Zing 2

Author:  Satina

Date:  April 2005

Rating:  R

Pairing:  M/K

Series:  Sequel to Zing  (But as long as you understand that Krycek is now nano-enhanced himself, this can stand alone.  And it's a much better story, in my opinion, written two years after the first.)

Spoilers:  S.R. 819, Biogenesis

Summary:  Several months after Krycek’s escape from the nano labs, Mulder is in the psychiatric hospital due to the effects of the alien artifacts.  Krycek, who is nano-enhanced himself, decides on an even better use for the technology than just controlling Skinner.  Of course, he doesn’t realize that Mulder can now read his mind.

Disclaimer:  They're not mine.  More's the pity.

Archive:  Any listed it's posted to has full permission.  Anyone else, just ask so I can visit.

Feedback:  Yes, please!  Send it here!

---

It was really rather disappointing to Krycek how easily Assistant Director Walter Skinner had been brought under his thumb.  He’d always been a little intimidated by Walter, and to find that he’d so easily give Mulder up to save his own ass had been a bit of a let-down to Krycek.

But it was great, being able to make Skinner assign Mulder whatever case Krycek wanted him to have.  Now Krycek knew everything Mulder knew on top of everything Krycek already knew. Krycek was gathering power and information at an amazing speed with Mulder’s help.

Now Mulder was finding the artifact pieces for him.  He’d been doing all the grunt work, tracking everyone down, and Krycek had followed along behind, scooping up the goodies.  It was awesome having Mulder’s brain working for him.  It was like being partners again, really, only Mulder didn’t know it.

Problem was, something had pushed that Mulder-brain right over the edge.  Krycek frowned as he stared at a videotape of Mulder bouncing off the padded walls.  He had no idea why Mulder was having such a violent, unexplainable reaction to the pieces of the artifact, and he frankly didn’t care.  What he did know was that very soon he was going to have all the extraterrestrial ship pieces he needed in order to actually bring the dead back to life, but he’d  be able to find them a hell of a lot faster if Mulder was doing all the work for him.  He needed to get Mulder back in the game.

He picked up the phone.

“Yes.”

“Hey Walt,” he drawled.  “How are things?”

Heavy sigh.  “What do you want?”

“I hear Mulder’s feeling a little peaked.”

“Do you have something to do with his illness?”  Skinner’s voice went suddenly from barely- contained hatred to sharp suspicion.

Krycek laughed softly.  “I don’t, actually,” he said, pursing his lips. “Well, that’s not entirely true, since I did give him the case, or we did,” he stressed, grinning.  “In any event, I can help him.”

Nothing but breathing on the other end of the line for several moments, then, again, more tiredly, “What do you want, Krycek.”

“I need a two hour window at the hospital,” said Krycek.  “No cameras, no guards, nobody to disturb us.”  He smiled into the phone.

“What are you going to do to him?” Skinner asked, clearly worried.

“Give him back his mental health,” said Krycek.  “Can’t have Mulder lying down on the job. Boy’s got work to do.”

“And if I say no?”

Krycek smiled again.  Walt was so cute when he played the stoic. “Push of a button, Walt. And nobody pushes your buttons like I do.” He could practically see that upper lip curling.

Hard swallow.  “When?”

“As soon as possible,” said Krycek.  “I’ll call you in a couple of hours.”  He hung up the phone without waiting for a reply.  He picked up the palm pilot, dialing Walt’s arterial blockers up to 3 just to keep him motivated.

A few hours later, Krycek strode through the empty, half-darkened hospital hallway.  Sure enough, there was no one at the surveillance station outside of Mulder’s room and the screens were all black.  He reached into his pocket, fingering the syringe full of nanos, then walked back to the door to Mulder’s cell.

Walter had given him the codes to get in, and he quickly punched them, already feeling his heart speed up.  These nanos would not only get Mulder back on his feet.  They’d put Mulder on his knees. Mulder, like Skinner, would be at his beck and call.  The great Fox Mulder finally brought to heel.  He took a deep breath and stepped into the white room.

Mulder was in a corner, wide-eyed, teeth clenched.  Krycek couldn’t help but smile.  They’d thoughtfully put him a straight jacket.  It was too easy, really.

“Mulder,” he said, closing the door behind him.  “You’re looking…” He looked Mulder up and down, eyeing the short hospital gown and white leather straight jacket, the wild hair and red-rimmed eyes. “…well.”

“FFfffkkkkk!” Mulder hissed, pressing his back against the wall violently, bouncing off the padding there.

“Take it easy, Mulder,” said Krycek, stepping into the middle of the room.  “I brought a present for you.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the syringe, holding it up.

Mulder’s eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw jumping.

“This should bring you back to normal…or better, actually,” said Krycek, stepping closer.

Mulder started shaking his head ‘no’ furiously, trying to become one with the wall behind him.

“No?” said Krycek, frowning.  “That’s kind of ungrateful, don’t you think?  I mean, this is state of the art technology here, Mulder, and I just want to use it to give you back your marbles.”

“Fffffkkkkkkkrrryyyyyy!” Mulder yelled, ducking down into a crouch.

“You want it,” said Krycek.  “You know you do.”  He smiled again and stepped in, taking the cap off the end of the needle.  “Now just hold still,” he said, reaching for Mulder’s shoulder.

Mulder fought him violently, butting into him with his body, slamming his head forward into Krycek’s painfully, kicking and even trying to bite him.  Krycek used his superior strength and the advantage of having both arms free to slam him into the wall and shove the needle into his hip.

“Ahhhhhhhhh!” screamed Mulder, writhing as it was withdrawn.

Krycek quickly stepped back, and Mulder slid to the floor, eyes wide, mouth open and gasping.  Then his eyes squeezed shut, head slamming back into the padded wall, teeth bared for nearly a full minute.  Krycek watched, transfixed.  Mulder’s mouth slowly fell open on panting breaths, face going slack, lashes fluttering.  He watched Mulder catch his breath for several more minutes, then Mulder’s eyes opened, pinning him.

“What do you want, Krycek?” he exhaled.

“Mulder!” said Krycek, grinning.  “Welcome back!”

Mulder just glared at him, swallowing and looking up at him from his position slouched against the wall.

“Feeling better?” asked Krycek, tilting his head.

“Fuck you,” said Mulder evenly, still breathing hard.

“Guess so,” said Krycek, arching his brows.  “All right, Fox,” he said, grinning again as Mulder’s face tightened.  “Here’s the deal.  You’re perfect.”

Mulder’s eyes narrowed.

“Everything that was ever in your genetic code is now yours, healthy and whole,” Krycek went on.  “Including control over that phenomenally useful mind of yours.”

Mulder just looked at him, chest heaving.

“Bad news is,” said Krycek, smiling hugely.  “At least for you, anyway,” he went on, drawing out the beautiful moment.  “I have utter and complete control over your body now.” He withdrew the palm pilot from his pocket and held it up.  “You’re mine.”

Mulder spat out a laugh.  “You think that shit’s gonna work on me, Krycek?”

Krycek’s smile faded into a frown.  “I can hurt you, Mulder,” he said. “You know I’m the one controlling Skinner.  You saw what I did to him.”

“Take your best shot,” said Mulder, shrugging as much as he could given his restrained position.  “Stop my heart, make my fucking head explode, I don’t give a damn.  I’m not gonna kneel down and be your boy the way he is, so you can just go fuck yourself.”

Krycek’s eyes narrowed to slits, his teeth grinding.  He looked down at the palmtop and began punching keys rapidly, and Mulder let out a scream, falling on his side on the floor, writhing.

“Don’t make me do this, Mulder!” Krycek spat, standing over him.  “I don’t want to hurt you!”

“Fffffffffuckkkkkkkyou!” Mulder hissed from between clenched teeth, spittle flying.

“Fuck!” yelled Krycek, punching his thigh.  Why hadn’t he foreseen this?  Mulder was the most stubborn, annoying son of a bitch he’d ever known!  Why had he thought for one minute that it would be as easy to bring him to heel as it had been Walter Skinner?  Obviously, Mulder would choose death over servitude any day.  “Shit!”

Mulder gasped and writhed on the floor at his feet while he decided what the hell he was gonna do now.  He had control of Mulder’s body, but he’d never have control over his behavior, that much was obvious.  Mulder was still going to be the same irritating, self- righteous, idealistic, naïve, stubborn son of a bitch he’d always been, only now he was practically indestructible, except by Krycek himself. Krycek let out a deep, put-upon sigh, grinding his teeth.  He brought the palm pilot up and punched the keys angrily, and Mulder’s body sagged on the floor, gasping breaths coming from between drool- covered, pale lips.

“You…might as well…kill me now…”  Mulder gasped out between breaths, swallowing.

“I don’t fucking want to kill you,” Krycek ground out, glaring at him.

Mulder gasped out a laugh.  “Some plan….Krycek,” he panted.  “I’ll bet you’re…shitty at poker, too.”

Krycek’s eyes tightened, jaw hard.  Mulder was right, though.  It was a bluff.  Because he didn’t want to kill him.  Couldn’t kill him. Didn’t even really like to see him hurt, actually.  Even when Mulder was beating the shit out of him.  Mulder had always been his biggest weakness.  Maybe his only weakness.  And now it was all becoming horribly obvious. He shook his head.

Mulder was staring up at him now, eyes narrowed.  His voice was calm and curious as he asked again, “What do you want, Krycek?”

To rule the world, thought Krycek bitterly.  To not get fucked over by an alien race. Other than that, he hadn’t given it much thought. “Full medical?” he said sardonically. Then he realized, he didn’t even need that with the nanos.  He snorted.

“What exactly do these things do?” asked Mulder, frowning.

Krycek sighed.  “Anything I want them to,” he said quietly.

“I know they almost killed Skinner,” said Mulder.  “And whatever you just did to me hurt like hell, but what else do they do?”

Krycek looked away.  Great.  Now he had Mulder at his feet, all right.  Asking him questions he didn’t want to answer, just like always.  Maybe he should just give him an aneurism and be done with it.  Why did this always happen with Mulder?  Why did he always end up being the one to come to heel?  No one else controlled him like this.  Sure, some thought they did, but he only pretended to be on the leash in order to get what he wanted from them.  But with Mulder, it was like it was out of his control.  He ended up being slammed against phone banks, locked in silos, drug under razor wire, held down while peasants cut off his fucking arm…

“Hey, your arm,” said Mulder suddenly.  “I thought…I mean…”

Krycek looked him in the eye, squinting.

“Did the nanos…?”  Mulder asked, then as he looked at Krycek, making him feel like he was being X-rayed, Mulder nodded slowly. “They did, didn’t they.  They regenerated your arm.” His voice was tinged with fascination.  “That’s what you meant when you said I was perfect,” he went on, scooting himself back up against the wall.  He even crossed his ankles as he got comfortable.  “The nanos can restore health as well as endanger it. Amazing.”

Krycek couldn’t help but let out a single laugh.  He’d just told Mulder that he’d been infected with something that put his bodily welfare squarely in the hands of his worst enemy, and what does Mulder react with?  Fascination and wonderment.  Krycek shook his head again. “Jesus, Mulder.”

Mulder uncrossed his ankles and began pushing himself to his feet. Krycek just watched him. “Hey, could you get me out of this thing?” asked Mulder, stretching his neck.

“Why the hell should I?” asked Krycek, frowning, eyes wide.

“You’re not afraid of me, are you?” asked Mulder, brows arched.  “I mean, you have total control over me, remember?”

Krycek stared at him.  No one in his entire life could irritate him this badly.  “Yes, I do,” he ground out.

