Wild Horses, Book One

Author:  Satina

Pairing:  M/K

Rating:  R for violence.

Warning:  Dark!Mulder and Krycek!Torture  (with hurt/comfort)

Date written:  September 2007

Notes:  This takes place following Max, which happens after Memento Mori and Tunguska/Terma, near the end of Season 4.  Mulder is dealing with Scully's cancer, still unhealed, Max's death, and his traumatic trip to Russia with Krycek.  He hasn't seen Krycek since he rolled out of the back of the truck just before it careened over the cliff with Mulder at the wheel.  But he's been looking for him...

---

Mulder took the blood-spotted business card out of his wallet, where he'd been carrying it since Max's death three weeks ago.  He slid a gentle finger over the slightly soiled creases and then turned it over.  The back was bloodier than the front, and he let himself sink into the rust color there, becoming one with the Rorshach-like blots.  He felt his vision blur, the tears welling as the tightness came into his chest again.  But he swallowed it back, blinking his eyes dry, and slid the card back into his wallet.

...

As Krycek stepped out of the shadows, Mulder's heart skipped a beat and he stood up straighter, tightening his grip on his weapon.  He stayed in his own slice of darkness, holding his breath as Krycek scanned the area, searching for his contact.  Mulder waited until Krycek was a few steps closer, and then stepped out behind him, raising the gun.  "Get stood up, Krycek?"

Krycek whirled around, gun in his hand, eyes wide.

"Drop it," Mulder said, staring down the barrel.  "Now."

Krycek did as told, and the gun fell to the concrete with a clatter.  He lifted his right hand, palm out.  His left stayed at his side.

"Put 'em both up!" Mulder snapped, stepping in closer and kicking the gun away.  He reached out with his left hand and shoved at Krycek's left shoulder, but the arm attached to it just swung heavily and came to rest at Krycek's side again.  Mulder blinked, narrowing his eyes and studying the arm more closely.  Its angle was just slightly unnatural, and Krycek still hadn't raised it, though his right hand was trembling slightly where he still held it at his side.  Mulder stepped back, flashing on the image of the peasant woman's son, Misha, stepping into the room, his left sleeve tied off just under the shoulder, hanging empty.  "What happened?"  His voice was flat.

Krycek just licked his lips, inhaling and exhaling shakily.

Mulder's jaw tensed.  "Get into some trouble in the Russian forest, Krycek?" he said.  "Did the peasants that you and your friends are using for research subjects decide to help you out, the way they almost helped me out?"

Krycek's eyes tensed, but he didn't reply.

"What, did they cut your tongue out, too?" Mulder snapped, stepping forward and backhanding Krycek with his left hand, still holding the gun on him with his right.  "Good!" he said, watching the red mark spread across Krycek's cheek as Krycek turned his head back from where the slap had snapped it.  "Maybe that'll finally stop the lies!  Huh?"  He lifted his right hand, feeling a strong urge to let fly with another slap, this one weighted with his weapon.  "Say something!" he yelled, shaking the gun and restraining himself from cracking it across Krycek's mouth.  "Answer me!"

"No," Krycek said between gritted teeth, voice shaking.

"No?" Mulder yelled, leaning into his face and shoving the gun against his mouth, splitting his lips against his own teeth and watching the blood color them red.  "No you won't answer me?  Do you really think that's a good idea you stupid son of a bitch!"  He shoved the gun in harder, parting the bloody teeth.  Krycek's tongue pushed against the gun uselessly, trying to dislodge it, and he made an unintelligible noise around the gun in his mouth.  "What?" Mulder said, tiliting his head dramatically.  "What was that, Krycek?  I couldn't quite make that out."  Krycek's eyes closed for a moment, squeezing out tears, and he tried again, sounding more urgent.  Mulder yanked the gun out of his mouth, ripping more of the fragile skin there as he did.

Krycek quickly swallowed a mouthful of spit and blood, then gasped out, "No, they didn't cut out my tongue."  He swallowed more blood, licking at the cuts in his lips and mouth.  "And yes, they cut off my arm."  His voice was low and shivery.

"Am I supposed to feel SORRY FOR YOU?" Mulder screamed in his face, and Krycek leaned back, trying to turn his face, but Mulder reached up with his left hand and wrenched it back around.  "Grew your hair out, I see!" he said, holding Krycek's head in place.  Krycek just panted, eyes wide and wet, body shaking.  "I guess you weren't expecting to see me here, huh?" He said, gripping the hair harder, feeling it come out in his fingers, forcing him to regrip.  He held the gun against his ear with the right.  Krycek gasped and gritted his blood-stained teeth with the pain.  "Of course," Mulder went on, "You didn't expect to see me again at all, most likely, after you walked out and LEFT ME THERE YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!"  Mulder screamed in Krycek's face, watching his saliva mix with the blood and sweat already there.  He let go of Krycek's hair and threw him away from him, then, after a glance down at this gun, threw that away from him, too.

Krycek frowned and watched the gun skitter across the cement floor of the empty warehouse for a second before Mulder grabbed him by the lapels of his leather jacket, jerking him in close.  "No guns," he said manically.  "Just me...and you..."  He threw Krycek backward, and Krycek stumbled for several steps before regaining his footing.  Mulder was on him in a heartbeat, shoving him again, and this time he slammed back into the wall, the smack of his head hitting concrete loud in the echoing space.  "I trusted you!" Mulder yelled, letting go with a hard right hook into Krycek's jaw.  "You son of a bitch, I TRUSTED YOU!" he screamed, following up with a punch to the gut.

Krycek doubled over with a loud grunt, spitting a fountain of blood down Mulder's front and holding his gut with his right hand.  Mulder slapped him in the side of the head, knocking him sideways.  "Nothing to say to that?" he gasped out, pulling back to punch Krycek in the kidneys.  Krycek cried out, hissing and bending lower, spitting more blood on the ground.  Mulder slapped him on the other side of the head, bringing him back over closer again.  "What, not gonna hit back?" he sneered.  "You still have one good arm, I'm sure you could do some damage."  He slapped him again, on the opposite side, then punched him again.  "You're a trained killer, Krycek, come on!  Fight back!  Show me what ya got!"  

Krycek just stayed huddled over, drooling spit and blood on the cement floor, holding his middle.  Mulder brought his fist up in a brutal uppercut, snapping Krycek's head back on his neck, bouncing it off the wall again.  "I said fight BACK, ASSHOLE!" he yelled, sinking a left into Krycek's gut.  Krycek slumped to the ground on his knees, hand still curled around his belly.  "Fight back!" Mulder screamed again, kicking him now, first in the ribs, then in the stomach.  Unable to stop now, he repeatedly sunk his foot into Krycek's gut over and over, connecting with the arm still wrapped there, as well as the chest and face, when Krycek curled into too tight a ball to reach his stomach any more.  "Fight back fight back FIGHT BACK!" Mulder screamed, kicking his now unresponsive body.  "FUCK YOU!!!" he screamed, kicking him again.  "Fuck you, you lying, murdering son of a bitch!"  The sobs caught in his throat and he fell to his knees over the still form and he began pounding on it like a toddler throwing a fit.  "Fuck you!" he sobbed.  "Fuck you fuck you fuck you..."  He pounded and sobbed, then simply collapsed over his bent arms, weeping into the leather of Krycek's jacket, wailing so hard he felt his throat tear with it.  He grabbed the leather in his hands, gripping and releasing it, then just went slack over the body beneath him, sobbing bitterly into the leather against his face.

After several minutes, his tears subsided, and he lifted his head, sniffing and wiping his face with his shaking hand.  He sat back on his knees, wiping his face again and watching the form in front of him.  He blinked, realizing he couldn't see any trace of movement.  He gasped and reached out a badly shaking hand, pushing the body backward a little in order to see Krycek's face, which was down against the cement, his body curled into a ball facedown on the floor.  The body rolled heavily, the head slack as the face came into view.

Mulder gasped.  It was drenched in blood, more blood still pouring from the slack lips, cuts and bright red swelling covering practically every visible inch of skin.  Mulder's hand went to his mouth, then he let out another gasp as he saw a bubble form in the blood drooling from Krycek's mouth.  "...breathing..." he whispered, putting his fingers to the side of Krycek's neck, feeling for a pulse.  "Alive," he said then, his eyes closing in relief a moment.  Another sob caught in his throat then, but he swallowed it down and opened his eyes again, surveying the damage.  

Krycek was badly hurt.  Maybe dying.  By Mulder's hand.  Mulder looked down at his fists, seeing the ripped and bruised skin on his knuckles.  If he called an ambulance, they'd see the situation and call the police, and Mulder would be jailed for assault.  Possibly murder, if Krycek didn't make it.  

But if he didn't, Krycek would have no chance.  His pulse was weak and he was barely breathing as it was.  Mulder felt bile rise as he remembered his foot impacting with Krycek's body again and again, face, chest, ribs, arm, stomach, legs, blow after blow, as hard as Mulder could kick until he couldn't kick him anymore.  The internal injuries could be...Mulder swallowed back the urge to vomit...substantial.

He brought his hand to his mouth, trying to think quickly, knowing Krycek didn't have much time.  He was already on the 'bad' side of town, where violence was the order of the day and muggings were practically a morning ritual.  He'd been here before, investigating a couple of disappearances.  His eyes closed as he realized who he was going to have to call.

"Sure, *Mister* Mulder," the man said over the phone.  "I think I can help you out.  I'll send somebody right over."

"Thank you," Mulder said sickly, disconnecting the call.  He leaned back over Krycek, checking for breathing and pulse again, and got both, though weak.  "Don't you dare fucking die on me," he said through gritted teeth, staring at the battered face.  "Don't you dare."

A few moments later, a large black van pulled up outside of the warehouse, and several men in plain clothes entered with a gurney and medical supplies, and Mulder stepped back while they took Krycek's vitals and loaded him onto the gurney and into the van.  "I'll follow you," he told the men, then he got into his car and pulled out behind the van, following it through the streets to a nondescript stone building on the outskirts of town.  The men took Krycek into the building and Mulder followed them in.  

"They only take cash here," a man said, climbing out of the passenger side of the van.  He was in his mid-fifties, tall and fit, dressed in a dark charcoal suit.  "Five thousand per day, plus expenses."  The man smiled, looking over Mulder from head to foot, lingering on his bloody knuckles.  "I'm sure with a ten-thousand dollar deposit, they can run you a tab for the rest."

Mulder nodded, swallowing.  "I can't get it tonight," he said.  "First thing in the morning."

"Fine," the other man said.  "I'm sure you'll be good for it."  He looked meaningfully at the knuckles again.

Mulder clenched the fist under scrutiny, well aware of the implied threat.  If he didn't pay, they'd tell on him.  He nodded again, accepting the terms.

"All right then," the other man said, getting back into the van.  "You just let me know if you need anything else, Mister Mulder.  You know where to reach me."

Mulder nodded again, then watched the van pull away from the tiny private hospital, feeling his soul go with it.  He turned and went through the doors, approaching the receptionist there.  "Excuse me?" he said, keeping his hands low and out of her line of sight.  The thirty-something woman looked up from her computer monitor, arching her darkly painted brows over heavily shadowed eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Is there any way I can go back there with the man they just brought in?" Mulder asked, trying to see beyond her, through the double doors into the examing rooms.  He definitely wasn't about to start flashing his badge to get his usual easy admittance.  The deja vu, the contrast between his visits to Scully in the hospital just months ago and this, making him feel weak and dizzy.

"Sure, *Mister* Mulder," the woman said, a cold smile playing around her lips.  "Mr. Donovan said to give you whatever you needed."

"Thanks," Mulder replied quietly.

The receptionist stood up, gesturing for him to follow her, and led him through the double doors into a small hallway.  She smiled, gesturing to one of the two examining rooms there, then left Mulder there, returning to the front desk.  Mulder nodded and slowly walked over to the door, looking in to see what was happening.

"...recent amputation...severe damage to the stump...broken jaw...lung is collapsed...crushed ribs...stop the bleeding...looks like massive internal injuries..."

Mulder wiped his hand over his mouth, then turned and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.  If Krycek died, he wasn't just going to have to cover up a private hospital stay, he'd have to hide a body.  Dear God, what had he done?  He opened his eyes after a few minutes and looked for a chair to sit in, but there wasn't one there, so he just wrapped his arms around himself and leaned against the wall, waiting and trying to hear what they were saying.

"...head trauma...get him into surgery now..."

Mulder stepped away from the door and four individuals came through, wheeling Krycek on a hospital bed.  Mulder looked down at him as they passed.  His leather was gone, his pale bruised face nearly unrecognizable beneath the breathing tube and bloody gauze, the rest of his body from the neck down covered with a bloody white sheet.  Mulder fell back against the wall, closing his eyes and putting his hand over them.  The man on that bed didn't look like he had a good chance of making it, and the various comments Mulder had caught from the emergency doctors didn't reassure him.  He went back out to the waiting room, glancing at the receptionist on his way out.  She gave him another of those cool smiles and he went to the furthest corner of the room and sank down into one of the black vinyl chairs there.  He let out a deep sigh and slumped down, preparing for a long, tense night.

"Mister Mulder?"

Mulder was startled out of a restless sleep by a gentle tap on his shoulder.  He jolted awake, sitting up straight in the chair.  "Yes?"

"He's out of surgery," the doctor said.  "In intensive care."

Mulder let out a deep sigh, closing his eyes momentarily.  Alive.  He's alive.

"He has massive internal injuries.  We found small tears in his liver and right kidney.  We were able to repair these with surgery but he lost a lot of blood.  He also has damage to his lungs.  Seven of his ribs are broken, four of them compound fractures, and bone fragments punctured one lung and collapsed it.  We're draining off the air and fluid leakage with a chest tube."

Mulder swallowed, sure he was going to vomit.

"His right arm is broken in several places, and his recently healed stump sustained a great deal of tissue damage.  He'll probably have to be fitted for a new prosthetic, there's no way the old one will fit now."

Mulder closed his eyes again.

"But the damage we're most concerned about is the trauma to his brain.  He had an intracranial hematoma, causing a buildup of blood between the brain and skull.  We've had to induce coma in order to take the pressure off, and we've made a small hole in his skull to drain the blood and fluids."

"Is he going to make it, then?" Mulder asked, barely able to summon his voice.

"He's strong," the doctor answered expressionlessly.  "But we can't make any guarantees.  The...damage..." the doctor paused for half a second meaningfully, and Mulder blinked, feeling his stomach roll again.  "...is substantial.  He's in recovery now."

Mulder swallowed hard.  "Can I see him?" he croaked out, barely meeting the doctor's eyes.

"Certainly," the doctor replied.  "Right this way."  He turned and led Mulder back into the treatment area, down the hall and around the corner, then down another hall to a small, plain room.  "Call the nurse if you need anything."  The doctor turned and left, and Mulder nodded and stepped into the room.

Krycek was so pale that he practically blended into the white sheets, except for the vivid red and purple bruising over every exposed bit of skin.  He was in a whole-arm cast from shoulder to fingertips, suspended with pulleys from the ceiling.  His head was wrapped in bandages, his mouth obscured behind tape and a ventilation tube, with another tube coming out of his chest.  He had machines on both sides of his bed, including one to pump the air in through his mouth, the other to take it out through the chest.  Mulder walked very slowly to the side of the bed and looked down at him.  He wasn't even recognizable.  It could be anyone in that bed.  Mulder covered his mouth with his hand and inhaled and exhaled slowly.

He had done this.  This was his handiwork.  This was his victim.  He was the perpetrator of this violent crime.  

He stepped back from the bed, then looked around and spotted an emesis basin.  He grabbed it just in time and vomited into it, doubling over and struggling to catch it all in the inadequate small container.  When he was reasonably sure he had no more left in him, he went into the tiny attached bathroom and emptied the basin, leaving it on the floor there.  He rinsed his mouth out, then washed his hands for the first time that night, flinching as the soap stung his cuts and abrasions.  Finally, he splashed water on his face and wiped his hair back from his forehead.  He checked his watch and saw that it was a little after four in the morning.  He'd be expected at work today.  He'd have to call in and make excuses.  And he'd have to be gone for an indeterminate amount of time.  Maybe for good, but he tried not to think about that.   He walked out into the hall and then out into the lobby and into the dark parking lot.  He decided he'd call in sick for now, and figure out the rest later.  He put in a call and left messages with the main switchboard and the phone in his office, knowing Scully would check it first thing.  Then he turned off his cellphone and went back inside to wait.  For what, he didn't even know.  To see if Krycek lived through the night, he supposed.  He took off his blood-soaked shirt and jacket, leaving just a slightly spotted white t-shirt.  He couldn't do anything about the splotches on his slacks, and he didn't want to leave just yet, so he just pulled a chair over next to the bed and sat down in it.  Everyone here had already seen him, anyway.  And most probably knew what he'd done.

Nurses came in every little bit, checking the monitors and tubes, adjusting and replacing things, and Mulder was asked to leave a couple of times when they were checking his incisions.  He scavenged for food in the three vending machines in the tiny hospital's lounge, breakfasting on Pepsi and corn nuts, and when the banks opened, he went out and withdrew the ten thousand dollar deposit from his trust fund.  He paid the hospital in cash, then headed back to the lounge for a lunch of cheese crackers and Mountain Dew to wash down the shame.

Krycek made it through the day, and Mulder started to feel somewhat more hopeful about his situation.  He went outside into the parking lot again to call Scully after he knew she'd be home from work, feeling it was one small sin added to so many larger ones, as he lied about a virulent stomach flu and turned down her offers of Saltines and 7-Up.  He told her he didn't think he'd be quite ready to go back to work tomorrow, and she told him not to rush, that she certainly didn't want him giving it to her.  He told her he'd see her in a day or two, and then hung up, looking around the area to see if there was anywhere to get anything to eat nearby.  All he could see was a convenience store about a block away.  He walked down and bought a questionable burrito and a soda, then at the last minute, put it back and grabbed a Coors tallboy.  He finished his dinner as he walked back to the hospital, then washed his hands in Krycek's tiny bathroom and headed back over to the chair he'd spent the day in.  He sank down into it, feeling marginally more relaxed due to the beer in his system.

The nurses had said there was no change in Krycek's condition, which was somewhat good news, since it meant he wasn't getting any worse.  Of course, they didn't call him Krycek, but used the alias Mulder had provided them with, Andrew Taylor.  Mr. Taylor was strong, they said, and his chances were looking pretty good, although they had no way of knowing what effect the brain trauma might have on him in the long run.  He would survive, most likely, but they couldn't tell him much more than that, yet.  Mulder nodded, relieved to know that at least he wasn't a murderer.  No, his victim would probably live, so all that really made him was a batterer.  At least officially, anyway.  Inside, Mulder felt like a monster.  He sighed and leaned forward in the chair.  He had so much to say and no one to say it to.  Well, no one but his comatose victim, that is.  His voice came out cracked but gained strength as he continued, murmuring quietly and looking around to make sure they weren't being overheard.

"I don't know whether to feel horrified by the fact that they let the perpetrator into the room with his victim, or grateful because they're so willing to look the other way in this unusual situation," he said, staring at a spot on Krycek's thigh beneath the sheet.  "I guess it's not so unusual for them," he went on, leaning back into the chair.  "You're probably wondering how I know these people," he said, staring off at the wall beyond Krycek.  "I had the misfortune to meet them when I was investigating some disappearances awhile back.  Possible abductions," he added.  "But it turns out they just wound up on the wrong side of the crime bosses and were recovering in a small, private hospital on the outskirts of town, unwilling to press charges."  Mulder closed his eyes.  "I tried to convince them, but they owed the guy money, and he offered to forgive their debts if they agreed to stay quiet."  He licked his lips and opened his eyes.  "Never thought I'd be the one hiding someone here."  He leaned forward again, sighing.

"If you're expecting me to say I'm sorry, you're gonna wait a long time," he said.  "You know you deserved this."  He looked away, then down at the floor.  "You've probably done this to people before."  He paused.  "Which doesn't make it right, of course, but..."  He trailed off, staring at the linoleum.  This wasn't what he wanted.  An unresponsive sack of meat to confess his sins to.  He wanted answers.  He wanted accountability.  He wanted Krycek to wake up and witness this.  It was no good this way.  No good at all.  But it was all Mulder had, and after several more moments of staring at the wall, he continued.  "I know you were behind everything," he said quietly.  "Carn-Sayer's death, the nursing home deaths...all to make sure that rock didn't fall into American researcher's hands."  His eyes fell closed.  "People are just tools to you.  Obstacles.  If it serves you to keep them alive, you will, but if they get in your way..."  He opened his eyes.  "Are you even taking orders from anyone these days, or is it your finger in all these pies, manipulating, lying, scheming, and killing to get a bigger piece?"  His jaw tensed.  "I guess I became expendable somewhere along the line, too, huh?"  He looked at the battered face, bruised and taped and stretched around the ventilator tube.  "No longer of any use to you, so you just walked out and left me there for them to do whatever they wanted to, while you..." he ground his teeth.  "...laughed it up with the camp commander who had just carried out my torture."  The anger inside bloomed fresh.  Anger at Scully's illness.  Max's death.  Krycek's additional betrayal.  He felt it fill the room and propell him up out of the chair.  He clenched his sore fists and stared into Krycek's bandaged, unrecognizable face.  "What did I do to make you stop using me," he ground out quietly.  "What was it that made you give up on me and decide to just let 'em have me?"  He looked down at the closed eyes.  He found himself marveling at the length and density of the dark lashes against the pale, bruised cheeks.  "When did you give up on me?" he said lowly, feeling sick again.  He sank back down into the chair.

Several minutes passed, then he got up and went to the lounge for a soda, bringing it back and drinking it next to the bed.  He set it on Krycek's bedside table.

"You saved my life in Hong Kong," he said quietly.  "You threw Kallenchuk outside, but kept me in with you," he went on.  "Why would you do that?"  He rubbed his hands on his jeans, looking at the floor.  "You had no reason to keep me alive, and every reason to kill me."  He inhaled and exhaled.  "I don't understand."  He spent several minutes staring at the floor, then sat back in the chair with a sigh, finishing his soda.  There was no television in what they called Intensive Care, so he got up and took a walk, stretching his legs and getting some fresh air outside.  He returned to the room just as the sun was going down.  

The nurse who came in on the night shift offered him a cot, which he accepted gratefully, stretching his cramped back and legs as he unfolded himself from the chair.  After she brought it in and fitted it with linens, he laid on his side, facing the wall, exhausted.  But he couldn't sleep.  He stared at the plaster in the dim light.  "Why did you give me the keys," he finally said very quietly.  His voice bounced back at him from the wall, overly loud and close.  "You could have told me to go fuck myself," he said even more quietly.  "You could have made an excuse."  He sighed loudly.  "You had to know those cigarette butts were in there.  You don't smoke.  And you knew I'd notice them."  He inhaled and exhaled, nestling into the thin pillow.  Several more minutes passed.  "You let me find them."  He spent a long time staring at the wall, then finally fell asleep after the nurse's first midnight checkup.

...

"No change," the doctor told Mulder, coming out into the hall after his noon examination.  "He's doing no better, but he's doing no worse.  He's holding his own."

Mulder nodded.  "Will he come out of the coma anytime soon?"

"We don't know that he'll come out of it at all," the doctor said.  "But we've drained the fluids that were pressing against his brain, and we're going to wean him off the drugs that are helping maintain the coma state.  After that, it's up to him."

Mulder nodded.

"I'll check in on him again tomorrow, barring any complications," the doctor told him.

Mulder nodded again, and the doctor walked to the next room to finish making his rounds.  Mulder steadfastly refused to think about who else's victims might be recovering in the neighboring rooms.  He went back into Krycek's and waited while the nurses went through their routine.  When they were finished, he walked over to the side of the bed.

"No more opiates for you," he said, watching the artificial breather pump air into Krycek's body.  "Fun's over."  He watched the eyes for movement.  There was none.  "I've gotta go home and shower," he told Krycek.  "I'm getting pretty ripe."  He looked at the clock on the wall.  "I have to take care of a few things, but I'll be back this evening."  He looked back down at Krycek.  "Don't go anywhere."  After a few more moments, Mulder picked up his jacket and bloody shirt off the back of the chair and walked out to his car.

He drove home, showered, packed a couple of changes of clothes and some reading materials, made a call to Scully to let her know he was going to go ahead and take off Friday, too, since he was still running a fever and there was a great Twilight Zone marathon on cable all day.  She told him she'd stop by this weekend to check on him, and because he could think of no way out of it, he said okay.  He hung up, checked his fridge for food, which was nonexistent, then stopped off at a drive-through on his way back to the hospital.

"How's he doing?" Mulder asked, when the night shift nurse came in.

"Well, let's see," she said, then she went through her usual routine of checks and adjustments.  "His blood pressure's up a little," she said.  "That's a good thing," she explained.  "And his temperature is normal.  There doesn't appear to be any infection anywhere."

Mulder nodded.  "So he's getting better."

