Uncanny
by Satina

Rating:  R

Pairing:  pre-M/K for now

Date completed:  4/26/06

Date Posted:  1/16/08

Summary:  While on a case in West Hollywood, Mulder meets a rentboy that turns out to be Krycek's long-lost little brother.

Spoilers:  This takes place a few months after The Red and the Black.

Status:  This is a completed part to an ongoing series.  No cliffhangers.

Disclaimers:  We all know who really owns Mulder and Krycek.  Oh, but Stef is MINE.

Feedback:  Bring it ON.  Send it here.

---

Mulder reached for the map and hoped the red light would last long enough for him to be able to find where he'd made his wrong turn.  He had his head tilted to the left, map turned upside down when a knock on his window interrupted him.  He sighed and turned his head.

"Lookin' for a date?" said the young man, leaning in against the window of the rental.

Mulder was about to shake his head and dismiss the prostitute, then reconsidered and pushed on the button that lowered the window.

The kid tossed his nearly black, too-long wavy hair back out of his eyes and smiled.

Mulder frowned as he took a better look at the boy, noticing now the upturned, tiny nose, cupid's bow lips, and sky-blue, long-lashed eyes.  The kid was not what you'd call handsome, not with that baby face.  Only the word 'pretty' really applied here.  The kid probably did a pretty swift business with that face.

"I'm looking for an address, actually," Mulder said, taking in the boy's scruffy brown leather bomber jacket, crisp white t-shirt and ripped nearly to shreds jeans.  "Valley dee Abadge-o."

The kid smirked.  "That's Vah-yay de Uh-bah-HO," he corrected, putting extra emphasis on 'ho' with an arch to his dark brows.

The familiar expression made Mulder laugh out a soft gasp as he realized why he was scrutinizing the kid so closely.  He bore a more than passing resemblance to Alex Krycek, though his frame was much slimmer, his face a bit longer, and his eyes an intense shade of ice-blue rather than Krycek's jade green.  "Whatever," he said with a self-deprecating smirk.  "Where is it?"

The kid leaned into Mulder's windowframe, forcing Mulder to lean back a little to avoid having the kid's face make contact with his own.  "I SUCK at giving directions," the boy said in what Mulder now realized was a fake-sexy, husky tone that made him more than a little uncomfortable with its mocking familiarity.  "But I can get you there," he went on with an arch to his brows.  "For the right price."  His pink lips widened in a closed-mouth grin.

Mulder licked his lips.  He could smell spearmint on the kid's breath.  He looked at the hands dangling into the inside of his car rather than looking at the worldly-young face so close to his own.  The nails were bitten to the quick but clean.  He sighed.  The he jumped a little as the car behind him honked, alerting him to the fact that the light was now green and it was time for him to wrap up negotiations with his proposed 'date'.  "Get in the car," he said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended.

The boy's grin was toothy, his pink tongue swiping over his lower lip once as he bounced away from the window frame and loped around the front of the car, bending in and sliding into the seat beside Mulder, who immediately stepped on the gas to get out of the intersection.

"Seatbelt," Mulder muttered, as his face turned red at the thought of what the people who had just witnessed this scene would be assuming.  He glanced over at the kid, feeling guilty even though he had no intention of doing anything even remotely like that, and the kid met his look with an arch to his brows that made Mulder feel even more uncomfortable.  It really was uncanny.  Even the mannerisms.

"You want me strapped in?" the boy asked, keeping his voice innocent.  "No problem."  He reached up and fastened his seatbelt securely and then folded his hands in his lap, the leather creaking loudly in the car.  "See?  I can be a good boy."

Mulder sighed heavily.  "So where do I turn?" he asked, without looking over.

The boy reached his left arm up and pointed diagonally.  "Up there three streets, at the Chevron there."  He then lowered his arm, resting his hand on Mulder's thigh casually.

Mulder twitched his leg hard, giving the car a little too much gas.  "I'm only interested in getting directions," he said, finally reaching down and removing the kid's hand himself when the boy made no move to take it away.  He let go of the kid's hand and let it drop into the boy's lap, then placed his hand back on the steering wheel, swallowing hard.  He heard but did not comment on the boy's soft sigh, and then concentrated on negotiating traffic up to the Chevron.  "Here?" he asked, glancing over.

"Yeah," the kid answered, fidgeting in the seat and picking at his jeans, then leaning forward and popping open the glove compartment.  "Got any good music?"

Mulder lunged across the car, grabbing his weapon from out of the glove box before the boy's stunned hands could even brush it, shoving it into his hip holster roughly, swerving slightly on the road.  "Relax," he said, as he corrected the car's trajectory, glancing into the rearview mirror then over at his passenger.  "I'm an FBI agent."

"Oh man!" the kid exclaimed.  "You're a cop?  Damn, are you gonna bust me now?  I *knew* I shoulda asked."  He slammed himself back against the seat hard, and Mulder watched as the skin over his nose wrinkled into an annoyed frown.

"I'm not gonna bust you," Mulder said, his own brows drawing into a frown as he glanced at the scowling kid and back to the traffic, then at the kid again, who now had his arms folded tightly across his chest, his lanky frame slumped down into the seat, chin tucked to his chest protectively.

"Why not?" the kid asked cautiously, looking sideways at Mulder from under his lashes.

"Not my area," said Mulder, whose heart had begun to beat harder.  He took another look over at his passenger, whose expression had gone cold, ice-blue eyes now calculating and suspicious as they looked Mulder up and down, flicking over the bulge in Mulder's jacket which barely covered his hip holster.  Mulder swallowed as they came to another traffic light, then activated the door locks so the kid wouldn't bolt, putting the car in neutral.  He bit his lip, feeling stupid, then blurted it out on a breath.  "Do you have a brother?"

The kid's eyes went perfectly round, his mouth dropping open on a gasp he didn't even try to cover.  A chill swept over Mulder's body, making him shudder.  "You know my brother?" the kid said, absolutely breathless.  He turned to face Mulder, reaching into his back pocket and yanking out a beat-up black nylon wallet. Mulder held his breath as the boy's fingers, shaking badly now, rummaged inside it.  He pulled out a tattered photo and thrust it into Mulder's face.  "Him!  Do you know him?  I mean, he's a lot older now and probably looks different, but do you know him?  Have you seen him?"

Mulder gulped and stared into the teenaged eyes of what could only be Alex Krycek, smiling back at him from his high school portrait, with virtually the same hairstyle as the kid in the car with him, but combed back and shiny with gel.  He was wearing a green dress shirt that made his eyes appear to glow phosphorescent through the scratched photo paper.  "Whuh-what's his name?" Mulder asked, keeping his voice as calm as possible.

"Alex!" the kid exclaimed, shaking the photo.  "Um, Alexander Nicholai Krycek is his full name, and this is from ten years ago so he probably looks different," he repeated, reaching to place the photo into Mulder's hands, which numbly reached to receive it.  "Here, take a good look!"

Mulder lifted the photo to his face, studying it as if it were a priceless relic from an ancient civilization now lost.  His lips were parted on shallow, fast breaths, and his own hands trembled as he turned the photo over and read the block printing on the back.  "Stay out of trouble squirt.  Big Brother's always watching.  Alex."  Mulder swallowed, his throat feeling tight and dry.  "I might."

"Oh my god!" the kid practically yelled, grabbing Mulder's left shoulder and squeezing hard.  Mulder barely registered it, still staring at Alex Krycek's 18-year-old grinning countenance.  "I've been looking for him for three years!  Are you sure?  Is it him?  Is he okay?  Do you know where he is now?"  The boy's voice was thick and moist with the tears that Mulder looked up to see being blinked back behind dark, thick lashes.

Mulder gasped softly, now seeing the resemblance so sharply that he was shocked he hadn't known it immediately.  How could this kid *not* be related to Alex Krycek?  No two unrelated people could have *that* nose, *those* eyes, and that wide-eyed, anything-but-innocent baby face.  "I-I don't know," Mulder said, slipping the photo into his breast pocket and stepping on the gas as the light turned green.  He glanced into the rearview mirror and then made his way to the side of the street, pulling the car over and putting it back into neutral.

"Oh god, but you've seen him?  You know him?  Maybe you can find him?  Where did you see him last?  What was he doing?  Do you have a phone number or address or something?  I'll do anything...ANYTHING!" the kid yelled, bouncing in Mulder's car seat, shaking Mulder by the shoulder.  "Please, please, god, you gotta help me!  Please!"

Mulder swallowed, then reached up and took the kid's convulsing hand off his shoulder, noticing the pain now.  He placed the boy's hand down on the console between them.  He inhaled and exhaled, trying to stay clear of the kid's now panicked, frenetic energy in the small space around him.  He cleared his throat.  "What's your name?" he asked softly, ashamed that he hadn't asked it sooner, when the kid had just been another rentboy.

"Steffan!" the kid said excitedly.  "But he always called me Stef!  Does he talk about me?  Does that name sound familiar?  Has he mentioned me?"  He was leaning across the console between them, paying no attention to any kind of personal space Mulder might be trying to maintain.

"Um, I dunno," Mulder said quietly.  "Maybe."  He felt a little uncomfortable in the lie, but only until the boy's face lit up in brilliant smile.

"Really?  He talks about me?"  The tears that had been threatening to fall before now did, streaming down the boy's round cheeks, pulled tight in a huge smile.  "I haven't seen him since I was a kid!  What's he like now?  Where is he?  Do you think we can find him?  I'll do anything!" Steffan repeated.  "Anything, I swear to god, I'll be your slave if you help me find him, please!"

Mulder swallowed, blinking against the onslaught of emotion from Krycek's baby brother.  "That's not necessary," he said, feeling his neck get warm with shame at the boy's offer.  "I'll..."  He licked his lips, his brain working a million miles a minute, trying to figure out the right thing to do here.  After all, Steffan's brother was now a murderer, a traitor, and a spy.  How could it be a good thing to put him in contact with that?  On the other hand, he couldn't just lie out of some need to protect a complete stranger.  And then there was the whole matter of Mulder's own unfulfilled need to find his little sister.  He knew what it was like to lose a family member and never know what had happened.  He couldn't be party to keeping this kid on some endless search for his brother, no matter what his personal feelings about the man might be.  He sighed, realizing his decision was made.  "I'll do what I can," he said, afraid to look over and see the hopeful excitement on the boy's face.