“So let me out of the straight jacket,” said Mulder.  “You don’t need it.”

Krycek’s eyes narrowed.  It was true.  He could drop Mulder anytime he wanted to.  He certainly didn’t need any silly white leather restraints, so why not let him out?  He sighed, and Mulder heard it and smiled, turning his face to the wall so Krycek could reach the buckles.  Krycek reached out and angrily unbuckled the straps, yanking them open roughly then stepping back.

Mulder shook himself out of the jacket, sighing deeply, eyes fluttering closed.  “God that’s good,” he said, letting the jacket fall to the floor.  “My arms don’t even hurt,” he went on, flexing them. “Must be the nanos.”

Krycek rolled his eyes.  “Glad to be of service,” he muttered.

“Yeah, thanks,” said Mulder, quirking him a grin.  “So, you don’t know why that was happening to me, do you?” he asked.

What, was Krycek there for his benefit, to heal him and answer all his questions?  Krycek just stared at him.

Mulder nodded, sighing.  “I wonder what they did with my clothes,” he said, walking over to the door.

Krycek turned to watch him, eyes narrowing.

“I know it was the artifact,” Mulder went on, reaching up and beginning to punch the codes into the door.  It clicked open, and Krycek wondered how the hell Mulder knew the codes to his own door.  “But why would it have that kind of effect on me?”  He stepped through the door, talking to himself, and Krycek could either stay in the padded room or follow him. Krycek followed him.  “So Skinner let you in, huh?” Mulder said, pulling open drawers and cabinets, ostensibly searching for his clothes.  “I guess the bigger they are the harder they fall,” he muttered.  “What a patsy.”  He found what he was looking for and pulled down a pair of jeans and a sweater, along with underwear, socks, and shoes.  “My wallet’s in a damned safe,” he said.  “Guess I’ll have to come back for it later.”  He started unsnapping the hospital gown and shrugging it down his shoulders.

Krycek couldn’t help but gasp, blinking, as Mulder stripped naked in front of him.  And God, his body really was perfect.  As perfect as Krycek remembered it and moreso.  Lean and smooth and well-muscled, with that tight, hard, fucking amazing ass…

Mulder turned around, brows arched, holding his underwear in his hand.  “You’re into guys, Krycek?”

Krycek’s mouth fell open.  “I…”  He couldn’t think of anything to say. He used every ounce of his will power to keep his gaze from drifting down to Mulder’s fat, soft cock.

“How long have you been attracted to me?” asked Mulder, making no move to dress.

Oh Jesus, what was going on here?  Krycek’s eyes widened, unbidden images of Mulder hauling himself out of the pool flashing across his mind’s eye.  He’d looked good, then, and Krycek had barely been able to keep himself from staring at that delicious bulge, but now he was naked.  Naked!  And fucking perfect!  Fuck!

“I had no idea,” said Mulder thoughtfully, brow furrowed.  “And you don’t want to kill me,” he went on, eyes narrowing.  “What the hell’s your story, anyway, Krycek?”

To Krycek’s relief, Mulder bent and began stepping into his pair of dark blue knit boxer-briefs.  He pulled them up and then started stepping into his jeans.  Krycek let out a calming breath.  So Mulder knew Krycek wanted to fuck him.  Big deal.  Probably nearly everyone in the Bureau wanted to fuck him, including Walt.  It wasn’t a vulnerability, not really.  Now Mulder knowing he didn’t want to kill him…or hurt him…  Krycek frowned.

Mulder pulled up his jeans, smiling faintly as he zipped them.  He tugged the sweater down over his head, then bent over and started putting on his socks and shoes.  “What is it you really want?” he asked, looking up.  “I mean, do you really want to rule the world?”

Krycek’s frown deepened.  He hadn’t actually said that, had he?

“Hell of a lot of responsibility, if you ask me,” Mulder went on, going back to tying his shoes.  “If you think I’m gonna be the Pinky to your Brain, you can just forget it.”

What the hell was Mulder talking about?  Krycek just stared at him.

“Don’t you watch TV, Krycek?  Or just surveillance videos of me spitting sunflower seeds all over the floor in my office?”

Krycek’s lips parted, but he had nothing to say.  He didn’t watch TV, actually.  Hadn’t in several years.  And wait, how did Mulder know…

Mulder straightened up.  “Now keeping us from getting reamed by extraterrestrials I can get behind.”

Krycek swallowed.  That he could remember saying.  To Mulder right before he’d kissed him. How had this all gone to hell so quickly?  What the hell was he doing here?  He needed to get out of here, get away from Mulder, get back to gathering up the pieces of the artifact. He still had to get that piece off Sandoz in New Mexico. That could be the final one.

“So what do these artifacts do?” asked Mulder, startling Krycek out of his ruminations.

He blinked, brow deeply furrowed.  Time to go.  He’d decide what to do about Mulder and the nanos later.  Maybe they’d come in handy some other day.  Not today, though.  Today he needed to get away. Now.

“What’s the matter, Krycek?” said Mulder, stepping closer.  “You afraid of me?”

“Fuck you,” said Krycek, irritated.  But he took a step back.

Mulder smiled.  “This is great,” he said, stepping closer.  “You’re the one with the palmtop, but I’m the one with the power.”

“Fuck you!” Krycek said again, and he turned to leave, grabbing the knob on the surveillance room door.

“Hang on,” said Mulder, grabbing his arm.  “I just wanna know what they do.”

“Why the hell should I tell you?” Krycek spat incredulously.  No one except him and a few fringe scholars had any idea of those artifacts’ powers, and he certainly wasn’t going to let Mulder in on their possible ability to raise the dead.

Mulder’s lips parted, eyes wide.  Then, in a soft, wondering voice, “You really could rule the world with something like that.”

Krycek gasped.  What the fuck?  He stared at Mulder, lips parted, breathing hard.

“I don’t get it,” said Mulder.  “Why would extraterrestrial artifacts have the power to bring the dead back to life?”

“What the fuck’s going on here, Mulder?” Krycek yelled, backing against the counter.  God, it was like he was reading his fucking mind!

“I am,” said Mulder, nodding.  “Reading your fucking mind, that is.”

Krycek stumbled backward, feeling dizzy and sick.  “What?” he breathed.

“I guess it’s the artifact,” said Mulder, shrugging.  “Before you gave me the nanos, I couldn’t control it.  I just had thousands of voices and feelings and…input…jamming my frequencies, and I couldn’t get control over it long enough to even choose to listen to someone who was actually talking, or to control my own speech, my body, anything.  But now…”

Krycek gaped, panting for breath, staring at Mulder wide-eyed. “You…you can hear…”

“Your thoughts, yeah,” said Mulder, tucking his fingers into his jeans pocket.  “Extremely convenient.  So you like my ass, huh?” he asked, arching his brows.

Shit!  Fuck!  “I…”  Have to go!  Leave!  Run! Krycek shoved Mulder out of the way, yanking open the door and stepping out into the hall.

“Hold on!” said Mulder, coming out after him.  “I thought we were partners on this, Alex!”

Alex?!  Asshole!  Krycek walked faster, and Mulder had to break into a jog.  Krycek gritted his teeth and continued down the hallway. Mulder caught up with him, grinning.

“Get away from me!” spat Krycek furiously.  God, why was he following him?  Why couldn’t he just leave him alone?

Mulder laughed.  “You infected me, remember?  You obviously wanted something from me…besides my ass,” he added, smirking. “And if you think I’m gonna let you go down to New Mexico and kill Dr. Sandoz for that artifact, you’d better think again.”

Krycek whirled on him.  “What the fuck do you think you’re gonna do about it, Mulder?”

“Come with you,” said Mulder.  “I want to find them, too, Alex.”  He stared levelly into Krycek’s eyes.  “And now that you’ve given me the nanos, the artifacts can’t hurt me anymore.  Nothing can.”

Krycek stared at him helplessly.  What the hell did he do?  What kind of monster had he created?

“C’mon, Alex.  I know you’ve always wanted to work with me for real,” Mulder went on.  “And you don’t have any secrets from me anymore, so why not?”

Krycek’s gut clenched in pure terror.  Secrets were the only things keeping him alive. “Because you’re the most fucking annoying person I’ve ever met in my whole fucking life!” he snarled.

Mulder smiled.

“There’s no room in my life for a partner!” Krycek yelled, feeling like he was in a car that was falling apart out from under him as he drove over a cliff going ninety.

 “Ruling the world can be an awfully lonely business without one,” Mulder said quietly.

Krycek gasped.  What did Mulder know about loneliness?  Well, probably a lot, actually, but he didn’t know anything about really being alone.  After all, he had Scully, the Lone Gunmen, even Skinner, although he was perfect proof of what trusting someone could end up doing to you.  No, it was better to have no one.  Like Krycek always had.  That way no one could ever really screw you over, and no one could ever be taken away from you.  Or leave.

Mulder frowned.  “I understand better than you think,” he said.  He sighed.  “I’ve thought this over, Alex, and look at it this way.  You can’t screw me over anymore because I can read your mind, and I can’t screw you over because you can kill me with the push of a button.  What better partnership is there?”  He smiled that crooked Mulder smile.

Krycek could almost hear Billy Joel singing,  ‘You may be right, I may be crazy, but it just may be a lunatic you’re looking for.’

Mulder laughed, nodding.  “Exactly.  So whaddya say, Alex? Partners?”

Krycek stared at him, breathing hard.  Did he have a choice?  Mulder was right.  More than that, the only way he could escape Mulder’s constant mind-rape would be to kill him, something Krycek knew he couldn’t do.  The only alternative was to work with him.

“Great, let’s join Scully in New Mexico, then,” said Mulder, starting to stride down the hall toward the doors.

With a heavy, shaking sigh, Krycek fell in behind him.

---

Taking three airplanes cross-country with a smug, mind-reading Mulder was about as close to hell outside of a Siberian forest that Krycek ever wanted to get.  He shifted uncomfortably in the small seat once again, sighing.  Two more hours.  Just two more hours on this last flight and they’d finally be there.  Then what?  He didn’t know.

“So you think if you get this third piece and add it to the other two, it will automatically meld with it and form a greater entity?  One that actually makes sense?” Mulder looked at him, brows arched.

Krycek didn’t even bother to answer anymore.

Mulder nodded, turning to look out the window.  “DNA, huh?” he said to it.  “God, what does this mean?  Did aliens really seed the human race here on Earth?”  He turned to Krycek once again, frowning.

“I don’t know,” said Krycek quietly.  The thought filled him with black, horrible dread. He’d met enough aliens in his time to want to be as far from them as possible, genetically and physically.

“But their intellectual development appears to be superior to ours,” said Mulder, forming a counter argument to thoughts Krycek was trying hard not to think.  “I mean, you’ve got to want that part of it, anyway.  If they seeded us,” he went on, not waiting for Krycek to respond.  “Why do they now want to take over?  Or is this another race of aliens altogether?  A third race, apart from the Greys and the Rebels.”

Krycek sighed.

“Maybe they’ve always been at war,” Mulder went on.  Krycek turned to look at him, now, begrudgingly interested in what the famous Mulder brain was formulating.  “Maybe they’re making themselves known to us through these artifacts as a way to announce their reappearance on Earth.  Maybe they’re here to help us.”  He arched his brows, and Krycek thought he looked like a hopeful little boy.

“Maybe,” he conceded, shrugging one shoulder.  His knowledge about the artifacts was limited to what Earth’s own fringe scholars had theorized about them, as well as his own inside information that they did indeed come from a wrecked ship.  What the aliens who built and then wrecked that ship wanted with the human race he could only speculate.  And Krycek wasn’t given to optimism when it came to alien races.