"He seems to be responding positively to the reduction in his medication," the nurse agreed.  "We'll have to see if it continues."

Mulder nodded again, and she left.  He walked over to Krycek's bedside.  "You're getting better," he told him.  He looked down at Krycek's still face, noticing that the bruising was starting to fade in some places, turn green in others.  The wounds in his lips were dry and ragged, stiff around the tube and being damaged further by the tape.  Dried blood flecked the stark white adhesive.  He turned and sat down in the chair.  He dropped his gaze to the floor.  

"This wasn't even about you," he said quietly.  He stared at the floor several minutes before he continued.  "Not all of it, anyway."  He closed his eyes.  Then he opened them and sat back into his chair, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling.  "But I can't beat the hell out of the aliens who abducted Max, or the nameless government men who caused his death along with hundreds of others, and then killed a few more to cover it up."  He counted the small holes in the tiles.  "And I can't punch my father in the mouth for being weak and scared and letting them take my sister," he said softly.  "And I can't even *touch* the man who smokes the cigarettes..."  He closed his eyes.  "Who might actually be my *real* father."  After a few minutes, he opened his eyes and lowered his head.  "And I can't take a swing at Scully every time she makes fun of abductees or rejects my theories or even takes personal digs at me, can I?"  He sighed deeply and stared at his hands on his thighs.  "Especially since she's got cancer because of me."  He exhaled.  "Because of you."  He rubbed his hands on his legs, wiping away the sweat.  "But you, I can hit.  You deserve it."  He scratched his nails on his legs, listening to the small sound under the beeps of Krycek's monitors.  "I can do anything I want to you."  He closed his stinging eyes, feeling his stomach turn, and gripped his thighs.  "And then get help with covering it up from the very people I'm working to bring to justice."  His chin dropped to his chest.  "Fuck."

Several minutes later, he headed back out to the lounge and raided the vending machines again, choosing pretzels and 7-Up, hoping they would help settle his churning stomach.  He nibbled them slowly, sipping joylessly at the soda as he walked through the halls, trying not to think about what was being concealed behind every room door.  People who were hurting.  Suffering.  People whom other people had hurt.  It was different here on this side of that fence.  Different and nauseatingly uncomfortable.  Unable to even finish the bag, he folded over the top and headed back into Krycek's room.  He sat down and pulled some files out of his bag, settling in and trying to do some catchup paperwork.  The files lay unopened on his lap for several long minutes.

"I was going to work with him," Mulder said, looking at his hand resting on the stack of files on his thigh.  "The cancer man."   He grimaced at the phrase.  "I told Skinner to get ahold of him, because I was ready to deal."  He looked up at Krycek's face.  "Guess nobody's perfect, huh?"  He stared at the bruises, attention caught once again by the dark, thick eyelashes, making Krycek look so young and pretty.   So innocent.  "When did they get you?" he said very quietly.  Then, after a few moments, even more quietly, "How?"  His eyes trailed down Krycek's face, to his chest, where he watched the reassuring rise and fall of the sheet.  "Did you ever try to do it any other way?" he asked softly, listening to the rasp of the respirator and the beeps of the machines.  Several more minutes passed with Mulder being mezmerized by the repeating sounds.  Then, so quietly he could barely hear himself, "Would you ever?"  

His gaze moved up to Krycek's left shoulder, and the bandaging there.  "Not that you will now.  You'll probably bring me up on charges after this.  Or blackmail me.  I've been sitting here, hoping you live, just so you can wake up and ruin my life even worse than you already have."  He laughed mirthlessly, eyes still closed.  Then he opened his eyes and looked at the man in front of him.  After several more minutes, he decided to take another walk and pick up a snack from the store down the street.

He finished his burrito and beer, then walked back to the hospital and laid down on the bed, feeling sick.  He slept on and off throughout the night, then woke in the still-darkened room to an unfamiliar sound.

"Mr. Taylor?  Can you hear me, Mr. Taylor?"

Mulder gasped and turned over in the bed.  "He's awake?" he asked, sitting up quickly.

"I saw his eyes flutter," the nurse answered.  "Mr. Taylor," she tried again.  "Mr. Taylor, if you can hear me, try to open your eyes."

Mulder stood up, wiping sleep out of his eyes and joined her at Krycek's bedside.

"Yes, that's it," she said, and Mulder leaned in more closely.  Krycek's eyes fluttered for a minute.  "That's it, try again," the nurse encouraged.  Mulder watched closely as Krycek's eyes fluttered again, then opened just a slit, for about a second, before closing again.

"Good job, Mr. Taylor," the nurse said, patting his thigh gently.  "You'll be awake in no time.  Now just go back to sleep and get some more rest and we'll try this again later."

Mulder watched, but Krycek's eyes didn't flutter again, and the nurse finished her rounds and left.  Mulder stood over Krycek for a long time after that, watching for movement, but Krycek just slept quietly, looking no different than he had for the past few days.  But Mulder knew he *was* different.  He was waking up.  He was going to see Mulder and be terrified, most likely, and then he was going to start talking and get him arrested.  Mulder just stood there and watched Krycek breathe.  He was terrified at what Krycek could now do to him, but he had no choice but to stay here and deal with whatever it was.  He couldn't walk away and leave Krycek here.  Krycek could always find him later, unless he disappeared, and he wasn't ready to go that drastic yet.  And he couldn't put a pillow over his face and finish the job he'd started.  The only other option was to stay and try to talk to him when he woke up.  Mulder sat down in the chair, looking up at the clock which read 5am, and waited for the morning.

At 8am, the morning nurse came in.  "Has he shown any further signs of awakening?" she asked Mulder, seeing him sitting in the chair.  Mulder shook his head.  "Well, let's try again," she said, starting her routine.

"Um, I'm not sure I should be here," Mulder said, standing up.  "When he wakes up.  It might...upset him."

The nurse just nodded.  She was obviously used to things like this.  "You can wait in the hall, then," she told him, and went back to replacing Krycek's IV bag.  Mulder nodded and stepped around her, stopping just outside the door.

"Mr. Taylor?...Mr. Taylor can you hear me?  If you can hear me, open your eyes."

Mulder waited, listening.

"Can you hear me, Mr. Taylor?  My name's Debbie, and I'm your nurse.  Can you open your eyes for me, Mr. Taylor?"  A pause, then, "Yes, good!  That's good!  Hi, Mr. Taylor, my name's Debbie and I'll be taking care of you today.  Don't try to talk.  You have a tube down your throat and your jaw's broken.  We've set up a button for you at the foot of your bed.  You might want to practice moving your legs so you can press it.  See?  Right there.  Can you move your legs?  Good, good, just keep at it and it'll get easier and easier.  If you need something, press that with your toe, okay?  All right then, I'm going to leave now.  I'll see you in a little bit."

The nurse passed Mulder in the hall without so much as a glance, and Mulder exhaled and looked at the door.  Krycek was in that room, presumably awake.  It was time for Mulder to truly face what he did.  He wiped his hand over his mouth nervously and took a deep breath, stepping into the room.  Krycek's eyes were closed again.  Mulder walked over to the side of his bed and stopped, looking down at him.  He glanced down at the foot of the bed, where Krycek's feet were uncovered now, poised in front of a large, easy-to-press call button.  As he watched, they twitched, making Mulder jump a little.  He was so used to Krycek not moving.

"Are you awake?" he said quietly.

Krycek's eyes fluttered, then opened slowly.  They moved to focus on Mulder, then went wide as Krycek started to move a little on the bed.  His monitors started beeping faster.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," Mulder said, then closed his mouth, gritting his teeth.  He looked around and stepped back, waiting for the nurse to come in and see what had her patient's heartrate going so high.

Krycek blinked madly, still twitching on the bed and driving his monitors even crazier.

"Mr. Taylor," said the nurse, coming in and glancing at Mulder.  "Is there something wrong?"

Mulder frowned as Krycek's eyes went to him again and then again, frantically.  "I'm not gonna hurt him," he told the nurse quietly.  "I wouldn't have brought him here if I was gonna hurt him again."  He cursed himself as he let 'again' slip out of his mouth, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

"It's okay, Mr. Taylor," the nurse told him.  "He's been here the whole time."  Krycek's eyes widened.  "You need to try and calm down now.  You're going to hurt yourself."  She put her hand on Krycek's chest.  "I'll be back to check on you later, okay?"  With that, she turned to leave the room, not even giving Mulder a second look.  The hospital's odd mix of diligent medical care and willingness to look the other way left Mulder feeling ill again.  They provided care because Mulder paid them to and for no other reason.  Where did one find healing professionals willing to work under these conditions?  Mulder's bile rose as he realized the mob probably had something on every staff member here.  Fear, the greatest motivator in the world.  The only one strong enough to make human beings so insensitive to one another.  He glanced at the nurse as she passed, wondering what they had on her that made her so ready to leave this shattered and suffering wreck of a human being in the room alone with his obvious assailant, hour after hour.  After she left the room, he stepped back over to Krycek's bedside.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," he told Krycek again.  "I'm the one who brought you here."  He looked down into Krycek's terror-filled eyes, which were glazing over with tears.  "I'm sorry," he heard himself saying.  He'd sworn he was not going to say that to Krycek, but now it was the only thing he could think of that might calm Krycek down.  "I didn't mean to..." he looked away, biting his lip.  He looked back to Krycek's face.  "I'm sorry," he said thickly, really starting to mean it.  He forced himself to look at Krycek's wild eyes.  He turned away, wanting nothing more than to get as far away from Krycek as possible.  But this was his mess to clean up.  He sank down into the bedside chair with a sigh.

"She's right," he said, looking at Krycek again.  

Krycek couldn't move his head, but turned his eyes to stare at Mulder.  

"I've been here for three days now," Mulder went on.  "If I'd wanted to kill you, all it would have taken was a couple of minutes with a pillow."  

Krycek blinked madly.  

"I don't want to kill you."  Mulder exhaled hotly, firming his jaw.  His voice came out small and full of meaning for both of them.  "I don't want to hurt you anymore."

The blinking slowed but didn't stop.

Mulder looked away.  "You can turn me in for this, I know that," he said without looking at Krycek.  "You could put me in jail for felonious assault and destroy my career and my life."  He breathed in and out slowly.  "Or blackmail me for the rest of it.  And you have no reason not to."  With another heavy exhale, he turned his attention back to Krycek.  "I haven't ever given you one."

Krycek looked away, then back at Mulder, still blinking.  Mulder supposed it was about all the expression he was capable of, besides kicking, which would probably pop his stitches and jostle his broken arm.  Mulder's eyes closed, his stomach rolling.

"I don't want to upset you," he finally said, opening his eyes.  He looked at Krycek, who was looking at him again.  "Do you want me to leave?" he asked, keeping his voice quiet.  "Blink slowly once for yes."

Krycek's eyes immediately closed for half a second, then opened, fixing back on Mulder.

Mulder firmed his lips, nodding.  He bent down and picked up his bag, shoving the few things he had scattered on the floor and on Krycek's bedside table into it.  Krycek watched him sideways the whole time.  He stood up, slinging the bag over his shoulder.  "I'll give you a chance to get a little rest," Mulder told him.  "I'll come back later to check in on you."  Feeling helpless to do anything else, he turned and left the room.  He went out to the front desk and asked the nurse there to call him if there was any change in Krycek's condition.  She agreed to.  He thanked her and walked out into the parking lot and got into his car.  He didn't want to leave, but he knew it wouldn't do any good for him to stay now that Krycek was awake.  It would only agitate and scare him, and probably slow his recovery.  Mulder didn't want that.  So all he could do was honor Krycek's wishes and leave.  He imagined what it would be like to be arrested and put in prison for assault and battery, being a former federal officer and, let's face it, not exactly a bodybuilder.  He wondered if he'd ever be able to keep food down again.

It was Saturday, and sure enough, a couple of hours after Mulder had gotten home and taken a long shower, Scully knocked on his door.  He answered it wearing his comfortable sweats, bare footed with wet hair.

"Mulder, you look flushed and sweaty, are you still running a fever?" Scully greeted him, stepping across the threshold and putting a hand up to his forehead.  

"No, I'm fine," he told her.  "Just got out of the shower."  He smiled, feeling how out-of-place it felt on his face after the last few days.  He guessed it would be okay, since he was supposed to be sick, anyway.  He certainly felt sick.

"I brought you a little chicken soup," Scully told him.  "And some 7-Up and crackers."  She lifted up a grocery bag, giving him a motherly smile.

"Thanks," he smiled back, totally uninterested.  

"Do you want me to heat some up for you?" she asked, heading for his small kitchen.  He followed her in.

"No, not right now," he told her.  He patted his stomach gingerly.  "Still not real stable in there."

She gave him a sympathetic smile and nodded.  "I'll just put it here on the table and you can have it later."

Mulder nodded.

"How was your marathon?" she asked.

Mulder's social smile faltered.

"Twilight Zone?  All day yesterday?" she clarified.

"Oh, yeah, that," said Mulder.  "Yeah, I...slept through most of it," he said, nodding.  "Been really tired."

She frowned.  "Are you sure it's just the flu, Mulder?  You've been feeling ill for three days now."

Mulder swallowed.  "Yeah, I'm sure.  I'm feeling much better now than I was," he said truthfully.  "I'm just not very hungry yet."

Her expression relaxed.  "Well, just take it easy, then, and start back slowly."  She looked past him toward the living room.  "Would you like me to stay and keep you company for awhile?"

Mulder licked his lips.  "I was just going to lie down, actually," he told her.  "And watch some great UFO footage I burned off the 'net."  He knew that would make her run screaming.

"Okay then," she said, smiling again.  "Call me if you need anything, or if you start to feel worse again."

Mulder nodded.  "I will."

"All right.  I guess I'll go then," she said.  "They're having a great shoe sale at the mall, and the Bureau owes me about five pairs."  She grinned.

Mulder tried his best to return it.  "Have fun spending government dollars," he told her.  "And remember, purple suede never truly goes out of style."

Her smile widened.  "I'll remember that."  He turned as she walked past him to the front door.  "Take care, Mulder," she said, turning the knob.

"You too," he said, all out of cute repartee and just wanting to be alone.  "Have fun."

She left, and he let his breath out heavily as soon as the door was closed.  He went back into the kitchen and got one of the sodas, opening it as he made his way to the couch.  He sank down, picking up the remote and turning on the TV for company, not paying much attention to the History Channel documentary he put it on.  He sank into the leather, sipping his soda and staring at the screen.

Krycek was awake, but he had a tube down his throat *and* his jaw was broken, as was his only arm, so there was no danger of him talking to anybody yet.  Plus, he was in a private hospital where they allowed whoever paid the bills to pretty much determine the treatment of whomever they brought in.  No one there was going to do anything except render medical care to Krycek, even if he did find a way to tell someone to call the police.  Mulder closed his eyes.  No, he'd put Krycek somewhere where no one was really on his side, but they would keep him alive if Mulder paid them to.  He took another sip of soda, grimacing.

He waited as long as he could, surfing mindlessly, sipping 7-Up constantly, then finally got dressed again and headed back to the hospital around 6:15, when he knew the evening shift would have just finished their visit to Krycek's room.  He stopped at the small nurse's station at the beginning of the hall.  "Is he awake?"

"Yes," the nurse answered him.  "Would you like an update on his condition?"

"Yes," Mulder answered, wondering what ever happened to patient confidentiality.

"He's doing well, and the doctor wants to take the chest tube out tomorrow, as well as the breathing tube."

Mulder nodded, quelling the irrational fear that Krycek would say something as soon as the tube was out of his mouth.

"As soon as he's stabilized following those procedures, they'll wire his jaw so it heals properly.  They've had to wait until he could breathe," she explained.  "The risk was low, because he wasn't moving, but now that he's awake, it needs to be done as soon as possible in order to avoid malformation of the bones."

Mulder nodded again, exhaling and imagining Krycek's face malformed because of him.  He swallowed painfully.  "What about the head trauma?" he asked.  "And the internal injuries?"  

"There's been no return of the fluid build-up on his brain," the nurse answered, checking the chart.  "And his incision appears to be healing well.  There is still some blood in his urine," she went on.  "But the white count is good, and that's to be expected at this stage of healing, anyway.  The contusions on his chest and abdomen are responding well to the treatment so far, but we need to keep icing them periodically to help reduce swelling."

Mulder nodded once more, closing his eyes and opening them.  "So, all in all, you'd say he's doing pretty well?"

"Considering the extent of the trauma, yes," she said, putting the chart away.

Mulder ground his teeth together.  "Okay, thank you," he told her, then headed down to Krycek's room.  He stopped just outside of it, listening for sounds.  He didn't hear anything but the beeping monitors and the respirator.  What did he expect?  There was no TV in Krycek's room and the man could barely move.  He wasn't exactly likely to be partying in there.  Mulder took a breath and entered the room.

Krycek's eyes flew open and fixed on him, widening.

"Hi," Mulder said inanely.  He walked over to the side of the bed, watching Krycek watch him.  "I spoke to your nurse.  She said they're gonna try and take the tube out tomorrow."  He licked his lips and swallowed.  "Of course, then they're going to wire your jaw shut..."  He looked around the room.  "Maybe once you're doing better, they can move you to a real room," he said, not exactly eager to meet Krycek's eyes again.  "Let you watch some TV."

There was, of course, no response from Krycek other than some agitated movement of his legs, and when Mulder could avoid it no longer, he looked back into his eyes.  "I told you I was sorry," he said quietly.  Krycek just blinked at him.  Mulder licked his lips and then pulled his chair back over to the bedside from where the nurse had moved it.  He sat down with a sigh.  He just sat there, staring at the side of the bed, listening to the machine breathe for Krycek, for several minutes.  Then he leaned back into the chair and spoke.  "I'm not sure what to do here," he finally said quietly.  "I guess you've probably figured out that you're in a rather unique hospital," he went on, referring to the way the nurse blew off Krycek's concern over Mulder's presence earlier.  "It's a private hospital, where if you pay in cash, they don't ask the wrong questions."  Mulder's gaze dropped to the floor.  "Not syndicate, as far as I know, but in the same zipcode, so to speak."  He let out a long exhale.  "I didn't know what else to do.  I don't want to go to prison."  He looked up.  "And I don't want to kill you."

Krycek's blinking sped up and Mulder firmed his lips in frustration.

"Damn it, Krycek, I'm not gonna hurt you!" he said, leaning forward.  "I mean it!  I'm not gonna hurt you again!"  Then he realized that getting angry at Krycek wasn't exactly going to reassure the man, and his accelerating heartrate beeps supported that realization.  "Why did you leave me there?" he asked, getting up and walking away from the bed, trying to tamp his anger down.  "I know we weren't exactly teamed up or anything, but...you were right," he said more quietly.  "I did need you."  He dropped his head and turned away from Krycek's bed.  

He waited for several minutes, listening to the beeps of Krycek's machines slowly come closer to normal.  He turned around, keeping his distance.  "Don't you get it?" he asked, feeling utterly helpless.  "I'm starting to think...maybe..."  He swallowed.  "Maybe I can't even do this without your help."  He looked away, closing his eyes.  Why had he said that?  He hadn't even let himself really think it before.  And now it was out there.  And Mulder felt somehow more vulnerable than the man on the bed.  Then he realized that was ridiculous, with what Krycek could do to him now.  There was no reason to hide it any longer. He opened his eyes and stared at the plain white paint on the wall for several minutes, then turned his gaze back on Krycek.  "Did you ever even think about it?" he asked, still staying away from the bed to give Krycek his space.  "Did you ever consider actually working with me, instead of just using me?"

Krycek blinked madly, frowning deeply.

Mulder looked away.  "I thought maybe..." he licked his lips and then bit the bottom one, shaking his head.  "You were serious.  In Flushing.  When you made your little speech."  He tried to smile at nothing but failed.  "I thought we wanted the same thing," he finally said.  "To bring him down.  Expose him."  He looked at Krycek.  "You know, destroy the destroyer."  He tried again, this time looking at Krycek, and smiled a sick smile.  "Yeah, you had me," he said.  "Don't pretend you didn't know that."  His smile faded and he looked at the clock on the wall.  "Well, I just wanted to see how you were doing," he said, turning toward the door.  "They took my cot out, so I guess I'm back to sleeping on my couch."  Without turning around, he started out the door.  "I'll be back in the morning to check on you again and see how that procedure goes."  Unsettled by talking to someone and getting no response, he stepped out into the hall and visited the nurse's station again.  He told them, once again, to call him if anything changed.  Then he drove home and drank four beers before finally falling into a nauseous, nightmare-filled sleep.

He woke around 5am and staggered into the bathroom, where he threw up on and off for the next half hour, before crawling back to his bedroom and falling asleep for another three hours.  When he woke up at 8:30, he stepped into the shower with a pounding headache, and had only 7-Up for breakfast before driving to the hospital.  He headed back to the nurse's station.  "Is he up?" he asked.  "Is he awake?"

"He woke up during his checkup at 6am," she answered.  "His next one is in a few minutes.  You can see if he's awake yourself, if you like."

Mulder nodded, then waited impatiently while the nurse finished what she was doing and gathered what she needed to make her visit to Krycek's room.  Mulder let her walk in ahead of him, and he followed behind, staying by the door.

"Hello Mr. Taylor," the nurse said as she went about her business.  Krycek was awake and watching her and Mulder, alternately.  "You're doing well this morning so far.  The doctor will be in around noon to see if we can take those tubes out of your chest and throat.  That should make you a bit more comfortable."

Krycek just blinked up at her, fidgeting slightly.  "Then we'll have to wire your jaw shut so it heals properly," she went on, checking his tubes and wires, changing his IV bag and catheter bag, and then checking the bandaging on his head and stump.  Krycek kept his attention on her the whole time, and Mulder just stayed by the door, out of the way, and watched, trying not to make Krycek too nervous or get in the way.  "Everything looks good," the nurse finally said, making notes on his chart.  "I'll be back with the doctor in a few hours.  Buzz me if you need anything before then," she told him, gesturing to the button at his feet.  Mulder watched her go, then turned back to Krycek.

"I forgot to tell you," he said, walking a little closer.  "You're Andrew Taylor."

Krycek watched him, blinking, from his position propped up in the bed.  

"Hey, they raised you up a little," Mulder said.  "That's probably a little better, isn't it?  You can see better, anyway," he went on, shrugging.  "Not that there's anything in here to see."  He licked his lips, then took a few more cautious steps until he was standing at Krycek's bedside.  "I'm glad you're doing better," he told him, looking into the frightened, round eyes.  They looked a little less wild today though, and that had Mulder breathing better.  "If all goes well, maybe you can have HBO by nightfall."  He felt himself wanting to smile, and tried a very small one, feeling it fall flat.  He wiped it off with his hand.  "I could...bring you a radio or something..." he trailed off.  "If they let you have one in here."  He looked around the sparse room.  "I don't see why not, since you're the only one in here."  He looked back at Krycek.  "Would you like a radio?"

Krycek just stared up at him, blinking.

"Well, I'll bring one back with me when I come back at noon, then," Mulder said, turning to leave.  He stopped.  "I...don't have any idea what kind of music you listen to," he said, turning back slightly.  "I guess I'll just...bring a little of everything."  He turned back and stepped out the door, letting out a deep exhale.  

It was much harder to be in there with Krycek now that he was awake and staring at Mulder in fear.  Every second Krycek looked at him like that was like an accusation and a reckoning, and Mulder had to stop off at the restroom to throw up his 7-Up on the way out.  He drove home and dug in his closet for his boombox, then went through his CDs, filling up a case.  There were twenty CDs in there in all, a broad mix of everything he had to choose from.  Surely there was something in there Krycek wouldn't absolutely hate.  And it was a hell of a lot better than lying there listening to a machine breathe for him, counting the beeps of his heartrate.  Mulder decided he'd take it over early, and arrived around 10:30 with the boombox in hand.

"Hey," he said, walking over to the side of the bed with it.

Krycek looked up at him, then frowned as he saw the boombox in Mulder's hand.

"What, you didn't believe me?" Mulder asked, setting it down on Krycek's bedside table.  "I brought it for myself," he said, getting it situated.  "It's damned boring in here."  He pulled the CD case out of his pocket and held it up.  "Like I said, I have no idea what kind of music you like, so I just brought a mix.  I guess if you hate something I put in, you can kick your feet or something."  He tried another lame smile, but it faltered like the first, and he zipped open the case.  "Okay.  We have the best of Elvis," he started, flipping through them one by one.  "Hits from the 60's, hits from the 70's, hits from the 80's.  We have a home-burned Beatles mix and a home-burned Stones mix, and a disco one and some Elton John."  He looked up to see if Krycek was expressing any interest.  He just stared, so Mulder continued.  "Led Zepplin, Simon and Garfunkel, Dave Matthews, Depeche Mode...got three of those, actually, then a few more modern ones, Cowboy Junkies...I use that to relax...some Red Hot Chili Peppers, also home-burned...and three total mixed disks, with a little of everything, for those days when I'm feeling particularly schizophrenic."  He looked up, CD case in hand, then realized Krycek had no way of making a choice.  "Um, I guess I'll just choose one, and you can...you know, do the kick thing if you hate it."  He perused them again, then decided they could both use some relaxation, and put in the Cowboy Junkies CD.  When Krycek didn't start kicking, he sank into the chair with a soft sigh, listening to the ethereally beautiful, soulfully sad female voice fill the small room with the melancholy lyrics of 'Sweet Jane'.