Steffan sniffed loudly, wiping his nose on the arm of his leather jacket.  "Thanks," he said roughly.  He breathed through a few more sobs, sniffing again before scooting back into his seat.  "Thank you," he said again, now using the cotton cuff of his jacket to wipe his wet face and neck.  "I'll...I'll pay you back or...whatever you want..." he trailed off.

Not wanting to talk about it further, Mulder just nodded and reached into his pocket for his cellphone.  He punched in a number, glancing over at Steffan, and waited for his call to go through.

"Scully, it's me.  I'm in L.A., but there's been a change of plans and I'm coming back to D.C. in the morning."  He looked over at Steffan, who was licking his lips and biting them impatiently.  "I think it would be best to discuss it face to face.  I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."  He punched end and slipped his cellphone back into his pocket.  "I need you to come with me," he said, looking over at his passenger.

"Sure!" the kid said excitedly, shrugging so animatedly that his jacket slid off one shoulder.  Mulder realized the jacket was a little too big and wondered if it had been Krycek's.  Taking note of its obvious wear and probable age, Mulder decided it almost certainly was.  "I didn't have any big plans," the boy added with a tinge of irony.

Mulder nodded.  "Do you need to call anybody or pick up your things or..."  He shrugged slightly.

The kid looked out the windshield.  "I guess I should get my clothes and stuff," he said, shrugging again, and then slumping down into the seat, drawing the jacket around himself and burrowing into it.  "I can tell you where to go."

"All right," Mulder replied, nodding.  He followed the boy's directions and ended up in a less-than-spectacular part of Hollywood in front of a hotel that looked condemmed.  Steffan tried unsuccessfully to open the door and Mulder unlocked it with a sheepish look.

"Be right back," the kid said, then shoved his hands in his pockets and bounded up the crumbling stairs, using his shoulder to shove the broken door open wider.  Mulder frowned as he watched the boy go in, looking around at the deserted and filthy street, sighing.  After about five minutes, during which Mulder checked his watch twice, Steffan bounded down the steps with a green army knapsack slung over one shoulder.  He slid back into Mulder's car, grinning and throwing his bag on the floor at his feet.  "All set," he said, kicking it to the front of the footwell with his battered black-and-white sneaker.

Mulder nodded, and with a sad look at the boy's home, pulled into the street and headed back to his motel.

"So we're going to Washington, D.C.?" Steffan said, snuggling down into the jacket, hands in the pockets.  "Is that where you're from?"

Mulder licked his lips.  "Yeah," he said, unable to resist comparing his memory of Alex Krycek with the boy in the seat next to him.  He thought Krycek's shoulders were quite a bit broader, his torso shorter and more compact.  Steffan was more slightly built, like a runner rather than a fighter.  His jeans hung on his thin frame and Mulder could see knobby knees peeking out through the frayed holes in the pantlegs.  "You hungry?"

"Yeah, I could eat," Steffan said, sitting up higher in the seat.  He sounded like he was trying to give off the impression of casual interest, but Mulder could tell the kid was more than a little hungry.  He scanned the street and spotted a restaurant.

"Denny's?" he asked, and Steffan shrugged and smiled, still trying to appear nonchalant.

"So when did you see him last?  Do you know where he lives?" Steffan asked, now sitting up straight and leaning toward Mulder eagerly.

Mulder licked his lips, flashes of scenes from a few months ago playing across his memory.  Him on the floor, staring up the barrel of his own gun.  Krycek, sweaty and intense, telling him about an alien colonization agenda.  Mulder, torn between staying in the recent hell of his black denial or grasping at another shred of evidence that might lead him to his always-evasive truth with a capital T.  Krycek suddenly in his face, hot and smelling like spearmint, the rough press of lips against his cheek, the trace of drying saliva as he reached up and took his weapon back, stroking over the metal, warm from Krycek's hand, as he listened to Krycek's half-whispered Russian and watched him walk out the still-open door.  "I saw him a few months ago," he said, pulling into the Denny's parking lot.  "I don't know where he lives."  He put the car in park, expecting and getting a passionate response.

"A few months ago?  Really?"  Steffan's voice was high with excitement.  "Like...how?  I mean, at work, or...did you run into him at a store or...what happened?"  The kid licked his lips over and over and Mulder noticed they were a bit chapped.  With an internal start, he remembered the faintest scent of cherry chapstick under the spearmint as Krycek swooped in.  He didn't know quite how to answer Steffan's question.

"Let's go get something to eat and talk about it," he said, opening his door.

Steffan nodded enthusiastically and opened his own door, and the two of them went into the Denny's and were seated.

"Order anything you want," Mulder said, watching Steffan lick his lips as he perused the menu hungrily.  He considered a moment, then added, "It's on my expense account so don't worry about money."  He felt his lips pull into a friendly smile and realized he liked this kid.

Steffan grinned, eyes sparkling with innocent mischief.  "Cool," he said with an arch of his dark brows.  "I'm havin' the steak then.  And a giant chocolate shake."  He laid the menu down, still grinning.

Mulder couldn't help but grin back, then the smile faltered as he remembered a young Agent Krycek drinking a chocolate shake during one of their few lunches together.  How was he going to tell Steffan what his brother had become?

Fortunately, Steffan was patient while they waited for the server to take their orders, which gave Mulder a little time to ready himself, but before she had gotten five feet away, Steffan pounced once more.  He reminded Mulder a little bit of himself.

"So, how did it happen?  What was he doing?  How did you guys run into each other?"  Then, with more feeling, "How's he doing?  Is he okay?"

Mulder pursed his lips and thought about how much to tell Steffan and how.  "Well," he began, playing with the laminate tabletop with his fingernail.  "I don't really know him that well.  I've just met him a few times in my work."  He figured that was pretty much the truth.

"In the FBI?" Steffan asked, scooting in closer and leaning across the table.  "Is he an agent, too?"  His eyes were round and impressed.

"Um, he used to be," Mulder answered, hating the fact that because of Krycek's nefarious choices, it was Mulder who had to let his little brother down with the truth of his wasted life.

Steffan nodded.  "What's he do now?"

Mulder swallowed.  "Freelance," he finally answered, looking down at the tabletop.  "Steffan, do you mind if I ask you some questions?"

"No, go ahead!  Ask me anything if it'll help us find my brother," Steffan said, putting his hands on the table and then slapping it lightly with impatience.

"When did you last see...Alex," Mulder asked, stumbling just slightly over the use of Krycek's first name.

"Ten years ago," Steffan said a little sadly.  "I was just a kid."  He shrugged inside the battered jacket.

"What happened?" Mulder asked, feeling his heart speed up as he realized what a perfect chance this was to know some of Krycek's oldest secrets.  Not the kind that would help him in his quest for the truth about colonization, but the kind that would give him the truth about the man himself.

"He left to go to college," Steffan said, shrugging, and Mulder's practiced interrogator's ear could hear the old pain in the boy's voice.  "He never came home again."

"He disappeared?" Mulder asked, frowning.

"No," Steffan answered.  "He just never came home for a visit.  Mom would try to call and write him letters, but she could never talk him into it."  Steffan shrugged again, scraping his fingernail back and forth across a scratch in the tabletop, not looking at Mulder.

Mulder frowned, angry on Steffan's behalf at a big brother who didn't care enough to even want to see his baby brother again.  Mulder's own desire to see his sister again compounded his lack of understanding at how a big brother could do such a thing.  He realized he was scowling and gentled his expression.  "Then what happened?"

Steffan looked up with sad eyes.  "Well, he graduated and mom married Gus, and Gus didn't want mom spending all that time trying to find out where Alex went, so she stopped trying to get ahold of him."  This time Steffan's shrug was accompanied by the boy burrowing more deeply into the beloved jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"And you just lost track of him then?" Mulder asked, arching his brows and trying to draw the boy out of the shadows that had taken over his expression.

"Yeah," Steffan said softly.  He looked up at Mulder from where he was slumped inside the depths of the jacket.  "I was only twelve, so I couldn't do anything, and when I tried to ask momma if I could have whatever kind of information she had so I could find him, she'd just tell me to hush and not let Gus hear me talk like that."

"Gus didn't want to find Alex?" Mulder asked, keeping his voice gentle.

Steffan swallowed and shook his head no.  He met Mulder's eyes with an angry stare.  "He knew Alex wouldn't like what he was doing.  He knew Alex would stop him."  He dropped his gaze to the tabletop and Mulder watched the blue eyes fill with liquid.

"What was he doing?"  Mulder's voice was calm and casual, but gentle.

Steffan blinked rapidly, but one tear still squeezed through, gleaming in his lashes, caught.  "He...hurt us."  His voice slipped into a near whisper.

Mulder released a controlled sigh.  Compassion for Steffan welled up inside him, but his curiosity about his constant nemesis outweighed it, and with a pang of shame, he continued his interrogation.  "Why do you think Alex didn't visit after he left for school, Steffan?"  He felt guilty, perfectly aware that he was essentially asking an eight-year-old's pain-filled take on the situation.  But it was all he had, so he pressed on.

"Momma said he was ashamed of us," Steffan said, his husky voice rough with tears.  "'Cause we didn't have any money, and momma didn't have any schooling."  Steffan sniffed and picked up a napkin and began tearing it into strips.  "Alex was really smart, and he had a real job and bought his own clothes and stuff.  He never let his friends see where we lived.  He said it was a pathetic dump."

Mulder nodded, his throat tight with compassion again.  Looking at Steffan's sad face, he decided to let the subject go for a while, to give him a break, but the boy kept talking.

"Alex was good in sports and school, and he worked full-time doing office work for the city, and still got straight A's all the time," Steffan said, pushing his napkin strips into a neat pile, not looking at Mulder.  "He wasn't home much."  He looked up then, and a vague smile stretched his chapped lips.  "But I'd sleep in his bed and wait for him to get home, and even after he got home, he'd let me stay there."  Steffan's smile widened.

Mulder made his lips smile back, remembering the times he'd let his own little sister crawl into bed with him, either when she was scared after a bad dream, or when their parents were fighting, which was often.  He was glad Steffan had been given at least that little bit of comfort.