“They can’t be all bad,” said Mulder.  “I mean, advanced intellectual development can’t always preclude advanced moral development, right?” he went on.  “If there are hostiles out there, there must be friendlies, too, don’t you think?”

Krycek narrowed his eyes.  It made sense, in a sort of naïve, rose- colored-glasses way that Krycek was not used to looking at the world in.  He envied Mulder that.  And he wondered how, after all that Mulder had seen, and all that had been done to him, he could continue to believe in a benevolent universe.

“I want to believe,” said Mulder softly, shrugging.  “What do you believe in, Alex?”

Krycek let out a soft gasp.  The intimacy of the tone and the question scared him deeply. And as he thought about it, even against his will, he realized that he really only believed in himself.  And that belief was shaky at best.  He looked into Mulder’s eyes, feeling so exposed he wanted to jump out of his seat and run.  Because there was one other thing Krycek believed in.  Mulder.  He believed there was no one like Mulder on the planet.  No one as smart, no one as passionate, no one as purely dedicated to finding the answers.  And no one as likely to actually succeed at finding them.  That’s why he’d used Skinner to get Mulder to work for him.  He’d never met anyone like him and didn’t expect to.  He swallowed hard.

Mulder sighed, frowning.  “Alex,” he said.  “Why do you believe that we’re just automatically always going to be diametrically opposed? Why is it so hard to believe that we might see eye to eye on some things?  That we might find a common ground?”

Krycek huffed a laugh.  See eye to eye with Fox Mulder.  He could never be that pure, that honest, that…clean.  He’d always do things in the dark, in the shadows, and Mulder would always be in the light.

“Don’t you think you can make a difference in the light?” asked Mulder quietly.

“Jesus it sucks when you do that,” hissed Krycek.  “It’s worse than the black oil.”

“What was it like?” asked Mulder, immediately curious.

Krycek swallowed.  God, why had he brought that up?  No, no, no, he couldn’t go there, not now, not when he was sitting in an airplane seat next to the same man he’d ridden with when his body had been totally out of his control, manipulated and owned by some cold, alien consciousness inside him.  I'm in control.  I'm in control.  He flexed his hands, making fists, clenching his jaw.  My body is my own.  I'm in control.

“It didn’t do that to me,” Mulder said softly.  “When they tested it on me.”

Krycek turned on him, teeth grinding.  “You were vaccinated,” he said through clenched teeth.  “It wasn’t able to stay in your body.” Thanks to me!!!  His mind practically screamed.  And what did I get out of it?  A red-hot knife on an ice-cold night, and weeks in a tiny, dirty, horrifying foreign hospice!  Krycek looked away, grinding his teeth painfully.

“Why did you lead me over there?” asked Mulder, frowning.  “Surely it wasn’t just to get me vaccinated against the black oil.”

Krycek could feel Mulder looking at him but he refused to turn his head.  It was complicated.  He’d wanted to show Mulder the big picture.  Wanted to let Mulder in on the race for the cure that was going on.  Had wanted Mulder to help him get the successful vaccine from the Russians.

“If you wanted my help, you should have told me more about what was going on,” said Mulder.

“You wouldn’t have believed me!” spat Krycek, whipping his head around.  “You never trusted me!  I would have given you more, Mulder, if you’d done something besides punch me and let Skinner punch me and chain me out on his fucking balcony!  Give a little, get a little, Mulder!”  He was shaking now, and he held his hands in clenched fists, breathing back the rage.

Mulder was quiet, just looking at him.  Then he turned and faced straight ahead.  “I was afraid,” he said quietly.

“Of what,” said Krycek shortly.

“Of believing in you,” answered Mulder, still not looking at him.  “I wanted to, so badly. God, I was so mad…”  Mulder’s lips firmed, and he blinked.  “I didn’t think I could ever hit you enough.  Hurt you enough, for what you’d done.”  His voice trailed off, and he turned to look out the window.  “I always thought it would have been kinder if you’d just shot me.”

Can't...  Krycek thought immediately.

“What you did hurt more,” Mulder said in a near-whisper.

“I was just…”  Krycek started, voice hoarse.

“Trying to follow orders, trying to stay alive, trying to stay one step ahead of everyone, I know,” said Mulder quietly.  “It was never personal for you.  Like it was for me.”

Krycek frowned, looking over at the back of Mulder’s head as Mulder stared out the window. He’d hurt him?  He’d known he was making him angry, lying to him, screwing him over, but he’d never considered that Mulder might take it personally.  Feel hurt by what he’d done. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.  Well, so he’d hurt Mulder.  So what?  He hadn’t meant to.  He was just doing his job. People got hurt all the time.  Mulder had hurt Krycek plenty of times, too.  Everyone had hurt Krycek.  So much that he’d become un- hurtable. Untouchable.  He looked away, jaw firming.

“How could you not know that killing my father would hurt me?” Mulder said, still staring out the window.

Krycek looked back over at him.  “You don’t know anything about your father, Mulder,” he answered in a low voice.

“So tell me,” said Mulder, sounding tired.

And Krycek knew Mulder wasn’t asking him to actually speak.  He wanted him to think about Bill Mulder.  To let Mulder glean the truth straight from his mind, where he knew the source was pure, free from lies or manipulations.  So Krycek did.  He let himself think about Bill Mulder.  About how he was a weak, cruel man who let his son carry the guilt over his own crimes rather than face that son’s disapproval.  Who remained a part of a conspiracy he didn’t agree with or believe in, out of fear and because he didn’t have the strength to stand up to the others.  How he’d signed off on hideous genetic experiments and on the deaths of the victims of those experiments. How he, like Skinner, had chosen to surrender those he loved rather than to face his own death, when given the choice those many years ago.  And how he was going to confess all of this to Mulder at absolutely the worst time possible, with little thought to how it would make Mulder an even bigger target than he was already rapidly becoming.  How he was dying anyway, and was going to unburden his soul before he went, regardless of what that did to his son.  Krycek thought about it all, staring straight ahead, expressionless.  Last of all, he thought of that night in the bathroom, of raising the gun and of Bill Mulder giving him a tired, knowing smile in the mirror just before he pulled the trigger.  He closed his eyes on a shuddering sigh.

He heard, next to him, a sharp gasp and hard swallow, followed by several shuddering breaths.  He opened his eyes and looked over to see Mulder, forehead pressed to the airplane window, shoulders shaking.  Krycek frowned, watching the controlled jerking motions, then looked away, clenching his jaw.  He tightened his eyes.  He’d never in a million years expected to be around when Mulder was…crying.  Mulder was crying.  Right here next to him.  Their thighs were inches apart.  Krycek stared down at Mulder’s long, slim thigh encased in denim.  His hand twitched at his side, wanting to rest there.  To give or to get, he didn’t even know himself.  He just wanted to touch him.  He curled his hand into a fist, focusing on the pain of his nails cutting into his palm as he waited for the flight to be over.  For Mulder to finish crying.

Mulder looked up only when the captain announced that they were going to be landing, his eyes red and swollen and tired.  Krycek wished for one strange moment that he could use the palmtop to erase emotional pain the way he could physical pain.  He shifted in his seat, getting ready to land, and Mulder didn’t say anything more.

Mulder stopped in the middle of the airport hallway, turning to Krycek.  His eyes were still red, face puffy.  “I need to use the restroom,” he said in a hoarse voice.  “Will you stay out here?”

Krycek nodded without thinking, and Mulder nodded back, turning and walking into the restroom.  Krycek preferred not to use airport restrooms.  He always waited until he was in his own hotel room and had scouted it out carefully to make sure he was the only one in the room.  He waited, watching the crowds until Mulder came back out. His face was less blotchy, his hair slightly damp around the forehead area.  He looked at Krycek but didn’t say anything, just turning and walking down the hall toward the rental cars.  Krycek fell in behind again, as usual.

They drove out to the reservation, and Krycek was both grateful and frightened by the silence between them, realizing that he was probably saying more to Mulder when he wasn’t talking than when he was.  It was hard for him not to watch Mulder, to look at him and try to gauge what he was thinking.  Krycek didn’t have the luxury of telepathy, after all, and could only guess what was going on in that complicated, warped, brilliant mind.  He swallowed and tried to spend the drive looking out the windows instead.

They pulled up to the parking area around the tipi and Mulder looked around the area, scouting for Scully’s car.  He had called ahead to warn her that he was coming, and he’d told her he was bringing a consultant along on the case.  Krycek had snorted at that, but inwardly agreed that given how little support Scully had given to Mulder so far regarding this case, it was best to spring things on her in the most careful way possible.  He spotted her climbing out of a car and took a deep breath, readying himself for battle.

Mulder climbed out of the car and Krycek followed, and he watched as Scully’s eyes went perfectly round, her sienna-painted lips falling open in shock.  Her eyes went from Krycek to Mulder, glancing back over at Krycek from time to time as if she had to keep making sure that yes, that was Alex Krycek standing next to her partner.  Krycek sighed and waited for the fur to fly.

“Mulder, what is this?” she asked, frowning deeply as she stepped up in front of him. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s working with me now,” said Mulder, tilting his head slightly as if in a challenge to her to make something of it.

“What do you mean, working with you?” she said incredulously. “Mulder, what’s wrong with you?”

Krycek smiled.  It didn’t take a mind-reader to be able to tell that Scully thought Mulder had indeed finally gone completely mad.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited to see what Mulder would say.

“He’s harmless,” said Mulder, and Krycek frowned at him.  He may have reservations about hurting Mulder, but he was far from harmless.  Anyone else who got in his way, including Scully, was on their own.

Mulder looked over at him, frowning deeply and sighing.  He looked straight at Krycek as he spoke.  “We can trust him now, Scully, that’s all I can say.”

“Mulder, I’m not sure I can trust you!” she said, actually grabbing his arm and pulling him a few feet away out of Krycek’s earshot.  It was relatively useless, because the tone of her voice carried perfectly. Krycek yawned, looking around at the desert scenery.

“Scully, I’ve been trying to tell you that the artifacts are doing something to my mind,” he began.

“I believe you!” she interrupted him.  “Obviously they’ve impaired your judgement!  Mulder, what the hell are you thinking?”

Krycek watched as Mulder’s jaw muscles jumped and he closed his eyes, trying to control his frustration.

“I can hear his thoughts, Scully,” said Mulder, jaw still tight.  “He can’t lie to me anymore.”

“Mulder, that’s ridiculous!” Scully exclaimed.  Her voice carried over the entire parking area.

Krycek rolled his eyes.  God, she can be so thick sometimes.  How does Mulder put up with it?  Mulder glanced over at him, frowning, and Krycek shrugged.  He didn’t care if Mulder knew how he felt about Scully.  He’d watched the surveillance videos of both their office and Skinner’s enough to know Scully was anything but supportive of Mulder’s conclusions regarding this case.  Krycek thought she was being an obstinant bitch, and on this case certainly was being more of a hindrance than a help.  How can she continue to disbelieve and even distrust him after he’s proven himself right time and time again?  Am I the only one who knows Mulder’s true worth?  No wonder it was so easy to get his trust back in the beginning.  He was used to abuse, so a little faith in him went a hell of a long way.

Mulder sighed and turned back to Scully.

“We need him on this, Scully.  He knows more about these artifacts than anybody.  Now I need to know, Scully.  Are you with me on this or not?”  Mulder glanced over at Krycek and back to Scully, and Krycek arched his brows in surprise.  God, it's almost as ifI'm being being chosen over the pure and perfect Dana Scully.  He straightened his shoulders slightly.