Krycek just looked over at him.

"So I guess you don't hate it, then," Mulder said.

Krycek's legs shifted under the blanket, and he continued to look over at Mulder.

"Was that a kick?" Mulder said, frowning.  "Do it again, a little harder, if you want me to put something else on."

Krycek blinked, but his legs didn't move.

Mulder nodded, relaxing into the chair a little more.  "I thought we could both use a little peace," he said quietly, looking away and then back, unsettled by the way Krycek kept turning his eyes to watch him.  He slumped a little lower in the chair, closing his eyes to avoid Krycek's stare, and the next thing he knew, he was being awakened by the nurse.

"The doctor's here to remove Mr. Taylor's chest tube now," she said.  "You can wait in the lobby, and I'll come get you when we're finished."

"How long will it take?" Mulder asked, sitting up in the chair and getting his bearings.  The Cowboy Junkies were still playing.

"The procedure only takes a few minutes, but we'll want to watch him very closely for a little while afterward, to make sure the lung is functioning correctly."

Mulder nodded, getting up from the chair.  "Okay," he said, looking down at Krycek.  "I'll uh..." He swallowed and licked his lips.  "I'll be back in an hour."  He looked up at the nurse.  "Come get me as soon as you're finished."

"All right," the nurse said, and Mulder nodded and left the room, leaving the music playing.  He didn't hear it switch off, so he guessed they were going to leave it on.  He found himself feeling glad of that.  He walked out to the lobby, looked at the chairs there, then continued out into the parking lot, blinking into the sun.  It was certainly not a pretty part of town, but Mulder hated the look, feel, and smell of hospitals, and even an ugly parking lot was better than staring at those same walls.  He walked around, stretching his back, then headed back into the lobby so they'd be able to find him when the procedure was done.

After about a half an hour, the nurse came out and told Mulder they were finished.  He followed her back to the room, feeling both eager and anxious.

"We'll be in and out of his room, monitoring his condition very closely for the next few hours, to make sure he's breathing well on his own and that the tear in his lung is repaired enough that he's not leaking too much air into the chest cavity."

Mulder nodded slowly.

"As soon as we're sure he can withstand the procedure, we'll come in and wire his jaw shut so that it'll heal properly.  We'll need to monitor his breathing very closely after that, to make sure it's not affected too seriously."

Mulder nodded again, and stepped through the door after her, stopping in the middle of the room.

Krycek was unhooked from both the respirator and the chest tube, breathing roughly on his own.  The rasping, rattling sound of it made Mulder's gut clench again.  "Should he sound like that?" Mulder asked, and Krycek's eyes fluttered half-open, focusing in on him blearily before closing again.

"Yes, that's pretty normal," the nurse answered.  "It will get better as the lung continues to heal and Mr. Taylor can cough and clear it of mucus."

Mulder nodded, swallowing.  "He appears sedated," he said, looking at Krycek's face, which was placid and slack, his lips parted on the rattling breaths.  They were bleeding again, the removal of the tube having ripped open the healing wounds.  "And he's bleeding."

The nurse used a tissue to blot Krycek's mouth, and Krycek didn't wake.  "I'll bring in some lip balm," she said.  "We sedated him a bit for the procedure, to help him relax.  And neither procedure is pleasant, so they took a lot out of him."

Mulder nodded, stomach rolling.

"I'll be back in a minute with that lip balm," the nurse said, and after she checked his heart and blood pressure one more time, left the room.  The music was off.  Mulder walked over to the bed and looked down at Krycek's face, then turned to the boombox and hit play, turning the Cowboy Junkies back on.  The disk started over, and 'Sweet Jane' filled the room.  Mulder pulled his chair over and sat down with a sigh.

About fifteen minutes later, the nurse returned with a small tube of lip balm.  She squeezed some out on her finger and dabbed it on Krycek's lips, and though he flinched just slightly, he didn't wake up.  She set the tube on the bedside table.  "You can put more on if he needs it," she said, wiping her fingers with a disinfecting cloth.

"Me?" Mulder couldn't help but ask, incredulously.

"You're here more than I am," the nurse said, and with that, she walked out the door, leaving him alone with Krycek.

Mulder sat there, staring at the tiny tube on the table, then at the man in the bed in front of him.  "Can you believe that?" he said quietly.  "They...trust me enough to put lip balm on your mouth, even when they *know* I'm the one who messed it up."  He shook his head.  "I'm glad it's me, and not someone else who..." he trailed off.  Who beat you up and then stuck you in a mob-owned hospital?  Oh God.  Mulder lowered his sore head into his hand.  After several more minutes, he raised it.  "I guess they know by now that I'm not here to hurt you."  He looked at Krycek's face, at the fading bruises and bloody mouth.  Krycek was still unresponsive, the breathing still raspy, but steady.  "Jesus," he murmured, realizing something.  "They probably think I'm your abusive lover or something, the way I'm sticking around."  He sighed and shook his head.  "If only it were that simple," he said, sitting back into his chair.

Mulder listened to the rest of the CD, then got up to change it, putting in Dave Matthews.  He turned and looked down into Krycek's sleeping face.  The bleeding places on his lips had welled up and the blood made his mouth look worse than it was.  Mulder reached over and grabbed a tissue, blotting it very gently.  Krycek's lashes fluttered, but he didn't wake.  Mulder firmed his lips in frustration, then reached for the tube on the table, squeezing a little on his ring finger, the way he'd seen the nurse do.  Shaking his head at himself, he leaned over and smoothed it very carefully on the wounds on Krycek's lips, jerking back when he saw Krycek's lashes flutter again.  He quickly wiped his finger on his jeans and stepped back, but Krycek didn't wake, just frowning in his sleep a moment before settling again.  Mulder let out a relieved sigh, then turned and walked down the hall for a soda.  He stood in the small lounge, drinking it, feeling far away from any kind of world he knew.  He knew it was still there, that world back at the Bureau, cases and Scully and Skinner, and always the possible links to the truth about his sister's disappearance and the related government conspiracy to hide the existence of alien life, but his only real world right now was that world in that hospital room, a man whom Mulder had battered unconscious, who might hold the key to Mulder actually *finding* those hidden truths.

Mulder finished his soda, his stomach, at least for the moment, content to hold onto it.  He tossed the can in the recycling bin and headed back to the room.

When he entered, he noticed the song, "The Space Between" was playing, and he inhaled and exhaled deeply, listening to the lyrics fill the room as the song ended.  

The Space Between
What's wrong and right
Is where you'll find me hiding, waiting for you

He swallowed and walked over to the side of the bed.  As he did, Krycek's eyes fluttered open, and his head turned on the pillow.

"Hey, you can move," Mulder said.  "That's gotta feel better."

Krycek's eyes were round, and he swallowed, flinching.

"Don't try to talk," Mulder warned him.  "They still have to fix your jaw."  He looked down sheepishly, then back up.  "But at least you can move around some, huh?"  Krycek's stare turned into something resembling a glare, and Mulder nodded.  "You have good reason to hate me," he said.  "I don't blame you.  You look like shit, so I know it must feel worse."  He took a deep breath, then looked down at the CD player, which was now playing, 'Let You Down.'  Mulder closed his eyes and turned away as the lyrics confessed for him.

I let you down
Let me pick you up
I let you down

Then he remembered what he'd said about HBO and opened his eyes.  "I'll be right back," he said.  "Try not to miss me."  He went out to the nurse's station.

"Hey, are there any plans to move Kry...I mean Mr. Taylor to a regular room?" he asked.  "With a TV?"

"As soon as his jaw's been wired and he's stable, I don't see why not," the nurse said.  "But I'll have to ask the doctor."

"Where is he?" Mulder asked, looking around.

"He's doing his rounds," the nurse answered.  "When he's finished, he'll come in and check on Mr. Taylor again, and if he's ready, he'll do the jaw wiring."

Mulder nodded.  "How long after that will it be before you know he's stable enough to move?"

"If he's still doing well a few hours after the procedure, we can move him to a regular room and just keep a close eye on him."

"Okay, thank you," he said, and she gave him a cursory smile and returned to her work.  He walked back to Krycek's room.

"I'm working on the HBO," he told him.  "Maybe you can...think about that while they're...working on your jaw."  He clenched his own jaw in guilty sympathy as Krycek stared up at him, looking more curious than either angry or scared, now.  His frown was actually a welcome sight, and Mulder found himself smiling a little at it.  "Hey, you can shake your head yes or no, now, can't you," he said, swallowing down the fear that this little bit of communication could be used by Krycek to turn him in.  "So, do you like the Dave Matthews at all?"

Krycek blinked several times, and swallowed painfully again, still frowning.  Finally, he dropped his eyes, and then barely perceptibly, nodded.

Mulder smiled for real this time, unable to help it.  "Good," he said, nodding his own head.  "Good.  You can let me know you want me to change it by shaking your head no," he told him.  "There's other stuff to choose from."

Krycek just looked at him, blinking tiredly.

"You look like you could use a little more sleep," Mulder told him.  "I wanted to stick around and make sure you were...okay after the...jaw work," he went on, and Krycek's eyes rolled a little as he looked back up at him.  "But I can wait in the lobby if you want, so you can sleep."

Krycek's eyes drifted closed, and Mulder frowned, thinking he wasn't going to get a reply.  Then, his lips parted as Krycek's head moved on the pillow in a slight, but definite, 'no'.  

He didn't want Mulder to leave.

Mulder swallowed, and took a breath in and let it out slowly.  "Okay then," he said, turning around and lowering the volume a little on the boombox.  He turned back, and Krycek appeared to have already fallen asleep, his deep, raspy breathing falling into a steady, reassuring pattern.  Mulder slowly lowered himself into the chair, watching Krycek breathe as he listened to Dave Matthews sing 'Wild Horses.'

Wild horses couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses couldn't drag me away

...

Mulder waited in the lobby while the jaw wiring procedure was done, then, once again, they came and got him when they were finished.  He walked slowly toward the room, knowing that once again, there was going to be blatant physical evidence of the harm he'd done to Krycek.  He stepped through the door cautiously and peeked in, but Krycek was deeply asleep and didn't wake, even when he put the Cowboy Junkies CD back on and pulled the chair up to sit down.  Mulder looked at Krycek's face, and could see the metal wiring through Krycek's parted lips.  He sat back into the chair, closing his eyes.  Several minutes later, the nurse came in.

"How's he doing?" Mulder whispered.

"He did well during the procedure, and he seems to be breathing okay," she answered, doing some adjustments.  She didn't bother to whisper.  "He probably won't be awake for several hours," she said, finishing up with her notes.  "The sedation was pretty strong, and he was very tired to begin with."

Mulder nodded, and looked back at Krycek.  "How long before he can have food?" he asked, still keeping his voice low.

"He can start on a clear liquid diet tomorrow and we'll see how he does," she answered.  "He does need to start getting up and moving around, so we'll remove the catheter tomorrow as well.  I'll bring a cup and straw and he can start taking some water that way tonight."

Mulder swallowed and nodded.  She left, and after watching Krycek sleep for awhile, he decided to walk down to the convenience store and grab something to eat and some Tylenol for his headache and Alka-Seltzer for his stomach.  While he was there, he picked up a copy of Jurassic Park off the dusty paperback rack, as well as copies of his favorite tabloids.  He ate some Saltines and more 7-Up before he left, then walked back and settled into his chair, opening up the Enquirer to check out the story of a woman who gave birth to a baby with a tail.

While he was reading, Krycek starting moaning and thrashing around a little.  Mulder looked around a moment and waited for him to settle down, but it only got worse, Krycek's brows arching and small whimpering sounds coming from his throat.  Mulder leaned in, setting his paper aside.

"Krycek?" he said very quietly.

The whimpering and moaning continued.

"Krycek," he said more loudly.  "Are you okay?"  He felt incredibly stupid asking it, because of course the man wasn't okay, he was recovering in the hospital from a severe beating.  Mulder very carefully reached out, trying to figure out where he could touch Krycek that wouldn't hurt him.  He rememered the nurse patting Krycek's thigh, and very gently laid his hand there.  "Krycek?" he said more loudly.

Krycek jerked awake, then hissed as the sudden movement caused him obvious pain.  Mulder grimaced and took his hand away, sitting back in the chair.  He wondered if Krycek had been having a nightmare about him.  The way Krycek was frowning at him, breathing heavily, it sure looked that way.

"Hi," Mulder said quietly.  Not knowing what else to say, he simply sat and looked at Krycek.

Krycek swallowed, grimacing, and looked back at him, still frowning.  The metal of the wires glistened through his torn, dry lips, which were bleeding slightly again.

Mulder had the thought that he needed more lip balm, but he certainly wasn't about to offer any.  He thought maybe he'd go into the hall with the nurse, where Krycek wouldn't hear him, and remind her to do it when she came by with the cup and straw.  Mulder sighed deeply, feeling completely at sea as to how to relate to Krycek.  He considered making small talk, but decided that was disrespectful of the gravity of the situation.

"The nurse said you could start drinking water tonight," he said, looking away from the glistening wires covering Krycek's teeth.  "You're probably pretty thirsty."  He swallowed.  "Oh, and you can move to a regular room tomorrow, since everything's going okay so far," he said, more cheerfully.  "You'll have TV there."

Krycek turned his head and blinked at Mulder, swallowing slowly again.

All Mulder could think to say was I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but he'd already said that several times, and he didn't really think repeating it like a mantra was going to help Krycek feel better any faster.  "And uh," he finally said, "You can have a liquid diet tomorrow.  Maybe a chocolate milkshake or something."

Krycek grimaced and closed his eyes.

"Sorry," Mulder couldn't help but say.  "Guess you're still queasy from the..." he trailed off.  Krycek's eyes stayed closed.  "How do you like the music?" Mulder asked, referring to the Cowboy Junkies still playing on repeat.  Krycek nodded slowly.  "Good, okay, well, I'm just gonna read then and you can...rest some more.  Maybe you can have some 7-Up later or something.  Helps me when I'm feeling queasy."  Like now, he thought to himself, then he leaned back and picked up his paper, going back to his so-called news story.

"Here we go," said the nurse twenty minutes later, setting a small, beige cup with a straw on Krycek's bedside table.  She took a pitcher of the same horrible color into his bathroom and filled it with water.  Mulder looked up and Krycek's eyes were slowly fluttering open.  The nurse poured some water in the cup and dropped the straw in.  "Would you like to try taking a sip, Mr. Taylor?" she asked, holding it up.

Krycek blinked several times, then nodded slowly, and the nurse put the straw up to his lips carefully.  They were still incredibly dry and it was obvious that Krycek was having trouble getting a good seal on the straw, and Mulder found himself getting annoyed at the nurse for not offering him some lip balm first.  Then he realized how ludicrous that was, given that it was his knuckles, maybe even his shoes, that had split Krycek's lips in the first place.  He swallowed and tried not to stare.  Krycek continued to struggle with the straw, getting more frustrated as he failed to draw water.  Finally Mulder couldn't stay quiet any longer, and he reached over and grabbed the little tube off the table.

"Here," he said, holding it up to her.  "This might help."

Krycek stared at him as the nurse nodded and took the tube, setting down the cup.  Mulder looked at him, then away as she applied the balm.  He looked back when she was finished, and she raised the straw back up to Krycek's lips, which were now glistening with balm and able to form a better seal.  Krycek sucked some water up the straw and then swallowed, grimacing.

"That's it, Mr. Taylor," the nurse said.  "Your throat is scraped and bruised from the breathing tube, but that should get better the more you can drink."

Mulder winced slightly.

Krycek took another drink, bigger this time, then suddenly choked, hissing with pain as he did so.

"Try to relax," the nurse said, putting her hands on his upper chest.  "Just relax, you're okay."

Mulder found that he was half out of the chair, hovering on the edge of standing, and he lowered himself, knowing he could do nothing.

Krycek coughed a few more times, making involuntary high-pitched sounds of suffering, and Mulder looked over to see tears streaming down his face.  Mulder frowned, firming his lips, and waited for the nurse to quiet him.  After a few more moments, the coughs had pretty much subsided and Krycek was starting to breathe more normally, though his eyes were still squeezed closed and his face was pulled into a grimace.  Mulder closed his eyes, unable to watch anymore.  He heard the nurse continue to quiet Krycek, probably wiping his face, and when Mulder heard her walking across the room to leave, he finally opened his eyes.

Krycek's eyes were still closed, but he looked more relaxed, though his eyes were still tight, and his expression strained.

"I didn't know you had a drinking problem," Mulder murmured, trying to inject some lightness into the situation.  Krycek just sighed tiredly.  Mulder echoed him.  He sat, watching Krycek swallow painfully and breathe hard for several more minutes, then spoke.  "I lost control," he said, looking down at the floor.  "I...I have no excuse."  He closed his eyes and put his head in his hand.  After several more minutes, he spoke again, without opening his eyes.  "It wasn't all about you," he said quietly.  "You were just a convenient target."  He breathed carefully for several more minutes, surprised to feel tears threatening.  He swallowed them back, but when he spoke, his voice was hoarse.  "I don't know what it is about you."  He cleared his throat, and after a few more minutes, continued.  "I just lose it."  He let out a heavy exhale, then finally raised his head.  Krycek had turned his head and was looking at him, and Mulder swallowed as their eyes met.  "I'm...not like that with anybody else," he said quietly, forcing himself not to look away.  "Maybe that's the problem," he said even lower, not able to stop from dropping his gaze.  "I save it all up for you."  He exhaled heavily.  "I sure as hell did this time."

He heard a deep sigh from Krycek, and looked up to see him frowning over at him.

"I mean..." he clarified.  "Yes, I'm angry at you, specifically, of course."  He let out a breath and swallowed, looking away.  He heard Krycek sigh again, but couldn't quite make himself look back.  His voice came out low and dreamy, as he voiced thoughts he was only now having.  "I think I...hurt you...because you're not what I want you to be."  He swallowed.  "Because it could be so much better than it is."  His eyes closed.

He heard Krycek breathing hard next to him, but couldn't look up, feeling his face warm with embarassment.  He felt the tears threaten again, and firmed his lips, swallowing them back angrily.  Finally, once he felt he'd regained his composure, he looked up again.  "It won't happen again," he said quietly.  "I'll never lay hands on you again."

Krycek frowned deeply, blinking rapidly.

"I may have to stop you again sometime, but I won't hit you," Mulder said.  "And I may have to shoot you to save someone else, but I'll never take my anger out on you with physical violence again."

Krycek swallowed, grimacing slightly.

"And in case it's not abundantly clear, I'm not going to take you in."  Mulder swallowed.  "As far as I'm concerned, this squares us at this point in time."  He licked his lips and added, "Whatever happens in the future is a clean slate, though, for both of us."

Krycek's eyes tightened as he breathed deeply several times, still frowning.

They looked at each other for several long moments, then Mulder looked away, checking the time.  He stood up, gathering up his tabloids.  "I guess I'll take off."  He looked at Krycek then started for the door.

"I have some things to take care of in the morning," Mulder said, not asking if it was okay to come back, feeling he would, no matter what Krycek wanted.  "But I should make it back before the doctor visit.  He usually comes around noon," he added, glancing back.

Krycek blinked.

"Make the nurse change the CD if you get sick of the Cowboy Junkies," Mulder said, then after a moment more, turned again to leave.  "See you tomorrow," he said without turning around, and he stepped out the door.  He had to stop just outside, letting out his breath and closing his eyes a minute.  

He went home and found himself restless, unable to concentrate on much of anything, wondering how Krycek was doing.  Was the nurse giving him water?  Did she remember the lip balm?  Would she really change the CD if asked?  Was Krycek sleeping again, or was he just lying there, feeling like shit, alone and unable to even shift his position much, due to the traction on his arm and the incision on his abdomen?

And should Mulder really be caring this much?

He sank down into his couch, head in his hands.  He cared about Krycek.  He couldn't help it.  That was the truth, no matter how little sense it seemed to make.  Krycek had gained his trust and betrayed him, helped get Scully abducted, murdered his father, been an accomplice in Scully's planned murder which ended up with Melissa dead instead, and he'd stolen the digital tape back from Skinner when it was the only leverage Mulder and Scully had to keep the Smoker from killing them.  And of course, he'd baited Mulder into going to Russia, and then walked out and left him in a cell to be tortured and used in black oil experiments.  Those were just the things Krycek had done that had personally hurt Mulder.  He was also responsible for the deaths of others, how many, Mulder couldn't even speculate.

But Krycek had also let Mulder find those cigarette butts.  Mulder couldn't help but remind himself of that.  He wasn't sure of the motive behind that, but it probably hadn't turned out well for Krycek, having to abandon his mission so suddenly.  And Krycek had saved his life in Hong Kong when he'd had every reason to want him dead, and two opportunities to see it done.  Krycek could have just shot him on sight when he walked into that dark office.  He'd certainly had the drop on Mulder.  But he hadn't.  He'd held the gun on him, looking about three months overdue for a good night's sleep and a couple of weeks overdue for a bath, screaming at his business partner when she made a comment interrupting him and Mulder.  And when people had shown up to kill him, he'd thrown Kallenchuk out the door and closed it, sealing Mulder inside away from the murderers, when he could have just thrown them both out and saved himself the trouble.

And Mulder had thanked him for that by smacking him around in the airport.  Mulder closed his eyes, unable now to feel anything but disgust at the thought of hitting Krycek again.  

Then Krycek had shown up later at the terrorist bust, claiming to have set them up for Mulder to take down.  So why, when they had ended up in the gulag, had he walked out and left Mulder there to be tortured and eventually killed?  He'd obviously gone to a lot of trouble to get Mulder's help, so what made him give up, once they got over there, and abandon Mulder to the tests?

Unless...  Mulder considered a new possibility suddenly.  Maybe he hadn't really abandoned him.  Maybe he had actually just been...playing the games they always play.  Teasing Mulder, as Mulder had teased him at the airport.  Scaring the shit out of him, yes, even allowing him to be tested on, but not really intending to leave him there.

Mulder raised his head, lips parted.  It was the only explanation that made any sense, given the facts.  Krycek had not intended on leaving him there.  He may have engineered the deaths in the States, and he may have been unconcerned with the fact that they had injected Mulder and then dumped black cancer on his face, but very likely, he'd been planning on coming back for Mulder, once he'd conducted whatever business he had with the camp commander.

And Mulder, buying his ruse, had thrown him in the back of a truck, which had led to Krycek losing his arm.  

Mulder let out a long exhale.  Yes, he'd wanted to hurt Krycek, then.  Had planned on it, even.  But never like that.

And not like this.

After a long shower, and a dinner of chicken soup and Saltines, Mulder curled up on his couch and watched infomercials before falling into a fitful sleep a few hours before dawn.

He got up in the morning and put on a suit and tie, then headed into the office with his plan firmly in mind.  He got there early, surprising Scully when she walked in the door.

"Mulder, good morning," she said, smiling.  "You're early.  Feeling better, I guess?"

Mulder smiled back.  "Yes, but I'm not staying.  I came to put in a request for two weeks of vacation time."

"Vacation time?  You?" she asked, brows arched high.

Mulder licked his lips.  "Yeah, I...saw a doctor when I started feeling worse again on Sunday," he lied.  "And he determined that my immune system was failing due to..." He put on a suitably sheepish expression.  "Stress.  He recommended that I take vacation time immediately, if I could, to rebuild it before coming back to work."

"Oh," said Scully, sounding partly convinced.  "Well, what are you going to do with all that time off, Mulder?"

Help Krycek to the bathroom and hold his straw for him, he thought.  "Not sure yet," he answered truthfully.  "Probably take a day or two to think about it."  He gave her a half-grin.  "Maybe a spiritual pilgrimage to Graceland."

Now she smiled.  "I see.  Well, okay, I guess I'll...get along without you."

Don't mess up my desk," he told her, heading for the door.  "I like it just the way it is."

"I make no promises, Mulder," she said.  "Your emotional attachment to dust is not something I can comfortably condone."

He smiled.  "I'll be in touch, Scully."

"All right," she said, sounding a little confused.  "Um...take care of yourself."

"I will," Mulder told her. "You, too."  With that, he headed upstairs to put in his official request, basically giving the same story to Skinner, who was busy enough that he swallowed it even more readily than Scully and signed off on it hurriedly.

That done, Mulder went home and changed back into jeans and a T-shirt, grabbed his leather jacket, and stopped off for an actual meal at a drive-through on his way to the hospital, his stomach feeling more settled than it had in days.  Maybe it was the finality of taking the time off, or the relief of figuring that Krycek didn't appear to want to press charges.  Or maybe, it was finally allowing himself to give in to his feelings of concern for Krycek's well-being, after the exploration of last night and its resulting revelations.  Whatever it was, Mulder found himself actually giving the receptionist a fleeting smile as he headed back into the halls.