Before Steffan could say more, the server was sliding their meals between them, plunking down a glass full of milkshake and the silver tumbler with the extra.  Steffan grinned hugely and picked up the long teaspoon, digging out a big spoonful of milkshake and stuffing it in his mouth.  He looked incredibly young.

"How old are you, Steffan?" Mulder asked, taking a drink of his iced tea.

Steffan's mouth stopped chewing as he froze at the question.  Then he swallowed his bite and licked his lips.  "I'm never sure what to say to that," he replied, scraping more shake out of the tumbler.  "Some want me younger and some feel better if they think I'm legal."

"I just want the truth," said Mulder softly, hating every man who'd ever taken advantage of Steffan.

"I turned eighteen last month," the boy replied, tipping the tumbler up to his lips and drawing it away, a thick chocolate mustache on his upper lip.  He licked it away.

"So you were eight when Krycek left, ten years ago," Mulder mused, but Steffan interrupted him.

"You call him Krycek?" he said, grinning.  "Like double-oh-seven or something?"

Mulder hadn't realized he'd slipped and used Krycek's last name instead of his first.  "Yeah, I don't call him Alex."  Anymore, he added to himself, remembering doing so when Krycek had posed as his partner.  "So Alex was...eighteen or so?"

"Yeah, I guess I never thought about it," Steffan replied.  "He was the age I am now, huh.  Wow...weird."

"So he's only twenty-eight," Mulder said softly, frowning.

"Twenty-eight," Steffan agreed, nodding.  "I can't believe he's so old."

Mulder smirked.  "Watch it, kid," he said.  "I'm a lot older than that."

"Aw, no way!" Steffan said.  He looked Mulder up and down, tilting his head.  "You don't look it."  He gave Mulder a crooked smirk that made him very uncomfortable.  That was when Mulder realized that without choosing to, he'd begun thinking of Steffan as kind of a little brother himself, and he was very disturbed by any thought of Steffan coming onto him.

"Steffan," he said, not wanting to hurt the kid but needing to set a firm boundary.  "I think you're a great kid, and I would like to be your friend."  He licked his lips, feeling awkward.  "But it makes me very uncomfortable when you get...suggestive," he finished, looking to his side so as not to have to meet Steffan's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Steffan replied softly.  "I won't do it anymore."  Mulder looked back to see him shrugging, and he realized the boy's face was pink.  "Habit, I guess."

"It's okay," said Mulder.  "I don't want that from you.  I just want you to be straight with me."

Steffan giggled, and Mulder frowned, not getting the joke.  Steffan giggled harder.  "Straight with you...get it?  Like...not gay?"  He snickered a little more and then sighed, still smiling.  "I can be straight with you, mister.  No problem."

Mulder got the joke just as he realized with shame that he hadn't bothered to tell Steffan his name.  "My name's Mulder," he said, smirking at the inadvertent pun Steffan was still amused by.  "Fox Mulder," he went on, realizing the kid deserved to know his first name after revealing so much personal stuff of his own.

"Oh no way!" Steffan said.  "Your first name's really Fox?  That'd go over well in my line of work," he said, grinning.

Mulder didn't grin back.  "Steffan," he said, feeling uncomfortable at having to confront this subject but unable not to.  "How did you get into...what you're doing?"

Steffan's grin froze, his eyes tightening a little.  "You mean hooking?" he said, using a light voice that didn't cover his pain even a little.

Mulder nodded.

Steffan sighed, and picked up his knife.  He began to saw off a piece of his steak, and Mulder picked up his utensils and cut into his own.

"I left home a few years ago," Steffan said, shoving a big bite of steak into his mouth and talking through his chewing.  "Not a lot of work out there for a fifteen-year-old drop out."  He cut a big piece of baked potato and shoved that in, too, making talking impossible.

Mulder chewed and swallowed his own bite before replying.  "Gus?" he asked, laying his knife down a minute.

Steffan blinked madly and washed down his big bite with a swig of milkshake, making Mulder wonder why he didn't choke.  "Yeah," was all Steffan said before cutting and shoving in another big bite.  He chewed and swallowed it, then took another drink of his shake before adding, "At least now it's my choice."

Mulder felt his lips part and tried to cover his surprise by swallowing.  "You're saying Gus..."  He licked his lips, not wanting to put words to it.

"Not himself," Steffan said, putting his finger into the whipped cream on his milkshake and sucking a dollop off noisily.  Mulder didn't think Steffan was trying to be seductive this time.  He just looked like a kid enjoying a messy ice cream treat.  "He's totally straight.  Only into women.  But he wanted me to work for him, yeah."

"He prostituted you," said Mulder, feeling his stomach clench with nausea.  He ground his teeth.  "So you ran away?"

"Mmmhmm," Steffan replied, slurping at his shake again.  "I know it seems stupid, since I'm just turning tricks anyway, but at least I get to say who now."  He turned his attention back to his steak, shoveling in another huge bite.

Mulder sighed, his appetite all but gone.  He forced himself to take a drink of his tea, barely able to swallow past the tightness in his throat.  He set it down, hating what he was going to ask next, but needing to know.  "Steffan, does he...make your mom work, too?"

Steffan swallowed and licked his lips.  "Yeah, I guess she works for him," he said quietly.  "I didn't really get that, until he pimped me out a couple of times, but yeah, I guess that's what she does."  Steffan wouldn't meet Mulder's eyes, and he seemed to have lost some interest in his own meal now, too.  "I guess Alex probably knew all along," he said even more quietly.  "That's probably why he left, huh?"  Steffan looked down into his lap.  "Why he never came back."

Mulder inhaled and exhaled, firming his lips against the pain he felt in causing Steffan pain.  But he figured the boy was probably right.  An eighteen-year-old Krycek had probably been hip to his mother's activities and had wanted to get as far away from them as possible.  But how could he just leave Steffan in that mess?  Leave him to be prostituted like that?  "And he just left you there..." he murmured, almost unaware he was talking out loud.

"He never knew about Gus," Steffan said, sounding insistent.  "Gus didn't happen until I was thirteen, and Alex was already gone by then."

"But he didn't bother to check up on you," Mulder said, unable not to point out to Steffan how Alex had betrayed him.

"He didn't know!" Steffan said again, more passionately.  "And he always sent money home!  Right up until I left a few years ago!  He always took care of us!"  Steffan's eyes flashed with defiance.

Mulder sighed with impatience at Steffan's naive defense of his brother, even as he was taken aback at the thought that at least a few years ago, Alex Krycek had been sending money home to his mother.  "But he didn't bother to check and see if you were safe, if you were okay," said Mulder angrily, somewhat aware that he was taking his anger at Krycek out on Steffan, but also frustrated at Steffan's inability to see the worthlessness of his revered big brother.

"He sent money!"  Steffan said, his voice breaking.  "He always sent money!  Sometimes big amounts!  He did care!  He did care about us!"

Mulder put his hands up, feeling bad for upsetting Steffan over something he had no control over.  "Okay, okay," he said.  "You're right.  If he didn't care, he wouldn't have sent money."  He supposed that was true, although he still hadn't forgiven Krycek for never coming back and leaving Steffan to the neglectful care of his mother.  Watching Steffan wipe his nose on his cuff again, Mulder sighed and said, "I'm sorry, Steffan."

Steffan sniffed, breathing back the tears.  "I just wanna find him," he said, sounding like a tired five-year-old.  "I'm sure he can explain it all when I find him.  He has his reasons."

Mulder nodded, feeling a kind of sad hopelessness make him tired, too.  He has his reasons.  Well, that was always the case, wasn't it?  Krycek doing whatever the hell Krycek wanted for reasons he never felt like sharing with anyone else, not caring how much he was hurting anyone else.  What had he gotten himself into, reuniting this boy with his lying, murdering brother so his last vestiges of wounded innocence could be stripped away?  Mulder sighed and looked down at his virtually untouched meal.  "Do you want to finish that, or do you want to get some boxes and take it back to the motel?"

Steffan looked down at his food.  "Boxes, I guess," he said, reaching out and ripping off a chunk of potato and putting it in his mouth.

Mulder nodded and got up to find their server.

He drove back to his motel, Steffan holding both boxes on his lap, neither one of them saying anything more.  Mulder had them moved into a room with two beds, then changed into his sweats while Steffan was in the bathroom.  He looked up to see the boy come out wearing the same pair of ripped jeans and t-shirt, but carrying the jacket.  Steffan laid it carefully on the back of a chair and climbed up on the bed, reaching for the remote.  "This place get HBO?" he asked, turning on the television.

Mulder went to his own bed and climbed up, leaning back against the headboard, fingers itching to be holding the controller himself.  "Do you need to borrow something to sleep in?" he asked, feeling embarassed but wanting to offer.

"I sleep in my clothes," Steffan replied, shrugging.  "Makes it easier if I have to leave in a hurry or something."

Mulder thought to himself that Steffan's brother probably said the same thing.  He nodded and turned his attention to the set.

"Here, I don't even know how to use this thing," Steffan said, tossing the remote to Mulder.

Mulder smirked back and picked it up.  "Thanks, I was starting to feel the pangs of withdrawal," he said, thumbing through the channels.  He brought up the channel guide and looked for something they could watch.

"So...you're kinda mad at him, aren't you," Steffan said, looking at Mulder and then back at the screen.

Mulder laughed a little at the vast understatement and said nothing.

"But you're still gonna help me find him, right?" Steffan asked, sounding scared and hopeful.

Mulder sighed.  He turned his head and looked at the kid's frightened face.  "I'll do what I can," he said with a heavy exhale.  He turned back to the screen.

"Thanks, Mulder," Steffan said softly.

Mulder sighed again.  It sounded a little odd to hear Steffan call him by his last name, somehow.  Put a distance between them that Mulder, just real honestly, didn't like feeling.  "You can..." He swallowed.  "You can call me Fox," he said, feeling the name catch in his throat.

"Okay...Fox," said Steffan softly, obviously very pleased.

It made Mulder feel better immediately.  And hearing Steffan call him by his first name made him feel warm.  Close.  It reminded him of his sister, actually, he realized.  He decided he didn't mind that so much, either.  He found himself looking for something that wasn't too obscene or violent, feeling protective of Steffan's nonexistent innocence.  He chose a PG movie he'd already seen a dozen times, settling in with a satisfied sigh.