“Mulder, I can’t work with him!” Scully exclaimed, glancing over at Krycek for a brief instant before training her incredulous eyes back on Mulder.  “I think you need help, Mulder!  I’m not even sure you should be on this case!  Or any other!” she added, rather hysterically, in Krycek’s opinion.

Mulder’s eyes narrowed.  “Fine.  Why don’t you call Skinner and recommend I be taken off it, then,” he said.  He looked her straight in the eye.

Krycek watched Scully sigh in frustration.  He knew she didn’t believe Mulder’s earlier suspicions that their boss was dirty.  He nearly laughed at how ironic it was.  If she did call and recommend Mulder be removed from duty, Skinner would never go for it. Krycek would see to that.  She really had no idea how completely she was fucked.  He waited to see if she’d give in and trust Mulder on this or give up on him yet again.

Finally, she dropped her eyes.  “Mulder, I’m sorry,” she said very quietly.  Then she turned away from him, walking slowly back to her car.  Mulder watched her speculatively, then shook his head slowly. He turned and walked back over to Krycek.

“She’s doing it,” he said quietly.  He let out a heavy sigh, looking down at the ground.

Krycek didn’t know what to say.  He almost wanted to offer some sort of lame reassurance, make excuses for her just to soothe Mulder’s obvious disappointment and…hurt.  But he had no experience with that sort of thing, and he wasn’t sure why the hell he wanted to do it anyway, so he just stayed quiet.  She's not a threat to us anyway. That's the important thing to keep in mind.

“Come on,” said Mulder.  “Let’s go find Sandoz.”

They crossed the parking area to the tipi and waited until someone came out, then Mulder ducked his head inside.  He withdrew it with a short nod to Krycek, and a few minutes later, Dr. Sandoz stepped out, looking excited.

“Dr. Sandoz,” said Mulder, fishing for his badge and holding it up. “I’m Fox Mulder with the FBI.  This is my…colleague, Alex Krycek. I wonder if we could ask you a few questions.”

“About what?” the man said nervously.

“I work with Dana Scully,” said Mulder, swallowing.  “We’ve recently come into possession of a rubbing taken off an artifact, and I thought you might be able to tell us more about that.”

“You work with Agent Scully?” asked Dr. Sandoz, looking around nervously.  “Did she tell you I was here?”

Krycek smirked slightly.  Scully had indeed told Skinner, who had told Krycek, who’d had the information mind-gleaned from him by Mulder.

“Yes,” said Mulder, nodding.  “What can you tell us about it?”

“Well it’s actually quite fascinating!” said Dr. Sandoz excitedly.  “I finally figured out what the letters mean!”

“DNA,” said Mulder, nodding.  “But why is it on an artifact of extraterrestrial origin?”

“I don’t know,” replied the doctor.  “I can only speculate that it has to do with the origins of life itself on this planet!”

“Can I see the artifact that you have in your possession?” asked Mulder.

“Yes, absolutely!” said the other man excitedly.  Krycek rolled his eyes at the utter disregard for discretion this idiotic man was showing.  He really would be doing the world a favor to just knock him off before he did something stupid and fucked things up royally.

Mulder shot Krycek a glare as the man took a fabric-wrapped object from his jacket pocket and hurriedly unveiled it.  Krycek looked away, hands still in his pockets.  Mulder looked at the artifact, and Krycek turned back to watch him, scouting the area at the same time. There was, thankfully, no one around to see Dr. Sandoz revealing this priceless object like a kid with a new toy.  Just get it and let’s go!  He looked around.  Scully’s probably sending out the men with butterfly nets right now.

“We have two other pieces,” said Mulder, casually referring to the pieces that Krycek had. Krycek frowned.  “Would you mind if we took this one back and put it with the others to see what we might find?”

Dr. Sandoz’s expression was both excited and hesitant.

“You’re free to come back with us,” said Mulder.  “We could use your expertise on this.”

“Someone’s trying to kill me…” said the man, shaking his head.

Mulder nodded.  “Barnes.  He killed McKlellan and made it look like you did it.  We’re well aware of that.  We have enough on him to make an arrest.  We can keep you safe.”  He glanced over at Krycek meaningfully.

Krycek just blinked.  He’d let the little nerd live as long as he didn’t get in the way. Mulder really needed to learn to look at the big picture.

“Oh,” said the doctor.  “I wasn’t aware…all right, then,” he said, still sounding hesitant. “I would like to see the other two pieces.”

Mulder nodded.  “Let’s go then,” he said.

Dr. Sandoz looked back at the tipi, seeming worried, but then followed Mulder as he started back over to the cars.  Krycek sighed and once again fell in behind.

The flight back to D.C. was far less eventful than the one over, Mulder making small talk with Dr. Sandoz, practically ignoring Krycek.  Krycek wondered if Mulder was taking a complete mental inventory of everything Dr. Sandoz knew or theorized about the artifacts. If he was, that just made Dr. Sandoz even more expendable, in Krycek’s opinion.  But he tried not to think too much about it, reading the onboard magazines, making mental wishlists of the overpriced, useless but terribly cool gadgets in the SkyMall catalog. Yeah, Mulder.  I’ve always wanted my own vibrating barcalounger. There’s some juicy mind- fodder for ya.

Mulder glanced over at him, and Krycek could have sworn there was humor in his eyes, though his expression was serious as he continued chatting with Dr. Sandoz.

Finally, they were back in D.C. and headed toward a hotel for Dr. Sandoz to stay in.  While he got checked in, Mulder took Krycek aside.

“You need to go get the other two pieces,” he said, as if all he had to do was ask.

Krycek looked at him.  “Why should I do that?”

“Because we’re in this together, Alex,” said Mulder firmly.  “I thought you understood that.”

“How does it serve me to show my two pieces to that loser?” asked Krycek, still unconvinced.

“He’s the expert,” said Mulder, getting angry.  “And he has the third piece.”

“You can’t tell me you weren’t harvesting all the information about it from his brain all the way here,” said Krycek, still stalling.  “And I say we just take that third piece.”

Mulder sighed, closing his eyes.  “He’s an ally, Alex,” he said, trying to be patient.  “He could come in handy to us.  He’s the one who figured out what the random letters meant.  He might be able to tell us more.”

Krycek sighed, narrowing his eyes.  He still thought it would be far more efficient to just take the third piece and ditch the doctor, or if that didn’t work, eliminate him.

“God, you have a warped view of the world,” Mulder said, shaking his head.

“Pot calling the kettle black, if you ask me,” retorted Krycek with a shrug.  Not everyone can afford to be as naive as you, Mulder.

“I’m not naïve,” Mulder said.  “I just believe in the value of human life.  Jesus, Krycek, when did you decide that no one mattered but you?”

Krycek narrowed his eyes.  Pictures flashed through his head of a filthy home full of children, of himself tiny and hungry, bruised and cold, waiting for someone to notice him long enough to feed and change him, yet also trying to stay unnoticed so as not to get hit or kicked, later stealing food away from the other children because no one ever seemed to give him enough, sleeping on the floor in a corner so he could roam the house at night looking for more.  Then him, older, with no lunch money and shoes that were two sizes too small, going through the other children’s desks, collecting enough pennies to buy himself something from the vending machine, stealing pencils and paper because he never had any, getting beaten both at school and at home for not doing his homework, having not done it because he hadn’t been able to go home at all, for fear of the three-day violent, drunken binge his parents were on.  Finally, lightning-fast, painful flashes of being on the street at thirteen, curling up in storefronts and under bridges and overpasses, learning how to fight and even kill in order to not become prey, but not always being able to escape the bigger hands, the faster, older, more ruthless boys and men…

Mulder stared at him, lips parted.

Krycek turned away, swallowing.  It was a lesson he’d learned early and well.  If you didn’t look out for yourself, no one else would.  And caring about anyone besides yourself just made you even more vulnerable when they decided to turn on you.

Dr. Sandoz rejoined them, and Mulder didn’t say anything more about it, just walking them back out to the car.  He drove them over to the hospital where Krycek had left his car the day he’d cured Mulder.

“We’ll wait for you at my office,” said Mulder, looking at him very intently.

Krycek already knew Mulder had seen that he could easily get in and out and had regular meetings with Skinner to pick up the tapes of the surveillance done on his office and on Mulder’s.  He nodded and stepped out of the car.  He’d go get his pieces of the artifact, and he’d bring them back to Mulder.  He’d give Mulder a chance to show him why having an ally in Dr. Sandoz was such a great idea, but if Mulder was wrong, he’d reconsider his decision to cooperate.

Mulder was frowning at him out the window as he walked away.  He hunched deeper into his jacket, heading across the parking garage to his car.

He drove across town to where he had the artifacts stashed, wondering for the millionth time why the hell he was even considering cooperating with Fox Mulder on this.  Then answering himself that it was because he couldn’t hide from him anymore, that if he didn’t, Mulder would always know exactly where he was and what he was doing and would track him down and make his life a living hell.  It was easier just to go along with him.

God, why had he ever decided to infect Mulder with those damned nanos?  If he’d just stayed away, Mulder would never have tuned in to him, would never have zeroed in on his psychic frequency.  He’d still be watching from the shadows.

Watching Mulder gibber like a monkey in the loony bin.  That’s why he’d done it.  He couldn’t watch that.  He needed Mulder to help him find the artifacts.  He needed Mulder to be on the job.  He needed Mulder to be…okay.

Krycek sighed, shoving the artifacts into a nylon gym bag, and headed back down to his car.

He drove over to the Hoover and headed down to the basement.  It was empty.  He frowned and looked all around, then waited another ten minutes before heading up to Skinner’s office. He walked in without preamble using the back entrance.

“Where’s Mulder?” he asked, frowning, not bothering with preliminaries.

“What do you mean?” asked Skinner, frowning back.  “I don’t know where he is.”

Krycek narrowed his eyes.  “He told me to meet him here at his office.  He’s not here.  He wouldn’t just not show up, Walt.”

“I don’t know where he is, Alex,” said Skinner, looking increasingly worried.

He always used Krycek’s first name when he was trying to placate him.  Krycek could tell he was telling the truth, and it was then that he became worried.  “Give me the tape with the feed from his office for today.”  He held out his gloved hand.

Skinner got up and went to the console, extracting the tape.  He brought it over and laid it in Krycek’s palm.  Without a word, Krycek turned on his heel, leaving Skinner’s office. He went back down to the basement office, but there was still no one there.  He went over to the VCR and put the tape in, turning on the monitor.  He rewound the tape a little ways and pushed play.

He watched as Mulder and Sandoz came into the office and Mulder pulled out some files, and the two men excitedly discussed Sandoz’s artifact.  Then Mulder received a phone call, and Krycek couldn’t hear the other end of the call, but on Mulder’s end, it looked like an emergency.  Mulder grabbed up his jacket and headed out the door, Sandoz on his heels.  No one else was on the tape from that point on. Shit.  Krycek would have to listen to the wire-taps to find out what the hell happened on that phone call.  And those were clear across town.

The feeds for the phone taps went directly to his apartment, bypassing the FBI and Skinner altogether.  Krycek drove home, heart pounding. As he rushed up his building’s stairs, he realized there was no good reason he should worry about this.  Well, true, Sandoz did have the third piece, so that was a reason to find him.  But why worry about Mulder?  So what if something did happen to him?  At least Krycek would have his head back to himself again. Then he realized something else.  Something that made him calm down considerably. Whoever had Mulder couldn’t actually permanently hurt him. Whatever they did, short of brain damage, could easily be repaired with Krycek’s palmtop.  His breathing was somewhat more steady as he unlocked and disarmed his apartment door and went to review the wiretaps.  He brought it up to the correct place and pushed play, listening carefully.

