After The Rain  

by Frankie  

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

Mulder--  

Have you ever killed someone? Or wanted to? I'm not talking about that "in the line of duty" bullshit. I'm talking about needing to snuff out someone's life so badly you can taste it.  

I suppose if I cared about the fantasies of strangers, I could say that everyone has killed at one time or another. But I'm not talking about fantasies. I've had to take the lives of people, both those I know and those who are nameless figures.  

I've struck like a viper and vanished before I've seen the life drain from their bodies. I've stayed 'til the end, watching in fascination as the glimmer of life, the struggle to stay alive, slowly fades. Those precious embers of life's fire burning out, agonizingly slow and steady. It's that last flicker of someone's soul that I relish the most. The one I want to see in your eyes the next time we meet.  

Before the unfortunate loss of my arm, I would have chosen to strangle you. To feel your hot, pulsating skin under my hands, the life throbbing in your neck. The sparkling panic in your eyes when my touch turns into a death sentence, my fingers tightening, my hands crushing your windpipe. Your desperate struggle to survive as you claw at my grip, silently pleading with me to let you go. That final, perfect moment when your hold loosens and your hands fall away, your beautiful eyes roll back and your body stills. The ultimate act of possession; taking your very life, your soul and leaving you an empty shell. A mere body to be examined, buried, mourned over and eventually forgotten as it is reduced to nothing.  

Why do I want you dead, you may ask? There are so many reasons, but they're not what you think. I don't hate you. In fact, I admire you in the same way I admire they way a fine piece of machinery works. Your inner workings intrigue me. Don't take that in some morbidly literal way. You, as an entity, fascinate me. When I become fascinated, obsession isn't usually far behind, and that leads to a need to possess.  

To kill.  

I could have you if I were only interested in you sexually. There wouldn't be enough protestations on your part to convince me that you wouldn't want that. In fact, I could make you want me even if it's the last thing you'd *ever* want. But I don't want your body in that way.  

Well, not *just* that way.  

More important than needing to possess you, I have to ensure that I am the only one who can control your destiny. What better way to do that than to decide when your last day on this earth will be?  

You should thank me. I've decided to share the gift I have with you. I'm going to give you the ultimate release.  

A bullet would be too quick; not enough time for you to feel your life slipping away. In order for you to appreciate what's happening to you, it has to be a slow, seductive act.  

A knife would be beautiful. So sharp you don't feel the blade slicing open your throat, only the hot sticky caress of your blood as it pulses out of your body, anointing the both of us in your essence. I would watch your face, marking the moment you know you're dead, possibly loving you more as I see your life energy fading because I chose to take it from you.  

In much the same way a man takes a certain something from a virgin lover while bestowing a once in a lifetime gift, I will take from you while giving you what I know you want. Your freedom. Freedom from the life you pretend to want. We both know better, don't we?  

It's a beautiful thing to want to kill someone for the right reasons. It's a sacred bond no one can break. And after I give you the gift of my skill, I'll continue to perform my services when called upon by my generous employers. Returning to the mindless, unenthusiastic assignments will be less than stimulating, but it's a living, so to speak.  

I think I've said enough. I want to leave you with the images I've shared and hope that the anticipation of my visit will be as rewarding as the real thing.  

Keep yourself safe until I see you.  

A.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder re-read the letter and looked at the envelope again. He knew full well there was nothing besides his name written on it, but the ridiculous notion that something enlightening would suddenly appear on it made him look anyway. Logically, he should inform the Bureau, get protection, put people on the lookout for Alex Krycek, but...  

He looked up when he heard footsteps outside his door. His hand went to his gun as the doorknob started to turn and he dropped the letter on the coffee table. The door opened and Krycek walked in, smiling with such ease and familiarity, one would have thought he'd just come home from work.  

"You're expecting me," Krycek's smile widened as he nodded nodding at the gun that was now pointed at him.  

"Isn't that what you wanted?" Mulder asked, keeping the gun trained on Krycek as the assassin casually took a seat in a chair across from him.  

"What do you mean?"  

Mulder balked. "You really thought I'd read that letter and *not* be ready to blow your head off the instant you walked in here?"  

"Letter? What letter?" Krycek frowned and put his feet up on the coffee table.  

"Don't try to bullshit me," Mulder whispered, reaching for the letter without taking his eyes off Krycek. "This fucking death threat is what I'm talking about." He threw the paper at Krycek and watched as he read it.  

"Oh," Krycek grinned, "that." He looked up at Mulder and shrugged. "I was high. I forgot I'd left it for you. Sorry."  

Mulder's eyes widened. "You forgot?" he asked incredulously. "I've been reading the damn thing over and over again for a week and you fucking *forgot*?"  

"That's what I said," Krycek said, narrowing his eyes. "Would you rather I meant the things I said?"  

"You're a fucking psychotic," Mulder sneered, "and I have no doubt that you meant every word. This is a trick to catch me off guard."  

Krycek rolled his eyes and reached into his jacket, freezing when Mulder cocked the gun and aimed it at his forehead. "I'm taking out my weapon," he said slowly, pulling out his gun and placing it on the table.  

Mulder frowned as he watched him, not sure what to do when Krycek took a knife out of his other pocket, followed by a garrote, then reached down to take off a .22 he had strapped to his leg. "What...what are you doing?" he asked uncertainly.  

"I'm making goulash. What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?" Krycek snapped, relaxing back in the chair then sitting up again so he could reach into his back pocket and pulling out a small vial.  

"What's that?" Mulder nodded at the bottle.  

"Coke," Krycek smiled. "Want some?"  

"No, I want to know what you're up to."  

"Mulder," Krycek sighed, "I told you. I was high when I wrote that letter. A brilliant letter considering my state, I might add."  