"Hey," Mulder said by way of greeting, walking into the room.  Krycek was awake, and Depeche Mode's 'Policy of Truth' was playing.  Mulder smiled.  "I see you convinced the nurse to DJ for you in my absence."

Krycek's head turned on the pillow and he looked at Mulder intently.  His eyes, though ringed in fading purple, seemed the clearest they had since...

Mulder licked his lips and sat down in the chair.  "Well, you're still in this godforsaken room, so I guess the doctor hasn't been by yet."  Mulder arched his brows, imploring Krycek to reply to that, and finally, Krycek shook his head 'no'.  Mulder nodded and looked up at the wall clock.  "Yeah, it's only 10:30," he said, looking back at Krycek.  "He does his rounds at noon."  The bruising on Krycek's face was considerably faded, and his color looked better than it had in days.  His hair was matted to his head, though, and Mulder noticed a slight smell.  "So, you gonna get one of those hot nurse spongebaths?" he said, shifting in the chair.  "That brunette nurse is okay, I'd probably let her wet me down."

Krycek frowned slightly, but it looked more disapproving than upset.

"I'll bet they get one of those bright blue shampoo things and put it on your head, since you probably can't shower..." he said, the humor draining out of his voice as he thought about why showering was out of the question for Krycek.  Mulder had spent a few unpleasantly helpless stays in the hospital himself, and was more familiar than he'd like to be with the measures they used with bedridden patients.  "Maybe you can take a bath," he said, sobering.  "If...your stitches can...get wet."  He stopped and looked away, feeling like he was failing utterly at the attempts at small talk.  He didn't know if he was making Krycek feel worse, but he was certainly bringing himself down.  He was quiet a few more minutes, then sat up.  "Do you want me to put in a new CD?" he asked, already standing up to do it.  Again he waited, patiently, brows arched expectantly.

Krycek finally moved his head in a half-shrug.

"Maybe some Elvis?" Mulder tried, brows arched again.

Krycek looked at him for about three whole seconds, then slowly shook his head 'no', never breaking eye contact.

Mulder was shocked to feel himself letting out the slightest half-laugh, seeing the seriousness in Krycek's refusal.

Krycek blinked rapidly, breathing in and out slowly.

"Maybe we'll just stick with Depeche Mode for now," Mulder relented, setting the case back down and lowering himself back into the chair.  "Sure will be good to have that TV," he said.  "Especially since you can't hold a book to read..."  His voice trailed off again.  He ended on a deep sigh.  A few more awkward minutes passed before Mulder stood up.  "I'm gonna go check up on that room," he said.  "Make sure it's ready and everything.  Be right back," he added, as he headed for the door.

Krycek just watched him.

Mulder went to the nurse's station and caught her attention.  "Hey, I just wanted to make sure you had a regular hospital room ready for uh, Mr. Taylor," he said.  "So he can be moved as soon as the doctor sees him today."

"I'll check," the nurse said.  She picked up a clipboard and scanned it.  "I don't see anything on here," she said.  "Maybe he's not ready."

Mulder frowned.  "They said if he was breathing well off the tube, after the jaw wiring, that he could move to a regular room," he said.  "There's nothing to do in there."

"I'm sorry," the nurse said.  "It's not up to us.  The doctor has to sign off on any moves."

Mulder frowned, firming his lips.  "Well, make sure there's a room ready for him to move into," he said.  

"I will," the nurse said, putting the clipboard down and turning back to her computer.

Mulder nodded, feeling somewhat placated, then headed back into Krycek's room.  "It shouldn't be any problem, once the doctor's done with you," he told Krycek.

Krycek blinked, shifting in his bed a little to face Mulder as he sat back down in the chair.

Mulder sat there, once again at a loss for words.  He decided to go with the truth.  "This is...awkward," he said, glancing up and then away.  "It seems like anything I try to talk about just...reminds me of what I did to you."

"Whuh..." Krycek started, then carefully, wincingly, cleared his throat and started again.  His voice came out a raspy whisper.  Mulder leaned in to hear it, barely breathing.  Why aren't you at work?"

Mulder let out the breath he'd been holding and sat back slowly.  "I...took some time off."

"Why?" Krycek asked, frowning.

Mulder licked his lips and then bit the bottom one.  He wasn't even sure himself of the answer, and he really didn't know what to tell Krycek.  He looked away again.

"Sssquare...?"  Krycek said, swallowing audibly.

Mulder exhaled heavily and turned back, squinting.  Krycek was staring at him intently, frowning a little.  Mulder just nodded, swallowing.  Then he tried to put on a more cheerful face.  "You get milkshakes and TV today," he said.  Then, remembering, quickly asked, "Oh, how's your stomach?"

Krycek gave him a half-shrug, and Mulder nodded, relief flooding him at the small response.  It seemed to somehow start things fresh, seal the truce they'd struck.  Mulder found himself breathing better.  He smiled slightly.  "Let's hope they have a good cable package here," he said.  "If not, maybe I can smuggle in a VCR for you."

Krycek's eyes tightened, and he blinked several times.

"I have the original Star Wars tapes," Mulder told him, sitting forward a bit.  "Not the remakes with the crappy add-ons, but the real ones."

Krycek exhaled.  Then he nodded, and the gravity of the response, given the subject matter, was both amusing and an additional relief.  They were talking.

Mulder smiled and nodded, sitting back in the chair, feeling slightly dizzy.  His overture of...what...friendship?  He guessed that's what it was.  He was trying to make friends with Krycek.  Yes, his overture was motivated partly by the lingering fear that Krycek would turn him in, but mostly, Mulder just wanted...forgiveness.  And with the way his offer had been not only accepted, but hesitantly returned, maybe he was getting it.  It was a humbling, even slightly disturbing, relief.  He looked up at Krycek, who was swallowing painfully again.  "Do you want a drink of water?" Mulder asked, reaching for the small cup and straw.

Krycek looked at him for a second, then shook his head 'no'.

Mulder nodded, even though he could tell Krycek was thirsty.  He couldn't blame him for not wanting to have Mulder help him.  He didn't say anything else, and the two of them listened to Depeche Mode until the doctor came at around noon.  Mulder gave Krycek a tight smile and went to wait in the lobby while the visit was going on.  About an hour later, when Mulder had read an article on planting herbs on the window sill and another on a woman's harrowing experience on the side of a mountain in the Rockies, a nurse came out and told him they were finished.  He got up and gratefully followed her, then frowned as she led him back to the same room.

"I thought he was going to be moved right after the doctor saw him," he said, as they entered the room.

"The room's not quite ready yet," she said, starting out the door.

Mulder glared at her, and she hesitated under the weight of it for a second before continuing on her way.  He was still frowning as he walked over to the bed.

Krycek looked up at him cautiously.

Mulder relaxed his expression.  "So, ready for milkshakes and Power Ade yet?"

Krycek nodded.

"Did you already have something?  It's after noon now, time for lunch..." he looked at the clock.

Krycek shook his head 'no'.

Mulder frowned.  "Do you want something?" he asked.

Krycek swallowed, blinking.

"Stomach still unstable?" Mulder asked.

Krycek frowned and then nodded.

"Maybe a 7-Up?"

Krycek blinked, then after a second, nodded again.

"Great," Mulder answered.  "I'll go see if I can get you one."  Happy to have something to do, he went up to the nurse's station.  "Can he have 7-Up?" Mulder asked.

"Let me check the new orders," the nurse said.  She grabbed a clipboard and looked it over.  "Yes, looks like he's being started on clear fluids for today, so that would be fine."

"Is anyone going to offer him one?" Mulder said, getting a little irritated.  "Or should I go to the vending machine?"

"If you like, you can go into that room over there and get one out of the refrigerator," she told him cooly.  "That's where we keep them."

"Thank you," he said insincerely.  "And when is his room going to be ready?  I talked to you about it almost two hours ago."

"We probably won't have time to move him until around three," she answered, not looking up.

Mulder sighed angrily, but nodded, and turned to get Krycek's 7-Up.  He took it back to the room and took the straw out of the water, dropping it into the can.  Then he froze.  There was no one there but him to help Krycek drink it.  And just a moment ago, Krycek had refused water.  "Um..." he stammered, looking around as if someone was going to magically appear.

Krycek just looked at him, and then at the soda in his hand.

"Do you...want me to...I mean..."  Mulder gulped.  Can I...help you?" he finally asked quietly.

Krycek blinked, looked down, then back at Mulder, and nodded.

Mulder exhaled and nodded back, smiling tightly.  He stepped closer to the bed, lowering the can to a height Krycek could drink from and positioning the straw between his lips.  Once again, they were extremely dry and cracked.  "Oh," he said, taking the straw away suddenly.  He put the can down and picked up the lip balm, then froze again.  He stood there with it a second, then turned around, unscrewing the tiny cap and squeezing out the balm on his ring finger like last time.  Only last time, Krycek was sound asleep and didn't know what Mulder was doing.  This time, he was wide awake and was going to be freaked out, for sure.

"Um," he said, holding his finger out.  "You need some..."  He gestured with his hand.

Krycek frowned and blinked madly, his breathing speeding up.

Mulder's was speeding up too, but there was really no going back now, so after another quick look around for those magical helpers, he leaned in and very carefully applied the ointment to Krycek's lips.  Krycek panted the whole time, while Mulder held his breath, and when he was done, he let out a loud exhale, wiping the excess on his jeans.  "Okay," he said.  "Let's drink now."  Krycek was still breathing hard, and Mulder had to wait a minute for him to slow down.  He stood there, not looking at his face, until Krycek's breathing returned to something close to normal.  Then he picked up the can and positioned the straw again.  "Okay," he said, and Krycek sucked.  He spilled a little, still unable to get a good seal with his lips, especially without the use of his tongue, which was sealed behind the wires.  Mulder wiped his face carefully with the corner of his sheet.  "Careful," he said, remembering the choking incident from before.  "Take it easy."  Krycek's breathing was accelerating again, but he managed to successfully sip a few more mouthfuls before shaking his head 'no'.  Mulder took the soda away and set it on the table.  He listened to Krycek's breathing return to normal as he felt his own heartrate slowing, and he sat back down in the chair.  "Good?" he asked, after a few moments.

Krycek looked over at him and nodded slowly.

"Uh, they said they wouldn't have the room ready for another couple of hours," Mulder explained.  He looked around, then spotted the copy of Jurassic Park he'd picked up at the store.  "I could...read to you," he offered, feeling his face get slightly warm.  He reached for the book and held it up.  "It's even better than the movie.  You ever read it?"

Krycek blinked at him but didn't answer.

Mulder arched his brows, waiting for an answer.

"No," Krycek said.

Mulder nodded, then opened it to the first page.  "Just don't expect me to make the dinosaur noises," he said, and with another deep breath, he began to read.

He found it wasn't quite as awkward as he'd feared it would be, since he didn't have to look at Krycek at all while he was doing it.  He could just concentrate on the words on the page, forgetting who it was that he was actually reading them to.  He had to take a few sips of Krycek's soda from time to time, when his throat got dry, and once he stopped and gave Krycek another drink before going back to the book.  When the nurse came in for the 3pm rounds, he was almost surprised at how much time had gone by.  He put a napkin in the book to hold their place and got up out of the chair and stood by the wall to get out of the nurse's way.  He looked away when the nurse pulled the sheet down to check Krycek's stitches.  When she was finished, he stopped her at the door.

"Are you going to move him now?"

"Oh," the nurse replied.  "I don't think we'll have the available staff to do it tonight."

"What?" Mulder said.  "What do you mean you won't have the staff.  I asked about this hours ago.  You should have had this done already!"

"I'm sorry, Mister Mulder," the nurse replied haughtily.  "Moving this particular patient is a little more involved than usual, due to the extent of his injuries, and we want to make sure we have enough staff to set everything up."

Mulder stared at her.  She was now obviously playing on his guilt to take the focus off her own incompetence.  "What staff do you need?" he asked coolly.

"I need a technician to move the equipment and set up his traction pulley," she said.  "He went home an hour ago."

"Call him," Mulder said.

"I'm sorry?" the nurse said, blinking.

"Call him," Mulder said.  "This should have been done an hour ago when he was here, so he can damn well come back now and do it."

The nurse just looked at him, but Mulder's expression didn't change.  "I'll...I'll see what I can do," she finally said.  Mulder nodded, dismissing her.  When he walked over to Krycek's bed, Krycek was staring at him, wide-eyed.

Mulder just looked at the clock and waited for the nurse to return.  When she'd been gone ten minutes, he sighed in frustration.  "Be right back," he told Krycek.  He strode out to the nurse's station angrily.  "Well?" he asked, when she got off the phone call she was on.

"He'll be here in half an hour," the nurse said.  

"Good, I'll be here to make sure everything goes smoothly," Mulder told her, then he turned and went back to the room.  "Thirty minutes, or so she says," he told Krycek.  "Don't worry, I'll make sure it's all done right."

Krycek frowned up at him.

Mulder looked away, licking his lips, then turned back to Krycek.  "Don't look at me like that," he said.  "It's for me, not you.  I'll feel less guilty if I know you've at least got a damned TV."

Krycek swallowed, then nodded slowly.

Mulder waited another minute, a little too restless to sit down, made a trip to the bathroom, and finally took his seat again.  He picked up the book, and without checking in with Krycek, began reading where he'd left off.

About forty-five minutes later, two nurses and a technician came in and started preparing Krycek for the move.  Mulder stood at the door with his arms folded over his chest to make sure they didn't take out any anger at him on Krycek.  Being somewhat of an expert now on misplaced aggression, it was a concern.  It took about one hour to complete the move and make sure the monitors and the arm-traction were set up in a workable way, and to get Krycek into the new bed and as comfortable as he could reasonably get.  Finally, everyone left, and Mulder pulled up a whole new chair next to the bed.  He reached for the hand-held remote, which was one of two remotes, the other one being toe-activated, just like the call-button.

"Any requests?" he said to the tired-looking Krycek.  Krycek just shook his head 'no'.  Mulder nodded and flipped on the television, surfing to find something they could watch, although it looked as though Krycek was ready to doze off any minute.  "How 'bout a documentary on how penguins mate?" Mulder suggested.  "You have to wonder, with their lack of flexibility..."  He looked at Krycek, but the man was already asleep, his breathing deep and steady through parted lips and wire.  "Penguins it is," Mulder said, and he sat back to satisfy his curiosity.

About thirty minutes later, Krycek woke up grimacing.

"What?" Mulder said, muting the television.  "What is it?"

Krycek blinked his eyes open, still grimacing.  "Gotta piss," he hissed.

"Oh," Mulder replied, remembering that Krycek's catheter had just been removed a few hours previously.  "Did you push the call-button?"

Krycek shook his head 'no' and shifted in the bed, attempting to do so.

"Here, I'll get it," Mulder said, standing up and pressing the button behind Krycek's head.  He stood there, watching Krycek squirm, for another two minutes, then said, "I'll go get her," and headed out the door.  He strode to the nurse's station.  "We need help," he said.  "Right now.  We pushed the call button."

"We'll be right there," the one nurse at the station said.  "I'm in the middle of a call, and Debbie's helping another patient."

Mulder frowned.  "It's kind of an emergency."

"You didn't press the emergency button," the nurse said scoldingly, coming around the counter.

Mulder just looked at her, and she gave him an impatient look back and then headed for Krycek's room.  "What's the problem, Mr. Taylor?" she asked him.  Mulder was right behind her.

"Bathroom," Krycek ground out.

"That's right, no catheter, huh?  Sounds like you're ready for your first trip to the toilet," the nurse said.  "Can you help me, sir?" she asked, turning her attention on Mulder.

Mulder's mouth dropped open.  "Um, what...can I do?" he asked, watching Krycek frown at the nurse behind her back.

"Well, I'll get a sling for his arm, but I'll still have to help support it on my side, and I could really use someone to support him on the other side."

Mulder frowned.  "This is his first time, right?  Shouldn't someone else do this?"  

"Right now, there's no one else available.  He'll have to wait for the other nurse."

Krycek let out a sound of frustrated distress.

Mulder ground his teeth together.  He didn't want Krycek to have to wait.  Finally, he looked at the nurse and nodded.  He didn't look at Krycek's face.

The nurse got to work right away, and Mulder watched, a bit wide-eyed, as she fixed a sling for Krycek's casted arm.  The cast extended from just below the shoulder and totally covered the hand, leaving just the fingertips out.  It was quite a process getting the arm taken care of, and it wasn't until it was finished that Mulder realized he'd be supporting Krycek on the side with no arm.  He breathed in and out slowly, swallowing.  He glanced at Krycek's face, which was pale, sweaty, and drawn with pain, his eyes nearly squeezed shut.  Mulder wondered if Krycek had considered what Mulder just realized.

"All right," she said.  "Now I'll hold the arm, and you just sit up further and swing your legs over the side, nice and easy."

"Are you sure he's ready for this?" Mulder asked, getting worried.  "What about his stitches?"

"He's healing nicely," the nurse said.  "And he needs to walk a little every day to start getting the blood flowing so he'll heal properly."

Mulder ground his teeth, then nodded, and watched Krycek painstakingly swing his legs over the side.  As the nurse stepped back to help him stand, Mulder saw that he was dressed only in a short hospital gown, tied down the front.  His thighs were mottled with bruising, which made Mulder feel like he was going to throw up, wondering if he could do this after all.

"All right, sir, if you'll just get on his left side," the nurse said, pressing herself close to his right and putting a hand under Krycek's casted arm to help support it, wrapping the other around his back.  Krycek's head was bowed, his eyes closed.  He was breathing hard.

Mulder looked at Krycek's left side, at the fully bandaged stump, and froze.

"Just wrap your arm under the armpit," she said.  "The bandaging should protect the stump."

Mulder blinked, then took a steadying breath and stepped in.  Trying not to think about it at all, moving like a robot, he did what the nurse told him to do, and slid his arm under Krycek's armpit, locking his grip on the nurse rather than Krycek, since his ribs were bandaged, and when she told him to, Mulder straightened his back and lifted.

Krycek moaned loudly as he was pulled to a standing position, shaking badly.

"That's it," the nurse said.  "You're doing wonderfully, Mr. Taylor.  Now, one step at a time."

Mulder opened and closed his eyes, lips firmly closed, and tried as hard as he could to block out Krycek's sounds of pain right next to his ear, slowly helping him to the bathroom ten feet away.  They stopped at the door to let Krycek catch his breath.

"Now what?" Mulder said as quietly as he could over Krycek's bowed head.

"We help him sit down," the nurse said.  "And you can wait outside until I call you to help me with him again."

Mulder nodded, overwhelmed with compassion for Krycek's suffering, both his pain and his unavoidable embarassment.  After a few moments, Krycek nodded, head still down, and Mulder and the nurse led him into the bathroom, which had a double-sized doorway.  It was oversized, with space on both sides of the toilet, and in a few more minutes, they lowered Krycek onto the seat.  Mulder carefully disengaged himself and got out of the bathroom quickly, closing the double door behind himself.  He heard the urine stream start almost immediately and go on for a long time, then heard rustling sounds.

"We're ready for you," the nurse called, and Mulder swallowed.  He opened the door, keeping his face expressionless, and stepped back into his position.  Ten minutes later, Krycek was finally back in bed, breathing hard, and the nurse was checking all his bandaging to make sure it was all okay.  Satisfied, she finally left them alone again.

Mulder sat in the chair, arms on his thighs, staring at the floor.  He'd never felt such regret in his entire life.  He'd felt guilty before, and taken responsibility for some deeply horrible things, including the lost lives of others, but never had he been confronted so continually with the evidence of his own wrongdoing.  He wasn't sure he could handle it.  He blinked, trying to abolish the tears, but they weren't leaving this time.

"I'm sorry," he croaked out, sniffing.  "I should have left."  He didn't look up.  He heard Krycek inhale and exhale loudly, so he knew the other man was still awake.  "I should have said no," he said, wiping his hand across his eyes.  "I should have gotten another nurse."  He sniffed again, putting his hand over his eyes, truly on the edge of letting out a sob.

"Thank you," he heard, so quiet it was barely a whisper.

"What?" he said, raising his face and wiping his hand over it.

Krycek's eyes were closed, but he repeated, a little more loudly, "Thank you, Muller."

"For what?" Mulder said, clearing the tears from his throat.  God, for what.

"Help," said Krycek tiredly, sounding nearly asleep.

Mulder sniffed again, blinking.  He looked at Krycek's still-bruised and swollen face, the wires visible through the healing lips, and frowned, unable to accept the gratitude.  He couldn't make his throat say anything, and he was afraid that if he did, he'd just start crying.  He sat and stared at Krycek's face, then looked at the bandaged stump, the casted arm and hand, the sheet under which he knew were bandages and stitches and so much bruising it was hard to tell what color Krycek's skin had ever been.  And Mulder had done that.  Mulder had inflicted all that pain and suffering, had done all that serious damage.  This wasn't like when Mulder acted too slowly and a man got shot or another child got abducted because he didn't figure out the case quickly enough.  This wasn't like when Mulder was paralyzed, unable to help, as he watched his sister taken by the bright light.  It wasn't like the times he'd tried and failed to protect a witness, or had people on their way to see him, like Max, who were killed for the trouble.  He had purposely caused serious harm to Krycek.  He had used his fists and his feet to hurt him, nearly fatally.  No one else was involved in this, it wasn't a mistake or a failure, it was intentional violence.  And it wasn't just going to go away now.  Alex Krycek was going to be suffering from this for a long time.  And it seemed Mulder was, too.

He swallowed, trying to keep his tears at bay and his stomach from revolting.  He had to walk.  He got up from the chair and paced in the room a few minutes, then walked down to the vending machine and got a 7-Up.  He sat in the corner of the lounge and sipped it slowly, staring at the wall, until it was gone.  When he got up to throw the can in the recycling bin, he had fully realized the true gravity of his responsibility here.  And he was resigned to it.  

He returned to the room to find Krycek lying with his eyes still closed.  They opened, though, as Mulder walked into the room, and Krycek inhaled and exhaled slowly.  Mulder realized that Krycek might have thought Mulder had left.  For good.  That what he'd had to do was too much for him and he'd finally bailed.  Mulder had to swallow, admitting to himself that he had come close.  But that was over, and now he knew what he had to do.

"Hey," he said.  He looked at the still-muted television.  "You missed a great documentary on penguin sex," he told Krycek.

Krycek exhaled softly.

"Did you think I'd punked out?" Mulder said quietly, still standing at the door.

Krycek didn't say anything, just looking at him and breathing a little harder.

Mulder licked his lips, then bit the bottom one.  He sighed, and walked slowly closer to the bed.  "Do you have anyone you want me to call or anything?" he asked softly.

Krycek swallowed, then after a moment, shook his head 'no'.

Mulder nodded.  "Well, I guess you're stuck with me, then," he said quietly.  "Until you don't need help anymore."

Krycek frowned up at him, blinking.

Mulder exhaled, dropping his gaze to the floor, then fixed his eyes on Krycek again.  He shrugged.  He looked around the room, which was at least decorated, though in a teal and peach style that was probably very hip in the early 80's.  There was a window, but the view was of a parking lot and an even uglier building on the other side of it.  The natural light was welcome, though, after the harsh fluorescents and white plaster walls of the tiny ICU.  "Nice digs," Mulder said, turning back.  "Moderately serviceable cable package."

Krycek just stared at him, breathing hard.

"I'll still look into that VCR," Mulder told him.

Krycek blinked.

"So," Mulder said, moving to sit in his chair.  "TV or book?"  He picked up the book and the remote, holding one in each hand.  "Hm?"

Krycek swallowed, frowning.  Then he looked down.  "Book," he said very quietly.

"Great," Mulder said.  "We're getting to my favorite part, with the raptors."  He settled in and found his place, and then read to Krycek for the next hour and a half, helping him take a sip of soda now and then, and applying lip balm once, though it always made Krycek breathe so hard Mulder got worried for him.  Finally, at the end of a particularly exciting scene, Krycek interrupted him as he started the next chapter.

"Muller?"

"Yeah?" Mulder said, setting the book down.

"Gotta piss again," said Krycek, closing his eyes.

"I'll get the nurses," Mulder said.  He had no intentions of pushing any stupid call button.  He got out of the chair and walked down to the station himself.  "He needs help again," he told the nurse there.

She looked up.  "You didn't press the call button," she said, looking at the light panel.

Mulder smiled mirthlessly.  "I thought this might be faster."

"Well, I'll have to go find Debbie," the nurse said, looking irritated.

"I'll go with you," Mulder said.

The nurse frowned deeply, then closed the folder she was working on and did a few other small things before coming around the counter and walking down the hall.  Mulder followed her.  They quickly scanned the two halls and found the other nurse pouring fresh water for another patient.  Mulder waited in the hall while the nurse...her tag said Andrea...retrieved Debbie, then they all three walked back to Krycek's room.  "Take it slow," he told them, as he stopped at the door.  "He's tired."