"He used to buy me things," Steffan said out of the blue, fifteen minutes into the movie.  "All the time.  He'd come home with toys and books and things."

Mulder realized Steffan was trying once again to prove to Mulder that his big brother did care about him.  "Oh yeah?"  He found himself feeling a little panicky without knowing why.

"Yeah, especially books," Steffan said.  "All kinds...ones that were way too old for me, but I read them anyway."

Mulder nodded, still uncomfortable.

"And he'd look at my papers from school sometimes, and if I needed help with my homework and he was home, he'd help."

Mulder nodded again.

"And if I was alone at night, I could call his work and he'd either talk to me on the phone or if I got really scared, sometimes he even came home early.  A few times he did.  Three, I think."  Steffan didn't appear to be paying much attention to the movie now, just concentrating on his attempt to remember all the ways Krycek was great.  "He gave me a microscope for my birthday before he left," Steffan said, his voice getting softer.  "He said I could be a great scientist, if I wanted to and worked hard."

Mulder sighed and closed his eyes.  He was uncomfortable, he realized, because Steffan was making him look at good things about Krycek.  Giving him reason to feel something besides anger and disgust and the sting of betrayal.  "You like science?" he asked, without looking at Steffan.

"Yeah, I like stuff like that," Steffan said.  "Doing experiments and stuff.  Before Gus started keeping the money, momma let me buy a bigger microscope with some of it for my twelfth birthday.  Alex sent me money every birthday," Steffan went on, adding to his ledger of Alex-pros.  "I think he'd want me to spend it on that."

"Did you ever write him and tell him?" Mulder asked.  "When he was still in school?"

"Yeah, momma let me write him sometimes," Steffan said in a small voice.

"Did he write back?" Mulder said, his jaw tightening in advance with anger at the expected answer.

"No," the boy replied.  "He was really busy at school.  Momma said he had double major work."

"You mean he double-majored?" Mulder asked, frowning.

"I guess," replied Steffan.  "I don't know that much about college."  He shrugged and crossed his arms, hugging himself and looking embarassed.

"Do you know what subjects he studied?" Mulder asked, aware that he might make Steffan feel even worse about his ignorance but needing so badly to get any little scrap of info on Krycek that he could.

"Momma said he was learning about computers and politics," Steffan answered.  "She said he was gonna be president some day."  Steffan smirked and shrugged, but Mulder could tell a tiny part of the boy still believed that, or least hoped.

He nodded, saying nothing to disabuse the boy of his dreams for his older brother.  Krycek, president.  Mulder shuddered a little at the thought.  God help them.

"He used to babysit me a lot when I was little," Steffan went on.  "He'd let me sit next to him while he did his homework, if I was real quiet."  Steffan licked his lips.  "He's really smart.  Any question I asked him, he knew the answer to.  Even if it was some far-out thing.  It seemed like he just knew everything."

Like highway fatality statistics, thought Mulder, nodding again.

"Do you think it will be hard to find him?" Steffan asked.

With a sigh, Mulder put the TV on mute.  "It won't be easy," he replied.  Then he turned on his bed, sitting on the edge.  "Steffan, I need to tell you something about your brother."

Steffan frowned and scooted to the edge of his own bed, sitting cross-legged.  "Okay."

Mulder sighed, again angry at Krycek for being such a shit that the truth of it might break his little brother's heart.  "Alex is...involved in some...bad things," Mulder finally said.  He didn't want to sound like he was talking down to Steffan, but he wanted to break the truth to him as gently as possible.

Steffan's Adam's apple bobbed in his slim throat as he swallowed.  "Oh," he said softly.  "Like...what?"

Mulder sighed again.  "He's in trouble with the law," he said, looking down in his lap and back up at Steffan.  "He's in bad trouble with the law."

Steffan let out a shaky sigh, obviously scared.  "What'd he do?" he asked in a voice that was cracking slightly.

Mulder swallowed.  "Lots of things," he replied, licking his lips.  "You name it, pretty much."  He looked to the side, unable to watch the boy's face as he took this knowledge in.

Steffan swallowed hard.  "Are you sure it's him?  Maybe it's not him after all.  Maybe it's somebody else..."  His voice broke, and Mulder looked up to see his bottom lip trembling.  "That doesn't sound like Alex.  That doesn't sound like my brother."

"I'm sorry, Steffan, but I'm pretty sure, yeah.  He looks just like you."

"But Alex was smart!" Steffan said with a sniff.  "He could have been anything!  Done anything!  He was the smartest person I ever knew!"

"He is smart," Mulder said.  "But he's made some bad choices.  Some very bad choices."

"Why?" Steffan asked.  "He's not like us!  He's smart and he got his degree and he was gonna be president or something like that!  He never did anything bad!  He got straight A's all the time!"  Steffan's face was streaked with tears now and he used the hem of his t-shirt to wipe them away.  Mulder could see his ribs as he pulled it up his body.

"I don't know why," Mulder said, wishing Krycek was here right now so he could beat the holy hell out of him for disappointing his adoring baby brother so badly.  Making him cry like this.  Making Mulder tell him the nasty truth about his life.

Steffan sniffed loudly.  "Maybe he's in trouble," he said, wiping his face with his shirt again.  "Maybe he didn't have any choice.  Maybe somebody's making him do this stuff."

Mulder sighed.  He wanted to snap at the kid that of course Krycek had a choice.  Everyone has a choice.  And that Krycek wasn't controlled by anyone but Krycek, and Steffan should just face the fact that his brother was garbage and get on with life.  Instead, he found himself saying very quietly.  "Maybe."

Suddenly, Steffan stopped sniffling.  "You're after him, aren't you?  You're a cop and you wanna catch him and put him in prison!  That's what you meant when you said you ran into him at work!  Oh god, if you help me find Alex, you're gonna put him away!"  Steffan burst into sobs and clambored off the bed, slamming himself into the bathroom.  Mulder could hear the gut-wrenching sobs coming from behind the door and felt his own eyes stinging a little in response.  He got up off the bed and went to the door and knocked.

"Steffan, come out here.  I want to tell you something."

Steffan's miserable weeping was the only answer.

"I don't want to send your brother to prison," Mulder said through the door, clenching his jaw.

"Liar!" Steffan yelled.  "You're a cop!  You're lying!"

Mulder sighed, and closed his eyes.  It was so damned complicated to explain it like this.  "I don't want to send him to prison!" he called through the door.  "I'm not lying!"

"But you said he did bad things!" Steffan sobbed through the door.

"He did!" Mulder yelled back.  "But that's not all he's done!"  Mulder ground his teeth as he realized he had to admit to himself what he was about to say to Steffan.  "He's also helped me and if he went to prison, he'd just be killed and I don't want that!"

Mulder waited as the sobs quieted, then he heard the toilet paper spool spinning and the toilet flushing.  He stepped back as the bathroom door opened and Steffan came out, face red but dry.

"He's helped you?" he croaked. voice broken from crying.

"Yes," Mulder said through half-clenched teeth.  "He's...kind of a double agent."

Steffan sniffed, but Mulder saw a little light come back into his eyes.  "So maybe he's just pretending to be bad."

"He's done very bad things," Mulder said, correcting him.  "But he's also...trying to...maybe...do some good, now."

"So he's trying to change, maybe?" Steffan said, hand twisting in the hem of his shirt.

"Maybe," Mulder replied, exhaling.

Steffan nodded and they were quiet a minute.  "So...you really don't wanna arrest him?"

Mulder licked his lips, glad Scully wasn't here to hear this.  His voice came out small but certain.  "No."

Steffan nodded, and Mulder was taken aback by the easy trust.

Mulder turned and made his way back to his bed, picking up his jeans and digging in the pockets for change.  "Here, you're dressed.  Run out to that vending machine and get us both a couple of sodas, would ya?"  He held out a handful of quarters and a dollar bill, and Steffan came over from the bathroom area and took it.

"Sure," he said.  "Whaddya want?"

"Sprite or something like it," Mulder said.  "No caffeine.  I don't sleep well as it is."

Steffan nodded.  "Okay, be back in a minute."  And he headed out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Mulder sank onto his bed with a sigh, drained.  He rubbed his hand over his face.  He looked up as Steffan came into the room, carrying two Sprites.  He handed one to Mulder, who took it with a tired smile.  "Thanks," he said, opening it up and taking a long, cooling drink.

"Pazhalusta," Steffan replied, popping his own open and taking a deep swig.

"What?" Mulder asked, licking his lips.

"My pleasure," replied Steffan.  He then belched loudly and headed over to his bed, climbing and bouncing a little as he got situated.  He seemed like a pretty resilient kid.  Mulder guessed he'd have to be, to make it through the things he had and still be so...sweet.

"So you're really Russian, then," Mulder said, sitting down on his own bed.

"Yeah, on my mother's side," Steffan replied, taking another drink.

"Not your father's?" Mulder asked, considering the boy's last name.

"Well, maybe," replied Steffan.  "I never knew him.  He was gone by the time I was two."

"Is Krycek your father's name or your mother's?" Mulder asked, determined to untangle this family's secrets.

"Momma's," answered Steffan.  "I guess.  I never really asked.  Momma didn't like to talk about our dad."

"But Alex knew him?" Mulder asked, trying not be nosy but so curious he couldn't not ask these questions.

"Yeah, Alex knew him I guess.  He didn't like to talk about him either, though."

Mulder nodded.  "So you guys both have the same father?"  Considering the mother's profession, it wasn't something he could assume by any means.

Steffan nodded but gave no further explanation.  Mulder decided he probably didn't have one.

"Have you ever tried to find him?" Mulder asked, wondering what kind of man this absentee father was, that no one wanted to tell Steffan about.

"No," Steffan replied.  "Alex always told me not to talk about him.  Not to ask about him, that I was better off not knowing him."

"And you did everything your brother told you to," said Mulder with an amused smirk.

Steffan smirked, shrugging.  "I was a little kid," he said by way of explanation.

"And you worshipped your big brother," Mulder said, still smirking.  He found that he was beginning to feel less enraged by that idea and maybe even finding it  just a little....cute.

Steffan smirked and ducked his head.