"Maybe a little too brilliant," Mulder snorted.  

Krycek raised an eyebrow. "Meaning?"  

"You meant every word of it and now you're trying to backtrack. God alone knows why you suddenly don't want me to think you want me dead, but I'm not an idiot, Krycek. I have every reason in the world to believe you'd kill me."  

"You do, hmm?"  

"Yes, I do. Add to that the fact that you seemed to be enjoying yourself just a little too much."  

"Enjoying myself."  

Oh, come on!" Mulder said, obviously frustrated. "I can just picture the sick grin you had on your face when you were thinking up that shit."  

Krycek smirked and stared at Mulder for a few moments. "You've put a lot of thought into this, haven't you?"  

"It's what I do," Mulder said slowly as if talking to a small child, "and if threats on my life are part of the package, I *really put thought into someone's motives. Guess I'm just nutty that way."  

"Mulder," Krycek purred, amused, "haven't you ever done anything stupid when you've been stoned?"  

"Tipping cows is stupid," Mulder glared at him. "Running off to Reno and getting married is stupid. Writing letters detailing how you'd like to kill someone is not stupid. Besides," Mulder sniffed, "I think you were waxing a little too poetic for you to have been under the influence of anything. That wasn't drug-induced rambling, Krycek, that was a well thought out threat."  

"You keep coming back to how coherent it was, Mulder. I can't help it if I'm a genius."  

"Don't flatter yourself. It wasn't genius. It was you being the sick bastard you really are."  

"It was?" Krycek shrugged. "If you say so." He picked up the letter again and laughed. "Oh, man, I forgot about the knife part. What the hell was I thinking?"  

"That's what I'd like to know."  

Krycek looked at him. "I really scared you, didn't I?"  

"Yeah, you did," Mulder nodded his head, the gun not wavering at all. "And despite what you say, I think I had every right to be concerned. A normal person doesn't read shit like that and casually dismiss it. The person who wrote it shouldn't either."  

"I told you, I didn't mean it."  

"I think you did. I think you really do enjoy killing people."  

"And I think we're going in circles again, Mulder," Krycek rolled his eyes. "Look, maybe I did mean it at the time, but you don't have to worry about it now." He gestured toward the weapons littering the table. "I'm not armed so you can put your gun away."  

"You think I'm an idiot, don't you?" Mulder smirked and stood up. "Get up."  

Krycek sighed and stood slowly, holding out his arms as Mulder frisked him. When Mulder's hand traveled up his leg and grazed his crotch, he cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Thanks."  

"For what?" Mulder frowned as he straightened up.  

"That's the most action I've gotten in weeks." He wiggled the fingers on his right hand. "Not counting the homemade variety, of course."  

Mulder blushed and muttered for Krycek to sit down. "What do you want?" he asked, lowering his gun but not putting it back into its holster. He wasn't completely ready to take that kind of chance.  

"I have a proposition for you."  

"What is it?" Mulder looked at him warily.  

"You cut me some slack and I tell you everything I know. Names, dates, plans...everything."  

"Define cutting you some slack," Mulder said dryly.  

"Stop wanting to kick my ass or shoot me on sight. Stop thinking of me as the enemy." He sat forward, looking at Mulder intently. "I'm not the enemy, Mulder."  

"I must not have gotten that memo," Mulder sneered. "As far as I'm concerned you and I will never be anything but enemies. Now, unless you have something of real value to say, I think you need to leave. You being here this long is making me uncomfortable."  

Krycek laughed and shook his head. "Ahh, Mulder, I'm so glad that things will never change between us. Why do you want to keep playing games like this, though?"  

"Now what the fuck are you talking about?"  

"Did you believe everything in that letter?"  

"Why wouldn't I?"  

"Then you must have noticed the part about what else I want to do to you." Krycek sat back in the chair, seeming to melt into it. "Did you think about that at all?"  

Mulder didn't say anything as he picked up the letter again. When he reached the part that Krycek was talking about, he blushed again, wondering how he could have forgotten that was in there. "Well, maybe I didn't believe everything," he said softly, carefully putting the piece of paper back on the table.  

"How convenient for you, then," Krycek smirked.  

"Meaning?"  

"Meaning you always have an answer so you don't have to admit to anything. God forbid you actually admit that the idea of me taking you against your will turns you on."  

"Hard to get turned on when you're disgusted," Mulder shrugged. "Sorry, but you're not my type."  

"And what exactly *is* your type, Mulder?"  

This time Mulder smirked and pointed at a stash of porn tapes next to his VCR. "Anything with breasts and legs that go on for days."  

"Oh, right. You want people to think you're straight," Krycek laughed. "Come on, you can tell me the truth."  

"Krycek, I don't know where this sudden need to be my buddy is coming from, but you're the last person I want to talk to about my sexual preferences."  

"Is that an admission?"  

"It's nothing." Mulder stood up. "Now, get out of my apartment before I shoot you."  

Krycek rolled his eyes and got up with a sigh. "Can the Charles Bronson imitation, Mulder. I'm going. But I'll be back."  

"Not unless you have something useful to say, you won't."  

"I told you I'd be willing to tell you lots of useful things, but you have your principles, I suppose." Krycek shot him a grin and gathered his things. He started for the door, stopping just short of opening it. "I can't believe you'd give up learning everything I know just because you can't stand me."  

"Shocked by my standards?" Mulder smiled.  

"No, I just know what an information whore you are." Krycek shook his head. "Guess your feelings for me are stronger than I previously thought."  

"Not as strong as yours apparently."  

"I don't doubt that," Krycek turned around and smiled as he leaned against the front door. "There's a thin line between love and hate, isn't that right?"  

"Krycek, stop. You're making me feel mushy," Mulder said, deadpan.  