They looked at him and Debbie nodded.  

"I'll wait right here," Mulder said.  "Just call out if you need anything."  He looked past them, to where Krycek was watching him from the bed, and they made eye contact so Krycek would know that went for him, too.  Krycek ducked his eyes a second, and Mulder knew he'd been heard and understood.  He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, not looking into the room.  He wanted to give Krycek as much privacy as possible, while still staying close in case he was needed.

He listened to the many sounds of pain and effort from Krycek, and the encouragement and directions from the nurses, but neither they nor Krycek called out for him in the twenty minutes it took for them to take Krycek to the bathroom and get him back in bed.  When they were finished and leaving, Mulder went back into the room.

"Everything go all right?" he asked.

Krycek, lying in bed with his eyes closed, still regaining his breath, nodded.

Though Krycek couldn't see him, Mulder nodded back.  He looked at the clock.  "Should be about time for dinner," he said.  "They're starting you on clear liquids, so I think you could have some broth if you want."

Krycek swallowed, then spoke slowly and haltingly.  "They...brought menu...ssmorning...asked me..."

"Oh good," Mulder said.  "Looking forward to eating...or...well...drinking...something salty?" he tried weakly.

Krycek sighed, then moved his head in a half-shrug.

"Yeah, I guess...it's really not that...rewarding," he replied, referring to the arduous bathroom trips.  "Do you...need anything?  Can I...do anything?" Mulder asked, feeling helpless.

After a few minutes, Krycek said, "Ssssheet's bunched up under m'back...hursss..."

"Where?" Mulder asked, stepping up to the bed and looking down at Krycek's midsection.

"Right...ssside," Krycek answered, eyes still closed.  He rolled just slightly to the left.

Mulder swallowed, nodding, and took hold of the sheet and blanket covering Krycek from the chest down.  Slowly and carefully, he peeled it down and to the side, exposing the right side of Krycek's body.  The gown had ridden up around his waist, which was probably the real issue bothering him, and Mulder could see extensive bandaging underneath it.  He strategically placed the sheet and blanket so that Krycek's groin was still covered.

"It's the gown," he said.  "It's bunched around your waist."

Krycek sighed in frustration without opening his eyes.

"If you...roll just a little more to the side, I think I can...pull it down," Mulder said.  He slid his hands under Krycek's body as carefully as he could.  "Tell me if I hurt you."  He had to close his eyes against the wave of guilt he felt, just saying that.

Krycek grunted, rolling a little more, and Mulder quickly tugged the gown down as much as he could, smoothing it so it wasn't bunched under Krycek's buttocks.  He had to work so fast, he couldn't really take the time to freak out over the fact that he was touching Alex Krycek's ass.

"There," he said, when he was done.  "I'll come over and do the other side."

Krycek exhaled, then nodded, and when Mulder had moved to the left side of the bed, Krycek rolled to the right with a little moan.  
Mulder worked quickly again, smoothing the gown down under Krycek's butt as good as he could, then Krycek rolled back onto his back with a loud exhale.

"Better?" Mulder asked.

Krycek just nodded, eyes still closed.

"Good," Mulder replied.  "Let me know if there's anything else you need to be more comfortable."

Krycek breathed out slowly and nodded.

Mulder looked around.  "Um, I'm just gonna walk down to the machines and..."  He didn't want to talk about food in front of Krycek, who wouldn't be eating any for the next six weeks, thanks to Mulder.

Krycek just nodded again.

"I'll be back in just a bit."  He walked down to the vending machines, sighing at the familiar and inadequate choices, then decided that since Krycek appeared to be pretty much asleep anyway, he'd go ahead and make a trip to the store down the street.  While perusing the only slightly-less disappointing selection there, he decided he needed to get a more thorough idea of Krycek's injuries, treatment, and expected recovery time.  After all, he would be overseeing the entire process, he decided, until and unless Krycek asked him to leave.

He finished off a submarine sandwich and coke, then headed back to the nurse's station.  He waited unil Andrea was off the phone then spoke with no preamble.  "I need to get a more detailed description of Mr. Taylor's current condition, the treatments being given him, and the expected prognosis for recovery time, as well as any risks or concerns we should be aware of."

The nurse looked at him for a moment, then nodded curtly.  She walked over to the cabinet and pulled out a file, then opened it and started reading.

Mulder found out that Krycek's head trauma had been stabilized and he was showing no return of the fluid build-up which had so worried them in the beginning.  The fact that he had come out of coma so quickly was very promising.  There didn't appear to be any cognitive disfunction, though it was hard to tell with the patient being on such a heavy regimen of medication.  They would continue to monitor his progress, including the healing of the small head wound they'd inflicted to drain the fluid.

Krycek's jaw had sustained one complete fracture and one incomplete fracture on the right side, complicated by the massive bruising to the entire lower facial area.  He had also lost three teeth, two on one side, one on the other.  His jaw was wired together to ensure the bones healed properly.  The wires would need to stay on for six to eight weeks, and during that time, he would only be able to take a liquid diet.  He would need to keep wire cutters handy at all times in case he had to vomit or had a bad coughing fit, in which case he would need to cut the wires quickly or he could suffocate.  Due to the fact that he had only one arm, and it was injured as well, he would need constant home care once he was discharged.

His punctured lung seemed to be functioning well, the incision they'd made to insert the chest tube looking good, too.  He would probably have pain and somewhat impaired breathing function for several more weeks, but barring any infection, it wasn't life-threatening.  He would simply need to be monitored closely.

He appeared to be recovering well from the surgeries to repair his liver and kidney, and was no longer passing blood in his urine.  His digestive system would continue to be sluggish for several more days due to the shock to his system, but the liquid diet he would have to be on anyway shouldn't put too much of a strain on it.  Still, just to ensure they didn't overtax his strength, they were going to keep him on clear fluids for another day or two, and he would remain on intravenous nutrients and medications until discharged.

Krycek's right arm was fractured in multiple places, some incomplete breaks and some that went completely through.  They had gotten lucky, however, in that no bone fragments had punctured the surface of the skin, which greatly reduced the risk of infection.  Steel plates had been surgically grafted to all three major bones to hold them in place while healing, and the entire arm had been covered in a fiberglass cast.  The hand had sustained major damage as well, including multiple complete fractures of several of the small bones, and it would probably require further surgery once the cast came off to even get something approaching normal function.  The cast would stay on for at least three months and be monitored by xray regularly to track the healing process.

Barring any complications, which were common, Krycek's expected discharge date was about three weeks from today, but he'd need round-the-clock home care for at least another two months, until he got his cast off.

It was a very sobering report, to say the least, and Mulder had to sit down in the lounge for a long time afterward, taking it all in.  He finished two sodas before he could bring himself to return to Krycek's room, and even then, he wanted anything but to be faced again with the physical evidence, but he knew Krycek would be wondering where he was.  He stopped by the nurse's station again on his way back.

"Has he been briefed on all of that?" Mulder asked, nearly unable to meet her eyes.

"Yes," the nurse answered.  "He was given an update on his condition the day he woke up, and the doctor brings him current at each of his visits."

Mulder nodded, then, with heavy steps, finally made himself return to Krycek's room.

By the time he returned, it was well after 8pm and dinner time was over.  He walked over and sat down in the chair, and Krycek opened his eyes and turned his head on the pillow.

"How was dinner," he said listlessly, unable to meet Krycek's eyes.

Krycek didn't answer.

Mulder nodded.  "So, do you want to go to sleep for the night, or do you wanna watch a little TV?"  He was able to at least glance at Krycek's face this time.

Krycek exhaled.  "TV," he finally answered.

Mulder nodded and picked up the remote.  "Just grunt if you see something you wanna watch," he said, bringing up the channel guide.  He scrolled through and saw that a showing of 'The Firm' had just started at eight.  "What about 'The Firm'?" he asked, gesturing to the TV.

Krycek nodded.

Mulder put it on.  "Just let me know if you need a drink or...anything," he said, settling back into the chair and trying to get comfortable.  He glanced over at Krycek again, and Krycek was looking back at him.  Krycek nodded, and Mulder nodded back, then they were both quiet while they watched the remainder of the movie.  Mulder ruminated on the firm's similarities to the syndicate, and wondered if Krycek's recruitment had been anything like the young man's in the movie.  When the credits began to run, Mulder looked over to see that Krycek was fast asleep.  He muted the TV and set the remote down and walked out to the nurse's station.  The night nurse, an older woman named Beatrice, was on.  Mulder was glad to not have to deal with Andrea any more.

"I was wondering if I could get a cot moved into Mr. Taylor's room," Mulder told her, leaning on the counter and trying to be congenial, while also attempting to cover up his discomfort at what he was requesting.

"I suppose so," the nurse answered.  "I can bring you one in about half an hour."

"That'll be fine," Mulder said.  "Thanks."  He gave her a social smile and went to the vending machines for a snack.  When he returned to the room, the cot was there, already made up with linens.  He looked it over, then sat back down in the chair and turned the television back up, but on very low volume.  He spent the next several hours watching television, getting snacks, walking the halls, and using the bathroom, going over Krycek's prognosis in his head whenever he started feeling sorry for himself because he was so bored, or concerned about what might be going on at work.  This was his work now, at least for the time being, and it had to be his first priority.  He considered making a trip home to grab some files to read over, then decided it was too late and he'd make a trip in the morning, when there were more nurses on staff, just in case Krycek needed help in the meantime.  He finally fell asleep sometime after three in the morning, curled up on the cot still wearing his shoes.

Beatrice came in at 6am to do her check.  "Good morning," she said, when Mulder unfolded himself and sat on the edge of the cot, rubbing his face.  Mulder looked at her, then looked at Krycek, who was still sound asleep.

"How is he?" he asked her, yawning.

"Everything looks fine," she told him.  Then, "Call me if you need anything."

Mulder nodded at her blearily and she left.  He stood up and walked over to Krycek's bedside.  The television was still on low, and he muted it and stretched.  The sun was just coming up, filling the room with watery orange light, and Mulder felt like he'd never wanted coffee so bad in his entire life.  He hadn't slept well in about a week, and he felt like he'd lost a couple of pounds from not eating.  Besides that, his back ached from hours in the chair and then sleeping on the small cot.  Again, he didn't allow himself to feel sorry for himself about any of it.  He walked down to the convenience store and got a sandwich and coffee, and finished them as he walked back.  He didn't want to take any kind of food or drink into Krycek's room.  

When he came in, Krycek was awake.

"Morning," Mulder said, smiling.

Krycek frowned and blinked, glancing at the cot and then back to Mulder.

"Yeah, I stayed here last night," Mulder said.  He scrubbed his hand over his stubble.  "Not too bad, really.  About the same as sleeping on my couch," he lied.  "They bring you breakfast yet?"

Krycek shook his head 'no'.

"You uh...need to...?" he gestured to the bathroom, not wanting to embarass either one of them.

Krycek shook his head 'no' again.

Mulder nodded.  "You need anything?  Want me to...get...anything?"

Krycek frowned.

"I'm going out for awhile, and I could bring you back something if you can...think of anything you might want," Mulder explained.

Krycek looked at him for several moments, then once again, shook his head 'no'.

"Okay," Mulder said.  "I'll see about that VCR and bring some tapes," he enthused, getting his jacket off the back of the chair and putting it on.  "Maybe get some more books.  You have any requests?"

Krycek swallowed, then shook his head 'no'.

"What about music?" Mulder said, wishing he could get Krycek to say something, even though he knew it pained him to talk.  Krycek seemed to be pretty tired this morning.

Krycek sighed, shrugging, and Mulder nodded.

"All right, I guess I'll just go then, and let you get some more rest."

Krycek exhaled heavily, closing his eyes and then opening them.  He really did look tired.

"I'll be back in a few hours," Mulder said.  "In time for the doctor's visit."

Krycek nodded slowly.

Mulder nodded back, still a bit concerned, and made sure to stop by the nurse's station and tell them to call him if there were any problems at all, or if Krycek asked for him.

He drove home and took a long shower, then went through his VHS tapes and picked a dozen favorites.  He also went through his old magazines, and stuffed a few in with the tabloids he'd bought a couple of days previous, along with the files he'd taken before and never opened.  He went through his bookshelves, and picked out a couple of paperbacks he had bought to read on long flights that he thought he could stand to read again, then he looked around the apartment, trying to think of anything else he could take that might make things a little better.  What would he want if it were him in the bed?

A gun to shoot his attacker with.

Mulder took everything down to the car.  He drove back to the hospital, stopping off at another drive-through for an early lunch first.  He arrived at about 11:30 and headed to the nurse's station.

"Hey," he said to Andrea, trying to be friendly and put them on new footing, "I was wondering if there was any way to get a VCR in Mr. Taylor's room."

"Oh," said Andrea.  "He's been moved back to ICU."

"What?" Mulder asked.  "When?  What's wrong? Why didn't you call me?"

"We did," she said.  "It was about two hours ago and we left messages on your home and cellphone."

He hadn't checked his messages.  They must have called when he was taking his long shower.  "What's the matter," he said grimly.

"Mr. Taylor's temperature spiked this morning.  He's evidently got an infection.  The doctor's in with him now, trying to determine the source of it."

Mulder exhaled slowly.  "How bad is it?"

"All I know is that his temperature went up to 104 degrees, which is a serious concern with trauma of this kind, and the antibiotics weren't working to bring it down, so we called the doctor.  He's been here for a half an hour, working on him."

Mulder swallowed, feeling his lunch want to come up.  "Can I go back there?" he asked.

"You can try," the nurse replied.  "The doctor may not want you in the way."

Mulder nodded, and immediately strode back to the little ICU room he'd been so glad to leave.  He stopped just outside the door and peeked in.  The doctor was looking at notes on a clipboard, and Krycek appeared to be unconscious.  "Excuse me," Mulder said from the doorway.

"Yes?" the doctor asked, turning around.

"How is he?" Mulder asked, taking a step.  "Can I come in?"

"Yes, come in," said the doctor.  

Mulder came over to the side of the bed, where Krycek was lying, looking pale and eerily still.  He was covered in nothing but the scanty hospital gown, and it was damp and sticking to his skin.

"We can't seem to break the fever," the doctor explained.  "We're trying aggressive courses of antiobiotics, as well as sponge baths, but we haven't been able to bring it down more than a couple of degrees."

"What's causing it?" Mulder asked.

"We're not sure," the doctor replied, looking down at the clipboard.  "His incisions all look good, so it must be something internal.  Could be anything, really, with this amount of trauma.  We've been lucky not to have to deal with this so far."

Mulder swallowed, nodding, forcing himself not to look away.  "How serious is it?"

"Mr. Taylor is unresponsive, and if his temperature goes more than a few degrees above where it is right now, it could lead to brain damage and even death."

"What else can we do," Mulder breathed, feeling dizzy.

"Continue the antiobiotics and the sponge baths," the doctor replied.  "A fever is the body's way of fighting off a serious infection.  Viruses and bacteria cannot live at the higher temperatures.  Unfortunately," the doctor went on, "it doesn't take more than a few degrees above the safe limit to be extremely dangerous to the patient, too."

Mulder nodded.

"We need to treat the infection that's causing the fever, rather than just focusing on bringing his temperature down," the doctor went on.  "We're experimenting with different kinds of antiobiotics, but so far, success is marginal.  He's holding at 102 degrees right now, but he's unresponsive.  That indicates the problem is affecting brain function."

Mulder closed his eyes a moment, then opened them.  "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked through a closed throat.

"We're doing all we can," the doctor answered.  "It's up to him, now.  His body's been through a lot and is severely depleted from the work of healing, and now it has to do the work of fighting off the infection."

Mulder nodded, already getting an idea.  He thanked the doctor, looked at Krycek again, then headed out to his car.  He pushed speed dial one and waited.

"Scully."

"Scully, it's me, Mulder.  I have an emergency."

"What is it, Mulder?" she asked, clearly alarmed.  "Are you okay?"

"It's not me," Mulder said, closing his eyes.  "It's a...friend.  He's suffering from multiple traumas and he's spiking a temperature of 102 and he's unresponsive.  They're giving him antiobiotics, but the temperature's not going down."

"Who's they, Mulder?"

"The doctors at the hospital," he explained impatiently.  "Is there anything else they can do for him?"

"I'd have to know more about his condition to answer that," Scully said.  "But it sounds like they're following the right procedures.  You'll probably just have to give it time, Mulder."

Mulder let out a frustrated sigh, grinding his teeth.  "All right, thanks," he said.

"Mulder, who's this friend?  Where are you?  What's going on?" Scully asked, obviously concerned.

"I'll explain later," Mulder said.  "I have to go now."

"Mulder..."

Mulder pushed end.  Then he pushed speed dial three.

"Lone Gunmen."

"Langley it's me, Mulder.  Turn off the tape and I mean now."

"Sure."  There was a slight pause.  "What's up, Mulder?"

Mulder described the situation again, and asked if the Gunmen knew of any other treatment they could try that the hospital hadn't though of yet.

"Maybe something alternative," Mulder said.

"There are some holistic ways of treating infection that have been clinically proven to be more effective in some cases of bacterial and viral infections," Byers told him, getting on the call.  

"Holistic?" Mulder asked.  "Like what?"

"Well, colloidal silver, for one," Byers answered.  "It's been shown to kill even the most virulent staph infections, as well as huge amounts of ecoli bacteria.  They even use it to purify the water on the space shuttle."

"Where do I get that?" Mulder asked.

"Health food store," he answered.  "It's easy to find.  The higher the ppm, the higher the concentration of silver particles."

"How much do I use?  How do I administer it?"

"You can't really overdose, no matter what the anti-natural-health propaganda would have you believe.  You can give about half a cup or more, if you want, over the course of a day.  You just add it to a beverage.  It tastes like distilled water.  We use it all the time to get over colds.  Works great."

"Is this dangerous at all?  Can you use this with other drugs?"

"There aren't any contraindicators for other drugs," Byers answered.  "No side effects.  It works by cutting off the oxygen supply to the bacteria or virus, but it doesn't affect good cells.  In fact," he went on, somewhat eagerly, "it's actually been shown to facilitate new tissue growth and healing in ways medical science can't even explain yet.  I read this story where an open leg fracture hadn't healed in a year, despite every medical treatment they tried, and colloidal silver produced new tissue growth where there was none, in a matter a weeks."

"Really," Mulder answered, feeling his heart speed up.  

"Yeah, silver's been used for centuries to promote good health.  Flatware used to all be silver, and the increase of viral and bacterial infections coincides with the switch to stainless.  Farmers used to put a silver dollar in the milk to keep it from spoiling..."

Mulder interrupted.  "Thanks for your help, Byers, I gotta go."

"Wait, Mulder, is everything all right?  Is it Scully?"

"No, Scully's fine," Mulder answered.  "Everything's fine.  I'll explain later, I have to go."

"Okay, good luck," Byers answered.  "Let me know how it goes."

"I will," Mulder answered.  He pushed end and shoved his cellphone into his pocket, starting up the car.

He drove to the Whole Foods that he passed by several times but had never visited, and with some help from a friendly stock girl, found what he was looking for.  He bought a pint of it and headed back to the hospital.  He took it up to the ICU, keeping it hidden.  He knew he'd have to get Krycek to drink it somehow, which meant he had to get Krycek conscious and get the doctor out of the room.

"How's he doing?" he asked, as the doctor turned around.

"Not good," the doctor said.  "His temp's gone up two degrees in the last twenty minutes."  He shook his head.

Mulder swallowed.  "Can I...have a little time alone with him?" he asked.

"Certainly," the doctor answered.  "I'll come back in fifteen minutes to check on him again.  Push that red button if his temperature increases at all."  He pointed to the digital readout.  "An alarm will sound."

Mulder nodded.  The doctor attached the clipboard to the foot of the bed and left, and Mulder pulled his usual chair up to the bedside, this time very close, leaning over Krycek's face.

"Krycek," he whispered.  "It's me, Mulder.  You need to wake up."  

There was no response.

Mulder looked around and spotted some paper cups, and got up and brought one over.  He poured a few tablespoons of the colloidal silver into it and sat back down.  "Krycek," he whispered directly in his ear.  "I brought you something to help you feel better, but you have to wake up and drink it.  I can't get the doctors to give it to you intravenously."

Still no response.

"Dammit," Mulder said, feeling his eyes well up.  "Don't be such a jackass!"  He reached up and gently patted Krycek just to the side of his eye, where there was no bruising.  "Wake up, you asshole," he said, his voice starting to break.  "You have to drink this!  We don't have much time!"  He stared at Krycek's face, then caught his breath as he saw his eyelashes flicker.

"Krycek?" he said, patting him again.  "Krycek, wake up."

Krycek's eyes opened very blearily and then rolled, trying to focus.

Mulder grinned.  "Hey," he said.  "I brought you something."

Krycek's eyes rolled to the side, blinking but trying to focus on Mulder.

"You gotta drink this," Mulder said.  "It's only a few ounces.  I'll raise your bed up and help you."  He glanced around quickly, and seeing no one running in to ask what the hell he was doing, pushed the button to raise the head of Krycek's bed.

Krycek's eyes opened and closed, rolling, as Mulder brought his head up to a height where he could swallow without choking.

"I think it'll be easier without the straw," Mulder said.  "That way you don't have to suck, just swallow.  I'll just tip it in a little at a time, okay?"

Krycek's eyes rolled to look at him again.

Mulder brought the cup closer to Krycek's lips, sliding his hand behind his head to help tip it forward slightly.  "That's it, now just swallow when I tip this in, okay?" he said, keeping his voice gentle and close to Krycek's ear.  "Blink once to let me know you understand.  I don't want you to choke."

Krycek's eyes closed for a second, then opened.

Mulder smiled.  "Good.  Okay then.  Here we go."  He put the little cup to Krycek's lips, holding his head up for him, and tipped it until a little of the liquid inside poured between the chapped lips.  "Swallow," Mulder said.  "Good, good."  He poured more in, just a trickle at a time, and Krycek kept swallowing, until the cup was empty.  Mulder gently lowered his head, then set the cup down, smiling.  "Good job," he said.  "Now just rest and get better, okay?  I'll be here waiting for you."  Krycek's eyes rolled to look at him again, then his eyes closed and didn't open again.

Mulder sat back, rubbing his hands on his jeans.  "I'll be right here.”

The doctor returned a few minutes later and checked the monitors, shining a light in both of Krycek's eyes.  Mulder could see for himself by the monitor that Krycek's temperature hadn't risen or fallen.  A nurse walked in, and the doctor turned to her.  "Let's do another spongebath," he said.  "Even a degree of change would be good now."  The nurse nodded and walked over to the basin on the other side of the bed.  There was a small stack of sterile cloths beside it.  She picked one up and dipped it in the water, then started wiping down Krycek's face, being extremely careful as she stroked over the chin and jaw.  

Mulder tried not to watch, but he had nothing else to look at, and he didn't want to leave in case something went wrong, so he stayed, trying not to stare.  The nurse opened the gown and wiped over Krycek's chest, around the bandages and over the bruising.  Mulder swallowed hard.  She got the cloth wet again and did the groin area, avoiding his penis, then wiped down both legs thoroughly.  She returned to redo the larger areas several times, and then took a fresh cloth over to the sink to get it cold, folding it and placing it on Krycek's forehead before gathering up the used cloths and leaving.

Mulder watched the monitor, but Krycek's temperature didn't decrease by even one degree.

"Come on, Krycek," he said under his breath.  Then, more quietly, "Come on, Alex."  He inhaled and exhaled deeply, surprised himself at how different it felt to use the man's first name.  It hurt him somewhere in the chest.  And it made it a little harder, somehow, to see this.  He got up and paced a little, then went down the hall to use the bathroom.  Afterward, he couldn't quite make himself go back yet, so he walked outside, and found himself talking to no one in particular.

"Don't do this," he said, walking to the edge of the parking lot and looking up at the cloudy sky.  "Not like this."  He blinked, breathing hard.  "If you were gonna take him, you shoulda done it right afterward," he said, more loudly.  "Not now, not when..."  He closed his mouth and ground his teeth together, then closed his eyes and dropped his chin to his chest.  "Just give me another chance," he said quietly.  "Please."

Mulder wasn't a praying man.  In fact, he hadn't really talked to God, except to curse him now and then, since his sister's abduction.  He didn't exactly consider himself an atheist, so much as a person who was just not on speaking terms with any kind of deity.  He'd found himself changing that situation a lot lately, first with Scully's illness and now with Krycek's fight to survive what Mulder had done to him.

Mulder turned and headed back into the hospital, walking slowly to the small ICU room.  The doctor was there.

"Any change?" Mulder asked, coming over to Krycek's bedside.  He looked at the monitor and frowned.

"Yes, it's gone down a degree," the doctor said.  "Not all we hoped for, but definitely a good sign."

Mulder nodded, looking at the slightly lower number for himself.

The doctor put the clipboard back at the foot of the bed and left, and Mulder sat down in his chair.