“Mulder.”

“Fox, it’s me, Diana.  I need your help.”

“What is it, Diana?  I have a meeting.”

“It’s urgent, Fox.  It’s your partner, Agent Scully.  She’s here with me at your place. She came looking for you, and I just happened to come by and find her here.  She’s sick, Fox.  I think it’s the artifact.  Before she passed out, she said something about Albert Hosteen getting cancer from it.”

“I’m on my way.”

The line went dead, and Krycek got up from the table, headed back out the door.  He didn’t have surveillance on Mulder’s apartment, God damn it.  Very few helpful things were ever gleaned from that, other than Mulder’s porn preferences and his eating and sleeping habits. Scully rarely came over and Mulder didn’t do much work from his home, spending almost all of his spare time in his office now that he had it back again.

Krycek drove back across town, wondering what the hell that Fowley bitch was up to.  ‘Fox’ was his project now, not hers.  His.  If she fucked with him in any way, he’d kill her.  It was that simple.  He stepped on the gas, going faster.

When he got to Mulder’s apartment, no one answered his knock, so he picked the lock and let himself in.  There was no one there, and Krycek searched the place thoroughly, trying to figure out where Mulder might have gone from here.  There were no messages on his machine and no signs of a struggle.  He was just gone.  Along with Dr. Sandoz and the third artifact.  Krycek decided it was time to call in his biggest marker.

“Alex,” said the Smoker, sounding pleased.  “It’s been awhile.”

“Where is he?” asked Krycek.

“If you’re looking for the third artifact, it’s safe and sound,” said the Smoker.

“What about Mulder?” said Krycek, scowling.

“Oh he’s safe and sound, too,” said the Smoker.  “For now.”

“What do you want with him?”

“We’re just…harvesting a little something from him.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Krycek said, trying to control his impatience.

“I don’t really see a reason to tell you that,” said the Smoker.

Krycek let out a heavy sigh.  “I have the other two pieces,” he said quietly.

He heard the Smoker’s careful inhale and pictured the smoke cloud as it formed around his head.  “Are you saying you’d be willing to trade, Alex?”

It was Krycek’s turn to inhale and exhale.  Why the hell was he bothering?  What he really needed was that third piece, so he could meld it with the other two and see if that activated its resurrective powers.  That had nothing to do with Mulder.  And if he gave up these two pieces, he was fucked.  He’d never been so close to having the ultimate power of life and death, a way to truly rule the world.

“What are you going to do with him?” Krycek asked.

“Minor surgery,” said the Smoker.  “We’re just going to relieve him of that pesky section of his brain that’s been giving him so much trouble.”

The only kind of damage the nanos couldn’t repair.  “Why?” he asked, trying to sound nothing but curious.

“Why, the ultimate power, of course,” the old man said.  “The ability to read minds, Alex. It’s incredible.  No more secrets.  Surely you can understand the appeal of that.”

“You can’t just take a piece of his brain!” said Krycek without minding his tone.

“What’s it to you?” asked the Smoker.

Good question.  What was it to him?  Why did he care?  He could probably get ahold of that third artifact some other way, eventually, or another one like it.  He didn’t even know for sure that the theories about their powers were true.  He could just end up with three pieces of fascinatingly carved radioactive space junk.

But Mulder…if they did this surgery, it could permanently damage his brain, permanently end his eternal quest for the truth, maybe even end his life.  Well, so what?  Then Krycek wouldn’t have to worry about having his mind read, about having his deepest, darkest, most painful secrets rifled through like the world’s most interesting file cabinet.  No more Mulder, getting in his way, putting his nose where it didn’t belong, showing up in just the wrong place at just the wrong time.  No more Mulder.

“I’ll make the trade,” said Krycek quietly.  “The artifacts for Mulder. Unharmed.”

The Smoker was quiet for a moment.  “It’s an intriguing proposition,” he said slowly.  “The theories regarding the possible powers of the united pieces are beyond incredible.”

“So do we have a deal?” asked Krycek, trying to sound disinterested.

“Yes, Alex,” said the Smoker after another long moment.  “We have a deal.  Agent Mulder for the artifacts.  I’ll have Ms. Fowley call you back about the exchange.”

With that, the line went dead.  Krycek hung up the phone and sat back to wait, wondering when in the hell his life had turned completely upside-down.

---

Mulder came awake instantly, one moment lost in a nauseating, drug- induced blackness, the next fully aware and alert.  But he kept his eyes closed and gave no outward sign that he was conscious again, listening carefully, taking physical inventory.  He was cuffed, lying on his side, but not otherwise restrained.  The room was light and smelled of old wood and wool rugs.  Not a hospital, then.  A smug, angry psychic voice interrupted his assessment.

That should make Mulder a veritable god.  Nothing they can do to him except the brain surgery itself will harm him for more than a few moments, now.  The nanos will instantly correct any imbalance. Fuck you, old man.

Mulder let out a slow, careful exhale.  Krycek’s mind-voice.  He couldn’t believe how welcome it was in this horrific, hostile, dangerous place.

He knew what they had planned for him.  Had known the moment he wised up enough to tune into Diana’s thoughts.  He’d been so worried about Scully, going through scenarios in his head about what might be wrong, that he had forgotten about his new telepathy.  But when he’d walked into his apartment, he’d immediately sensed that Diana was lying to him, and he’d read their plans for him in the moments before she’d plunged the needle into his arm and he’d fallen to the floor.

Brain surgery.  God, they were going to steal part of his brain and try to transplant it into that evil old cancer stick.  Were they insane?  He stopped and tuned into Krycek’s mind-voice more sharply, blocking out everything else.  He wished this ability went two ways so he could talk back.

I’ll kill her.  First chance I get, once Mulder is safe, she’s dead.  He’s mine.  She had her chance, and she got more of him than any of us did.  He trusted her!  He fucking loved her!  And this is how she repays him.  Diana Fowley, you’re going to die.

Mulder swallowed at the dark, no-nonsense possessive tone of those thoughts.  ‘He’s mine.’ It didn’t brook argument.  Krycek simply believed that no one else had any right to put a claim on him, that only Krycek truly knew what he had in Mulder.  He had no more time to think about how he felt about that before the door to his room was opening.

A man came in, with orders to bring the patient to Spender.  Mulder feigned sleep until the man came over and stuck a needle in his arm. It was a stimulant, and Mulder acted like he was coming awake slowly.  He let the man help him rise from the bed, and acted dazed and weak as he was led out of his room and down the hall.  He was still in his own clothes. The procedure hadn’t even been scheduled yet.  He tuned into the thoughts of his escort but got only one simple order.  Bring the patient to Spender.  He was pushed in ahead of the man, into a large, smoke-filled office full of mahogany, brass, and yes, wool carpeting. He continued to act confused and slow.

“Agent Mulder,” said the Smoking Man, standing up from his desk. “You’re going to help us get back something we lost quite awhile ago.”

Mulder quickly tuned into the Smoker’s mind and had to control the wince when he read the Smoker’s dark thoughts.

Yes, Agent Mulder.  You’re bait.  For the real prey, our wayward lab rat, Alex Krycek.

“Interesting how things turn out, isn’t it?” the old man asked, taking a drag off his cigarette.  “This certainly wasn’t the original plan,” he went on, stepping closer to Mulder, who frowned and blinked as if confused.  “Who knew that your new alliance with Alex would cause him to actually offer the artifact pieces he has in possession in exchange for your release?  Very interesting, indeed.  I wonder what his angle is.  Doesn’t matter.”

Mulder continued frowning as if he didn’t understand, when he could, in fact, clearly read the Smoker’s intent behind his words.  They were going to take Krycek down as soon as he was within range, and return him to the nano labs where they could commence the experiments they had planned in the first place, damaging him every way possible to see how effectively the nanos could heal him.  Mulder had to fight off the grimace of disgust that wanted to curl his lip.

“We’re not finished with you, of course,” the Smoker went on.  His intention was to keep them both, and he was more than pleased with himself and with the way things had turned out.  But there was one piece of information to which the Smoker and his people were not privy.  Mulder, also, was enhanced by the nanobots and was therefore practically indestructible.  He said nothing as his escort took him by the shoulders and led him out, the Smoker bringing up the rear.

He was led to a car and driven to an abandoned construction yard, and he waited in the limo, trying to read the Smoker as much as possible. The old man was clever, filling his head with confusing, disparate images from what felt like pulp fiction novels, and Mulder was actually caught by surprise when his escort gagged him before shoving him out of the car.

He put out mental feelers for Krycek, and met with only cold, measured readiness, and the intent to do whatever was necessary to make the exchange for Mulder, including using deadly force if necessary.  There was no mind-dialogue like before, only a deadly determination. Then, as Krycek spotted Mulder being pushed out of the back of the car more than fifty yards away, Mulder felt his moment of realization.

He’s okay. 

And then, more determined,

They won’t have him.

Mulder was pushed forward, and he strained to make eye contact with Krycek as he stood, the thug’s hands on his upper arms, holding him from behind.  He didn’t know how to make Krycek aware of the danger any more than Krycek was already prepared for deception and danger.  He frowned and stared down at his cuffed hands in front of him, still feigning weakness and exhaustion.

“Let him go,” came Krycek’s deep, loud, but not shouting voice across the thirty yards between them.

“The artifacts?” came the Smoker’s raised voice from behind him.

Krycek raised the bag, then pulled out the fused pieces.

The old man nodded and the escort gave Mulder a vicious shove forward, and he stumbled, then began walking quickly toward Krycek.  Krycek set the bag down on the ground and stepped back from it, squinting and watching Mulder advance.

Suddenly, multiple rounds of hi-speed automatic gunfire erupted all around them and Krycek fell to the dirt, jerking as hundreds of bullets slammed into his body.

THE PALMTOP!  DON'T LET THEM TAKE IT!

Krycek’s mind-voice was panicked and strained as the guns continued to fire, loading the fallen body with even more ammunition as Mulder broke into a dead run, his cuffed hands only slowing him down marginally.  He saw three men dressed in riot gear and carrying M-16’s come running toward him, but he ignored them, heading straight for Krycek’s jerking, shuddering form.

“Don’t be a fool!” screamed the old man.  “You’ll be shot!”

Mulder launched himself at the body, feeling the breath-stealing, shocking, painful impact of multiple rounds thunking into his body as he fell on top of Krycek, wrestling the mostly-unresponsive body with his cuffed hands, pulling the palmtop out of the inside jacket pocket where Krycek kept it.  The pain was incredible, and his body kept trying to go into shock, threatening to just freeze up as the nanos went into overdrive, repairing the damage.  The firing had actually stopped the moment Mulder landed on top of Krycek’s body, and now Krycek was stirring too, gasping and shaking violently as his own wounds repaired themselves.

Mulder shoved the palmtop down the front of his pants, the only safe place he could think of, then reached up and finally ripped the gag down from his mouth.  “We gotta go!” he gasped, and then felt rough hands closing around his upper arms, hauling him off Krycek.

Two men hauled him backward, and the gunfire started again, quickly rendering Krycek once again helpless under its unrelenting onslought.  Mulder used his new strength and supernaturally- heightened adrenaline to yank himself free of his captors, dropping one with a double-fisted punch and the other with two well-placed kicks to the chest and gut. Then he ran for Krycek’s car, which was relatively unguarded and still running about twenty yards away.  He was a faster runner than the many men he could hear chasing after him, especially enhanced by the nanos, and he threw himself into the car, quickly jamming the gear into drive with both hands, spinning it in a dust cloud and then tearing his way through the gates and onto the street.