Mulder sighed, sobering a little.  "I'll do what I can to help you find him," he said.  "And as long as he doesn't do anything else to hurt anyone, I won't do anything to hurt him."

Steffan nodded, firming his lips.  "Seems fair," he said quietly.  "How long do you think it will take?"

"I really don't know," Mulder replied, already going through possible leads in his head, eager to get together with Scully and hash them out.  "But I won't stop until I find him."

"Really?" Steffan said, sounding surprised.

"I was already...kind of looking for him, remember," Mulder said, with an embarassed quirk of his lips.  "And now that I have his little brother, he's got some more explaining to do."

Steffan frowned a little, but nodded, and then they both settled back into their places on the bed and watched television until Steffan rolled over and went to sleep.  Mulder stayed up most of the night, TV turned down low, looking from the flickering screen to the young man in the bed next to his.  How happy was Krycek going to be to see his little brother?  How happy would his little brother be when he actually met the man Krycek had become?  And how was Mulder going to pull this all together without anyone getting too badly hurt?  The endless questions, plus the speculations on how to find Alex Krycek, kept Mulder up until the sun was just beginning to slant through the blinds, at which point he finally dozed off, television still droning softly in the background.

Mulder woke to the beep of the microwave.  He turned over, rubbing his eyes, to see Steffan taking his warmed-up steak and potatoes out.

"Sorry," the boy said sheepishly.  "I'm really hungry.  I tried to wait..."

"S'okay," Mulder said.  "We've got an eleven o'clock flight anyway."  He rolled out of bed and headed into the bathroom to shower and change.  He'd noticed that Steffan was still wearing the same jeans.  He wondered if the kid had any others, and how he could gracefully ask him.  He decided not to say anything, and to plan a shopping trip when he got home.

Steffan was fidgety and restless all the way to the airport, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet in the terminal while Mulder checked in.

"So how long 'til we take off?" he asked, knapsack dangling from one hand as he kicked it for fun.

"Forty minutes," Mulder replied.  "Might as well head up to the gate."

Steffan nodded, and followed as Mulder hoisted his own bag onto his shoulder and started walking to the escalators.  They settled into the seats at the gate, and Steffan's leg bounced constantly as he surveyed the other passengers.  "How long does it take to fly to D.C.?" he asked, pulling a strip of vinyl off the armrest.

"'Bout six hours," Mulder answered.  "With a short layover in Michigan."

"Layover?  Like...staying the night?"

"No," Mulder answered.  "Just enough time to change planes, really."

"Oh," Steffan replied.  "I've never been to Michigan."

"You ever been to D.C.?" Mulder asked, turning to face the restless young man.

"No," he answered.  "I've...never actually been out of California."  He ducked his head, slumping down in the chair in his jacket.

"Oh," Mulder said, trying to hide his surprise.  "So...you ever been on a plane?"

"Nope," said Steffan, stretching his long legs out in front of himself and kicking at the seat across from him.

Mulder nodded.  "So where did you grow up in California?" he asked, feeling the excitement rise again at the thought of learning Krycek's childhood history.

"San Diego," Steffan answered.  "Different areas."  He shrugged.

"Did Alex grow up there, too?" Mulder asked, feeling a little breathless.

"Yeah, I guess," answered Steffan.  "Momma wanted to go to Hollywood and become an actress, but she said our dad wouldn't let her.  He was in the Navy and brought her over from Russia."

"Your mother was from Russia?" Mulder asked, remembering Krycek telling him his parents were cold war immigrants.  Well, looks like it was at least a half-truth, anyway.

"Yeah, she only speaks broken English," Steffan said, sinking lower into his jacket.  "She made us learn it real good though, so we could fit in."

Mulder nodded.  Neither Steffan nor Krycek had any trace of an accent.  "But you speak some Russian...that word you said at the motel...what was it?"

"Pazhalusta," Steffan replied.  "My pleasure.  It's the way Russians say you're welcome.  Momma taught us some, yeah, but she never wanted us to speak it around other people.  If we did, she'd smack us in the head."

Mulder arched his brows, picturing young Alex getting whopped upside the head for using Russian.  Didn't seem to keep him from using it with Mulder, taunting him with half-muttered phrases he could barely decypher.  "I've heard your brother speak a little," Mulder said.  "But I was never sure what it meant."

"Well, maybe if you can tell me, I can translate," said Steffan, brightening up at the mention of his big brother.  "What'd it sound like?"

Mulder thought back to when he'd threatened to leave Krycek in a car at the airport.  "He said 'Fie', which is like some kind of curse, right?"

"Yeah," Steffan said.  "It's kind of like 'go to hell' or something like that.  There's no direct translation."  He smirked a little.

"And I think he said something that sounded like 'pascoorah' or something."

Steffan tried to stifle his snicker.  "Paskuda?" he asked, sounding exactly like his brother.

"Yeah, yeah, that's it," said Mulder.  "What's that mean?"

Steffan licked his lips.  "Well, it's usually only used with women," he said, pressing his lips together to control his grin.  "It's kind of like, 'mean, nasty bitch' or something."  He ducked his head, still trying not to grin.

Mulder's teeth ground together.  "I see."  He licked his lips.  "I think that's enough Russian lessons for now."

They boarded the plane, and Mulder could tell Steffan was excited and maybe a little anxious, sucking in a sharp breath as the plane accelerated and lifted off the ground.

"That's the worst part," Mulder said.  "It's fine after it levels off."

"I'm cool," said Steffan, swallowing.  But his body was stiff in the seat, his hands gripping the armrests.

Mulder just nodded.  "They'll be by with drinks and snacks soon," he said.  "And there should be some kind of movie or something on drop down screens."  He reached into Steffan's seat pocket and pulled out the earphones.  "Here, if you plug these in here you can listen to music."  He showed Steffan the outlets on his armrest.

"Cool," said Steffan, still a little breathless.  He took the headphones and spent several minutes flipping through stations and adjusting things until he settled into his seat, head bopping just faintly.  He watched the ground drop away below them, lips parted, and Mulder was glad he'd given the kid the window seat.

The steward came around with soda and snacks, and Mulder and Steffan settled in with them, headphones put away.

"So you left San Diego and came to L.A.?" Mulder said, chewing a honey peanut.

"Yeah, saved up for a bus ticket to Hollywood."  Steffan drained his Pepsi.

"Where'd you stay?" Mulder asked, picturing the condemmed hotel.  He figured the kid had chosen Hollywood because his mother had always wanted to go there.

Steffan looked at him sideways without turning his head, then back down at his tray table.  "I slept at the bus station.  I had a job in San Diego, so I thought it'd be easy to get another one in L.A.  But no one will hire a fifteen year old who's homeless.  They just told me to go to Social Services."  Steffan shrugged.  "They'd just send me back home."  He lifted his bag of peanuts and poured them all in his mouth, filling it so full there was no way he could talk.  Mulder had seen him use that trick before to get out of talking, and he just waited.

"So what did you do?"

Steffan chewed and swallowed, then shook some ice into his mouth and crunched on that.  He talked through the mouthful.  "Hooked up with some other kids.  They said with my looks I could make plenty of money."  He shrugged and crushed the empty peanut bag with his hand, then stuffed it in his empty cup.  He sat back into his seat, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

Mulder nodded, swallowing and feeling sick.

"I hired a private detective to find Alex," Steffan said.  "But he never found anything.  Thought he did once, but it wasn't him."  Steffan shrugged.  "That's what they do on TV, but it's a lot more expensive than I thought."

Mulder sighed and nodded.  The poor kid had spent his hard-earned wages on some cheap con artist trying to find his no-good brother.  It was tragic.

"I tried another one, but he didn't have any luck either, and when I was paying them, I didn't have any money for food and stuff and I was working all night every night to cover the cost.  So I had to stop."  Now Steffan was sunk so low in his seat he looked like nothing but his oversized jacket and some dark hair.

"I'm sorry," said Mulder, apologizing for the whole world.  His anger at Krycek rekindled, along with a renewed desire to find him, both for Steffan's sake and for his own.  He wanted to shake Krycek until his teeth rattled in his head.  "I'm going to find him," said Mulder, sounding more certain than he'd ever been.  He turned and looked down at Steffan, buried in his brother's old jacket.  "It's gonna be all right."  Steffan didn't reply, and Mulder sighed and turned to face the front of the plane, eventually pulling out the seatback literature and reading for most of the rest of the flight.

When they arrived in D.C., Mulder took Steffan to his apartment, not wanting to escort a young Krycek-lookalike through the halls of the Hoover.  Steffan set about exploring the apartment, very obviously impressed, while Mulder got on the phone.

After he talked Scully into coming over, he went into his bedroom-storage-room and rummaged through his old clothes to see if he had something that might fit Steffan.  He found some jeans and faded t-shirts and brought them out, putting them on the couch.  "We're roughly the same build," he said to Steffan, who was tapping at the glass of his fishtank and making faces at the fish.  "This stuff's a little small for me now so it should fit you okay."

Steffan looked up.  He looked ashamed.  "Sorry about my clothes," he said, indicating his t-shirt and jeans.  "My other pair of jeans is kinda...inappropriate."  He bit his lip.

"No problem," said Mulder.  "I don't have room for this stuff anyway."  He stopped.  "Listen, Steffan.  I know you've been having a really hard time.  And I don't want you to ever have to do that crap again."  He swallowed hard.  "I'm happy to help you, so just...go see if that stuff fits you, okay?"

Steffan blinked several times.  "Okay," he said quietly.  He walked over and picked up the stack of clothes, biting his lip again.  "Thanks, Fox."

"Pazhalusta," said Mulder with a crooked grin.

Steffan's smile was brilliant.  "Hey, not bad!"  He headed toward the bathroom, but tossed back over his shoulder.  "For an old guy."

"Hey!" Mulder said, but he laughed, happy to see Steffan's spirits up again.  Steffan came out of the bathroom dressed in an old pair of Mulder's jeans and his faded coral t-shirt.  Everything was just a little big on him but he looked great, and Mulder told him so.  Steffan ducked his head and smiled, then they both looked up at the knock on the door.  "Go sit on the couch.  It's my partner.  I'll be right back."  Mulder waited until Steffan was seated, his expression wide-eyed and serious, then answered the door.  "Hey, Scully."