"Good start," he said, leaning in so as not to be overheard, and so that Krycek would hear him.  "But not good enough.  You have to do better than that, Alex," he said, using the man's first name again.  He felt guilty that he was only gutsy enough to do it because Krycek was unconscious.  He wasn't sure if he would do it with him awake, but at this point, if it would help, he was willing to try.

"See, the way I see it, we've got work to do," he said, talking very softly in Krycek's ear.  It was only then that he noticed how small it was.  Like his nose.  It reminded Mulder of elves and fairies.  His long lashes added to the mystery and beauty of his appearance.  Mulder wished they'd flicker again like before.

"Y'know, Alex, I'm starting to think that neither one of us can make any difference against the aliens alone, but together..."  He swallowed.  "Together, we just might win this thing."

Krycek's face remained still.

Mulder reached up and felt the cloth on his forehead.  It was hot, so he got up, ran cold water over it, wrung it out and placed it back on Krycek's forehead.  A small rivulet of cold water trickled down from the cloth over Krycek's eyelid, gathering in his long lashes, but he didn't react.  Mulder exhaled slowly and very, very gently reached up and wiped it away with his thumb.  It looked like a tear.  He'd seen Krycek shed them before, many times.  It seemed pretty easy to make Krycek cry, actually.  Any kind of excitement seemed to lead to those wet eyes and stuck-together lashes.

What did that mean?  Mulder sat back, still studying Krycek's face.  He just really didn't seem like the type to do the horrible things Mulder knew he'd done.  And though he seemed to have operations ranging the world over, he didn't seem to be experiencing a lot of success with them, at least by Mulder's standards.  He didn't know anything about Krycek's.

"What is it that you want?" Mulder asked softly.  "What would be enough for you?"

Krycek didn't respond, and Mulder took the cloth off his head and turned it over.  "I know what drives me, but I don't understand what would be worth all that you've been through," Mulder said, smoothing the cloth over his forehead.  He thought about Krycek, desperate and manic in Hong Kong, obviously just barely one step ahead of the people looking for the digital tape.  Not even that, really, because they showed up the same time Mulder did.  And Krycek protected him from them before running from them himself.

Mulder sighed, studying Krycek's face again.  "I suppose at some point, you pretty much have to start finding ways to gain more power and control," he said.  "Just to stay alive."  He looked at Krycek's body, thinner than he'd ever seen it, under the hospital gown.  The gown was dry now from the heat of Krycek's body, and no longer sticking to his skin.  Krycek's skin was dry, too, and Mulder could feel the heat emnating from it.  He stood up and went to the other side of the bed and picked up a cloth.  He dipped it in the water, wrung it out, and began dragging it down Krycek's face and neck.  He wrung it out again and wiped down his chest, around the bandaging in the center.  "Might be easier if you weren't always trying to do everything your way, all by yourself," Mulder said quietly, dipping the cloth and then running it down Krycek's legs one at a time.  He didn't go near Krycek's groin.  He pulled the hospital gown loosely closed over it, to give him a modicum of dignity.  "Do you trust anyone, Alex?" he asked, wiping his nearest leg down again.  "Do you have anybody you care about?"  He stopped, holding the rag in his hand.  "Is there anyone out there who cares about you?"  He let out his breath heavily and his attention went to the monitor.  His lips parted as he saw that the number had gone down by one.

"Hey," he said, smiling down at him.  "We did it."  He dropped the use cloth in the receptacle by the bed, then picked up a fresh one and dipped it in the water.  He wiped the sides of Krycek's face, reaching to get as much of the back of his neck as possible, knowing that's where he always put the cold cloth when he was trying to cool down after a run.  "Only a couple more degrees to go, Alex," he said, wiping the cloth over his hair, getting it wet.  "You can do it."  

The body under him suddenly shuddered, and Mulder pulled away, frowning.  "Alex?"

The nurse came in.  "I just saw that Mr. Taylor's fever is down another degree," she said.

"He just...jerked on the bed," Mulder said.  "Is that normal?"

"It's just a chill," the nurse replied.  "His body's response to the brain acclimating to a higher temperature.  It's normal."

Mulder nodded.

"Giving him a sponge bath?" the nurse asked, indicating the cloth in Mulder's hand.

Mulder looked down at it as if seeing it for the first time.  "Oh, uh..." he stammered.  "I just...he was hot and..."  He looked away, not meeting her eyes and dropped the cloth in the receptacle quickly.

"Looks like it's working," she said.

Mulder nodded without looking at her.

"I'll leave you to do it, then," she said.  "Seems to be working better than when I was doing it."

Now Mulder felt his face get warm.  He knew the staff probably assumed Krycek was his abused lover, but this was getting embarassing.  He didn't say anything, though, and the nurse left.  He let out a heavy sigh.

"She thinks we're lovers," Mulder said quietly.  "Isn't that kick in the head?"  Then he grimaced.  Jesus, he'd never be able to use that phrase again.  "Sorry," he breathed.  He picked up a fresh cloth, dipped it and wiped it across Krycek's forehead, as if to undo the damage of the tasteless comment.  "Wouldn't *that* be something," he said, stroking it very gently over Krycek's eyes.  He wiped the cloth down the sides of Krycek's face again, his mind drifting.  "It is pretty intense between us," he said, wetting the cloth again.  "Pretty...physical," he sighed, wiping over Krycek's chest.  "But that's all you're getting," he said.  He smirked at himself, then walked around to his usual side of the bed.  He turned as he heard the doctor come in and stepped back out of his way.

"I hear our patient's fever is going down a little," the doctor said.  "That's good news."  He checked the monitors and made some notes in the chart.  "I'd like to see him wake up, though," he said.  He leaned in over Krycek's face.  "Mr. Taylor?  Can you hear me?"  There was no response, even after the doctor tried again.  Sighing, he replaced the clipboard.  "I guess we'll just keep doing what we've been doing," he said.  "And hope for the best."

Mulder nodded.  The doctor left, and Mulder sat down in his chair.  He couldn't help but think about it.  Krycek and him, lovers.  Mulder wasn't gay.  He'd never found himself attracted to another man before.  But he was open-minded enough not to totally dismiss it as a possibility.  He sat forward in the chair.  He looked at Krycek's face again.  He thought back over their previous interactions, and had to admit, there were moments.  "Like the way you talked to me in Flushing," he murmured, close to Krycek's ear.  "Definitely what I'd call seductive."  He breathed out carefully.  "And it pretty much worked."

"Mmmm..."

"Alex?"  Mulder sat up and leaned into Krycek's face.  "You there?"

Krycek moaned again, eyelids fluttered, his lips moving but not quite forming words.

"Alex, wake up," Mulder said.  "Wake up."

Krycek's eyes opened slowly, rolling and then finding Mulder and stopping.  He blinked.  "Tired..." he just barely got out.

Mulder smiled.  "Yeah, I know.  That's okay."

"Cold..." Krycek said then, his eyes moving away from Mulder and rolling.

"Sorry," Mulder said.  "Can't give you a blanket.  You've got a fever."

Krycek's eyes rolled back to Mulder, blinking.  "Fffever?"  His lips were so dry they barely formed letters.

Mulder looked for the lip balm, but it was in Krycek's regular hospital room.  "Yeah," he said.  "Got pretty high.  Do you remember waking up to drink something?"

Krycek blinked, then just barely shook his head 'no'.

"That's okay," Mulder answered.  "You're gonna be all right, though.  You just need to keep fighting."

"Ffffighting...?" Krycek asked, blinking slowly.  "Who?"

Mulder smiled sadly.  "Me, if it will help you get better," he answered.  Then, when Krycek didn't reply, he said, "Just get better, okay?"

Krycek swallowed, his eyes closing.  "Trrry..." he said.

"Good," Mulder answered, then, more cheerfully, "Do or do not, there is no try."

"Sssstar Warss..." Krycek replied, eyes still closed.

Mulder grinned hugely.  "Yeah, you gotta get outta this damned ICU so we can watch that.  I just brought it from home this morning."

"Okay..." Krycek said, then his breathing deepened and he didn't say anything more.

Mulder smiled, and waited to tell the doctor the good news.

A couple of hours later, after the nurse had been in to give one more sponge bath, Mulder was pacing in the small room when he heard a sound.  He hurried over to the side of the bed.

"Alex?"

Krycek blinked several times and turned his head to find Mulder.

"Hi," Mulder said, smiling.  "How are you feeling?"  He felt stupid right after he said it, realizing that just because Krycek's fever was down, didn't mean he was suddenly not going to be feeling the effects of his injuries.

Krycek's lips moved several times before they formed words, and Mulder inwardly kicked himself for not getting the lip balm.  "Thirrrssy.."

"Good," Mulder said.  "I've got something for you to drink."  He looked around, and seeing no one, reached down and got the silver out of his bag.  He opened it and poured a little in a paper cup, then replaced the cap on the bottle.

"Whassss...sssat?" Krycek asked, frowning.

Mulder stopped.  "It's colloidal silver," he said.  "Have you heard of it?"

Krycek shook his head 'no', still frowning.

"It's helping bring down your fever," Mulder explained.  "It's an alternative treatment I brought in."

Krycek blinked.

"The doctors don't know about it," Mulder said.  "I don't think they'd approve.  But it's safe, I promise."

Krycek continued to frown at him.

"Here, watch, I'll take some," Mulder said, drinking the few ounces he'd poured for Krycek.  The taste was unpleasantly metallic, but not too bad.  He made a small face.  "Yum."  He arched his brows.

Krycek exhaled, then after a moment, nodded.

Mulder smiled and poured him a cup.  "I have to raise you up to drink it," he said, reaching for the control.  He raised the head of the bed, and Krycek watched him the whole time.  Once the head of the bed was where Mulder wanted it, he slid his hand behind Krycek's head without thinking, forgetting that the last time he'd done this, Krycek had been too out of it to remember.  Krycek jerked and frowned intensely, his breathing accelerating.  "Sorry," Mulder said, freezing.  "I was...just helping you tip your head forward."  He withdrew his hand slowly.  "I guess maybe you can do that on your own now."

Krycek blinked several times, still confused.

"We did this once already," Mulder explained.  "And I had to hold your head."

Krycek's frown intensified.

Mulder sighed exasperatedly.  "Just drink it," he said, getting impatient.  "We don't wanna get caught with this, they might not let me come in here again."

Krycek tipped his head forward and carefully sipped the liquid a little at a time, then laid his head back down, breathing hard.

"Good," Mulder said.  "So you're thirsty?" he asked.  "Do you want water or 7-Up?"

Krycek exhaled slowly.  "Ssssenup..." he said, finally.

Mulder nodded, then got up to get it, not even thinking of calling the nurse.  He stopped off at the hospital room to grab the lip balm as well, and saw the boombox and grabbed that and the case of CDs, too.  The nurse was there when he walked in, and he waited while she performed her checkup.

"Your temperature is 101 now," she told him.  "That's much better, but we still need to get it down a couple more degrees."

Krycek nodded, and she made some notes on his chart and left, giving Mulder a brief look as she passed him.  "Can he have soda?" he asked her.

"Yes, that's fine," she said.  Mulder nodded, she left, and he took the soda and boombox over to Krycek's bed.  

"Look what I've got," he said, holding up the boombox.  He set it on the bedside table, along with the soda and cup.  He took the cap off the lip balm and squeezed some on his ring finger.  "Let's do this first, so you can actually drink that," he said, and he leaned over, spreading the balm on Krycek's cracked lips, despite the slight flinch he got in response.  "We have to remember to do that more often," he murmured, as Krycek's breathing returned to normal.  He put the lip balm on the table and then opened the soda, pouring it in the cup.  "And I think this is easier without a damned straw," he said.  "At least until your lips heal.  What do you think?"

Krycek looked back at him, and after a moment, nodded.

"Good," Mulder said.  "All right, then."  And he leaned over and helped Krycek take tiny, slow sips until he shook his head 'no' to indicate he didn't want anymore.  Mulder set the cup down and reached for the CD case.  "Any requests?"

Krycek just looked at him for a minute.  He swallowed.  "Zhhunkies," he finally answered.

Mulder smiled and found the CD, changing it out for the Depeche Mode that was still in there.  Soon, the small room was once again filled with the quiet, soulfull, and now comfortingly familiar sound of 'Sweet Jane'.

"Cold..." Krycek said, and Mulder looked up to see him look down and notice for the first time how naked he was.  He looked over at Mulder quickly, frowning deeply.

"Take it easy," Mulder said, not liking to see him so stressed.  He got up and pulled a corner of the sheet over Krycek's groin, covering just his pelvic area and leaving his legs bare so as not to overheat him.  He sat back down, and Krycek inhaled and exhaled heavily.

"I know you're cold, but you still need to bring your temp down a couple of degrees more, so I don't think I'm supposed to cover you," Mulder said.  "Sorry."

Krycek sighed in frustration, but nodded.  Just then, a shiver wracked his body.

Mulder frowned.  "The nurse said that's normal," he said.  

Krycek nodded, moving around a little on the bed.

"Do you want me to lower the bed again?" Mulder asked.

Krycek thought a moment, then shook his head 'no'.

"If you're bored, it's your fault for spiking a fever," Mulder said.  "I had you all set up with a TV.  I even brought the videos."

Krycek looked over at him.

"So get rid of that infection so we can watch Star Wars."

Krycek nodded.

"I think you're just trying to get more sponge baths," Mulder said.  "Not that I blame you."

Krycek gave Mulder a bland look.

Mulder let his lips curve up in a half-smile, thinking of the fact that Krycek didn't know Mulder himself had been the one doing the sponge-bathing.  "That Debbie's not bad," he said, "But I don't like Andrea much."

Krycek blinked.

"I can make sure your favorite nurse does it next time," Mulder offered, feeling lighter and sincerely wanting to be helpful.

Krycek just looked at him.

"What?" Mulder asked.  "Didn't know I could be such a pig?"

Krycek closed his eyes on a slow exhale.  He was quiet for several seconds.

"They think I'm your abusive lover," he finally said, when Krycek still didn't open his eyes or say anything.  

That did it.  Krycek's eyes blinked open quickly and fixed on him, frowning.

Mulder nodded.  They just looked at each other for several long minutes until Mulder had to look away.  He couldn't think of anything to say after that, so they just listened to the Cowboy Junkies for awhile, then a nurse came in to check on Krycek's progress.

"Still 101," she said, shaking her head.  She sounded disapproving.  She changed his IV bag and left.

"I think you're disappointing Andrea," Mulder said.

Krycek looked at him.

"Are you feeling any better at all?" Mulder asked, afraid of the answer.

Krycek swallowed slowly, then simply nodded.

"Good," Mulder said.  "Well, one thing to be grateful for, after all those spongebaths, you smell better."  He quirked a half-grin.

Krycek just looked at him and blinked.

"Still need a good shampoo, though," Mulder said, surveying Krycek's hair, which had been slicked down with water repeatedly while they were trying to get his fever down, and was mostly flat, with a few odd spikes here and there.  "Talk about a bad hair day."

"Ssstupid ass?" Krycek asked very quietly, looking down and back up.

Mulder let out a surprised laugh.  "Well, not that bad," he answered, then grinned at Krycek's miniscule, fleeting smile.  Not even a smile, really, just a super fast upward twitch of one corner of his mouth.  But it made Mulder feel like a twenty pound weight had been lifted off his shoulders.  "Ready for a CD change?" he asked, reaching for the case.

Krycek nodded.

"Any requests?" Mulder asked, holding it up.

Krycek thought a minute.  

"Do you need me to read off what I have again?" Mulder asked.

Krycek shook his head 'no'.

"I know, you want the Elvis," said Mulder.  "You've finally come to your senses."

Krycek's lip twitched up again, and Mulder smiled.  "Shtones?" Krycek finally said, arching his brow a little.

"Sure," said Mulder, putting it in the player happily.  "I love the Stones."  He pressed play, and 'Gimme Shelter' started.  It immediately brought the energy in the room up a little, and Mulder stood up, stretching.  "I'm gonna take a leak," he told Krycek, who nodded back.  He headed out the door to the bathroom, then went to the nurse's station.  Andrea was there.  He groaned inwardly, but tried to put on a friendly face.  "Hey, can I move the cot out of the hospital room back into the ICU?" he asked.

She looked up and sighed quietly.  "Yes, sir," she said, sounding put-out.  "We'll take care of that for you."

Mulder smiled with false sunniness.  "Thanks," he said.  He went to the vending machines and had a snack, finishing it before heading back to the room.  He checked the monitors as soon as he got in the door, but there was still no change.  "You're still too hot," he said, walking over to the bed.

Krycek opened his eyes and frowned slightly.

"I was gonna go over to the other room and get our book," Mulder told him.  "Think you're up for some more story time?"

Krycek's eyes tightened, then he nodded, looking down.

"Great, be right back then."  Mulder got the book and returned, settling into the chair.  He read for a couple of hours, stopping for the nurse's visits and once to give Krycek more silver.  Then he noticed Krycek fighting to keep his eyes open.  "Get some rest," he told him.  Then, more quietly, "I'll be here."

Krycek exhaled heavily, blinking slowly, and nodded, turning his head away from Mulder and closing his eyes.  Mulder stopped the Stones and switched it out for some softer Massive Attack, keeping the volume low.  He dug through his bag, pulling out the tabloids he'd picked up days before.  He settled in to do some work, keeping an eye on Krycek's monitor.

Krycek woke after a few hours and the nurses helped him to the bathroom while Mulder waited outside the ICU to give him privacy.  He refused the broth they offered him for dinner, and after a couple more hours of reading, fell asleep for the night.

Mulder took a walk outside, getting his own dinner from the store down the street, then stretched out on the cot they'd brought in, closing his eyes but not really sleeping, listening to Dave Matthews.  He kept checking Krycek's monitors, as did the nurses, and finally after the midnight check, he fell asleep and slept until the 6am check.

"How's he doing?" he yawned, when Beatrice came in.

"Down to 99," she said, actually smiling at him.

He smiled back at her.  "Do you think he can move back to the regular room today?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

"You'll have to ask the doctor when he comes in at noon," Beatrice said.  "But if his temperature stays down until then, I don't see why not."

"Thanks," Mulder said, smiling again.  He looked at Krycek, who was sleeping soundly, and then at his monitor, which showed 99 degrees as his temperature.  He stood up and stretched his back, then decided to walk down to the store for breakfast.  They didn't know his name there, because he didn't tell them his name, but they definitely greeted him as he came in.  He made a little small talk with them for the first time, feeling more cheerful than he had in a long time, then headed back to the hospital, finishing his coffee.

When he came into the room, Krycek opened his eyes and looked at him.

"You did it," Mulder said, smiling at him.  "Ninety-nine degrees."

Krycek didn't reply.

"If you're a good boy all morning, you can probably move back to your room this afternoon," Mulder told him, walking over to his bedside.  "Then we can finally watch the Star Wars videos I brought in.  As soon as I get a VCR that is," he added.  "I need to talk to the nurses about that.  If nothing else, I'll bring mine from home and find some way to hook it up."  He realized he was babbling.  "Are you feeling better?" he asked, sitting down in the chair.

Krycek swallowed, then nodded.

"Good," Mulder said.  "Just keep it up, and we'll be vegged out in front of the tube in no time."

Krycek nodded.

"You have your breakfast yet?" Mulder asked.  "Can I get you anything?"

Krycek shook his head.  "Had juishh..." he answered.

Mulder nodded.  "I'll just get some silver for you, then."  He bent to his bag, and prepared a cup with a few ounces in it.  He helped Krycek drink it, sliding his hand behind his head just in case.  Krycek finished it just as the nurse came in to do her checks.  Mulder stepped back out of the way.

"Looks like those stitches can come out now," she said, after changing Krycek's bandages.  "You should ask the doctor about that."  Mulder nodded, even though he thought she was probably talking to Krycek.  "That'll be nice, because then you can take a bath."

Mulder smiled, and Krycek looked over at him but didn't return it.  The smile faded.  He felt bad for feeling good about something that didn't make Krycek any happier, or so it seemed.  Maybe he just didn't like having the nurse there.  Mulder knew *he* didn't like it, even though it was a new woman he hadn't met yet this time.  It was always awkward, looking away while they checked Krycek's belly, pulling open the gown.  Mulder didn't feel he should leave, because he didn't want to miss anything she said, and he wanted to be able to communicate on behalf of Krycek if she needed to be told something.  "Hey," he said, remembering.  "Can I get a VCR in Al...Andrew's room?"

The nurse turned around, finishing her notes.  "We don't have them here," she said.  "But you're welcome to bring one in.  Just make sure you have long enough cords to reach the televisions, since they're bolted up on the wall."  Mulder nodded.  He could hit up the Gunmen for the cords.  The nurse stepped past him and left, and he returned to Krycek's bedside.

"So...a bath...doesn't that sound kinda good?"  He knew he sounded desperate, he just really wanted Krycek to want this, so he could feel good about the fact that he got it.

"I guesshh," Krycek answered.  He breathed out slowly and looked down.  "Shhounds tiring."

Mulder nodded, feeling good that Krycek was talking so much.  That had to mean he was feeling better.  "Well, I saw this commercial on television for this bathtub with a swinging door, that you can even roll a wheelchair into," he said.  "You just close the door and it forms a perfect seal, then you fill it up.  You don't even have to lie down."

Krycek looked up, arching his brows slightly.

Mulder smiled, glad to have given him a little bit of hope.  "I'll go ask them how it works," he said, and before Krycek could give him a reply, he turned and headed out to the nurse's station.  "Hey," he said, grabbing the new nurse's attention.  He glanced at her tag.  "Tricia.  Can I ask you about something?"

"Sure," she said, turning away from her paperwork.  "What is it?"

"How would that work, giving him a bath, since he's not very mobile?" Mulder asked her.

"We have big, high-walled tubs you can roll a wheelchair into," she said.

"Like the ones on TV?" Mulder asked, feeling hopeful.

She actually smiled.  "Yes, just like that, only bigger.  We don't actually fill it with water, it's more of a sitting shower done with a handheld shower massage."

Mulder nodded.  Then he realized someone would have to soap Krycek up and then hose him down.

"Did you want to go with him?" the nurse asked.  "We could probably do that.  He seemed a little nervous about it."

Mulder just looked at her, mouth hanging open a moment.  "Uh...I...don't know," he finally said.

"Well," she said.  "Just let us know."

Mulder swallowed and nodded, then thanked her and headed back to the room.

"It's actually more like a sitting shower," Mulder told Krycek, walking over.  "You can wheel in with a wheelchair and you don't even have to get out of it.  You just sit there while they do all the work."

Krycek frowned and nodded.

Mulder nodded back.  "So," he said, sitting down in the chair.  "Wanna finish that book before the doctor gets here?"

Krycek let out a long, slow exhale, then nodded, putting his head back and closing his eyes.

...

The doctor's visit went well, and Krycek was moved back into the regular room.  While they were getting him moved over, Mulder made a visit to the Gunmen to borrow a VCR and cords long enough to reach a wall-mounted TV.

"Is this for that friend of yours?" Byers asked him, handing him the cords.

"Yeah," Mulder said, nodding.

"How'd the silver work?" he asked.

"Good," Mulder said, smiling.  "Fever broke this morning."

"Good!" Byers enthused.  "That's wonderful.  Keep giving it to him to help heal the trauma."

"I will," Mulder replied.  "Thanks."  He could tell they wanted to know more, but they knew better than to ask, and he wasn't about to tell them, so after a few more pleasantries, he left with his VCR and cords.  He got to the hospital a little after 2pm and headed for the hospital room.

"Hey," he said, stepping through the door.

Krycek blinked awake.

"Sorry," Mulder said.  "Forgot you might be sleeping.  Look what I got."  He held up the machine and cords.

Krycek looked at the VCR with interest, still blinking sleep out of his eyes.

"I'll get it hooked up," Mulder said, going over to the TV.  He moved a chair over beneath the set, then had to stand on it to connect the cord, then he got down, put the VCR on the chair, and connected that end of the cord.  After a few tries, he had it working, and soon the Star Wars theme filled the room.  Mulder turned it up and grinned at Krycek, feeling a real sense of triumph.  He was elated when Krycek's lips moved in an actual smile.  They were cracked and bleeding again.  He grabbed up the lip balm.  After an awkward hesitation, he exhaled with a huff and squeezed some out, and leaned over a rapidly breathing Krycek to smooth it on.  "Time for more silver, too," he said.  "I think we'll do that twice a day, once before breakfast, and again after lunch."  He poured some out, helped Krycek drink it, then rewound and started the movie again, so he could hear the song one more time.

Halfway through, he had to stop it so Krycek could be taken to the bathroom.  He waited outside, and was relieved to hear far fewer sounds of discomfort as Krycek was helped to walk back and forth.  It also took less time.  Krycek was healing.  After the nurses left, Mulder went back into the room.

"I forgot to ask you, did you get the stitches out?"

Krycek was recovering on the bed, still breathing a little hard.  He nodded.