He thought of nothing but getting away, pushing the gas pedal to the floor, and was rewarded when the black Audi immediately jumped into responsive action, quickly accelerating to just below eighty miles per hour, which was faster than Mulder had ever planned to go on a residential street.  When he looked into the rearview mirror, he saw that he was not being pursued.  A quick mind-reach into the Smoker’s head revealed that he was being allowed to escape.  After all, they had what they really wanted.  The Prodigal Son, returned. They would simply pick up Mulder later, when the timing was more fortuitous and they had figured out how to deal with his obvious nano-enhancements.  For now, they had to quickly get Krycek back to the lab, where they could get blood samples analyzed so they could re-program his nanobots and thus have control over him again.

Inquiry into Krycek’s head brought him stark terror as Krycek was put into steel, five- point restraints, blind-folded and gagged. Krycek’s mind was screaming as loudly as his throat, and Mulder hurriedly tuned out, screeching down the streets toward the city once again.

He drove straight to the Gunmen’s hideout, not having the first clue how to work the palmtop he’d taken off Krycek.  As they let him in the door, three mouths dropped open in shock and horror, and Mulder realized his clothing was drenched with blood and riddled with bullet holes.

“I’m fine,” he gasped, reaching down the front of his jeans with his still-cuffed hands. Their eyes widened further until he brought out the palmtop.  “Here,” he said.  “Tell me how this thing works.  Fast.”

Langly quickly stepped forward, taking the blood-slicked handheld computer from Mulder’s hands.

“What the hell happened to you?” Frohike asked, stepping up to Mulder, frowning in curious shock at the bullet-torn clothing and copious amounts of blood.

“That palmtop controls nano-technology in my body,” said Mulder. “It instantly repairs any damage done.  I got shot.”

“Where did you get this?” asked Langly, looking up briefly from where he and Byers were huddled over the little machine.

“Krycek,” answered Mulder, sighing.  “He infected me.  He was using that to control me.”

“So you want to regain control over your body?” asked Byers, as Langly frowned and studied the tiny screen.

“No, I want to make sure they can’t regain control over Krycek’s.”

All three pairs of eyes rose to meet his, confused and worried.

“Krycek basically traded himself for me,” said Mulder.  “He’s got the technology in him, too, and if they gain control over it, they’re going to make him a lab rat, experimenting with injuring him to see how quickly he heals.  We have to hurry.”

The gunmen huddled around the palmtop while Mulder stood, shifting from foot to foot, waiting.  Langly looked up, flicking a strand of light blonde hair out of his eyes.

“It’s simple,” he said, and the other two nodded.  “There are different codes, which I assume are for different biological functions.  They all appear to be set on something akin to auto-pilot, ordering complete stabilization of the system under any circumstances.”

“Can you do something to lock them out so they can’t control him?”

“Well, probably, but can’t they just re-infect him since they’ve got him now?”

“Fuck!” Mulder hissed.  He hadn’t thought of that.  God, Alex, we’re screwed!  He closed his eyes, tuning back into Alex’s mind to see how bad the situation was.

Rage and fear filled his mind immediately, and he was aware of the kind of desperation that led animals to chew off their own limbs to escape a snare.  Krycek was locked down on a hard metal table, held down with metal restraints at his ankles, wrists, and waist, with various monitors already stuck to his body.  He was still dressed in his completely destroyed, blood-saturated clothing, and was still blindfolded and gagged, increasing his terror exponentially.

Fuck you!!!  I’ll fucking kill you!!!  I’ll get the chance eventually and I’m gonna FUCKING KILL YOU!!!!!!

Mulder ground his teeth, feeling Krycek’s intense rage as he pushed against the locking restraints, practically breaking his bones in his futile attempts to get loose.  Mulder wished with all his will that Krycek’s enhanced strength was actually sufficient to open the steel locks, but didn’t see how it could be so.

Suddenly, Mulder’s body was washed with cold shock as the sounds of multiple metal restraints flipping open filled his head.  He felt Krycek’s stunned amazement, then saw the white room as Krycek reached up with his free hands and ripped the blindfold off his eyes. A doctor looked up in surprise from his clipboard, but didn’t have time to do so much as open his mouth before Krycek was on him, slamming the back of his head against the wall hard enough to immediately smash his skull, operating on the huge amounts of adrenaline pouring into his bloodstream.

As the limp body slid down the wall to the floor, Krycek reached down and wrenched a gun from the holster at its side, then turned to the door, body still thrumming with rage and determination and a fearlessness that would allow him to take any risk necessary to get out of that place.

“Mulder?” came Frohike’s voice, concerned and distant.

“Just wait!” Mulder snapped, eyes squeezed tightly shut as he worked to remain in total contact with Krycek.

Krycek reached down and turned the knob, then without hesitation, stepped out into the hall and began running.  There was a guard/nurse coming out of one of the rooms, and Krycek immediately ran over and grabbed him by the throat, squeezing and crushing the fragile bones protecting the windpipe.  The nurse choked, grabbing Krycek’s iron-hard fist, then went slack.  Krycek threw him to the side and continued toward the double doors at the end of the hall.

The palmtop!  I have to find it!  Wait, Mulder got it!  I felt him take it off me!  Is Mulder here?  Do they have him?  Fuck!  Mulder, are you here?!

“I’m okay,” Mulder said under his breath, willing Krycek to hear him. But he could tell Krycek didn’t hear him.  The telepathy only went one way.  “Shit!” he hissed.  Krycek was wasting valuable time, hesitating, wondering about Mulder, when he should be getting away.

They won’t hurt him.  They want his brain.  They don’t know he’s nano-enhanced.  I’ll come back for him.  I’ll get a new palmtop.  They haven’t dropped me yet, so maybe they don’t have it.

Then, on the heels of that, breathless,

Maybe they don’t have Mulder!

Krycek turned to the double doors and slammed into them, but they held, locked and reinforced against bullets and other force.  Krycek reared back to slam into them again as an alarm started to scream all around him, and Mulder again pictured the doors giving way. Then, before Krycek had even made contact with the doors for the second time, they simply clicked and swung open, and Krycek stumbled for a half-second before he plunged through, as gunfire erupted behind him.

“Get these off me!” yelled Mulder, opening his eyes and throwing his cuffed wrists forward urgently.

Byers ran off and returned seconds later with boltcutters, and he quickly snapped the chain between the cuffs.

“Give it back to me,” urged Mulder, holding his hand out for the palmtop.

Frohike handed it to him, frowning and wide-eyed.  “Mulder, what…?”

“I have to go,” said Mulder, shoving the palmtop into his shredded pocket.  “I’ll explain later.”  He turned and strode quickly out the door, taking the stairs up from the basement three at a time and running over to the car.  Fuck, where are you, Krycek?  He thought frantically, trying to tune into Krycek again without wrecking the car as he pulled out onto the street.

Krycek was running through what looked like a hospital yard, bullets slamming into him, making him stumble and jerk, but not stopping him as adrenaline and determination drove him forward.  The ground next to him exploded, spraying dirt and small rocks all over him, forcing him to close his eyes a second, but he kept running for the metal gates full speed.

He shot behind him, not able to take aim long enough to hit anything, and Mulder desperately tried to pick up from him if he knew where he was being held.  He tried to see what Krycek was seeing even more clearly, and the effort had him swerving nearly off the road.  He screeched over to the side, slamming the car into park, since until he knew where he was headed there was no point in getting himself killed trying to get there.  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, and tuned in completely.

Krycek approached a tall set of double gates with razor wire across the top.  He pulled out his gun and shot at the locks, gasping and jerking, nearly falling down as bullets continued slamming into him. He barely had any clothes on at all, now, more holes than fabric remaining, and all of it soaked through and dripping with his blood. He was trembling violently, hardly able to draw breath between the onsloughts of the heavy fire.

“Fucking open!” snarled Mulder out loud, sharing Krycek’s frustration at the gates’ resiliency, and they suddenly snapped open, swinging wide.

Shocked and amazed, Krycek stumbled through, looking around to see what had caused the opening of the gates, but as he heard the people around him shout in confusion and rage, it appeared they didn’t know any more than he did why that had happened.  He made a beeline for the first vehicle he spotted, shooting out the driver’s side window and yanking the door open.

“Start,” said Mulder, holding his breath.

And the car started.

Krycek stood there a moment, thoroughly confused, then as bullets slammed into the side of the car, he dove in, pulling the door shut behind him, throwing the car into drive and screeching out of the parking lot.  His hands were so slick with blood he could barely control the wheel, but his body was rapidly mending itself, now finally free from the deluge of bullets.  Mulder frowned in wonderment as he felt Krycek’s body push the pieces of metal out onto the seats and floor, sealing up the damage behind them.  Krycek was surrounded in a scatter of around a hundred bloody little metal nuggets, but he didn’t have time to pay any attention to the strangeness of it, gripping the wheel tightly, looking behind him every second or two.

Four black cars, one behind the other, pulled out after him, each filled with suited operatives, and Mulder watched and cursed along with Krycek as he saw guns being put out the windows of the car behind him.

“Jam!” said Mulder, gritting his teeth and picturing the four guns.  He watched in stunned fascination as the men yanked the guns back inside, then others were pushed out of the windows.  “Jam!” said Mulder again, heart trip-hammering in his throat.

Telekinesis.  It made sense, but…

Krycek took a turn going too fast and his car started to slide sideways into a stop sign, threatening to crash.

“Straighten out!” yelled Mulder, and in his head he saw the car immediately correct itself, speeding down the road away from the pursuers.  They each screeched around the corner, the third one clipping that same stop sign.  Then Mulder noticed the air-cutting sound of a helicopter.

“Reverse!” yelled Mulder, focusing on the first car, and it suddenly screeched to a stop and roared backward into the second, causing a spectacular crash as the third and fourth cars plowed into them, causing a massive, smoking pileup.

Krycek let out a scared, shocked, pleased exclamation, twisting his head around to look behind him at the wreckage, disbelieving.  Then he looked straight up as the copter descended.

“We will fire on you!” came a booming voice from the copter.  It was the Smoking man, no doubt about it.  “We have rocket launchers, Alex!  There won’t be anything left!”

“Fuck you!” screamed Krycek, and Mulder heard his manic mind- voice.

I’ll fucking die first!  Go ahead and blow me off this planet, I’ll never be your lab rat!

Mulder took a few precious seconds wondering if he could really control something as big as a helicopter, then remembered his Star Wars.  Size was nothing, it was all about focus and intensity of purpose.  He was actually smiling as he put all his focus on the helicopter above Krycek, mentally putting it into an emcompassing forcefield.  He didn’t want to kill anybody, but he wasn’t going to let them have Krycek, either.  He had to get the chopper off Krycek’s tail without crashing it into anyone else.  He let out an excited laugh and took a breath.

“Up!” he said cheerfully, and in his mind’s eye, he saw the helicopter suddenly rise straight up, quickly leaving its target far behind.

He felt Krycek’s wondering shock and amazement, and his vague, unformed suspicions that he was receiving extraterrestrial help from the rebels, perhaps, although that made no sense, as they didn’t put enough value on Krycek’s life to intervene in such a noticeable and impactful way.  Krycek had no idea what the fuck was going on, but he quickly pushed aside his questions and jammed the gas pedal down, speeding away from the helicopter, which was still held in stasis, thousands of feet above the road now.

Mulder held the helicopter in his mental field, beginning to shake with the effort of it, fighting off his urges to just explode the son of a bitch and make life better for everyone.  Why not?  He was obviously dealing with pure evil itself, a man who’d killed hundreds and maybe more in his pursuit of world domination.  What harm would it do to just blow his ass up?