"I could make you feel a lot more than that."  

Mulder sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "If this sudden attraction you supposedly have for me is your newest mind fuck technique, don't bother."  

Krycek looked at him for a few silent moments, his smile gradually fading. "It's not so sudden." He opened the door and left before Mulder could respond.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder--  

Have you thought about my offer? I'm still willing to exchange information for a little regard. I am a human being, you know. I happen to admire who you are as a fellow human being, and getting a little respect from you -- even if I have to buy it -- means a lot to me. So, please think about it.  

In other news, I suppose I should let you know that the case you're working on is only an exercise to see how much time you can waste investigating absolutely nothing. Don't worry, that one's free.  

It was good seeing you again, Mulder. I wish we could meet more than we do. Do you ever think about the days when I was your partner? If I could do things all over again and things had turned out differently, I think you and I could have become friends. Good friends. In fact, I think that we might have become best friends. Or am I living in a dream world? Don't answer that.  

But could you do me a favor? Could you write me back? Yes, I'm aware of how ridiculous that request is, but, if you think about it, write me. My P.O box is on the envelope. Don't think about staking out the post office. I have different people checking the box and giving my mail to some friends of mine to give to me. Close your mouth, Mulder. Yes, I have friends. Anyway, I won't expect anything, but I'll be hoping for something.  

It had to mean something when you didn't kill me, right? You would have had every reason to, every opportunity, but you didn't do it. Tell my why.  

A.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder looked at the letter as if expecting it to explode. The only explanation he could come up with for the tone of the letter was drugs. Krycek was obviously doing something besides coke and had decided to write another letter to him. Only instead of describing his murder in great detail, Krycek was trying to play with his head. For a second Mulder considered playing along to see what would happen, but he quickly rid himself of that notion. No, he'd write Krycek back and not take the bait. Nothing was ever going to change between them and Mulder knew it was his job to remind Krycek of his place in the scheme of things.  

He turned on his computer and opened the word processing program, cracking his knuckles before he started typing.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Krycek--  

I have to thank you for your last letter. It's been a long time since I've had such a good laugh. Scully thanks you as well. Oh, and so does Skinner. The lab boys are hard at work testing the paper and the ink to see if there are any clues in it as to why you thought you could write me a piece of shit like that and expect me to believe it. Tell me, Krycek, when did Hell freeze over and pigs start flying? I really would like to have an exact date so I can mark it on my calendar. "Today is the day I give a shit about Alex Krycek." It should be a national holiday now that I think about it. What the hell? Let's make it international.  

There...you have your letter. Happy? Too bad. Do me a favor and don't write me garbage like that again. I have more important things to do with my time than take part in your unimaginative games. It's too little, too late, and I can't be bothered anymore. Don't you have some lackey work to be doing? Get to it, you inconsequential walking ego. Subpar-dom awaits.  

Mulder  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder--  

Subpar-dom? I think making up your own words is a sign of madness. So is trying to make me believe you'd show that letter to Skinner. I could care less about Scully, but Skinner... Trust me, I know that his eyes never saw that letter.  

Okay, so you're on to me. Yes, I was trying to be cute, but I wasn't lying about the friendship and admiration thing. Your tenacity is very endearing and you remind me a lot of myself. If only...  

Look, I'm starting to get...what did you call my games? Unimaginative? Right, I'm starting to get unimaginative again.  

Thank you for writing.  

Krycek.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Krycek--  

Just stop sending me these notes. They're getting annoying and boring. Don't contact me again unless you have some information for me.  

And the correct phrase is "I *couldn't* care less about Scully."  

Mulder  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder yawned as he made his way to his car. It had been a long day of following useless leads and interviewing uncooperative witnesses and all he wanted to do was go home and drink a beer or three in front of the television. He hadn't heard anything from Krycek for a month and had counted his blessings that he wasn't being bombarded with more useless correspondence. The last thing he wanted was to be harassed by someone he didn't even like spending five minutes with, let alone write on a regular basis like some sort of deranged pen pal.  

He yawned again and unlocked the driver's door, sinking into the seat and closing his eyes, grateful for the quiet.  

"Hard day?"  

The voice in the backseat startled him and he sat up with a jolt. "What the fuck are you doing here?" he shouted, pissed off with himself for not noticing that Krycek was in his car.  

"You said you didn't want to see me again unless I had something useful to tell you. Well, I do."  

Mulder turned around and looked at him. "What is it?"  

"Can I come up front?"  

Mulder nodded and waited for Krycek to get in the passenger seat, questioning his sanity for a moment. "Tell me then get out," he said after Krycek closed the door.  

"Don't you want to know why I didn't write you back?"  

"Not particularly, but I assumed it was because I finally got through to you." Mulder stifled a yawn. "Now, tell me and get out. I don't want to have to say it again."  

"Okay," Krycek nodded. "The man you questioned today is a Syndicate plant. They're using him to monitor your activity on this case and to send you on the wrong path."  

"How do I know you're not telling me this to do the very same thing?"  

"Have I ever lied to you when I've given you information?"  

"Yes," Mulder said flatly. "Try again."  

Krycek clenched his jaw. "Fine, if selective memory makes you feel better, how about this? Have I lied when it really mattered?"  

Mulder looked at him then took a deep breath. He let it out slowly and leaned his head back against the seat, his eyes closed. "Why do they care about this case? It has nothing to do with alien life forms or anything approaching extraterrestrials."  

"You're right about that, but they have other concerns. You know that. The answers you're looking for *are* connected to that pharmaceutical company and they're trying to get you off the scent." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "Talk to this man. He'll tell you everything you need to know to shut them down."  

Mulder took the paper and glanced at the name and address. "The company has no connections to the government, Krycek. I checked."  