"Mulder," Scully greeted him.  "What is it that I have to leave work to see?"  She walked in past him as he held the door open for her.

"Krycek's baby brother," said Mulder, a thrill running through him at having something so exciting to share with Scully.

"What?"  Scully's eyes went wide, then she looked past Mulder into the living room and saw Steffan on the couch.  Mouth still open in surprise, she looked from Steffan to Mulder, questions building behind her eyes.

"Scully, this is Steffan Krycek, Alex Krycek's little brother.  Steffan, this is Dana Scully, my partner."  Mulder gestured with his arms, ushering Scully further into the apartment.

Looking hesitant but trying to appear friendly, Scully plastered a social smile on her face and stepped into the living room.  "Hello, Steffan."

Steffan jumped up off the couch, licking his lips.  "Um, hello Ms. Scully."  His hands didn't appear to know where they were supposed to be, twitching and then wiping nervously on his jeans.

Scully and Steffan stood looking at one another for another few moments as Mulder came into the room, smiling proudly.  "I found him in California.  He's been looking for his brother for three years, now.  I told him we'd help him."

Scully arched her brows and turned to look at Mulder.  "We've had so much success in the past trying to find Krycek it shouldn't be any trouble."  Her eyes threw sparks of irony.

Mulder licked his lips.  "Well, I think it'll be different this time.  I mean, he came to me, Scully.  He gave me back my gun."  He didn't tell her about the kiss.  "He's not exactly running from me anymore."

"He's not exactly leaving you his pager number, either," she said, pursing her lips.  Then she looked back over at Steffan, whose eyes were round, his tongue flicking over his lips over and over.  She gave Steffan one of her patented, tight motherly smiles.  "Mulder, can I speak to you alone for a minute?"

Mulder bit his lip, looking at Steffan, then nodded, and he and Scully stepped out into the hall.  The door was barely closed when Scully started in.

"Mulder, how can you think it's a good idea to help this young man find Krycek?  He's hardly going to be a good influence on a teenager!  You could be endangering Steffan's life!"

Mulder sighed.  "I realize that, Scully, but I can't just not help him!  He's spent three years living on the streets, selling his body to make enough money to hire a private detective to help him find his brother!  I know what that's like, Scully!  It's got to be better to know for sure what happened to somebody rather than always be searching and wondering!"

"You know what that's like?  You've prostituted yourself?" Scully said, a tinge of sarcasm to her voice.

"Basically!" said Mulder, getting angry at her lack of understanding.  "Scully, I'd do anything to find Samantha!  Anything!  And Krycek's his brother, he's not going to hurt him..."

"You don't know that, Mulder!  Family members hurt each other all the time!"  She looked at him meaningfully and he knew she was thinking of his father.

"I won't let him hurt Steffan, Scully, but I can't just let Steffan keep looking for Krycek!  He'll either find him himself eventually or die trying!  Isn't it better that we help him?  That I'm there when he finds him?"

"Mulder," Scully frowned.  "You sound like you're taking a very personal interest in this, beyond just finding Alex Krycek.  He's not Samantha, Mulder.  You won't help her by reuniting this poor boy with some criminal."

Mulder sighed, frustrated.  "I know that, Scully.  And you're right.  I am taking a personal interest in this.  I might not be able to help every kid get off the streets, and I might not even be able to help Samantha."  He ground his teeth.  "But I can help Steffan.  And maybe, just maybe, Steffan will be the one who's the good influence."  He let out his breath, regretting it as soon as he'd said it.

"Mulder!" Scully replied incredulously.  "You can't seriously believe that Alex Krycek is going to...reform just because you put him in contact with his little brother!  How can you be so...naive!"

"I have to do this, Scully!" Mulder replied, his voice rising.  "I don't know how it's going to turn out, and that doesn't matter!  I'm going to help Steffan find his brother, and I'm going to help him through whatever happens after that!  And you can either help me or not!"

Scully just stared at him, hands on her hips, and Mulder stared back, jaw set.  Finally, Scully sighed and looked away.  "Mulder, if you want me to help you contact some people who can help Steffan get his life straightened out, I'm happy to, but I want no part of bringing Alex Krycek into this poor, wounded young boy's life, and I'm shocked that you would!"  She firmed her lips, head tilted as she looked up at Mulder defiantly.

Mulder's stomach dropped, his heart pounding.  What if she was right?  What if putting Steffan in contact with his brother would make his life even worse than it was before?  What if the right thing to do was to hook Steffan up with services to help him get his life together and tell him to just forget about his brother altogether, that he was better off not knowing him?

What Scully didn't understand, and what Mulder knew for certain, was that Steffan would never, ever stop until he found his brother or died trying.  Mulder knew it like he knew his own search for Samantha would never be over until she was found or he was dead.  And he also knew that Scully was not going to be persuaded away from her position, because she didn't know how it felt, and because she was right, this was a very dangerous situation, and he was risking everything blowing up in his face.

Mulder nodded.  "Okay.  I understand."  He turned and put his hand on the doorknob to his apartment.

"Mulder," Scully put her hand on his shoulder.

"I have to do this, Scully," he said without looking at her.  "I'll be fine."

Scully sighed behind him, and he turned the knob and stepped through the door, leaving Scully outside.  He didn't look behind himself as he closed the door.  Steffan was sitting on the couch again and jumped up when Mulder came in.

"She's not going to help," Mulder said quietly.

"Because of what my brother's done," Steffan said, looking down.

"She's worried about you, Steffan," Mulder explained, coming into the room.  "She's afraid that knowing him will get you hurt."

Steffan nodded, still staring at Mulder's floor.  "But you're still gonna help...right?"  Steffan looked up at Mulder from under his shock of dark hair.

Mulder swallowed.  "Yeah," he sighed.  "I'm going to help you."

Steffan nodded, hiding again behind his hair, and Mulder sighed and headed over to his computer.  "You can...go ahead and watch TV or whatever," he said, taking a seat at his desk.  "I'm gonna make some calls."

Steffan nodded.  "Okay."  He headed over to the couch and picked up the remote, turning on the television.  "If you need anything...if I can help or anything...just...let me know," he said, biting his lip again.

"I will," said Mulder, fully intending on doing just that if he had more questions.  He booted up his computer and picked up the phone.

"It's me, Mulder," he said, leaning back in his chair.  "Turn off the recorder."  A pause.  "I mean it, turn it off, Frohike."  Another pause, and then, "I need your help."

He'd been thinking about it almost nonstop since finding Steffan, and he'd decided that his best bet to track down Krycek was to find the thin, British gentleman who'd offered him to Mulder a couple of years ago.  Krycek had said that he'd been sent to Mulder's apartment by a man who knew resistance was in his grasp and in Mulder's, and Mulder was betting that it was the same man, playing both sides of the game.  But he had no way to get in contact with the gentleman himself.  And his source, X, was dead, and Marita had disappeared after calling Mulder and telling him she had the boy from Russia.  But there was one other person who had been a part of that world.  Kritschgau.  He'd been on the inside, and he might be able to help him.  But Mulder didn't know how to contact Kritschgau without cracking the FBI database.  And that was why he was on the phone with the Gunmen.

"Sure, we can get you that," Langley said confidently.  "Give me about...an hour?"

Mulder smiled.  "You got it."  He put down the phone and turned to see Steffan watching him expectantly.  "I have some friends getting me some information in about an hour.  Want some lunch while we wait?"

"Sure, I could eat," said Steffan, his usual answer to any offer of food.

"The menus are in that side table," said Mulder, pointing.  "Just pick what you want and we can have it delivered."

"Cool," said Steffan, leaning way over and fishing the stack of menus out of the table.  He paged through them and asked if they could have Vietnamese, and Mulder agreed and called in the order.

Just as they were emptying the last of the containers of rice, the phone rang.  Mulder licked his fingers frantically and picked up the phone, scribbling down the phone number on the back of the food receipt.  He thanked Frohike and hung up, then wiped his fingers on his jeans thoroughly and picked up the phone again.  Steffan watched him, perched on the edge of the couch.

"Mr. Kritschgau, this is Fox Mulder."

Kritschgau's voice was angry.  "How'd you get this number?"

"That doesn't matter.  I need your help."

"Why should I help you?  You ruined my life!"

"You lied to me," Mulder said calmly.  "I heard you got fired for getting me into the labs.  I'm real sorry about that."  The insincerity was obvious even to Stefffan.  "But I need to get ahold of someone, and I'm pretty sure you can help me."

"Again, why should I help you?  I tried to show you the truth, Mulder, but you don't want to see it."

"If you don't help me, Kritschgau, I can make your life a lot more miserable than just losing your job.  You know you got off easy."

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the call, then a brusque, "What do you want."

"I'm looking for Alex Krycek."

A snort.  "Yeah, you and everybody's brother."

Mulder smiled.  "If you can put me in touch with him, I'll leave you alone."

"I can't find Krycek!  No one can find him if he don't wanna be found, Mulder."

Mulder sighed, smile gone.  "I've got something he'll want to know about."  He glanced at Steffan, who was listening with wide eyes and parted lips.  "And if you can get ahold of a certain slender British gentleman, I think he can get that message to Krycek."  He waited.

Kritschgau said nothing for a minute, then,  "I can get him the message.  That's all I can do, though.  No guarantees."

"I know that," Mulder replied.  "Just tell the Brit to tell Krycek that I've got something he's definitely going to want to see, and if he wants to deal, to meet me at the McAllister Hotel tomorrow at 6pm, room 512."

"I'll tell him but you know, Krycek might not even be in the country," Kritschgau said, still annoyed.

"Just pass on the message," Mulder said.

"All right," Krischgau agreed, and Mulder hung up without thanking him.  He turned to find Steffan staring at him.

"Do you think he'll come?"  Steffan asked, biting his lip again.

Mulder sighed, remembering their meeting a few months ago.  Remembering his own thoughts about how he and Krycek seemed to be inextricably entwined in one another's lives.  "If there's any way, he'll be there," Mulder said.  "And if he can't make it then, he'll show up eventually."

Steffan inhaled and exhaled, then nodded, and Mulder got up from the chair.  "We'll sleep here tonight, then go the hotel and wait tomorrow.  You can have the couch," Mulder said, heading for his linen closet.  "I don't sleep much anyway.  I'll just take the chair."