"Great," Mulder said.  "Did they take you for your bath yet?"

Krycek shook his head.

"Do you want me to get them now?" Mulder asked.

Krycek shook his head again.  "Movie," he said.

Mulder smiled, then sat down in the chair and hit play so they could watch the second half of Star Wars.

The nurse came in at 5:00, just after the movie had ended and Mulder was stretching his back and getting ready to offer Krycek a drink.  She did her checks, then made her notes.

"Would you like to go for your bath now?" she asked.

Krycek looked at Mulder, who was standing by the door, staying out of the way of the nurse.  Mulder nodded in encouragement.  Krycek looked back to the nurse and nodded hesitantly.

"Great.  Did you decide whether you wanted your...um, friend to help you?" she asked, stammering a little over what she should call Mulder.

Krycek blinked madly, brows arching in surprise.  He looked over at Mulder.

Mulder stood up away from the wall.  He bit his lip and shrugged.  If Krycek wanted him there, he'd go.

Krycek looked back at the nurse, then frowned, shaking his head 'no'.

"I'm just gonna go out and...take care of some things then," Mulder said, getting his jacket off the chair.  "I'll be back in a couple of hours, okay?"

"He should be done by then," the nurse said, turning to him.  

Krycek just looked at him a few seconds, then nodded, obviously still a little flustered.

Mulder nodded back, then headed out the door, hoping Krycek had a good experience.  He drove to a little nicer part of town and had his first sit-down meal in days.  He made a call to Scully, telling her he was doing fine but hadn't yet decided whether to go to Graceland, as he was having fun hanging out at the Gunmen's place.  He hung up, hoping she didn't call them to check up on him, feeling like a teenager sneaking out on his parents.  When he returned to the hospital, he was feeling well-fed, relaxed, and optimistic.  He hoped Krycek was feeling somewhat the same.

"Well, how was it?" he asked as he walked into the room.  He immediately noticed Krycek's hair looked much better, then went on to see that his face looked much brighter, with better color, too.  He smiled.  "You look good."

Krycek looked up at him.  "Wazh good," he said, nodding.  He looked down.

"You smell better, too," Mulder said, grinning.  "Glad it went well."

Krycek looked back up at him.

"Did you have some dinner?" Mulder asked, arching his brows.  "Can I get you anything?"

"Had broth," Krycek answered.  "Mmfine."

"How about a soda?" Mulder asked, looking around and seeing only the old can from earlier.  He went over and emptied it into the small sink in the room, throwing away the can.  "I'll be right back."  He went down the hall without waiting for an answer and got two sodas out of the fridge, one for Krycek and one for him.  He figured since he was doing some of the nursing, he deserved at least a free soda or two.  He brought them back and opened them up, then set them down and reached for lip balm.  "This first," he said, leaning and applying some before Krycek could do much more than frown.  He was getting good at it, and he was done in a second.  "Now, take a drink," he said, holding the can up to Krycek's lips.  "Careful," he said.  "Nice and slow."

Not having much choice, Krycek looked at him and sipped.

"A little more," Mulder said.  "You're dehydrated after that fever."

Krycek frowned a little, but took another sip, and, satisfied, Mulder finally took it away and set it down.

"So," he said, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair.  "Ready for Empire Strikes Back?"  He picked it up off the table.

Krycek looked at him, eyes somewhat round, but nodded.

Mulder nodded back and put it in, then settled in to watch.  "This one's my favorite," he said, just before he turned up the opening music again.

Halfway through, Krycek had to go to the bathroom again, and Mulder waited outside.  Then, as soon as the nurses left, he reapplied lip balm, determined to get Krycek's lips healed up as quickly as possible, and put the movie back on.  As he watched the final scene, he looked over to see that Krycek had fallen asleep.  He stopped the movie, then put the Cowboy Junkies on the CD player, turned down low.  He put lip balm on Krycek's lips one last time, satisfied to see that they were indeed healing much better now, then read for a couple of hours before crashing on the cot the nurses had returned to the room without being asked.  For the first time in several days, he actually slept eight hours, waking only when the 6am nurse showed up to do her checks.

"How's he doing?" he asked, the question becoming his morning routine.

Krycek opened his eyes, blinking at the nurse.

"Hey," Mulder said, yawning.

Krycek turned his head and looked at Mulder.

"Everything looks good," she said, pulling his sheet back up after the wound check.  "You need to start taking a little walk each day," she told Krycek.  "To keep the blood flowing to the healing tissues."

He frowned.

"I know," she said, sounding somewhat sympathetic.  "But it really is necessary to the healing process."

Krycek closed his eyes on a brief nod.

"A daily bath will help too," she said, making notes on his chart.  "It will help drain the toxins, and you should try to drink as much as you can."

Krycek just exhaled, eyes still closed, a small wrinkle forming over his nose.

"The good news is, you can start having something besides clear fluids today," the nurse said brightly.  "You can have a milkshake for breakfast instead of juice."

Krycek opened his eyes, looking somewhat interested.

"Hey, I know a good smoothie place," Mulder said.  "I can get you a protein shake with everything but the kitchen sink in it."

"Start easy," she warned.  "We don't want to upset the tummy."

Krycek frowned again.

Mulder tried not to smile.  "Okay," he said.  "I'll try not to upset the tummy."  He looked at Krycek, but Krycek was still frowning at the nurse.

"We'll prepare the shakes for now," she said.  "Nice and gentle."  She patted Krycek's thigh, making him frown a little more, then left.

Mulder stood up and stretched.  "Well that's good news," he said, yawning again.  "Let's hope they make good milkshakes here."

Krycek looked at him and nodded.

"Are you up, or you do you want to get some more sleep now that the nurse is gone?" Mulder asked, raking a hand through his hair.

Krycek swallowed carefully.  "Shhleep..." he said finally.

Mulder nodded, noticing that Krycek's lips were dry again.  "I'll just put some lip balm on first," he said, picking up the tube.  He applied the ointment as usual, Krycek closing his eyes and breathing shallowly.  "There," he said, setting down the tube.  He gave Krycek his morning dose of silver, then said, "You go ahead and get some more sleep, and I'll be back after I go home and shower and stuff."  He never talked about eating in front of Krycek.

Krycek nodded.

Mulder drove home and fed his fish, then showered and shaved.  He checked his phone messages, which consisted of two calls from Scully and one from the Gunmen, all checking up on him.  He sorted through his mail, then got dressed and headed to his favorite breakfast place near his apartment.  When he was finished, he spotted a homemade chocolate pudding in the cooler, and had them wrap it up to go.  If it was too thick, he thought, maybe he could just add some milk so Krycek could drink it.  He headed back to the hospital.

"Hey," he said, his usual greeting to Krycek.  He was awake, watching television.  "Ah, I see you mastered the toe-remote."

Krycek's eyes flickered over to him but he said nothing.

"Did you have your breakfast yet?"

Krycek nodded.

"Was it any good?" Mulder asked, walking over to the bedside.

Krycek swallowed, then shrugged, nodding.

"I got you something," Mulder said.  "You can have it whenever you're ready."  He pulled it out of the bag and presented it with a flourish.  "Chocolate pudding, and not the instant kind, either.  This is homemade with milk and cream, by my favorite cafe."

Krycek's brows arched.

"You want it now?" Mulder asked.

Krycek hesitated a moment, then shook his head 'no'.

"No problem," Mulder said.  "I'll go put it in the nurse's refrigerator with a note on it, telling them it's yours."  He smiled and headed out to do just that.  As he neared the door to the nurse's lounge, he heard voices.  He stopped, not wanting to interrupt them in the middle of a consultation.

"He just doesn't seem like the type," the first voice said.

"I know, but look at his hands.  His knuckles still aren't healed completely," the other replied.

Mulder looked down at his hands, still red and bruised, and curled them into fists as if trying to make them smaller.

"I wonder what happened," the first one said.

"I think he cheated on him," said the other one definitively.  "The guy's obviously very protective, so he's probably one of those super-possessive types."

"Well, he almost killed him!" the first nurse said.

"I know," the second one agreed.  "I'd have that monster arrested, no matter how much I thought I loved him."

Mulder swallowed, looking down at the floor.

"He is trying really hard, though," the first one said.  "Harder than I've ever seen them try."

Mulder didn't hear a reply, so he figured the other woman must be nodding in agreement.  

So Mulder was a monster, but at least he was trying.  He supposed he couldn't blame them.  That was basically the way he felt about himself, too.  He quickly backed away from the room, then approached it again, stepping heavily and crackling the small bag in his hand.  He took a steadying breath, raising his chin, and walked into the lounge.  Andrea and Debbie looked up from the table.  Debbie's lips parted.

"I'm putting something in the fridge," he told them, stepping over and opening it up.  "It's for Andrew.  I'm leaving a note on it."

"Okay," Andrea said, nodding.  "It should be fine."  She gave him a smile much bigger than he'd ever seen, and nowhere near sincere.  He met it with a similar one and headed back to the room.

"So," he said to the man everyone here assumed was his mistreated and possibly unfaithful lover.  "What are you in the mood for today?  You missed the end of my favorite Star Wars movie, you know.  I'm not even sure how much you missed, since you were snoring when I looked over."

Krycek looked at him.

"Wanna finish it?  I'll rewind it a ways."

Krycek nodded, and Mulder put the movie in, finding himself wondering if they thought less of him because he hadn't brought his lover any roses yet.  Abusive lovers always brought roses.  He shook his head and tried to focus on the movie.

After it was over, he got up and put more lip balm on Krycek, who was getting used to it and barely flinched, then after a trip to the bathroom, they watched Return of the Jedi.  Mulder was quiet during the movie, taken with the overwhelming themes of the choice between good and evil, and of forgiveness and redemption.  He'd never before thought about how completely Calrissian had been forgiven after his betrayal of Han Solo, becoming not only an ally but a trusted friend to the whole group, and then there was Luke's total forgiveness of his father, Darth Vadar, even after he'd helped blow up a whole planet.  It left him quiet and pensive while the credits ran.

"Need a nursh," Krycek said, pulling Mulder from his reverie.

He looked at Krycek and nodded, then reached up and pushed the call button.  About ten minutes later, Andrea appeared.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Taylor?" she asked.

"Bathroom," Krycek answered grimly.

"I'll go get Debbie," Andrea said, turning and leaving.

"I'm going to go for a walk," Mulder told him.

Krycek nodded, and Mulder got up, stretching his back, and headed out the door.  He saw Andrea and Debbie heading down the hall toward him, so he felt okay leaving the building to get some lunch.  He headed down to the store and got a sandwich and coffee, then finished them as he slowly walked back.  He wanted to give them enough time.  He decided he should probably return Scully's call before she phoned the Gunmen looking for him.  And he should probably call the Gunmen to ask them to cover for him if she did.

Ten minutes later, having taken care of his social commitments, Mulder headed back up to the room.  When he entered, Krycek was lying in bed with his eyes closed.  Mulder approached quietly and they didn't open.  He sat down in the chair and picked up a file and started flipping through it.  Krycek breathed out heavily, and Mulder looked up.  "You awake?" he said quietly.

Krycek nodded without opening his eyes.

"Tired?" Mulder asked.

Krycek just nodded again.

Mulder frowned and got up, heading for the nurse's station.  "Excuse me," he said, interrupting a conversation between the two nurses.  "Have you checked his temperature lately?"  He didn't bother telling them whose temperature he meant.  He was quite sure they knew.

Debbie reached over and read his chart.  "Ninety-nine," she said, nodding.

"What about pulse?  Blood pressure?" Mulder asked.

"Both are fine," she said, looking at the chart again.  "Is there something wrong?"

"No, he just seems tired," Mulder said.

Debbie nodded, but put the chart away.  "Well, that's normal, you know.  Healing is hard work."

Mulder nodded, then headed back to the room without thanking them.  Krycek's eyes were still closed.  Mulder wasn't sure what to do while Krycek slept.  He'd already called Scully and the guys, and eaten his lunch.  He had read over every file in his bag, and flipped through each magazine more than a few times, too.  He considered reading one of the paperbacks he'd brought, but since he'd brought them to read to Krycek, he didn't want to end up reading them twice.  In the end, he decided to just take a walk around the neighborhood.  

As he walked through the depressingly industrial neighborhood, he thought some more about the sweeping themes of Star Wars and how they related to his own life, and about the sudden, dramatic changes that had come into his life since he'd lost control with Krycek over a week ago now.  He was still mulling that over as he walked back through the hospital parking lot.  He headed back up to the room, where he found Krycek awake and watching television.

"Anything good?" he asked, heading over to his chair and taking off his jacket.

Krycek barely looked at him before turning his attention back to the TV.

Mulder sat down, not sure what to do.  Was Krycek getting sick of having him around?  He licked his lips.  "Alex," he said quietly.  "I'll leave if you want me to.  For good, I mean," he ammended sadly.

Krycek let out a slow exhale, then turned his eyes to Mulder without turning his head.  He looked down, then ever so briefly, shook his head 'no'.

Mulder nodded, relieved, figuring Krycek was just not feeling well.  "I brought the video of Jurassic Park," he said.  "Wanna finish the book and then watch it?"

Krycek looked over at him for several long moments.  Finally, when Mulder was about to crawl out of his skin from being stared at, Krycek nodded, using his toe to turn the television off.  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, his usual routine when Mulder read to him.

Mulder picked the book up off the table, and after clearing his throat and drinking some of Krycek's water, began to read.

A few pages before the end, when it was getting so good Krycek had his eyes open, listening intently, the nurse came in.  Mulder tried not to act too frustrated as she went through her routine, and noticed Krycek's face looked taut.

"Everything looks good," she said.  "Would you like another milkshake?  It's almost dinner time."

Krycek shook his head 'no', closing his eyes.

"Okay, I'll check back a little later then," she said, and she made her notes and left.

"Do you want that pudding I brought you?" Mulder said, trying to sound tempting.  He figured Krycek must be saving room for it.

Krycek shook his head 'no' without opening his eyes.

"Okay," Mulder said, picking the book back up.  "Let's finish this, then."  He opened it to their saved place and began to read.

After they finished the book and Mulder had given Krycek his afternoon dose of silver and slicked up his lips, the nurse returned with Krycek's evening milkshake.

"Here you go," she said.  She looked at Mulder sitting in the chair right next to the bed and hesitated.  "Did you want to do it?" she asked him.

"Sure," said Mulder, taking the shake from her and sniffing it.  It smelled okay.  Not great, but okay.

She smiled.  "If you need anything else, just call."

"Okay," said Mulder.  "Thanks."

She left, and Mulder took the lid off the shake.  "I think it'll be easier to eat this way," he told Krycek.

Krycek looked at him, then at the shake.  "Don't wannit," he said, looking away.

"Do you feel sick?" Mulder said, remembering what they said about having to cut the wires if he had to throw up.  The cutters were on Krycek's side table.

Krycek shook his head.

"Just not hungry yet?" he asked.  "Does it hurt too much to eat?"

Krycek took a slow breath in and out, then nodded, still not looking at Mulder.

"I'm sorry," Mulder said miserably.  "You should at least try to eat a little," he added.

"No," Krycek said firmly, and Mulder nodded and took the shake to the refrigerator and put it next to the pudding.  He went back to the room and picked up the tape of Jurassic Park.

"Wanna watch it?" he asked cautiously.

Krycek opened his eyes and looked at him, then nodded expressionlessly.

Mulder put the tape in, and they watched the movie in silence, broken only by the usual breaks for Mulder to help Krycek take a drink or to apply lip balm, as well as one more nurse's visit, during which she asked how dinner went and then offered to try again.  Krycek refused again, and she left, frowning.  Krycek would barely look at Mulder, just turning the television on after Mulder switched it over, and flipping listlessly through the channels with his toe.  Mulder said nothing, just watching whatever Krycek left on for more than a few minutes.  After fifteen minutes of an infomercial for a spray that men could use to disguise bald spots, Mulder made a comment about Skinner that he hoped would lighten things up a bit.  But when he got no response, he looked over and found Krycek asleep.  He took the remote and surfed, watching a little of this and a little of that, before falling asleep himself a little before midnight.

The next morning, after the usual routine of silver, lip balm, juice, and Mulder's trip home, he returned to be stopped at the nurse's station as he passed by.

"Excuse me, sir, can I talk to you?"  Debbie was frowning.

Now Mulder was, too.  "What is it?"

"Mr. Taylor is refusing anything but clear fluids," she said.  "He really needs to be eating more than that now.  He's already losing a lot of weight, and he needs the extra nutrients and calories to continue his healing."

Mulder nodded.  "I'll see what I can do."  He went to the nurse's lounge and retrieved the pudding, grabbing a carton of milk to mix into it, and a cup to put it in.  He marveled at how comfortable he was getting at making his way around the small kitchen area.  When he got to Krycek's room, he was watching television.

"I brought the pudding for breakfast," he said, not asking Krycek if he wanted it.  "I'll just add a little milk to make it drinkable."

"I don't wannit," Krycek said, not looking away from his show.

Mulder narrowed his eyes.  "The nurses told on you," he said.  "You didn't drink your morning shake."

Krycek ignored him.

"You can't live on clear fluids," Mulder said, taking the lid off the pudding and dumping some into the cup.  He poured a little milk in to thin it, mixing it with Krycek's straw.  "Here," he said.  "I'll help you."

"I don't wannit!" Krycek growled.

Mulder sighed, firming his lips.  He couldn't force him.  He put the lid back on the pudding and took it back to the refrigerator, dumping out the milk.  Debbie saw him.  

"Any luck?" she called.

He just shook his head 'no'.

"Maybe later," she said, frowning.

Mulder didn't say anything, just going back to the room.  Krycek glanced up at him, then went back to watching television, and Mulder sat in the chair and watched it with him.  The nurses came in and did their check, and Mulder surreptitiously asked them about Krycek's temperature, pulse, and blood pressure, but so far, it was normal.  They offered him food, and he accepted only warm gelatin and broth.  They took him to the bathroom, and Mulder kept putting lip balm on him.  His lips were pretty much healed, but always dry.  Mulder offered him drinks and more gelatin and broth every hour, and Krycek was making so many trips to the bathroom that he fell asleep, exhausted, right after the doctor saw him.  Mulder waited outside, then followed the doctor to the nurse's station.

"How is he?"

"I'm concerned that he's refusing food," the doctor said.  "I tried to talk to him about it, but he wouldn't say anything.  We can only give him so much intravenously, and a liquid diet is not enough to sustain him."  The doctor shook his head.  "He's putting his health in serious jeopardy."

Mulder nodded slowly.  "I'll talk to him."

The doctor nodded, and Mulder walked back to Krycek's room.  Krycek was deeply asleep, and Mulder just stood there watching him for several long minutes.  He had definitely lost weight.  His cheeks were sunken, and with the swelling of his jaw going down, it was becoming increasingly noticeable.  His eyes had dark shadows under them and Mulder could see the full outline of Krycek's skull beneath his skin and hair.  His skin was extremely pale and had a faint yellowish tinge.  Mulder grabbed his jacket off the chair and left.

He drove home, trying to think of what he could do to help.  Had Krycek decided to slowly starve himself to death?  Was he just being stubborn to spite Mulder?  Or did the pain just keep him nauseous all the time?  Mulder figured that was it, that Krycek was afraid of throwing up, and figured if he stayed on a clear diet, it was far less likely.  Mulder couldn't really blame him for that, the thought of having to cut the wires so quickly, then retch with a broken jaw, would turn him off food, too.  Maybe Mulder could do more to alleviate Krycek's pain, so that he felt well enough to eat.  He went into his substantial first aid tub and sifted through it, hoping to get some idea.  He found a giant tub of salve that the Gunmen had given him when he'd had bruises all over his body from being hit by a car.  It was based on essential oils and herbs in a coconut and cocoa oil base, smelled wonderful, and had immediately soothed his pain and helped him heal in half the time.  He felt bad for not thinking of it sooner.  He firmed his lips in triumph and stuck it in a bag.  Then he went to the phone and called the Gunmen to see if they had any other suggestions.

"I think he might be too nauseated to eat," Mulder said.  "But because of that, he'll only take clear fluids.  Do you have any suggestions for how to help him feel better?"

"Mint tea," Byers said. "That will help settle his stomach.  Make sure you get the good stuff, though, organic and fresh.  Chamomile tea's good for that, too, plus it helps with pain."  He paused a minute.  "Pure peppermint oil, just a drop on the tongue, is one of the most effective things I've found for stomach upset."

"I can't get to his tongue," Mulder said quietly.  "His jaw's wired shut."

"Oh," said Byers.  "Well, you can put the drop in warm water and create a tea that way, if he'll drink it."

"Okay."

"And putting essential oil of lemon in his tea will also help settle a queasy stomach.  It also purifies the water and adds a big boost of antioxidants, and all essential oils help oxygenate the blood, which should speed healing," he added.  "If you can get him to drink it, clove oil has the highest ORAC reading of any food substance, meaning it has the highest antioxidant properties.  It can really accelerate healing and help balance the body's entire system.  You only need a drop or two.  If he'll drink spice tea, you can put that in and it would be great for him."

"Great," Mulder said, feeling hopeful.  "Anything else?"

"You might be able to put a drop or two of oregano and/or thyme oil into his broth," Byers replied.  "They're both extremely powerful healing substances that have been used for centuries to fight infection and balance the physical system."

"Great, great.  Oh," said Mulder, remembering, "Where do I get these?"

"You should be able to find them in the same place as the silver," said Byers.  "Look for therapeutic grade essential oils, so that you're getting the purest product without any weird additives."

Mulder thanked him, ignoring the obvious curiosity he displayed, and went shopping.  He bought peppermint oil, lemon oil, clove oil, oregano oil, and thyme oil, plus boxes of organic chamomile, peppermint, and spice tea.  He talked to a woman behind the counter to make sure he was getting the right kind of both, and she assured him his choices were top of the line.  He also bought a sandwich there, as well as a protein smoothie, figuring his own nutrition had been suffering lately, too.  He returned to the hospital feeling optimistic, and strode to Krycek's room to show him his finds.

"I've got some things that should help you feel better," Mulder said, walking over to the table and taking his purchases out of the bag.  "This stuff is way better for you than the crap they've been giving you and should help you not only feel better, but heal better."  He grinned at his inadvertant rhyme.

Krycek just looked at the little bottles and boxes on the table, and then at Mulder.  He didn't say anything.

"And," Mulder said, reaching into his other bag for the salve and bringing it out.  "I remembered this.  I used it when I was covered head to toe with bruises after getting hit by a car."  He took the lid off, filling the room with a wonderful, spicy, woodsy smell.  "It really takes the ache out, and I healed in half the time."

Krycek swallowed, then frowned up at him.

"I'll go get the nurses and have them slather you up," Mulder said, not waiting for a reply.  He took the salve up to the nurse's station, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Yes?"  The nurse turned around, a woman Mulder wasn't on familiar terms with yet.  But she looked nice enough.  Late twenties, pleasantly plump, with ash blonde hair.

"I brought in some salve for Mr. Taylor," he said, showing it to her.  "I was wondering if you could go in and apply it to his bruises."

"Oh," said the young woman.  "We can't administer any treatment that isn't ordered by the doctor."  She frowned, then brightened.  "But you're welcome to try it, as long as you don't put it on any open wounds."

Mulder swallowed and blinked.  He licked his lips.  He swallowed again.  "Okay," he finally said.  "Thank you."

She gave him a sunny smile, and he turned and walked back to the room slowly.  When he came in, Krycek was still eyeing the array of purchases on his table skeptically.

Mulder walked over to the bed and set the salve down on the table.  He licked his lips.  "She uh...she can't do it," he said.

Krycek just nodded, looking down, like he was used to disappointment.

"She said I could, though," Mulder added.

Krycek looked up at him, brows arched.

Mulder shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.  "She said as long as it didn't lead to any obscene sexual behavior, I was welcome to use it on you."

Krycek inhaled sharply, frowning.

Mulder smirked.  "She didn't say that.  She just said to keep it away from any open wounds.  I don't think you have any, anymore," he said.  "I think everything's pretty much healed, but I'll stay away from the incision on your side."

Krycek swallowed.

"Why don't I make you some tea before we get started," Mulder said, putting his purchases back into the bag to carry into the kitchen.  "Maybe some chamomile," he murmured.  "To relax both of us."  He tried to hide any anxiety he was feeling, knowing it would just make Krycek feel weirder.  "Be right back," he said and walked out the door.

He went into the kitchen and made a cup of chamomile tea, adding a couple of drops of lemon and some honey.  He wished he had a couple of beers for himself.  He carried the tea back carefully and set it on the table.  Krycek watched his every move like a hunted animal.

Mulder picked up the salve and took the lid off, once again inhaling the wonderful smell.  He set it down on the table and went to the sink, giving his hands a good scrubbing.  He dried them and walked back over to the bed slowly.  He stood there for a minute, looking at Krycek's body beneath the sheet.

"I...I don't..." Krycek stammered.

"Come on," Mulder said.  "No big deal.  I've already seen you naked, you know."

