Author's Note: For all you MulderTorture fans out there this one's a doozy... I don't know what it is about Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek, but to watch these men attempt at reconciling their violent and completely undisguised emotions is just *delicious* to watch, or read, for that matter. Also, I'd like to thank Araxdelan for all of her help in getting this finished and published. Without her opinions, suggestions, and patience throughout this whole ordeal, I would never have gotten as far as I did. Thank you!! Rating: strong, strong R (possibly NC-17) Category: M/K romance; SLASH, angst; fiction Spoilers: Vague references to this story's predecessor, Boca Raton and from that, "The Red and the Black" from season five. Also, in light of the recent events in the season six two-parter, "Two Fathers" and "One Son", I chose to take another avenue at directing Krycek's reappearance on the show. There is, however, no outright mentioning of any of the events in either episodes. Title: This Isn't Florida [Note: please see previous story's title for theme.] Disclaimer: The characters Fox Mulder, Alex Krycek and Dana Scully aren't mine, nor will they ever be. However I do have a temporary lease contract with... no-no, I'm kidding. (Please don't sue me!) They are the sole property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Twentieth Century FOX. In writing this I did not intend to infringe upon any of the owners' rights. *** "God, it's been months." "I know, I'm sorry." When Mulder had awoken to find his former partner sitting in an armchair watching him, he couldn't decide whether he was relieved or furious. The dark apartment made it impossible to read his face and made it even more difficult to tell if there had been any sincerity in what he'd just said. As Mulder attempted to gather his wits, he stole a glance in Krycek's direction. He looked good. Mulder gulped, internally grimacing at having just admitted that to himself. At least Krycek was looking *better* as opposed to *worse*. "Well, I suppose this appearance of yours means that I can stop scanning the newspapers for your obituary." Krycek laughed, "Yeah, Mulder, I guess you can." "So how long have you been staring at me, Krycek?" "...You looked too peaceful for me to disturb you, Mulder. Besides, I didn't mind the eye candy. It's been a long, long time," he said, as his voice dipped dangerously towards that seductive purr. Mulder swallowed rather noticeably, as his eyes strained to see Krycek's face. "And you'd rather gawk from across the room, than actually talk to me?" Krycek ignored the question and instead turned his attention toward Mulder. "How have you been?" It was that voice, his voice had already captivated Mulder. No one had as distinct a voice as Alex Krycek. That husky, calm, low-pitched whisper hooked Mulder every time, despite his attempts are resistance. Then, suddenly memories of their last encounter skittered back in a rush of images; a flurry of roaming hands and skin against skin. "Are you serious?" "Why wouldn't I be?" Krycek's voice said flatly. "How have I been?... How do you think I've been?! You walked out on me! Y-you abandoned me! You didn't call! What was I suppose to do? I didn't know if you were lying dead somewhere, rotting in a dark alley. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. Krycek, you used me! You used me like a fucking whore and left. Dammit, how do you think I've been?!" He remained absolutely motionless. Motionless and silent. Mulder's rage had come out of nowhere, exploding from his mouth and heart in a tidal wave of emotions. But if it felt so good to scream these things in his face, then why did he hurt so much? His eyes stung as he blinked forcing himself to retain his anger. There was no way that Alex Krycek was going to get Mulder's forgiveness. Not tonight. Mulder sighed, "I... trust you. More than that, even, I let you-" Mulder choked off his own sentence. "You have no idea what you did to me, Krycek. None. Last year when you came to this apartment, in a single heartbeat I was yours; yours because I wanted to be. But in that same heartbeat you took that, ripped away everything I'd gathered the strength to offer. I can't," Mulder shut his eyes, fearful of what they might reveal to the man sitting not three feet away. Struggling to maintain his composure, Mulder continued, "I can't do this, Krycek, I can't. You ask me to open up my world, let you inside, care for you, so I do--willingly. But, for what?" The question hung heavy in the air and still he was quiet. "I can't believe this. You're still just going to sit ther-" "You're right, Mulder," he said, interrupting Mulder's