “Do you have a number for him?” he said, almost too quietly to hear.

Scully sighed.  “Yes,” she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a piece of paper.  She laid it on the bedside table, standing.

“Where are you going?” Mulder asked, looking up at her with his hounddog face.  She absolutely hated that face.  It was heart-breaking.

“I have to check in with Skinner,” she said.  “He’s asking after you.  I’ll check back with you later,” she said, giving him a reassuring smile.  She didn’t want him to hurt.  She couldn’t stand to see it.

Mulder smiled back wanly, nodding.  “I’ll see you later.”

Scully touched his hand and then turned to leave the room. She stopped at the door.  “Be careful, Mulder,” she said, then she walked out, closing the door behind her.

…

Mulder watched her leave, then looked over at the paper on the table.  He reached for it with a weak hand, reaching for the room phone with the other.  He let it ring several times, then the main desk picked up.

“Jesse Northrup Medical Center,” said the female voice.

“I’m trying to reach the patient in room 45,” Mulder said.

“All right, just a moment,” said the woman, and Mulder sighed, waiting.  “That patient has checked out,” said the woman.  “Just about an hour ago.  He didn’t leave any contact information.  Paid in cash.”

Mulder sighed, closing his eyes.  “Thank you,” he said, and he hung up the phone.

He waited the rest of the day, hoping for a visit or just a call, but heard no word from Krycek.  Scully visited him in the evening, and he didn’t bother telling her what she probably already knew, not ready to hear her ‘I told you so’s.  She left and he requested more pain medication, hoping it would dull the pain enough to let him get some sleep.

He was deeply asleep, doped on morphine, when he heard the door to his room open and close quietly.  He struggled to blink his eyes open, dazed from the medication.

“Time for your spongebath,” said a low, hushed voice.

“Alex,” Mulder gasped, eyes flying open.  He looked up into the dark of the room to see Krycek standing over him, grinning.

“Hey, Mulder.”

Mulder pulled himself up in bed, swooning a bit and blinking away the dizziness.  He felt Krycek’s hands come down on his shoulders, steadying him.  He gasped.  Hands. Two of them.  He lifted his own hands, laying them on top of them.  “Alex…your arm…”

“All the better to grope you with,” said Krycek, grinning evilly.

“It worked.  The palmtop worked, I don’t believe it,” said Mulder, feeling lightheaded with shock as well as the drugs in his system.

“Yeah, it worked,” said Krycek, putting his hand on Mulder’s face.  “You did it.”

Mulder closed his eyes, turning into the soft palm…not calloused, like the other one, soft like a child’s…and pressing his lips against it, sighing.  He’d been afraid that once Krycek was healed, he’d distance himself from Mulder, as if the last few days hadn’t happened.  A fear that had only grown when Krycek hadn’t contacted him right away.  “Why didn’t you come sooner,” he said, hating how needy he sounded.  “I was worried.”

“You’re being watched,” said Krycek.  “I couldn’t take the chance.  I’m sorry.”

“I thought…maybe you…”  Mulder bit his lip.

Krycek smoothed his new thumb over it, sighing.  “This hand, this arm, these legs…they’re yours, Mulder.  You gave them back to me, so they’re yours now.”  He smiled down at Mulder in the darkness.

“Can I have the rest of the package, too?” asked Mulder, one corner of his mouth lifting up in a hopeful smirk.

“It’s all yours,” said Krycek, leaning in and pressing his lips against Mulder’s.

Mulder moaned and kissed him, reaching up and pulling him in closer with both arms, feeling both of Krycek’s arms sliding around him, hot through the thin cotton of his hospital gown.

Krycek pulled back, gasping and licking his lips.

“Where are you going?” asked Mulder breathlessly.

“You’re in no condition,” said Krycek, looking down at his bandaged leg.

“That never stopped you,” said Mulder, arching his brows.

Krycek smiled.  Then the smile faded.  “I have to go, Mulder.  They’re hot on my tail.  They know it was my programming that disappeared, so everyone’s on the lookout for me now more than ever.  I have to disappear for awhile.”

Mulder frowned, his throat closing.  He was going to lose him.  After all they’d done, all they’d been through, Krycek was going to disappear again, like always.

“I don’t want to leave,” said Krycek, frowning deeply.  He must have seen the thoughts Mulder was having reflected in his eyes.  “I’ll come back when I can,” he whispered. “As soon as I can.  I promise.”

Mulder blinked, licking his lips, trying not to beg Alex to stay.  He knew what kind of life the man led, had known from the beginning that they couldn’t just walk off into the sunset together.  He just hadn’t anticipated the end coming so soon.  He almost wished he hadn’t gotten the palmtop, so that he could have his wounded Krycek, helpless and in his hotel room at his mercy.  He swallowed back that selfish thought and nodded.  “Be careful,” he said through his tight throat.

“I will,” said Krycek.  “You too, Mulder.”  He bent in and brushed Mulder’s lips again, then stepped away, his hand sliding from Mulder’s body.  Mulder used every bit of his willpower not to reach for him as he watched him turn and walk toward the door.  Then Krycek stopped, still facing the door.  “I love you, you know,” he said, voice choked.

“I know,” said Mulder.  Krycek nodded and stepped through the door, and Mulder watched it close behind him. He turned his head into the pillow and let silent tears fall.

END

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