It would make Mulder a cold-blooded killer.  It wasn’t self-defense to blow up a helicopter that wasn’t capable of doing anyone harm at the time.  If he killed the Smoker that way, he’d always know that he’d crossed that line and become a murderer himself.  And in a way, the Smoker would have won.

Still shaking with the adrenaline and effort, Mulder lowered the chopper slowly, concentrating his focus away from Krycek so that he didn’t hurt anyone as he put it down. He landed it on the ground next to the road, killing the engine and disabling the communication devices on board.  Sighing, he took his attention away from that area and tuned back into Krycek.

Krycek was getting on the freeway, struggling to control the wheel as his bloody hands kept slipping on the plastic.  He was shaking and breathing hard, his body almost completely restored, the adrenaline beginning to subside now that his body judged it was no longer needed.

I can’t go home.  They’ll look for me there.  I have to get out of here, have to hide and find out what happened to Mulder and the palmtop!

Mulder focused on studying the scenery around Krycek and suddenly recognized where he was at.  He opened his eyes, cutting the connection, putting all of his attention on pulling out into traffic and heading toward the outskirts of town.

He drove quickly, resisting his urge to simply move the cars out of his way.  This kind of power was heady and extremely dangerous, he realized.  He wondered to what extent he could actually affect things. When Krycek had said he was making Mulder a veritable god, he’d had no idea.  The thought of it made Mulder queasy for a moment, then the nanos took that away and he was just scared.

As he sped toward the part of town he knew Krycek to be in, he worked to recall all the cases he’d worked on that involved telepathy and telekinesis.

Lively could create fire with his mind, and could withstand the flames himself.  Was that an ability Mulder could develop?  Boggs could use his mind to see situations, to be able to tell what was happening when he was nowhere near the scene.  Simple clairvoyance, and Mulder realized that he had used that during his control of the helicopter, since Krycek certainly hadn’t been able to see all of that going on as he drove.

Mulder swallowed as he truly realized what a gift he’d been given, first with whatever the artifact had activated in his brain, then with Krycek’s enhancement and stabilization and even perfection of that activation, giving him total access to and control of his newfound abilities.

Augustus Cole could make other people see and even experience whatever he wanted them to, controlling their minds to such a high degree that they couldn’t tell reality from induced fantasy and actually died from psychically-inflicted wounds.  And Modell could usurp the will of others, and psychically bring on illness and death.  Mulder considered that if you could kill people that way, you could certainly heal them, too.  The ramifications of his abilities were making his head spin.  He certainly had no need for any kind of weapon any longer.

He probably didn’t even need the nanos or the palmtop, really, if his conjectures regarding his healing abilitites were correct.  Not even to heal Krycek.  Or control him.  Mulder’s heart began to pound.  A man could easily do serious damage with these abilities.  He would have to use them with the greatest discretion manageable.

He took another turn, and looked around.  He could sense that Krycek was near, and tuned in just long enough to get a visual fix on him. There he was, just about four miles ahead of him on the highway, coming in Mulder’s direction.  Mulder smiled and checked out the traffic surrounding Krycek’s car.  Pretty sparse.  He concentrated on the car’s engine and put the car in a mental field, then stopped the motor and pushed the car over to the side of the road.

“FUCK!!!!!”  The screaming could almost be heard without Mulder’s psychic ability as Krycek actually bent the steering wheel smashing his hands into it so hard.  “Fucking piece of shit stolen fucking CAR!!!!”  Mulder laughed and drove on past Krycek’s stalled car, seeing it across the freeway divider.  He used the next emergency turnaround lane and drove quickly to where he’d parked Krycek.

Krycek was out of the car, looking like a horror movie extra, bending in under the hood. Mulder smiled and pulled up next to him.  He heard Krycek’s intention to throw this person out of his car and take it, and he rolled down the window, grinning.

“Need a ride?”

Krycek looked up with absolute stunned incomprehension.  His mouth dropped open and his eyes were perfectly round.

“Get in, Krycek, you look like shit.”  Mulder thumped the side of Krycek’s Audi with his fist, and the broken handcuff chain clanked against the metal, probably marring the paint. He saw Krycek eye the chain and the scratch, eyes narrowing slightly.  He laughed.  “I’ll fix it,” he said with a lift of his chin.  “Let’s go, Alex.”

Finally, Krycek took the staggering steps necessary to get to the passenger side of his own car, pulling open the door and sliding in. He looked worse than Mulder, absolutely soaked with drying blood, his clothes hanging in tatters.  He was obscene.

Mulder pulled back into traffic, rolling up the window.  Neither one of them said a word as he headed back into town for a few minutes, then Krycek cleared his throat, and his voice was a breathy rasp.

“H-how…?”

“The psychic abilities,” said Mulder, glancing over at him.  “Jesus, we really gotta get cleaned up.”  He looked at Krycek’s horrific appearance and then his own, grimacing.

“Did…did you…”  Krycek swallowed, still not looking too calm.

“I guess I’m telekinetic, too,” said Mulder with a shrug.  “Did you see the helicopter?” He grinned over at Krycek.

“Not really,” said Krycek.  “I just noticed it wasn’t there anymore. What did you do?”  He turned and looked at Mulder with brows drawn down.

“Old Jedi mind trick,” said Mulder.  “Took him straight up in the air and held him there while you got away.  Neat, huh?”

Krycek gasped out an incredulous laugh.  “Neat? Fuck…Mulder…you crashed those cars, too, didn’t you? Damn…that’s incredible…”

“I know,” said Mulder, sobering.  “I didn’t know I could do that until I unlocked your restraints just thinking about it.”

Both men breathed hard, just considering all of the new information and possibilities. Then Krycek suddenly turned to him.

“You’ve got the palmtop, right?”

“Yep,” said Mulder.  He stared straight ahead, driving and trying not to smile.  Finally, after several minutes in which he could clearly feel Krycek’s hesitance, anxiety, and frustration, Krycek spoke.

“You aren’t going to give it back, are you.”  His voice was a low rasp, measured and scared.

Mulder didn’t answer, just pulling off the freeway and heading toward the cheap motel there.  “Do you carry extra clothes in here?” he asked, arching his brows.

Krycek let out a slow, deep, measured sigh.  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I keep a bag in the trunk for emergencies.”

Mulder nodded.  “You’ll have to change into them and book us a room,” he said.  He held up the broken cuffs still dangling from his wrists.  “Do you have more than one change in there?”

“I’ve got sweats for sleeping in,” said Krycek.

“Good.  We can get cleaned up and change into some clothes that don’t make us look like extras from Night of the Living Dead, then figure out what to do next.”

Krycek nodded, squinting and looking straight ahead.

Mulder could feel Krycek’s fear building, and picked up his intention to get the palmtop off Mulder one way or the other at the next opportunity.  He pulled up into the back parking lot of the motel, which thankfully was nearly deserted. Krycek got out without a word and went around to the trunk for the clothing, then took it into the back seat of the car and started stripping off the destroyed clothing.

Mulder watched him dispassionately in the rearview mirror, not letting himself glean from Krycek’s mind how he felt about that.  He guessed that giving Krycek that psychic privacy was about the first boundary he’d drawn for himself regarding his telepathy.  And he couldn’t see much, except for a six-foot man trying to change clothes in the back of a mid- sized automobile.  It was more funny than anything else. Mulder winced as Krycek bumped his elbow on the door yet again.

Krycek used a towel and spit to clean the blood off his neck, hands, and face.  In all of the shooting, none of the bullets had been aimed at his head, so it wasn’t too bad.  They hadn’t wanted Krycek dead, just down.

Mulder waited while Krycek went in and booked a room, then climbed out of the car and followed Krycek into it.  He closed the door behind them and Krycek turned around, setting the emergency bag on the bed.

“Sweats are in there,” he said, gesturing with his head.  “I’m gonna take a shower.”

Mulder nodded, taking a seat at the little table while Krycek got clean.  Again, he resisted the temptation to break into Krycek’s thoughts, giving him privacy for this simple act.  Plus he was tired, truth be told, nanos or not, from all of his psychic work earlier.

Krycek came out of the bathroom dressed in dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt, clean with wet hair and bare feet.  He went over to his bag and pulled out a pair of socks and sat down to pull them on.  He also pulled out a pair of grey sweat pants and a white T-shirt and set them on the bed beside him.  Mulder watched all of this, then stood up, holding his hands up, broken cuffs dangling from them.

"Open," he murmured to them, and they clicked open.  He glanced at Krycek, who was watching him, mouth open in stunned fascination. Mulder removed the cuffs from his wrists, throwing them on Krycek's bed, then bent in and grabbed up the sweats Krycek had laid out for him. Krycek's mouth was still slightly open in shock as Mulder closed the bathroom door behind him.

He couldn’t resist reaching out for Krycek’s thoughts just a little as he soaped away the blood and grime.

GOD am I fucked!  Mulder can not only read my fucking mind, he can control my body!  First stop is a Goddamned CompUSA to get a new palmtop and change my programming!  Jesus, how did he do all that?  And…why?  Why would he do all that for me?  What did he really have to gain by helping me escape?  What’s in it for him?  If he’s really that powerful, what does he need with me?

Mulder sighed and finished shampooing his hair for a second time. Krycek had a lot to learn about partnership.  And, after all, Krycek had been the one to first come back for Mulder. He had, in fact, given up the artifact pieces to save him.  But Mulder could read that Krycek thought that was completely different.  Mulder was completely different.  None of the rules applied to Mulder.  Mulder was to be preserved at all costs.  Mulder could feel both impersonal and personal feelings about those thoughts, but it was all jumbled up together.  Mulder suspected that Krycek himself didn’t really know where one ended and the other began.

Mulder stepped out of the shower and slipped into Krycek’s sweatpants and shirt, then grabbed up the palmtop and used a handtowel to wipe the blood off it.  When Krycek stepped out of the bathroom, Mulder was carrying it casually in his hand.

Krycek’s eyes went straight to it as he turned to look at Mulder. Then they moved jerkily back up to look him in the eye.  He looked terrified.

Mulder licked his lips.  He felt like a kid on Christmas morning, laden with new, powerful, exciting gifts, and with the perfect playmate, too, now that he had nothing to fear from him.  His awareness of Krycek’s attraction to him was heightened, though he was trying to be fair and not pull things from him psychically.  Mulder’s heart sped up.

“You want this?” he said quietly with a quirk of his brows.

Krycek frowned deeply, inhaling and exhaling slowly.

Mulder took another step, raising the palmtop slightly.  “Whaddya say?  We’re both practically indestructible.”  Maybe it was the vulnerability he’d shown, helping Krycek escape, and the vulnerability Krycek had shown in trading the pieces for Mulder. Mulder felt the need to burn off some testosterone.  He smiled.  “Let’s go a few.  Come and get it.”

Krycek’s eyes narrowed, flicking from Mulder’s face to the palmtop and back.  But he made no move.

“You’ve always wanted to hit me, Krycek, here’s your chance,” said Mulder, his smile turning cruel.

Krycek’s eyes tightened.  “No, Mulder, you’re the one who always wants to hit me.”

Mulder’s smile faded.

“If I’d wanted to hit you, Mulder, I would have,” Krycek added in a soft voice.

Mulder’s breath escaped in a quiet gasp.  He realized it was true.  He was the one always putting his hands on Krycek.  Krycek never put a hand on him.  His hand lowered, the palmtop lying against his thigh. He swallowed.  Was he really just trying to have a reason to hit him again, now, when he wasn’t angry?  Was he really that pathetic, looking for an excuse for violence when there was none?  His gaze dropped to the floor between them.