"And people can't be possessed by aliens or be abducted and examined by members of their government posing as little green men."  

"Grey," Mulder said softly and leaned his head back again.  

"I don't know when you became so careless, Mulder, but if you don't get your head out of your ass, you're going to keep running into brick walls."  

Mulder chuckled ruefully. "And that would be so different from the rest of my career, right?"  

"That's such bullshit," Krycek said angrily. "You used to care about what you were doing and you found out more than I think you ever thought you would. Now you're acting as if you don't give a shit about any of it. I thought you were the one man I could count on to fight with me."  

The strained desperation that suddenly colored Krycek's words made Mulder turn his head to look at him.

"Fight with you? I don't think you're talking about our usual antagonism, are you?"  

"No," Krycek said hoarsely, "I'm talking about you fighting alongside me to try and put a stop to all of this. I don't want them to win and I thought you felt the same way."  

"I thought I did, but maybe we're not enough to stop anything from happening."  

Krycek opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He shook his head and sighed. "You're tired. Believe what I told you about that witness or don't, but I wanted to tell you what I know."  

"You can go now."  

"Mulder..."  

"What is it?"  

"I don't want to kill you. I was stoned."  

"We've established that."  

"Okay. I just didn't want you to think I really wanted to kill you."  

"And I said we've established that," Mulder said slowly.  

"Sorry," Krycek said quickly and got out of the car. Mulder watched him walk away and disappear behind a dark van. He stopped himself from following him and looked again at the piece of paper in his hand. There was no doubt in his mind that the lead would pan out and he'd end up discovering everything he shouldn't.  

Looking out the window, Mulder didn't see any sign of Krycek. He hadn't expected to. He hadn't expected a lot of things including the feeling he had that maybe working with Krycek wouldn't be such a bad thing.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder--  

It's okay. I don't expect any more thanks for the information I gave you. I'm just glad to see that you took what I gave you and ran with it. I guess there's still hope.  

I wonder if I can be completely honest with you. I can hear you saying, "I don't know, can you?" and the answer is yes. Yes, I am capable of honesty. I don't think you'll ever want to work with me the way I'd like you to, and I don't know if I'll have any real contact with you from now on. I'm tired, Mulder. I don't have time to keep my personal feelings separate from any kind of business arrangement, and I just want to lay all my cards on the table. Do what you will with what I'm about to tell you but I really don't expect you to respond.  

Not everything I said in my first letter was untrue. The possessing thing still holds. Perhaps in my darkest fantasies I want to crush the life out of you or bleed you dry, but in reality... My reality at the moment consists of not getting caught helping you and eking out a living doing things I'd rather not be doing. It also consists of very intrusive thoughts of you. At the risk of this letter turning into a mash note, I'm going to tell you something that might be even more disturbing than describing, no matter how beautifully, the ways I'd like to kill you. I've turned it over in my head a million times, not sure the best way to do this. Unfortunately, the night I decided to share my frustration over just how much I need to have you, I happened to be in a particularly bitter frame of mind. I don't want to take your life even if it would be the only way for me to truly have you. Look, why don't I just say it. I promised myself I would.  

I love you.  

Wow, that was hard to write. I think because seeing it on paper finally validates what I considered to be mindless infatuation but is instead a sad, pathetic truth. No, I don't expect anything resembling reciprocation, nor do I think forcing you into sex would result in some kind of romantic epiphany. Maybe that's why I feel like I can let it all go. I've got nothing to lose. Now, you have to deal with that knowledge. I hope it keeps you up at night and disturbs you to the nth degree. It should, you know. The fact that someone like me could love someone like you should anger you. How dare I? What the hell is wrong with me? I can hear you saying those things to me now. But, you know what? I'm just smiling, Mulder.  

In case you'd like to know when it started, you'd be surprised to know that it was the second week you and I had been working together. I'd been crying over some idiot who'd broken my heart (not a lie, really. I'd been seeing someone and he left me. Good thing for him, but it still hurt to be rejected. I've gotten over fear of rejection, by the way. I know you care about that) and you gruffly suggested that we get drunk together and forget about him. You were so good to me. It killed me that I still had a job to do, but I was young and idealistic then and thought that I was working for the greater good. You know, the noble sacrifice and all that. Whatever. I'm over that, too. But I digress... That night I saw a different side of you and that's when you started opening up to me. Do you remember? I think it's the first time you called me Alex. I still smile when I think about it. I thought at one point you were going to kiss me when we got back to my apartment. You had this quizzical look on your face as if seeing me for the first time and wondering what you were doing standing so close to me. Unfortunately, neither of us acted on it and you just said goodnight. What were you thinking? I've always wondered. I suppose I'll never know.  

I guess the whole point of this missive is to say that, no, I don't want you dead. Far from it. But I do want you. You know how someone's true nature comes out when they're drunk and they say things that articulate all the hurt they're feeling? Well, that letter was a prime example of that. If I can't have you, I don't want anyone else to have you. There, nice and neat. In reality, I would never harm you. Not any more than I already have. I won't bother to apologize for my past actions because you wouldn't believe me anyway.
That's fair.  

Well, if you're still with me, I should say goodbye. Don't worry, if I *should have to see you again, I won't mention any of this. I love seeing you squirm, but it wouldn't be fun for me to see you uncomfortable in regards to this particular topic.  

Take care.  

A.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder closed his eyes, trying to keep his temper in check. He should have known better than to open the letter at work, but he was more than a little curious about why Krycek would be writing him again. He was also so angry at the things Krycek had told him that he could put his fist through a wall.  

"Mulder?" Scully gave him a curious look. "Bad news?"  

"No, just bullshit fanmail," Mulder clenched his jaw and crumpled up the paper. He tossed it at the wastepaper basket and watched it fall in with the other trash.  