Krycek inhaled and exhaled deeply, blinking.

Mulder thought about it a minute and said, "I even gave you a sponge bath."

Krycek frowned deeply.

"When you were out of it," Mulder said, not looking at his face.  "I had to bring your fever down."

Krycek began breathing harder, and Mulder looked at him to make sure he was okay.

"No big deal," he repeated, shrugging.  "Just...I don't know..." he said, stammering a little.  Krycek had no reason to ever let him lay a finger on him again.  "I'm just trying to help," he said quietly, eyes darting around nervously.  "I won't hurt you."  He breathed in and out slowly.  "Can you just...close your eyes and forget it's me?"  He looked down.  "I won't touch you unless you give me permission," he said.  His voice fell.  "I understand if you don't trust me."

Krycek breathed hard for several long moments, while Mulder stood with his head bowed, waiting.  Maybe he could persuade the nurses with some extra money.  Maybe they could do it when they were off-shift, so it wasn't violating hospital policy.  He sighed.  "I don't wanna hurt you," he said in a low voice.  "I just think this would help."

Krycek sighed deeply, and Mulder heard him swallow.  "Okay," he finally whispered.

Mulder looked up, but Krycek was looking away from him.  Mulder nodded.

"Shut the door," Krycek said quietly.  "Npull the curtain."

Mulder nodded again, swallowing back any impulse to make jokes.  Krycek didn't appear to be in the mood.  Mulder didn't blame him for being afraid.  The bruises he was trying to soothe were his handiwork.  Honestly, he wouldn't want his abuser touching him, either.  He had a newfound respect for Krycek's strength, as well as his humbling ability to forgive.  Mulder closed the door, then pulled the curtain around the bed, giving them as much privacy as possible.

"Oh," he said,  "Before I get all greasy, how 'about I put on some music?"  He didn't wait for Krycek to respond, just flipping through the case and pulling out the Cowboy Junkies.  It was what Krycek chose to relax with.  They could both use some relaxation about now.  He put it in and pushed play, turning it up.  "Okay," he said, turning around.  Krycek's eyes were closed tight, his head turned away from Mulder.  "Just try to relax," Mulder murmured.  "And think about...something else."  He reached for the sheet and Krycek flinched as his fingers brushed his chest, then hissed as the sudden movement brought him pain.

Mulder inhaled and exhaled slow and deep, and slowly pulled the sheet down Krycek's body all the way to his feet.  He reached down and slowly, carefully, untied Krycek's gown and laid it to the sides of his body, baring it.  He closed his eyes, feeling a sudden threat of tears, and swallowed them back.  Now that the bandages were off, he could see much more of the damage he'd done.  He opened his eyes, determined to survey the area carefully so he'd know where to put the salve.

The real bruising was Krycek's entire abdominal area, especially his right side.  Remembering Krycek curled up on the ground in front of him on his left side, protecting his stump and prosthesis, Mulder knew why.  He brought his hand to his mouth, sick.  He was deeply glad Krycek's eyes were closed.  He had to remind himself that he was going to make Krycek feel better now.  He had to keep it together long enough to do that.  Krycek's incision was there, too, where they had done surgery to repair his liver and kidney.  His whole side was one big bruise, mottled blue, green, and purple in color, extending from armpit to hips, punctuated with a puckered pink scar about four inches long.  There was bruising on Krycek's stomach, but he'd protected that with his arm, which was why it was in a full-length cast.  There was bruising on his chest, but that, too, was minimal, compared to his side.  And there were scattered big splotches down the fronts of his legs, centering the most around his upper thighs.

Mulder inhaled and exhaled several deep breaths, then reached for the salve and slowly scooped out a big handful.  "I'm gonna start on your chest," he told Krycek quietly.  Krycek jumped a little at the sound of his voice but nodded curtly.  Mulder leaned in, noticing his hand was shaking, and very gently smeared a large amount of salve on both sides of the partly-healed wound on the right side of Krycek's chest where the tube had been.  Krycek's chest rose and fell rapidly, and Mulder swallowed and tried to keep his hand steady as he very carefully covered the whole area.  He slowly and gently massaged the ointment into the skin as much as he could without hurting Krycek too much, checking his face for signs of discomfort.  It was tight and drawn, but he appeared to be doing okay.

"Okay," he exhaled, taking his hand away.  "Okay."  He waited a second, taking a few more deep breaths, then scooped up more salve.  "Gonna do your belly now," he said softly.  He saw Krycek pull away from him just slightly.  "Not your side, just your belly," he explained.  He leaned in and spread the salve on liberally, then proceeded to slowly and carefully rub it in.  He couldn't help but notice, as he did so, that Krycek's penis started to swell, thickening in its nest of brown hair.  Mulder inhaled and exhaled and kept working, rubbing the salve down on either side of it until he'd used his whole handfull.  When he took his hand away, Krycek's penis was partially erect, beginning to loll to the left along his hip, getting smeared with salve.  He heard a heavy, frustrated exhale and looked up to find Krycek's face pinched, fast, shallow breaths puffing out through somewhat bared teeth.

"Does that uh..." Mulder swallowed.  "Does that sting?" he asked quietly.

Krycek just huffed out another frustrated sigh.

"I'm...I'm not sure what..." Mulder started.

"Just finish," Krycek hissed.  "I'm fine."

Mulder nodded, though Krycek couldn't see it, and scooped up another handful of salve.  Leaning over and extremely aware of Krycek's erection, he spread the salve on Krycek's thighs, trying to move quickly but carefully.  He rubbed it in, watching as Krycek's penis continued to harden, until it was stiff and pointed up and to the left, bouncing slightly as Mulder worked.  He got more salve and quickly but carefully rubbed it into Krycek's knees and shins, then stepped back with a loud sigh.

Well, now it was time to do his side.  That should take care of his hard-on.  "I'm gonna do your side now," Mulder said, and Krycek flinched.  "I'll be really careful," Mulder said, his voice getting hoarse as his throat started to close with shame.  "I promise."

Krycek nodded, and Mulder thought he could see tears in his lashes.  He frowned, but turned and scooped up a huge handful of salve.  "Ready?" he asked, his voice breaking.

Krycek nodded again quickly.

"Okay, here I go," said Mulder, and he very, very carefully spread salve over the whole area, not even touching Krycek, keeping a quarter-inch layer of salve between his skin and Krycek's.  "I need to rub it in a little," he said, blinking to keep his vision clear.

Krycek nodded again.

Mulder applied the gentlest pressure he could, moving slowly and lightly, but Krycek still jerked and flinched, making a few tiny, deep moaning sounds in his throat.

"If you want me to stop," Mulder said, feeling dizzy.

Krycek shook his head 'no' quickly.

Mulder nodded and continued smoothing the salve in as much as he could, avoiding the scar, until Krycek's side glistened with ointment.  "There," he said, stepping back.  "We're done."  

Sure enough, Mulder's treatment of his side had been enough to deflate Krycek's erection.

"I'm gonna go wash my hands real quick," Mulder told him.  "Then I'll cover you back up."

He got a quick nod in response.

Mulder stepped through the curtain and went to the small sink, scrubbing the salve off his hands.  He dried them quickly and stepped back through the curtain.  Krycek was lying there, breathing hard, and there were definitely tears in his lashes.

Mulder swallowed hard and stepped up to the bed.  "I'm gonna..." he exhaled.  "Tie your gown, now."  He reached down with shaking hands to begin doing so.  He pulled the bottom sides together, trying to cover Krycek's groin as much as possible, then quickly reached down and pulled up the sheet.  Krycek let out a deep, shuddering sigh, and Mulder turned to pull the curtain open.  He worked slowly, still shaking a little.  When he was done, he turned around and Krycek still had his eyes tightly closed.  Mulder realized Krycek couldn't even wipe his own tears away.  Mulder couldn't think of anything to say to make that better.  And he didn't know if Krycek would appreciate him wiping them away for him.  He probably just wanted Mulder to ignore them.

"Do you want me to keep the door closed?" he asked quietly.

Krycek nodded, and Mulder couldn't stop looking at the sparkle in his lashes.

"I'm gonna...go get something to drink," Mulder said, putting the lid back on the salve.  Krycek's tea sat cold on the table.  But Mulder figured Krycek would prefer privacy to tea right now.  "I'll be back in a little bit," he said, then he opened the door and stepped out of the room, closing it behind him.

He walked down to the kitchen and got himself a soda, then went outside to drink it, taking his time and trying to relax himself.  He waited about fifteen minutes and then went back up, stepping through the door quietly.  Krycek's eyes were still closed.  And still a little wet.   "You awake?" Mulder asked very softly, so that if he was asleep Mulder wouldn't wake him.  There was no response.  Mulder swallowed, then stepped back outside, closing the door quietly.  Krycek was either asleep, or wanted Mulder to think he was.  Either way, he obviously needed some space.

...

When Mulder returned, the doctor was just coming out of Krycek's room.  He didn't look happy.  Mulder just stopped in the hall, knowing the doctor had things to say to him.  The doctor stopped and let out a frustrated sigh.  "I'm concerned about his coloring," he said without preamble.  "He appears a bit jaundiced, which would indicate problems with his liver."

Mulder nodded slowly.

"He needs to be consuming some protein foods," the doctor said.  "We can't give him a complete protein intravenously and he's missing crucial amino acids, which he very much needs to ensure the health of his brain and organs, plus he simply isn't getting enough calories to sustain basic physical functions."

Mulder frowned.

"We've catheterized him again to monitor his urine output," the doctor said.  "His liver and kidneys are already weak from the trauma, and if he doesn't start eating, he could go into total liver and/or kidney failure."

Mulder closed his eyes and opened them, then nodded.  "He'll eat," Mulder said.  "I'll take care of it."

The doctor frowned a little at the tone of Mulder's voice, and Mulder bowed his head, realizing the doctor was afraid Mulder might hurt Krycek again.  "I just want him to get better," Mulder said without looking up.  "I'll do my best to get him to eat."

The doctor nodded, then continued down the hall without saying anything more.  Mulder raised his head, and after a moment or two, strode down the hall and into the room.

"What the hell is going on with you?" he asked, putting his hands on his hips.

Krycek looked up at him, startled.

"If you don't eat, you're going to die," Mulder said angrily.  "Is that what you want?"

Krycek firmed his lips.

"Talk to me!" Mulder said, his voice rising.  "Just tell me what the hell is going on!"

Krycek huffed out a breath and turned away.

"Goddamn it," Mulder said, striding over.

Krycek looked over, eyes round, and drew back.

"I'm not gonna hurt you!" Mulder said, fists clenched at his sides.  "I just wanna know why you aren't eating!"

Krycek looked up at him, breathing hard, eyes still wide.

"You have to eat!" Mulder said, feeling his voice break.  "You have to eat or you're gonna die!"

Krycek squeezed his eyes shut, shaking.  Mulder could see tears in his lashes again.

"Please," Mulder said, his voice thick with tears he was working hard to hold back.  "I don't want you to die."  He dropped his face into his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Have you..." Krycek started, and Mulder looked up.  Krycek was staring at him, eyes full of tears.  His face was a stone mask.  "Have you ever had someone else wipe your ass for you, Mulder?"

Mulder's lips parted.  That was it.  That was why he wouldn't eat.  If you don't eat, you don't shit, and Krycek had never been the same after that first bowel movement.  Mulder let his breath out slowly.

Krycek looked away from Mulder, tears beginning to overflow, rolling down into his hair.

Mulder opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't think of what to say.  The truth was, he had never been so bad off that he'd needed someone to wipe his ass for him.  He couldn't really and didn't want to imagine what that would be like.  "You can't just...not eat..." he said helplessy.  

Krycek squeezed his eyes shut and sniffed violently.  "I don't have any ARMS," he growled, then swallowed several times.  "It's going to be MONTHS, Mulder.  MONTHS!"  He was shaking badly, tears pouring down his cheeks and snot running down his face.

Mulder reached for a handful of tissues and leaned in, roughly wiping Krycek's cheeks and nose, not caring if Krycek wanted him to or not.  Krycek jerked away from him, glaring, and Mulder pulled back.  "What about your prosthetic?" Mulder asked.  "You can be fitted for another one of those in a week or two."

Krycek smiled bitterly.  "That's not a skill I've mastered yet, Mulder," he said, looking away.  "Didn't have to.  Still had one arm."

"So you'll master it!" Mulder said, frustrated.  "You can do it!"

"It'll take days, even weeks to do that, Mulder," Krycek yelled, facing him again.  "And that's after I wait two more weeks to get a fucking prosthesis!"

"After everything you've been through, you're gonna let this kill you?" Mulder asked incredulously.

"Fuck you, Mulder!" Krycek yelled.  "What do you know about it?  This is MY LIFE!"  He faced forward and shut his eyes, breathing hard.

Mulder opened his mouth to yell at him that pride wasn't a good enough excuse for killing yourself, then he stopped and really thought about what that would be like.  No arms to even wipe away your own tears, and someone else wiping your ass for you every day for weeks or even months.  Shit, you couldn't even touch your own dick to get rid of a hard-on, or scratch your own balls, or anything else that itched, for that matter.

The damage Mulder had done to Krycek when he'd broken his only arm was so much more serious than Mulder had ever considered.  He stood there, feeling tears spill over and run down his own cheeks, for several long minutes.  "I'll think of something," he finally said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.  "I'll be back later."  He turned and left the room, going to the nurse's station.  "He needs cleaned up," he told them.  "If you need me, call me.  I'll be back later."  He didn't wait for a reply, just wiping his face again and heading for his car.

He drove home and got on the Internet, looking up everything he could find on adaptive technology and resources for the disabled.  He read and read, making notes, until he had a solid plan put together.  He looked up and realized he'd been there for hours and it was already dark outside.  Krycek had missed his evening dose of silver, and Mulder still hadn't given him even one of the oils or teas he'd bought.  Well, now he had bigger issues to take care of.  He got on the phone and called the hospital.  "I need to page the doctor," he said.

"Is it an emergency?" Debbie asked.

"Yes," Mulder said.

She made the call, and ten minutes later, the doctor called him back.

"When did you plan to discharge Mr. Taylor?" Mulder asked.

"Well, assuming he had appropriate home health care, the original plan was for approximately a week from now, but with this new complication..."

"What home health care will he need?" Mulder asked.

"Again, if he were cooperating with treatment and doing well, he wouldn't need as much, but with his current condition, I can't discharge him at all.  He wouldn't survive."

"I understand that," Mulder said.  "But if he starts eating, and his liver function returns to normal, what will he need at home?"

"Due to his disability, he'll need round the clock care to help him with eating, toileting, bathing, and basic self-care," the doctor answered.  "As well as transportation to weekly doctor visits for a few weeks, tapering off if he continues to follow his treatment plan and progresses in a satisfactory way.  He cannot be left alone for even a short time," the doctor warned.  "He's very vulnerable.  And someone will need to prepare all his meals, providing him with a well-balanced liquid diet."

"Got it," Mulder replied.  "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"I'll write up a discharge plan when the time comes," the doctor answered.  "And the nurses can give you referrals to home health care attendants.  Just follow the treatment plan, and make sure you have a plan for emergencies.  And never forget to keep the wire cutters handy at all times, in case he has a bad coughing fit or has to throw up," he added sternly.  "He could suffocate if someone's not there to cut those wires, and he cannot do it for himself."

"All right, thank you," Mulder said.  "You've been very helpful."  He hung up and did some more research, then made several more phone calls, leaving messages telling them to call him on his cellphone as soon as they got his message, day or night.  Then he called the hospital, asking for the nurse's station.  He checked on Krycek's condition, then got the home health care referrals.  He called all three, but was only able to leave messages.  By the time he was finished, it was nearly ten o'clock at night.  He decided not to return to the hospital that night, and for the first time in two weeks, slept on his own couch.  He kept the cellphone right next to him all night long.

When he got up the next morning, he decided not to go in until he had things arranged.  Every minute he wasn't working on this, Krycek was wasting away.  He could do more good taking care of this than he could changing his channels and helping him drink tea.  He stayed home all day fielding phone calls and making plans.  By the time evening rolled around, everything was set.  It was amazing what people could do when you threw enough fast money at them.  And Mulder had plenty of it, between his trust fund and his father's inheritance.  And he had nothing else to spend it on, anyway.  Plus, if this paid off as well as Mulder hoped it would, he was investing not only in saving Krycek's life, but possibly the planet, as well.  He showed up at the hospital around 8pm, with a gourmet milkshake from his favorite burger place.  

When he walked through the door, Krycek sat up straighter, lips parted.

"I brought you a milkshake," Mulder said.  He walked over and took the lid off, standing at Krycek's bedside.

Krycek firmed his lips and frowned.

"All right," Mulder said.  "Just thought I'd try."  He took a big drink of it himself, giving himself a thick chocolate mustache, which he licked away lustily, smacking his lips loudly.  Krycek just looked away, still frowning, and turned up the television.

"What if you only had to deal with it for another week?" Mulder asked.

Krycek turned back to him, frowning.

"I could bring in a scat freak to do it," Mulder said, mouth quirking up.  "Make it more fun for you."

Krycek grimaced, but he now he looked more disgusted than angry.

Mulder had to laugh, both at his own joke, and the way Krycek was looking at him.  "I'm serious," he protested, half meaning it.  "There are people out there who really get off on this.  Maybe you could learn to."

Krycek just stared at him.

"I'll do it," Mulder said quietly, totally serious now.  "If it'll help."

Krycek didn't look at him, but he blinked several times.

"One week," Mulder said.  "We can figure out a way through this."

Krycek turned to look at him.  After a few moments, he said quietly, "Why only one week?"

Mulder rejoined inwardly at Krycek's use of the word 'only'.  It implied that Krycek might feel it was doable.  "Because if you're good, I can get you out of here in a week."

"So?" Krycek snapped, looking back at the television.

"And your new accomodations will have a first-class bidet."  Mulder grinned proudly.

Krycek's lips parted, and he looked over at Mulder, blinking.  He squinted thoughtfully. "Bidet?" he asked carefully.

Mulder nodded.  "That way, no one has to wipe your ass."  He smiled triumphantly.

Krycek blinked at him several times, then turned away.  

"I've hired two nurses," Mulder explained.

Krycek looked back at him.

"And I'll be there to supervise them."

Krycek's lips parted, showing the wires.

Mulder licked his lips and swallowed.  "You have no real reason to trust me, but I'm asking you to," he said, forcing himself not to look away.  "I swear to you, I will stay there and make sure you are well taken care of and safe."

Krycek swallowed, blinking and looking away, then back at Mulder.  His lips met and parted over and over but he didn't say anything.  "What about your work?" he finally said dazedly.

Mulder chewed his lip.  "Well, here's the thing," he said, feeling his heart race.  "If I do this, I only ask one thing in return."

Krycek blinked, squinting slightly.

"Work with me," Mulder said.  "Help me, Alex.  Work with me to stop colonization of this planet."

Krycek's lips parted again.

"I can't do it without you," Mulder admitted.  "And my work means nothing if this planet is taken over by the colonists."

He watched Krycek swallow carefully.

"C'mon, Alex," Mulder pleaded.  "We could be really good together."  He finally had to drop his gaze, exhaling softly.

It was quiet for several minutes, then Krycek spoke in a low voice.  "You're gonna quit?"

Mulder looked up, nodding slowly.

"To work with me?" Krycek asked.

"To help you recover," Mulder corrected him.  "And then to work with you, yes."

Krycek exhaled slowly, eyes wide.  He turned away, staring at the wall.  "You...really want this?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Mulder said firmly.

Krycek sighed, then swallowed, then dropped his head, closing his eyes.  "Okay," he choked out, exhaling roughly.  He nodded.

Mulder let out a relieved sigh, smiling.  "Thank you," he said, then after another minute, "I won't let you down."

Krycek said nothing, head still bowed, but he let out a shaky sigh.

"Now how 'bout that milkshake?" Mulder asked.

Krycek let out a wet sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, and lifted his head.  He turned to Mulder, and after another moment, nodded.

...

After he fed Krycek half a milkshake, then later three cups of tea and a cup of broth, all augmented with assorted essential oils, Mulder gave Krycek his afternoon dose of silver and told him he had some things to do.  Krycek was tired of drinking and pissing anyway, and seemed a little glad to see Mulder go.  Mulder told him he'd be back later that evening, after Krycek had eaten his dinner and had his bath.  He went down to his car, ready to put the second part of his plan into action.  He called the Gunmen and told them he was on his way.

"Mulder, come in!" Frohike greeted him, ushering him in.  "How's the uh...situation working out with your friend?"

"That's what I'm here to talk about," Mulder said.  "I need all of you.  Can we sit down somewhere?"

"Sure," Byers said.  "Let's go to the table."  He led them to a small, round dining table and they took their seats.  "What is it, Mulder?"

Mulder wasn't sure how to tell them this, and he didn't look forward to it.  But he'd thought about it and thought about it, and this was the best course of action, so he just plunged in.  "I need your help," he said.

"Sure," Frohike said.  "What can we do ya for?"

Mulder looked at him.  "That friend, the one I've been asking you for help with?"

"Yes?" Byers said.  Langley and Frohike nodded.

"It's Alex Krycek."

Byers and Frohike frowned, and Langley's brows shot up.

"He's seriously injured and..." Mulder took a breath.  "I'm going to be taking care of him for a couple of months while he recovers."

The three just stared at him for several minutes.

"Why?" Frohike finally said.  "Isn't he the one you suspect killed your father?  The one who was involved in the murder of Scully's sister?"

"He didn't kill Scully's sister," Mulder clarified.  "But yes, that's the one."

"Then...why?" Frohike asked again.

"Because he's going to work with me to stop colonization," Mulder said.

Frohike arched his brows, and the Gunmen all looked at each other for a few minutes.

"What can we do?" Byers said finally.

Mulder smiled, sadly grateful.  "I'm going to need your help for roughly the next two months," Mulder said.  "Pretty much full time.  And while you're helping me, you can't do anything else.  You can't be in contact with anyone else, be involved with any of your own projects, nothing.  It's too dangerous."

Frohike glanced around at the others, who said nothing.  He looked back at Mulder, all seriousness.  "What do you want us to do?"

"I'm working on buying some property.  In Canada," Mulder explained, deeply grateful.  "I've got three agents working on my specifications, but I can't go look at something when they call me," he explained.  "I need you to go for me, look at the different properties, and narrow the choice down to one or two that I can make one trip up to look at."

"Okay," Frohike agreed.  They all nodded.

"I need a fake identity, too," Mulder said.  "To complete the purchase with.  It will be relatively simple, because I'll be paying cash, but it absolutely cannot in any way be linked to my name."

They all looked at each other and nodded again.

"I'll charter you a private flight up there as soon as I have some properties for you to look at, and when you have it narrowed down, call me.  I'll give you a list of everything I'm looking for, and I want you to be looking out for the most secure location you can find, not too far from the city but definitely rural, with a long driveway, trees all around, that kind of thing."

They nodded again.

"Once the purchase is complete, I've got contractors waiting to go in and remodel it," Mulder went on.  "I need you there every step of that process to make sure everything is done to my specifications, and I want you guys to use your own mojo to install state-of-the art security.  Spare no expense, and be as paranoid as you've ever been."  Mulder looked down at the table, then back up at them.  "I'm not going to lie to you.  This is incredibly dangerous.  People will be looking for us, and we need to be ready for anything."  He swallowed.  "I've given the contractors four days to finish the remodeling.  I've offered them double pay if they finish on time, as well as a very generous budget, so I think we'll be okay.  As soon as it's finished, I'll be bringing him up there."

The Gunmen all leaned back, letting their breath out.

"Then I need you guys to stay with me for about two months while he recovers," Mulder said.  "I don't trust anybody else.  I'll take most of the responsibility for Krycek's care, but you guys need to help me keep us all safe.  And we all need to completely disappear for about two months.  No traces."

Eyebrows went up around the table again, and they all took deep breaths, looking at each other.

Mulder sat back in his chair, giving them time.

"You're...leaving the Bureau?" Byers asked, brows arched.

Mulder nodded.  "This is more important," he said.  "Once Krycek is recovered, he'll be the biggest advantage we have against the colonization of this planet."

"The threat is really that imminent?" Byers asked.

Mulder looked at him.  "Yes," he replied.  "I haven't told you much of anything, and I don't have time to go into it now.  Once we're moved up there, I'll brief you on the entire situation, and so will Krycek."

More heavy exhales all around the table, then Frohike startled everyone by pounding on the table.

"When do we start?"

Mulder smiled.  "I'll make appointments for you starting day after tomorrow and charter you a flight.  As soon as the arrangements are made, I'll call you."

"We'll get started on that identity," Frohike said.  "We'll have it for you by tomorrow night."

"Great," Mulder said.  "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Let's pray you don't ever have to find out," Frohike said, and they all nodded.

---

To be continued...

If you liked this, please send feedback HERE!  Book Two is already well in progress, but stalled.  If you want to help me unstall it, nothing feeds the muse like feedback.  :-)

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