thoughts. Mulder stared at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. "How can you just-just sit there like that! Krycek, I do not understand you--I never did. I thought that in time maybe I could learn but apparently I was wrong about that," he said. "What do you want me to do, Mulder? What's done is done. Am I sorry? Yes, of course, but it couldn't be helped. There are... *things* going on right now, Mulder, that need to be attended to and unfortunately I can't be in multiple places at the same time. If that were possible," Krycek trailed off, allowing Mulder's imagination to wander in a direction he was fiercely trying to avoid at the moment. "Do you know what I think you should do? I think you should go," Mulder said. "Is that what you really want?" he asked, and for the first time since he'd arrived at the apartment, Krycek leaned forward--elbows on knees--to stare intently at Mulder, his face finally illuminated after delurking from his shadowy perch. The vibrant greenness pierced the mounting tension from beneath a set of the lushest eyelashes Mulder had ever seen. His heart leapt at catching a glimpse of the man who had walked out of his life for nearly one full year ago, in spite of his fury. It had been one full year since Krycek had delivered the first kiss... the kiss which sent Mulder's life into a tailspin. "Yes," Mulder said. Krycek sighed and stood up. Without another word, without looking back, he crossed the apartment, opened the door and walked out. Mulder sat on his couch staring at the closed door, wondering what he was going to do now. *** Arms draped at his sides, he could feel the man behind him step closer. The presence of his radiating heat warmed Mulder's body. Wordlessly, the brush of soft lips on the back of his neck forced him to lean into the kiss, into the supportive body standing behind him. He could feel the mouth giving thorough attention to the sensitive skin below his hairline, carefully nipping and licking in lazy patterns. A hand enclosed around his wrist, which remained still at first. But slowly it began its ascension of caressing up his forearm, over his bicep and back down again, leaving a tiny trail of fire. The hand came up again this time to hug his body close, pressing them together. Blind fingers made slow circles across his chest as they traveled aimlessly, grazing nipples beneath the think cotton t-shirt. Mulder gasped breathlessly when his assailant returned to each nipple, almost painfully dragging his nails over each one, until they were hard. The flick of a tongue on the edge of his ear caused him to shiver involuntarily. Hot breath blew on it, sending a jolt down his spine. His breathing quickened slightly as his waited unsure of what the man behind him would do next. Suddenly the heat was gone, while Mulder's body protested at the loss of contact. Turning around he saw that his companion had backed away and was sitting on the edge of Mulder's rarely used bed. In two strides Mulder was in front of him, looking down at a face more beautiful than words could describe. He reached out to touch his skin and cup his face in his hands. As Mulder rubbed his thumb over moist lips, eyelids fluttered closed and the lips kissed back, a soft pink tongue lapped at Mulder's finger. Gently, his lover pushed himself farther onto the bed, easing down, propped on his elbows. His green eyes, clouded and dark with a well-known passion invited him to come closer. Mulder's knees touched the edge of the mattress, trapping the other man's ankles between them. Creeping onto the bed, the weight settling on top of the mattress forced it to dip slightly. Mulder crawled over the younger man's legs, leaned over him, hands on either side of his head. Eyes locked with a fierce intensity as each stared at the other, temporarily transfixed by the sensation of such proximity. Every crease, every wrinkle, every contour was memorized as they each hovered just out of reach. Blinking slowly, a relaxed, languid smile crept onto Mulder's face. He draped his body over the man beneath him, brought his knee up to hook it around the younger man's hip and bent his head impossibly closer, until their noses were practically touching. In a hushed voice, Mulder said, "Alex Krycek, I want you," and pressed his lips against his mouth. As Alex fell fully onto his back, an arm snaked around Mulder to pull his entire weight down on top of Alex. Their first touch was coating, sweet, honey-like as Mulder began a maddening pace, pushing his lips against Alex's waiting mouth. Alex mimicked Mulder's precise assault with an equally timeless pursuit of tasting every inch of those soft lips. Mulder pulled back only slight to gloss