"Fanmail? And it gets this kind of reaction from you?"  

"Depends who the fan is, doesn't it?"  

"I suppose so. Well, whatever it is, you look as if you could kill the person who sent it."  

"Funny you should say that, Scully," Mulder forced a smile. "I was thinking the very same thing."  

Scully raised an eyebrow and looked at the trash. "And you're not going to let me read it?"  

"I don't know," Mulder said, a little peeved at her interest though he knew it was coming. "I didn't think anal rape scenarios were your taste."  

"What? Mulder, if you've been threatened, you need to tell someone." Before Mulder could stop her, she'd reached in and retrieved the letter, quickly skimming it. She looked up, confused. "This is from Krycek?"  

Mulder cringed and sank down in his chair. Why the hell did he think throwing it out in front of Scully wouldn't have resulted in this? He could kick himself for being so fucking stupid. "Told you I could kill him," he mumbled, growing angrier at the embarrassment he was feeling as Scully continued looking at him.  

"Mulder, this is... Why would he write this to you?"  

"To fuck with my head, Scully. Why else?"  

"But he doesn't threaten you." She looked at the letter, seeming to read it slower.  

"No, I just said that to keep you from reading it. Look how well that worked."  

"I'm sorry, Mulder," Scully sighed and crumpled up the paper again. "I was concerned, that's all. I didn't mean to intrude on whatever this may be."  

Mulder sat up. "Intrude? What's that supposed to mean?"  

"Well, he's obviously your informant and you two have a history together. Now he's adding a new element to it. I don't want to intrude on that."  

"Scully, you've been sniffing airplane glue again, haven't you?" He frowned despite the smile she gave him.

"Krycek and I have nothing. He gives me a few clues and I follow them. That's it. End of story." He pointed a finger at her. "And now that I think about it, I'm a little disappointed in your reaction to that letter."  

"You are? Why?"  

"You should be demanding to know where he is and launching a full scale search for him. You should be cursing his name and tearing your hair out. Not standing there telling me you don't want to 'intrude.' It's disturbing."  

Scully folded her arms in front of her chest. "Actually, the scenario you just described is pretty disturbing, knowing me as you do. Tell me when I would ever pull my hair out."  

"Tear."  

"I'm sorry, *tear* my hair out." She sighed and sat down on the edge of the desk. "Mulder, he's helping you. I don't like the fact that he's walking around free, but the bottom line is he's giving you useful information. Declarations of love aside, there's nothing for me to go overboard about." She paused. "Okay, there's plenty for me to go overboard about, but what purpose would it serve other than to drive me crazy? The days of me giving a shit about that son of a bitch are over. One day he'll get what he deserves, but until that day comes, I can't live my life making his capture my sole purpose. There are too many other things going on, Mulder, too many things I've gone through." She smiled gently. "I can't explain my reaction any better than that, I'm afraid."  

Mulder gave her a long look before getting up and slipping into his jacket. "I need some air."  

"Where are you going?"  

"I need to get some air," he repeated. "Alone."  

Scully nodded and gave him a sad smile. "Don't forget the four o'clock meeting."  

"I'll be there with bells on," Mulder grumbled and walked out of the office.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Krycek--  

What the hell did you think you'd accomplish with that little stunt? If you think I believe for one minute that you're in love with me, you're very mistaken. How can I be so sure? It's easy. People like you aren't capable of loving anyone or anything but themselves. Maybe you see me as a challenge, but that's as much as I can believe. Just to make it absolutely clear, I am straight and getting involved with any man, let alone you, is not something that would ever happen.  

God, help me, I don't know why I'm even writing this, but, yes, I remember that night you mentioned. You had the vulnerable sap routine down, Krycek. You fooled me and I guess I should give you some credit for that. Lovelorn was a good look on you, and, for just a second, I felt as if I could trust you. That was my mistake and proof of what a good job you did. As for that little fantasy you had about me wanting to kiss you, you couldn't be more off the mark. You know what I was thinking? I was thinking that you didn't deserve to be that hurt. I was thinking that you weren't such a bad guy and if having a kiss or two in a bar made you feel better, then I was glad to do it. But there was nothing more than that.  

Why am I even telling you this stuff? There has never been a more moot point. This whole thing defines moot. I don't want you, Krycek, and you don't want me. But even if things were normal between us, I still wouldn't want you because I don't go that way. Just give it up. It's not going to happen no matter how much you want it to. I won't let it.  

Mulder  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder--  

It was so good hearing from you because I didn't expect anything and because you've actually given me some hope. I'll tell you why. First of all, you don't proofread your letters so I get to see what you're really thinking. Secondly, you're protesting just a little too much. Lastly, it may be my imagination, but I swear there's a hint of your cologne on this paper. Nice little extra when I'm jerking off.  

Now, you may be confused about the things I've listed, so I'll be happy to clear things up for you. I've photocopied your letter and highlighted the parts in question. See where you say "having a kiss or two"? I'm pretty sure you meant to say drink, but what a convenient word for you to write instead. Yes, Mulder, I can see why you would want to reiterate the fact that you didn't want to kiss me. I'm grateful you cleared that up. Especially considering how you "don't go that way." My next point has to do with that last paragraph. You know, there really was no need for you to keep harping on and on about how much you don't want me. I'd say the lady doth protest too much, but you're no lady. Look at me, Mulder, you're making me make stupid jokes. The bottom line is I think you're trying to convince yourself you don't want anything to happen. I can't argue with that, considering everything.  

Take care, Mulder. I'll keep my feelings to myself from now on.  