"I've slept on plenty of floors," Steffan said.  "It doesn't bother me."

"Take the couch," said Mulder firmly, tossing Steffan a blanket and pillow.

Steffan nodded and set the things down.  He didn't turn around.  "Do you think he'll be...happy to see me?" he asked, sounding far younger than his eighteen hard years.

Mulder bit his lip, unwilling to lie to the boy.  "Steffan, your brother's lived a very dangerous life," he explained.  "I don't know how he'll react."  He thought a minute, then added, "I know he cares about you, but I'm not sure he'll show it."  He pursed his lips and looked at the floor, not anxious to see Steffan hurt.

"I understand," came Steffan's low voice.  "It's all right, Fox.  At least you helped me find him."

Mulder sighed, wondering again if he was really making the right choice.  He turned back around to his computer, and started researching what Steffan's educational options might be.  He'd have to complete his High School Equivalency first, then maybe get enrolled at a community college.  Mulder spent the next few hours finding out all he could about it, and then started looking at apartments, checking out prices on two-bedrooms.  Steffan sunk down into the leather of the couch, the beloved bomber jacket on the arm of it next to him, brushing against him as he surfed channels, learning the remote quickly.

They ordered and consumed a pizza together, then Mulder set to cleaning out his bedroom-storage-room, remembering that there was an actual bed in there underneath all the boxes and crap.  He excavated it just enough that someone could lie down on it, piling his boxes and files and papers all around the living room, then finally came out and announced to Steffan that instead of sleeping on Mulder's couch, he'd be taking the bed.  This time Steffan didn't argue, just giving Mulder a sheepish smile as he took his little stash of possessions in and laid them on the bed.  He came back out and he and Mulder watched television the rest of the night together, then Steffan got up and went to bed and Mulder stretched out on his couch.

He was going to see Alex Krycek tomorrow.  He was going to have to find some way to bring the two of them together without it hurting Steffan too badly.  He didn't think it would be painless, no matter what he did.  He had no illusions that it was going to be some happy family reunion.  Krycek had been hiding from his brother for ten years, he wasn't going to be happy that Mulder was forcing him to face him now.  But whatever happened, Mulder would keep Steffan away from as much pain as possible.  Maybe Steffan would see what kind of person his brother had become and finally give up on being in his life, or maybe, just possibly, Krycek would see Steffan as a good enough reason to stop being a boil on humanity's ass.

Mulder fell asleep a couple of hours before dawn thinking that while the former was the most probable scenario, he was surprised to find that he still held out hope for the latter.  His sleep wasn't all that restful.

Steffan was a hyper, jumpy bundle of frenetic energy the next day, and it was all Mulder could do not to snap at his contant questions and restless pacing, finger snapping, nail-biting, and deep sighing.  They checked into the hotel, and Mulder took a restless seat at the small table, hand on his weapon, and watched the clock.

At 6pm on the dot, both Mulder and Steffan jumped badly when there was a soft knock at the door.  Mulder pulled out his weapon, glancing at a scared-looking Steffan.  "Just trust me, Steffan.  I won't hurt him."  Steffan nodded and wrapped his arms around himself, once more wearing the jacket.  Too nervous to sit, he stood at the window, shifting from foot to foot.

Mulder went to the door and looked through the viewhole.  Sure enough, Alex Krycek stood in the hall, looking from one side to the other, appearing uncomfortable in the open, dimly lighted hallway.  Mulder turned and nodded at Steffan, who sucked his breath in sharply and stepped into the other room the way he and Mulder had planned it.  Mulder waited until he was in the other room, then, weapon in his right hand, he turned the knob with his left.

"Come in," he said quietly, feeling his heart pounding in his throat.

Krycek looked him in the eyes and then stepped quickly through the doorway.  He was wearing his black leather jacket, the same one he'd had on in Mulder's apartment a few months before, and Mulder could smell it as Krycek stepped past him.  Mulder closed the door and turned around, weapon held loosely pointed at Krycek.

"Turn around, hands on the wall," he said quietly, gesturing with the gun.

Krycek narrowed his eyes and took a breath in and out, then turned and lifted both arms, real and prosthetic, and placed his hands on the wall.

Mulder stepped in and patted him down, taking the gun he had at the small of his back and pulling him back around by the shoulder.  He placed Krycek's gun in his own hip holster and stepped back, holding his gun loosely pointed at Krycek again.

"Well," Krycek finally asked, licking his lower lip.  "What do you have for me, Mulder?"  He looked annoyed and impatient.

Mulder inhaled, not knowing exactly what to say first, then let out his breath.  "It's your brother."

Krycek's brow wrinkled in a deep frown, his lips parting.  "What?"

Mulder took another breath.  "Steffan, your little brother.  He's in trouble."

Krycek's eyes tightened into an angry squint.  "What are you talking about?"

Mulder felt his anger build.  "Steffan!  Stef!  Your little brother, Krycek!  The one you abandoned to pursue your life in politics!"  He raised the gun and waved it in frustration.

"How do you know?" Krycek countered, glaring at Mulder.

"I know because I picked him up in West Hollywood, California when he tried to sell himself to me for the night!" Mulder snapped.

"Sell himself?" Krycek said, frowning deeply.  "Are you saying my brother's a whore, Mulder?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, you dumb fuck!" Mulder bit out, regretting the sharpness of the words as he realized how they would sound to Steffan.  His anger at his own insensitivity fueled his anger at Krycek.  "Not that you give a shit, evidently, since you didn't even bother to see if he was dead or alive for the last ten goddamned years!"

Krycek walked in so fast Mulder had to back up a step.  "Stay the fuck out of my personal business, Mulder!"

Mulder stepped back in so they were in each other's faces.  "Your personal business just became *my* personal business, Krycek!" he growled.  "The second your brother hit me up for a trick!"

"So, what?  You put him in jail, Mulder?  You want me to go bail him out?  Bust him out?  What the fuck do you want from me, anyway?"  Krycek took a step back, and Mulder realized he'd been pushing the barrel of his gun into Krycek's belly.

"I want you to face up to your responsibilities, Krycek!" Mulder said, trying to make himself lower the weapon and take Krycek off the defensive.  "Your brother needs you and it's time for you be a goddamned human being!"

"What's my brother need me for?" Krycek sneered.  "Looks like he's got Saint Mulder on his side now!  You save him, if you can climb down off that cross long enough!"

Mulder's hand shot out and grabbed Krycek by the shirt collar, jerking him in.  "Is it too much to ask you to care about one other person in this whole fucked-up world besides your own fucked-up self?" he spat.  "Do you have anyone else out there who loves you, you pathetic piece of shit?  Huh?  Do you have people just lined up to give you unconditional love?  Is that it?"

Krycek's nose wrinkled up in an ugly sneer, and he reached up and wrenched himself out of Mulder's grip.  "What the hell are you talking about?"

"He loves you, you stupid fuck!" Mulder yelled.  "He goddamned adores you!  He's spent three years in hell LOOKING for you because he worships the ground you walk on!"

Krycek sneered and sniffed.  "Well then I guess he didn't exactly turn out to be the brains of the family, did he?"  He lifted his chin defiantly.

Mulder stepped in again, but restrained himself from putting his hands on Krycek.  "He got the heart, Krycek.  And from the looks of things, he got ALL of it."  Mulder looked Krycek up and down in disgust and then stepped back, dropping his gun to his side.  He felt totally defeated, and he realized this meeting should have been private between him and Krycek so that Steffan didn't have to see all this.  God, he'd really fucked up.  He closed his eyes, feeling them start to sting.

"Alex?"  A tear-choked voice came from a few feet away, and Mulder opened his eyes to see Steffan standing in the doorway to the other room, hands pushed deep into the pockets of the bomber jacket, eyes gleaming wet.

Krycek stared at Steffan like he was holding Krycek at gunpoint.  He looked Steffan up and down and breathed deeply, hand clenched at his side.

"Alex..." Steffan said, sniffing and wiping his nose on the collar of the jacket.  "I'm sorry."

"Steffan," Mulder said, turning to face him.  "You have *nothing* to be sorry for!  Alex is the one who should be on his knees, begging for YOUR forgiveness!"

"Shut up, Mulder!" Krycek snapped.

Mulder's mouth dropped open and he whirled on Krycek.  "Don't you tell me to shut up you self-centered, self-righteous piece of shit!"  He walked over and shoved Krycek violently, making him stagger back a couple of steps.

"Fox!  Don't hurt him!" Steffan's alarmed voice made Mulder stop and turn his head.

"Fox!?" Krycek coughed out a laugh.  "Damn, Mulder, what did that boy do for you, anyway?"

"You son of a bitch!" Mulder yelled, and he threw his weapon to the side and pounced on Krycek, punching him in the face.  Krycek staggered and wrenched himself free, breathing hard and holding his maligned jaw.

"Mulder, you've laid hands on me for the last time," he panted.  "If you so much as touch me again, I'll lay you out."  He closed his mouth, eyes glaring cold.

Mulder ground his teeth, feeling the sting of his knuckles where they had impacted Krycek's face.  Then, knowing he was being stupid and childish, he stepped forward, reached out with one finger, and poked Krycek in the chest.

Before he knew what was happening, Krycek had grabbed his arm and was twisting it around his back, but Mulder, who had two arms, had a distinct advantage and punched Krycek in the kidneys repeatedly then grabbed his prosthetic and wrenched it viciously.  Krycek gave up on his attempt to turn Mulder around, instead using his arm to punch Mulder hard in the gut, doubling him over.  Mulder coughed and tried to catch his breath, reaching out with his leg and swiping Krycek's out from under him, going for the back of the knee and following up with a punch to the side of the face.

"Alex!" Steffan yelled.  "Fox, please!  Stop!  Oh god, Fox, please don't hurt him!"

But neither man paid any attention, each one holding nothing back as they rolled on the floor, punching and kicking, bloodying one another's faces and fists.  "STOP!!!" came Steffan's desperate scream.  "Stop or I'll blow my brains out!"

Mulder, who had ended up on the bottom and had just taken a punch to the mouth, wrenched his head sideways and spit out a mouthful of blood, then saw that Steffan had retrieved the gun he'd thrown to the side and was holding to his own head, hand shaking badly.