“I do want it,” said Krycek in a quiet, low voice.

Mulder looked up quickly, not missing the heat in those words.  The next ones were even more obviously weighted.

“Question is, do you...Mulder?”

He gasped again, then swallowed, trying to recover any ground he was losing.  He knew they weren’t talking about the palmtop anymore.  He didn’t want the palmtop.  Didn’t need it. But he held onto it, feeling his hand start to sweat.

Krycek stood up and took a step forward, and Mulder had to fight the urge to step back. They were only a few feet apart, now, and he could see Krycek’s chest rise and fall with each deep breath.

“If you want me to give you an excuse to hit me, Mulder, I will,” he said in a hushed voice.  “Is that what you want?”  He looked very seriously and intently into Mulder’s eyes, waiting for his answer. There wasn’t a hint of tease there.

Mulder licked his lips and swallowed.  “Here,” he said quietly, extending the palmtop between them.  He noticed his hand was shaking just slightly and clenched his jaw, knowing that Krycek could see that.

Krycek looked at the palmtop in Mulder’s hand, then back up at Mulder’s eyes, and without taking his gaze from Mulder’s, watching him like he was a dangerous animal, he reached forward and took the palmtop.

Mulder let out a relieved breath, withdrawing his hand as Krycek’s attention dropped to the piece of equipment in his hand.

"Guess it really doesn't make a difference now," Krycek murmured, fingers sliding over the keypad.  "With what you can do."  He let out a controlled, trembling breath, still looking at the palmtop.

Mulder stepped back, uneasy with the way Krycek's words echoed his own thoughts.  It was true.  Mulder could just as easily kill as heal with the power inside him.  Destroy Krycek just as easily as he'd rescued him.  He shivered.

"It gives me the illusion of control, I guess," Krycek said very quietly, little more than hum carried on a whisper.  "That's something."  He sounded ashamed.

Mulder swallowed.  "At least *they* can't control you anymore," he offered, sobered out of his testosterone-high by the terror of realizing just what kind of potential damage he could inflict on not only Krycek, but anyone he chose to turn his wrath on.

Krycek nodded, then took the palmtop over to his bag and zipped it into an inside pocket. He sat down carefully on the bed, not looking at Mulder.

Mulder stood in the middle of the room, feeling childish and cruel. He'd played with Krycek like he was a bright and shiny new toy, giddy with the rush of what he'd done to liberate Krycek from his abusers.  But looking at Krycek perched on the edge of the hotel bed, suddenly Mulder wasn't having fun anymore.  He inhaled quickly as he got a premonition of just how much this power would alienate him from others.  How anyone who knew what he could do would, quite rightfully, be absolutely terrified of him.

And that sure as hell seemed to be including Krycek.  The other man's voice startled him, even though it was low and barely audible.

"So what *do* you want, Mulder?"  He still wasn't looking up from his lap, where his hands clasped his jeans-clad tense thighs.

Hell of a question to consider when you have the power of the world at your fingertips.  Mulder looked at Krycek's nails, scratching quietly at the denim on his legs as his fingers bent into claws, then straightened, then bent again.  Mulder could feel the terror emnating from the man like heat from a furnace.

"I don't wanna hurt you," Mulder said, his throat feeling thick and bruised around the words.  "I don't...want to fight with you."

Krycek looked up without raising his head, his eyes tired and scared.

"I want the same thing you want," Mulder went on, feeling something in his lungs, his chest, open up as he said the words.  He let out his breath and took another one before continuing.  "I want to work with you on this thing.  I want to stop the colonists from taking over our planet."

Krycek breathed in and out slowly, his eyes darting from Mulder's face, to the side of him, then back to his face again.  His voice was careful and measured, but stronger when he spoke.  "You want a slave?"  He maintained eye contact with Mulder after he said it, though he was squinting as though peering at a bright light.

"I want..." Mulder started, then clenched his teeth against the old pain and memories that swam up, clutching at his ankles at the mere thought of the word he wanted to say.  He reminded himself of his own power, how Krycek could never hurt him again unless he let him. How now that he knew his own power, nobody could.  The fear didn't subside completely, but it only lapped around his toes rather than pulling him under.  He swallowed.  "...a partner."  And that's when he realized it was true.  Of all the people in the world that he could probably persuade or even intimidate into working with him, the first one he'd pick, as soon as he knew it was totally safe to, was Alex Krycek.  He felt a little light-headed.

"Partner?" Krycek asked, his voice breaking into half-whisper on the word.  His head came up finally as he stared at Mulder, eyes wide. He sounded like a hopeful, sad child as he added, "Me?"

Mulder's breath came even easier, hearing it said aloud, the reality of it settling between them like a nervous bird on a branch.  He felt his lips curve up at the corners.  He licked them.  "Yeah.  You."  He considered adding that he wouldn't force Krycek. But then he remembered what he'd 'read' from Krycek's mind.  What Krycek thought of him.  How deeply Krycek believed in him.  How Krycek didn't believe in anyone else on the planet.  Krycek needed him as much as he needed Krycek.  His lips relaxed into an even more real smile as he saw how right it really was.  He'd said it before, but it had been light-hearted, he'd been heady with the new power of being able to scan Krycek's thoughts for anything he happened to want to snag.  They were a perfect fit, now that Krycek couldn't lie to Mulder. Before, he'd thought Krycek had had the power to kill him, too, making it an evenly balanced situation.  But that had been only the illusion of balance.  Because Krycek wasn't whole enough to hold that kind of power.

Mulder's smile faded again as he considered whether he was.  But he knew he didn't want to hurt Krycek anymore.  He knew him too deeply, too intimately.  And he'd seen the pain in Krycek's eyes when Mulder had proposed they fight.  Krycek's resistance to fighting Mulder was soul-deep and powerful.  Mulder was afraid to even 'look' at that and see how strong it might be.  How far Krycek would go to not have to harm Mulder.  And knowing that, Mulder also knew he would not hurt Krycek.  That he would keep anyone else from hurting him, too. And he'd already seen how far Krycek would go to protect *him*, giving up the artifact pieces to get him away from the smoker and his crew.

Mulder suddenly knew that Krycek would die for him.

"So whaddya say?" he said on a wonder-filled exhale, trying to inject a softness into his voice that he'd never tried with Krycek before.  He watched Krycek's eyes widen a little at the sound of his voice, his chest expanding with a quick breath.

Mulder felt his face soften further, charmed and humbled by the power he held, regardless of his newfound superstrength or psychic ability.  Just his voice took Krycek's breath away.  He suddenly wanted to just take some time to get to know the man.  Find out what kind of music he listened to.  His favorite movie.  Who gave him his first kiss.  And he didn't want to rip these things from Krycek's mind. He wanted to hear them in Krycek's voice.  He wanted them offered freely, shared because it made Krycek happy to do so.

"O...kay," Krycek replied, his Adam's apple rising and dipping on a hard swallow.  "Not that I have a choice..." he murmured, his voice falling into a dark range that made Mulder frown.

Mulder took a deep breath and let it out, trying not to spin into a place of anger at Krycek's resentful tone.  At Krycek's obvious misunderstanding of the depth of what Mulder was offering.  Then he felt the anger drain out of him as he pondered that really, Krycek *didn't* have a choice.  If he refused, Mulder couldn't trust him and would have to spy on him and control him constantly.  Because Krycek was damaged.  Mulder had seen that in his mind.  Seen it also in the choices Krycek made about how things should be handled. How easily he chose killing others over allying with them.  It wasn't safe to just let Krycek go free.  And Mulder didn't want him locked up somewhere, either.  Krycek was too valuable to the effort to save Earth from colonization.  Mulder needed him.

"I need your help," Mulder said, purposely using language that would help Krycek feel more empowered, even though Mulder was doing nothing to correct Krycek's assertion that this was beyond his actual control.  "I'll stop raping your mind," he said, ashamed at how accurate a description that was for what he'd been doing.  "I can't promise I won't read you, but I won't just treat your head like my personal playground any more.  Okay?"  Again, he knew Krycek had no choice, but he wanted Krycek to hear and trust the sincerity of his intentions.

Krycek looked at the floor, and already Mulder had to curb the powerful impulse to reach into his thoughts as he considered Mulder's offer.  Did Krycek trust him?  Did he believe that Mulder really would make every effort to do as he'd said he would?

Could Mulder really refrain from just gleaning that information from his mind?

"All right," Krycek finally said, his voice soft but certain.  And Mulder knew, deeply and certainly, that Krycek did believe Mulder. Trusted Mulder to tell him the truth.  Trusted Mulder implicitly.

"Thank you," Mulder replied, humbled again.  "You know," he continued, making another realization that because he could read and control Krycek that he could trust *him* implicitly in return. "I'm...scared...Alex.  I mean, with my...abilities...I could probably destroy the world, if I'm not careful."  Chills washed over his body as that truth wrapped him in a cold blanket of shock.

"I know," Krycek replied softly, this thought obviously not as new to him as it was to Mulder.  "But you won't.  You're not like that."

Mulder frowned, but before he could respond, Krycek went on.

"You're gonna save it.  Fuck, you can *change* it, Mulder."  Then Mulder saw something that stole his breath.  Krycek smiled at him wonderingly.  It was tenuous and tremulous, but there it was.

Mulder's lips parted in stunned surprise.  Then he let out his breath, looking away from the riveting sight of Krycek smiling at him, in order to fully process his words.  He would save the world.  He would change it.  Krycek believed that.  Believed it enough that it put a smile on his face, even in the midst of the fear he must still be dealing with, the shock of the way life had changed so drastically practically overnight.  The lack of control he had over his very existence.

And because Krycek believed it, Mulder started to.

He swallowed.  "Well, I can't do it on an empty stomach," he replied. "What do you say we order a pizza, Alex?"

Krycek's short exhale carried a surprised hint of a laugh.  "Okay," he said, licking his lips as Mulder smiled at him.  And his lips curved again as Mulder watched.  Krycek was smiling back, and suddenly Mulder noticed how very beautiful Alex Krycek really was.  And his own smile widened.

"I'll call it in," he said, still smiling as he turned away from Krycek and went to the dresser to pick up the phone book there. "Pepperoni and sausage, right?" He asked, reaching for the receiver.

"Um, yeah," Krycek replied, the smile gone from his voice.  Mulder looked over to see that Krycek was looking uncomfortable again.  He realized Krycek thought he had pulled that from his mind, that he'd already broken his vow to stay out of Krycek's head unless he had to be there.

"I remember from that case in Newark," Mulder explained, his voice quiet. "Pepperoni and sausage, green peppers on my half not yours because you hate them," he went on, his hand resting on the receiver. He looked at Krycek's face, waiting for the other man to indicate whether or not he trusted that Mulder was telling the truth.

"Oh," Krycek replied, his lips curving up at the corners as he looked up at Mulder from under his lashes.  "Yeah."  He appeared bashful now.  Maybe blushing a little, even. Beautiful with it.

Mulder smiled at him in return, then turned his attention back to the phone, punching in the numbers for the pizza place.  This was obviously not going to sort itself out all at once, but as long as he worked hard to stay sensitive to what was going on with Krycek, he thought he could make it work.

No, he didn't just think it.  He knew it.  He'd make it work.  Because it was right.  It was what was supposed to happen.  He knew that now.  And he felt his body release further residual tension he hadn't realized he'd been holding onto as the girl at the pizza place cheerfully asked him if he'd like to hear the specials.

"No thanks," he said, feeling silly for smiling at her over the phone. "Large pepperoni and sausage, with green peppers on one half."

---

END

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