A.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Krycek--  

Don't think you're an expert in the way the mind works because you took a few psych classes, okay? It was an honest slip and one I am very embarrassed to have made. The last thing I want to do is encourage you in any way because that would mean you're feeling good. Trust me, I don't want to think about you feeling good because you don't deserve it.  

You set me up and knocked me down. Add to that everything else you've done to ruin my life and you'll understand why I can't feel warm and fuzzy about you.  

Mulder  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside, grateful to be home. As much as he'd thrown himself into his work, his thoughts continued straying to the last two letters Krycek had sent him. What was bothering him even more was the stupid slip he'd made. Of all the things he could have written, he had to write the one thing that would give Krycek ammo. And he hadn't been protesting too much, he insisted to himself. He'd been trying to make a very clear point even more so, but had obviously failed. No matter. It had been three weeks since he'd heard anything and the gnawing anxiety was now just a dull, rather annoying tingle in the back of his head.  

He moved through the darkness of his apartment to turn on a lamp, but stopped when he heard a slight creak come from his couch. His gun was in his hand in an instant, pointing in the direction of the sound.  

"Don't move." Fumbling for the light, he turned it on, not entirely surprised to see Krycek lying on the couch, a pleased smirk on his face.  

"I hope you weren't expecting someone else," Krycek said, pointing at the gun. "I thought you'd figure it was me."  

"What are you doing here?"  

"Don't you get tired of asking me that? Just accept the fact that I'm here, put the gun down, and have a seat."  

Mulder narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?"  

Krycek sighed and sat up slowly. "Mulder, when I come to you, don't I usually have information for you? Now, put the gun away and try to come to terms with the new me."  

"The new you?" Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Why is there a new you? More importantly, why should I believe there's a new you?"  

"Because I'm sick and tired of the shit, Mulder," Krycek snapped and flopped back down to stretch out on the couch. "I'm not here to kill you, I'm not entirely the enemy, and I'm even thinking of trying to get out, so stop the paranoid bullshit and sit the fuck down." He let out a quick breath and smiled amiably. "Please."  

"Careful, this new you is scaring me, Krycek," Mulder said flatly. "What's going on? I thought you had planned on not making anymore contact with me."  

"I changed my mind."  

"Why?"  

"I'm tired of fighting, Mulder. I'm going to try for a truce if it's the last thing I do."  

The murmured words took a minute to sink in and Mulder finally put his gun down and took a seat in the chair next to the couch. He studied Krycek carefully, looking for any sign that he was putting on an act. There was no indication that was the case, but Mulder still didn't buy the sudden change. He knew Krycek too well.  

"Don't you want to know what I have to tell you?" Krycek asked after a few minutes.  

"Yeah, go ahead," Mulder said, distracted by the thoughts racing through his head as he tried to determine how best Krycek would take advantage of the false sense of security he was trying to establish. If Mulder let him. Which he wouldn't.  

"You need to be more careful." Krycek sat up and grinned at Mulder, his demeanor turning from sullen to practically chipper. "There are a lot of people who would love to get their hands on this information."  

"What is it?"  

Krycek reached for the remote and turned on the television. "I took the liberty of checking your VCR to make sure the picture quality was up to par, so the tape's in there already."  

Mulder shifted uneasily in his chair. "What tape?"  

"You'll see." Krycek pressed play and sat back. "I tried to get your good side."  

Mulder watched the television, squinting as he tried to make out the dark figures on the screen. Finally, the picture came into focus and Mulder's throat tightened when he recognized himself. Not just himself but the guy he'd picked up two nights earlier. It was dark, but it was also obvious exactly what was happening. Mulder got up and grabbed the remote from Krycek, turning off the tape as his recorded groans started getting louder.  

"You're blackmailing me," he said hoarsely, his heart racing.  

"I am?"  

"Of course you are. It's what you'd do. You stalk me, catch me doing something that could destroy my career, then blackmail me into having sex with you."  

Krycek laughed softly and shook his head. "You've got it all figured out. You don't need me."  

"You think this is the way to come to any sort of truce with me? Just tell me what the fuck you want!" Mulder threw the remote at Krycek and sat down heavily. He cradled his head in his hands, completely clueless as to how to get out of the mess he'd made. "Just tell me," he whispered.  

"I'm going to get drummed out of the union for this," Krycek sighed. "I'm not going to blackmail you, Mulder. I *should* because there's no telling what I could get out of you, but I'm not going to do it."  

Mulder looked up. "You're not?" he asked incredulously. "Why not?"  

"Careful, you almost sound disappointed that I'm not going to take advantage of your willingness to cooperate."  

"I don't understand. Why are you showing me this if you're not going to use it against me?"  

"Oh, I am going to use it against you but not in the way you think."  

Mulder pursed his lips and sat back in the chair. "What are you going to do?"  

Krycek smiled widely and started the tape again. "Look at you, Mulder. You're getting your cock sucked and it sounds like you're really enjoying it." He hit the fast forward button. "My favorite part is coming up, though, pardon the pun." He hit play and Mulder grimaced as the image of himself getting fucked flickered across the screen. "God," Krycek sighed and settled back on the couch, "you look so fucking hot."  

"Turn it off," Mulder said softly, putting his head down.  

"I don't think so," Krycek said. "I think you should watch this."  

"I don't want to watch it," Mulder said through clenched teeth.  

"Watch it or I send copies of it to your partner and your supervisor."  

Mulder slowly raised his head and glared at Krycek. "I thought you weren't going to blackmail me."  

"For Christ's sake, Mulder, I'm blackmailing you into watching a homemade fuck film. You should be lucky that's all I'm doing with this."  

Without a word, Mulder turned his attention to the television, groaning when Krycek rewound the tape to show him the parts he'd missed.  

"Is it just me, or are you really enjoying that?" Krycek smirked. "Those noises you're making sure don't sound like you're objecting, which leads me to believe you were a very willing participant."  