"Steffan!" Mulder yelled.  "Put it down!"

Krycek whipped his head around and spotted Steffan and froze.

"Steffan," Mulder repeated, still pinned under Krycek, who was straddling his body, knees on either side of his chest.  "Just put the gun down.  We'll stop fighting."

Steffan sniffed, the gun shaking as he pressed it hard into his temple, grimacing.  "No!" he sobbed.  "What do I have to live for, anyway?  I've spent my whole stupid life looking for some stranger who doesn't give a shit about me!"

"Steffan," Mulder said again, pushing at Krycek to move off him.  "I care about you!  You have me!"  Mulder felt tears clogging his throat, even as his gut roiled with terror.  He shoved Krycek off and pushed himself up on his hands and knees, wincing as bruised ribs and bloody knuckles slowed his process.  He sniffed blood back up his nose, blinking tears of pain and fear out of his eyes.  He was about make another plea to Steffan when another voice split the tense atmosphere with its rough timbre.

"Stef."  Krycek's inhale was shaky.  He swallowed.  "Put down the gun."

"You HATE me!" Steffan cried, backing up.  "You think I'm nothing but a filthy WHORE just like momma!"

Mulder ground his teeth and watched as Krycek closed his eyes and then opened them.  "Why do you think I stayed away, Stef?" he said quietly.  "I figured you'd be better off without me.  My life's a mess...I'm a bad man, Stef.  I'm a horrible, fucked-up, bad person."  His voice shook, and Mulder looked over to see that his lip was trembling, bloody from Mulder's fist.

"I don't care!" Steffan sobbed.  "I don't care what you've done, Alex!  I just want to be with you!  I just wanna have a big brother!"  The tears started in earnest, harsh, choked sobs shaking his slim body.

"You don't wanna be with me!" Krycek said, getitng to his feet.  "My life's a mess, Stef!  I'm a liar and a traitor, and a..." He swallowed, and his voice came out rougher than before.  "I'm a murderer, Stef.  I've killed men.  You don't want any part of me.  You should get as far away from me as possible.  You don't want me."

"I do!" Steffan sobbed, snot running down his face, tears dripping off his sharp jaw.  He took the gun about an inch away from his head.  "You can stop that stuff, Alex.  Please stop that stuff, Alex.  Please..."  He didn't press the gun to his temple again, but he didn't lower it, either.

"Stef..." Krycek said, his voice breaking, and Mulder saw tears running down his cheeks.  "I can't!  I...I don't know how to!  It's not that simple!  I...I don't know how..."  His voice disappeared on a restrained sob.

Mulder took a step toward Steffan, whose attention was focused solely on his brother.

"I'll help you," Steffan said, wiping his nose on his jacket's cuff.  "I'll help you, Alex.  I'll do anything for you."

"Stef, you can't," Krycek whispered.

"I can," Mulder said very quietly.  He felt like he was making a fool of himself, since Krycek was probably just saying whatever he had to to get Steffan to put down the gun, but he had to try anyway.

"What?" Krycek whispered, blinking.

"I said I'll help you," Mulder repeated again, more firmly.  "If you're serious."

Krycek gasped, then sniffed, then shook his head.  "It's not that easy, Mulder," he near-whispered.

"You think I don't know that?" Mulder said, voice rising.  "Don't tell me how hard it will be.  It was my father you killed, Krycek.  I know how hard it wil be."  Mulder saw Steffan gasp through his tears, but he didn't take his eyes off Krycek, who was staring at him with a look of such deep incredulity it would have been comical if it weren't so serious.

"You're just saying that to save Steffan," Krycek finally said, his voice calmer, colder.

"You're right," Mulder said, glancing at Steffan for a split second, then back at Krycek.  "I do want to save Steffan.  He's a hell of a kid, and I want him to have a better life."  Mulder stopped and took a breath.  "But I'm no liar, Krycek, and you know it."

"You don't care about me," Krycek said, his voice rough again.

Mulder ground his teeth together and took a step in.  Without knowing he was about to do it, he reached out and wrenched Krycek's fake arm up hard, making him gasp in pain.  "Is your way WORKING, Krycek?" he said, his voice rising.  "Is this what you want for your life?  More of this?  Huh?"  He jerked up on it again, and Krycek nearly cried out, but didn't fight him.

Krycek spoke through gritted teeth.  "What do you fucking CARE, Mulder?"

"I care!" Mulder yelled, letting go of the plastic arm, shoving it away from him.

Krycek adjusted his prosthetic back into place roughly, and his voice came out clogged with tears.  "You don't care," he growled, wiping his tears on his own jacket lapel the way Steffan had.  This time he sounded like a hurt, and maybe hopeful, child.

Mulder firmed his jaw.  "Yeah, I do."

"No you-"

"Yes, I do."  Mulder felt his body flash with fear at what he was saying, but he took a step forward.  His voice was tired, but firm.  "I do."

"No-"  Krycek's voice was terrified, his throat almost closed.

"Yes."  Mulder took another step in, putting him within reach of Krycek once again.

Krycek shook his head violently, ducking his face to hide his tears.  Mulder reached out and took Krycek's chin in his fingers and gave it a shove to lift Krycek's face.  Krycek flinched badly but let him do it.  Mulder just nodded, sighing, and watched the tears overflow Krycek's eyes, streaming through his lashes and down his cheeks.  In the next moment, Mulder was stunned to find himself sliding his hand to the back of Krycek's neck, pulling him in against his shoulder.  Even more shocking was the fact that Krycek not only didn't fight him, but brought his own arm up to grab Mulder in a fierce hug, his body beginning to shake with silent sobs.

Mulder let out a breath, feeling his body awash in chills, and brought his other arm up around Krycek's shoulders.  He held him, dizzy with shock and the overwhelming power of the emotions swirling around them.

"I'm sorry," Krycek whispered wetly against Mulder's neck, choking with it.  "I'm sorry."

"I know," Mulder replied softly, holding him firmly.  "It's gonna be all right."

Krycek gripped him harder, nearly driving the breath from him.  "I ruined his life," he sobbed out tightly.  "Oh god, Mulder, I ruined YOUR life, and mine..."  He shook against Mulder's body, saturating Mulder's neck with tears.  "Will you really help me?" he squeaked out in a tiny voice, hand clutching at Mulder's back.

Mulder took in a shuddering breath, feeling his eyes overflow and finally wet his own cheeks with tears.  "Yeah, Alex," he said, feeling the other man relax into him a little at the sound of his first name.  "I'll do my best."

Now Alex cried harder, unable to hide it any longer, and Mulder just held him and let his own silent tears fall.  He remembered they weren't alone, and looked over to see Steffan standing with the gun hanging in his hand at his side.  He gave him a tremulous smile, and Steffan sniffed loudly and then looked down at his hand, setting the gun on a table.  Mulder closed his eyes on a relieved sigh.  After a minute or two, Alex began to pull away and Mulder released him.

Alex wiped at his eyes with the cuff of his jacket, then turned to face his brother.  "I'm sorry, Stef," he whispered.  "I didn't mean to hurt you."  He lost his voice in a soft sob for a minute, then continued.  "You're the only person in this world who's ever cared about me."  He glanced at Mulder, who gave him a soft look, then sighed heavily.  "I can't help you," Krycek said, looking at the ground.  "I can't even help myself."  He sniffed, then raised his head.  "But you've got Mulder on your side, and there's nothing better than that."

Mulder blinked in surprise.

Krycek went on without looking at him.  "I wanna know you, Stef, and I'll do whatever I can to...make things right.  I wanna make things right."  He looked at Mulder now, and Mulder sighed and gave him a small nod.

"Go give him a hug, Krycek," Mulder said quietly, smiling a little.

Krycek blinked, frowning, then took several halting steps over to Steffan, who was sniffling and wiping tears away.  Krycek hesitated a minute, then grabbed Steffan in a hug so hard it drove some air out of him in a whoof, but the boy just wrapped his arms around Alex and cried.  The two held each other while Mulder looked on, breathing back his own tears.  After a few minutes, they slowly released one another, both jackets creaking as leather slid across leather.

"Hey," Krycek said, swallowing, his voice ragged from crying.  "That's my old jacket from high school, isn't it?"  He grabbed a lapel and tugged on it hard, pulling Steffan off his feet and making him stagger a little.

Steffan grinned, righting himself.  "Is that okay?" he asked, sounding a little scared.

"Yeah," Krycek whispered, letting his finger slip down the lapel softly.  He nodded.  "Looks good on ya."

Steffan beamed.  "Fox says I look just like you!"

Krycek let out an exhale that still carried amazement in it.  "He does, huh?"  He looked over at Mulder, ducking his head a little and not quite meeting his eyes.

"He's a good-lookin' kid," said Mulder softly.

Krycek blinked at Mulder, and Mulder shrugged.

"So...can I stay with...you?" Steffan asked, toeing the floor with his sneaker, looking at Alex from beneath his lashes.

Alex shook his head.  "No, kid."  He looked at the floor.  "I'm...not even sure where I'll be staying now..."

"We'll find someplace," Mulder said, his body thrilling with fear at what he was about to say.  "We'll have to leave the city."

Krycek looked up at him, lips parted.  Mulder just sighed.  He was in this up to his ears, now.  He'd made promises.  There was no turning back.  "Does anyone know you're here, Kry...Alex?" he asked.

Krycek closed his mouth and swallowed.  "Only the old man," he replied softly.  "The one who passed on your message.  I don't know if he told anyone else."

Mulder nodded.  "We probably better leave, just to be sure, then," he said, walking over to where Steffan had laid his gun.  He picked it up and put it back in its holster, taking out Krycek's.  He hesitated a moment, then extending his hand, he let the gun swing down to hang from the trigger-guard, as Krycek had done a few months earlier.  Krycek stepped in and took it, placing it at his back with a look at Mulder.  "You can thank me by making your brother proud," Mulder told him quietly.  Krycek nodded, ducking his head.  Mulder nodded back, then, giving Steffan a grin as he watched him pick up his new carry-on bag full of Mulder's old clothes, he picked up the card key and headed for the door, waiting for Alex and Steffan to follow.

End...beginning.

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