"I thought you'd be happy that you have something to get off to," Mulder said, wishing he didn't sound so defeated.  

"I am. Do you want to know the number of times I've jerked off to this?" He laughed. "Probably not, huh?" He took a deep breath, shaking his head at the screen. "Damn, Mulder, do you know how much you turn me on?"  

Mulder looked at him, his breath catching in his throat when he saw Krycek rubbing himself through his jeans. "What are you doing?"  

"Getting a hard on," Krycek smiled, his eyes still glued to the TV. "Never fails when I watch this." His hand continued moving, fingers playing over the obvious bulge in the denim.  

His eyes transfixed, Mulder watched as Krycek began rubbing himself harder. It wasn't until Krycek started unbuttoning the jeans that he snapped out of it. "Wait a minute, you're not doing that here."  

Krycek looked at him, his eyes wide. "I'm not? Why, are you going to do it?"  

Mulder growled and got up quickly, noting the hopeful look in Krycek's eyes before going to the VCR and ejecting the tape. He threw it on the floor and slammed his foot down on it. "Get out."  

"Come on, Mulder, I thought you'd be happy to have gotten over that block you had."  

"What?"  

"You were so straight, remember?" Krycek smiled. "I'm glad to see that you've opened yourself up to new things."  

Mulder turned to face Krycek, his eyes narrowing at the obvious delight his unwelcome guest was getting from his predicament. "Despite what you might be wishing, this doesn't mean I'm going to fuck you," he whispered.  

The smile vanished as Krycek's eyes darkened and he stood up, crossing to Mulder and giving the distinct impression that the old, familiar Krycek was about to make an appearance. "Maybe not, but it does mean you were full of shit."  

Mulder's cock twitched against his will and he prayed Krycek wouldn't know just how turned on he was getting. "I was?" he asked, his voice cracking.  

"Yeah," Krycek nodded, stepping close enough to touch his chest to Mulder's. "That was your biggest excuse, wasn't it?" he whispered. "You'd never be with me because I wasn't your type."  

"Just because you have a dick--" Mulder gasped when Krycek pushed his hips forward, proving his point. "That doesn't mean you're my type."  

"Is that so?" Krycek leaned in and brushed his lips against Mulder's neck. "I was under the impression you really like dick." He inhaled deeply and chuckled. "I really do love the way you smell."  

Mulder closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth against his skin despite himself. It would be so easy to give in, to keep feeling good as Krycek started sucking gently on his neck. "Krycek..."  

"Mmm?"  

"I don't fuck scum."  

Krycek raised his head and smiled. "And I assume you're referring to me as scum, right?"  

Mulder was taken back by the hurt look on Krycek's face when he nodded. He had to force himself to remember exactly who it was he was dealing with and chalked it up to more manipulation on Krycek's part.

"You'd better go."  

"Sure," Krycek shrugged and stepped back. "I'm going."  

"If you..." Mulder licked his lips as he tried to think of the best way to get out of this without losing more face. "Contact me if you have any information."  

"Right." Krycek walked toward the door without giving Mulder a second look.  

Mulder watched him walk out, wondering if he'd ever see him again.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

"Mulder, the meeting's in five minutes."  

"I know, Scully." Mulder was staring at the same blank piece of paper he'd been looking at for the past half hour. He hadn't thought it would be so difficult to write a letter telling Krycek that maybe he shouldn't bother being his informant any longer.  

"Mulder..."  

"I heard you," Mulder snapped, flashing her an annoyed look.  

Scully raised an eyebrow. "I'll be in Skinner's office," she said softly and turned to go.  

"Scully, wait," Mulder sighed and waited for her to turn back around. "I'm sorry. I'm...I haven't been feeling all
that great lately."  

"That's obvious," she said curtly. "You've been biting my head off all week, everyone's talking about what an asshole you're being -- I think that's pretty telling considering they didn't have that high an opinion of you to begin with -- and you haven't been able to do anything but sit at your desk and stare into space."  

"It's..." He sighed. "I'm having some trouble with my personal life."  

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, her lips pursed as she narrowed her eyes at her partner. "Must be more than just trouble, Mulder."  

"No, that's pretty much the best way to describe it. I-" He shrugged and crumpled up the piece of paper. "I'm sorry I've been such a jackass lately."  

Her face softened and she lowered her arms. "Do you want to talk about it?"  

"We have a meeting," Mulder grinned weakly.  

"Then after the meeting, okay?"  

"Yeah, okay."  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Scully wrinkled her nose as she watched her partner take a large bite of his bacon cheeseburger. "Mulder if you keep eating that stuff, you're going to have a massive coronary."  

"I work out," Mulder said, his mouth full. "It's fine."  

"Well, it won't be fine when you drop dead during your morning run," Scully smiled and started eating her salad.  

"It's nice to know you care," he winked and took another bite.  

"You know I care about you, Mulder." She put down her fork. "That's why I want to know what's going on. Why you haven't been yourself lately."  

"I thought you said people were saying I'm an asshole. How is that not being myself?"  

"You know what I mean." She lowered her voice. "What's going on? I thought you knew you could talk to me."  

Mulder swallowed and put down his burger. "I can't talk to you about everything."  

"Why not?"  

"Because it's...complicated."  

"Is it your love life?" she smirked.  

"Maybe."  

"Wow. Okay." She nodded. "Then let's talk."  

He hesitated, knowing he could never tell her the reason he'd been so unbearable was because he was torn between being completely disgusted with the idea of Krycek being in love with him, and being strangely flattered. If he could indulge himself a little, he would even go so far as to say that he was wrestling with the fact that maybe he wanted to be with someone he shouldn't be with instead of telling that person to stay the hell away from him. "There's someone who's fascinated with me and I don't know what to do about it."  

"Fascinated? As in they think you're an interesting human specimen?"  

"Sort of," Mulder grinned, "and you don't have to sound so shocked."  

Scully smiled warmly and took a sip of her water. "Well, whoever it is, she's obviously not mentally stable."  

"Thanks, Scully," Mulder smiled, "but I think that goes without saying."  

"I'm kidding. Go on."  

"Anyway, this...she's told me how she feels about me and I don't know what to do."  

"What has she said?" She leaned forward. "And who is it? Do I know her?"  

"Yeah, you do," Mulder said wryly. "Look, Scully, I think I should level with you." He took a deep breath. "It's--"  

"It's that woman in accounting, isn't it?"  

Mulder frowned, trying to think of the woman Scully had in mind. Then he remembered a cute blonde in the accounting department who'd sent him some racy photos of herself. He'd had fun laughing over them with Scully then taking them home with him where they were stashed away in his nightstand.  

"I'm right, aren't I?" Scully grinned and sat back. "Did she send you more pictures with her declaration of fascination?"  

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Mulder shook his head. "I maybe be downplaying the fascination thing," he admitted. "This person told me they love me."  

"Hmm," Scully said thoughtfully, "you know what this means, don't you?"  

"What?"  

"If you guys want a June wedding, you'd better make quick with the invitations." Scully giggled at the way

Mulder frowned at her then started on her salad again. "I'm sorry, Mulder," she said, still trying not to laugh. "I shouldn't make fun of the fact that she's in love with you."  

"I'm glad you think this is so funny, but I'm not interested in her." He smiled at the skeptical look on Scully's face.
"Okay, maybe I am, but what do I do if I don't want to be with her because she's...I can't be sure she's what she's claiming to be?"  

"Mulder, I've worked out with her. If you're worried that she's not really a woman, there's no need. She is, however, not a real blonde."  

"I'm not talking about that, Scully," Mulder grinned, wondering what Scully would think if she knew that gender was not going to be an issue.  

"What is it, then?"  

"You have to promise me that you won't tell her any of this."  

"Don't worry, Mulder, we're not exactly friends," Scully said sourly.  

"You don't like her?"  

"She's never given me a reason to," Scully shrugged. "And she's a bit of an idiot."  

Mulder grinned and took a sip of his soda. "You're jealous."  

"I assure you I am not jealous," Scully sniffed and looked down at her plate. "I just don't think she's deserving of all the attention she gets."  

"I see," Mulder nodded. "Well, we can discuss your self-esteem later. I really need you to give me an opinion on this."  

"I didn't think you'd need my opinion about that woman. If you're not interested, then don't reciprocate."  

Mulder sighed and nodded again. "The thing is, I might be interested."  

"Then tell her yes," Scully said impatiently. "You don't need my permission."  

The problem, Mulder realized, was that he was trying to substitute some bimbo Scully found annoying for a man Scully hated. If she was having this kind of reaction to the woman, he could only imagine what she'd say if he told her he was actually thinking of being with Krycek.  

"Really, Mulder," she continued, "you're the one who has to live with whatever decision you make. I'm just disappointed that someone you hardly know can be affecting your behavior in this way."  

"No, you're right," Mulder said slowly. "I'll try to... I'll be careful about how I act now. You're right. I have to live with it."  

"What are you going to do?"  

Mulder took a deep breath and looked at her for a few moments. "I'm going to put an end to things."  

Scully grinned and picked up her fork. "I know I shouldn't take this much delight in that, but I can't wait to see the fall out."  

Mulder tsked. "It's the evil of schadenfreude, Scully."  

"Yeah, I know. It's a good thing."  

Mulder laughed, genuinely feeling better now that he'd made a final decision. All that was left to do was write the letter.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Krycek--  

After some thought, I've decided that it would be best if you no longer made any contact with me. This doesn't have so much to do with what happened the last time I saw you as I have come to the conclusion that you will never stop harassing me unless I call a halt to all of this. I know that you most likely have another copy of that videotape, so all I can do is ask that you not share what you found out with anyone. If you really feel the way you say you do, I'd think you'd be able to do me that one favor.  

There's nothing left to say, I guess, so I'll finish this by pointing out that you set yourself up for any disappointment you may be feeling. Did you really think I'd even consider being with you?  

Mulder  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Mulder--  

Fine. You want nothing to do with me. That's fine. Really. But I want you to tell me one thing. What happened with that guy? Besides the obvious. I've been stalking you for years and I never saw you do anything that reckless. A public park, Mulder? What the fuck were you thinking? Whatever it was, I want to know. Then I'll send you the original tape and any copies I've made. I'd also like you to tell me if you noticed who he looked like. I'll spare you the games and just answer that myself. He looked like *me*, Mulder. Why the fuck can't you take what I'm offering instead of test-driving cheap imitations? Tell me everything I want to know and I'll leave you alone.  

Krycek.  

~~~~~~~oo(O)oo~~~~~~~ 

Alex,  

Jesus, you don't ask for much, do you? Before I spill my guts, let me take you back to a day in 1994 when you and I were stuck in the depths of the Hoover listening to tape on that Wyoming kidnapping case. Do you remember? I was amazed that we'd been given the assignment because it involved morons talking about things other than their dicks and lapdances. You listened to the suspect rattling off about the boring day he was having then looked at me and said, "If he took that little girl, I'm going to personally cut off his balls and serve them to him on a bed of lettuce." The look on your face was so serious, and the way you said it was so matter of fact, I couldn't help but see you differently. It was such a bad case; I remember how upset you were when they found the girl's body under his house. All of us were affected by it, but you... I had no doubt that if you ever saw that sicko in