his lover's lips with his own tongue before slipping further inside that hungry mouth. Alex opened wider to accommodate the welcome intruder, pushing back up into Mulder and shifting slightly. Craning his neck, chewing tenderly on Mulder's mouth, he pried himself away to rake his teeth over Mulder's jaw line, under his chin, over his adams apple and came to hover on a spot where Alex could feel Mulder's life beat continually just below that thin layer of skin. Pressing his lips to it, he felt the rhythm pulsate millimeters from his own mouth. Half kissing, practically sobbing, Alex could not stop himself from attacking Mulder's exposed jugular. Meanwhile, his roving lips threatened to drain every ounce of strength from Mulder's rapidly weakening body. His arms quivered as he fought to keep from crushing the man beneath his body. Mulder's growl, which called Alex back to his mouth, sank to a low moan. The rock of Alex's hips sent Mulder's mind spinning as he grabbed him by the shirt, ferociously claiming his mouth once more. As lips met, Mulder's hands went up towards the collar of Alex's silk shirt, feeling for buttons sliding loose. Slipping Alex out of his shirt, Mulder paused to to appreciate his lover's chest. Smooth, even, soft-colored skin covered an exquisitely toned upper-body. Mulder reach out to touch one nipple and elicited the same groan he's just emitted himself. Mulder lifted Alex up to a sitting position, so that he was kneeling on the bed. Staring at the man in front of him Alex watched as Mulder crossed his arms and dragged the hem of his t-shirt up over his head. Falling into a those two pools of hazel lust, Alex breathed, "Mulder." "Alex, I-" Mulder tried to speak, though his voice had been reduced to a hoarse whisper. Alex shook his head and murmured, his passion blatantly undisguised, "I know, Mulder. I've always known," and brought his mouth against Mulder to stop any other words from coming. "Don't talk anymore. Just... touch me," he said. Mulder's eyes flashed momentarily as those words went straight to his groin. Mulder's hands came to rest on Alex's ass, thumbs dipping just below the waistband, feeling the hot skin beneath. Both on their knees facing each other, Mulder pulled Alex close, so they were hip to hip. They could feel each other through the remaining clothing, hard and aching, wanting nothing more than to lie together, in one another's embrace. "You are so gorgeous, Mulder," Alex said, "so... gorgeous." He reached between them and fingered Mulder, feeling the heavy weight of what he know was his dripping cock. Bowing his head slightly, Alex ran his tongue from Mulder's navel up to the hollow of his neck, all the while never releasing Mulder from his grasp. Mulder's hips ground against the younger man as he arched his back, pushing himself into him. A fine sheen of sweat covered them both, dampening dark locks. Panting, with trembling hands, pants, followed by boxers, slid silently to the floor. *** He felt strangely relaxed, relieved, almost. Mulder's mind slowly emerge from his groggy state feeling spent. His muscles ached, as if he'd just finished a long run, instead of refreshed and restored from a decent night's sleep. As Mulder's eyes focused, he stretched. His hand rubbed over his face, through his hair, traveling leisurely down to his torso, suddenly stopped in midair. His eyes flew open, the sheer horror of it causing his hand to halt. A cooling, sticky liquid covered his chiseled stomach. Bewildered, Mulder's mind frantically raced to put the pieces together of what had just happened. A flood of overwhelming remnants of his dream, of he and Krycek on his bed, came rushing back in sickening proportion. He gaged, looking down at himself. This cannot have happened. "Oh, god-" Mulder flew off the couch, headed straight for the bathroom where he promptly vomited his last meal. Shivering not only in disgust, but in self-loathing, Mulder's head hovered above the toilet bowl. "I didn't... we didn't," he said, repeating those words, shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the images which caused his stomach to roll. Sprawled on the floor of his small bathroom Mulder continued to heave into the toilet, long after his stomach was empty. After check and rechecking, making absolutely sure he was finished, Mulder pulled himself up warily. Giving the toilet one final flush, he turned to face himself in the mirror. He looked horrid, his face ashen and in dire need of a shaving. Turning on the faucet, Mulder grabbed his toothbrush and squeezing a generous amount of toothpaste on it, he shoved the brush in his mouth. He could taste Krycek, his flavor lingering in his mouth; he could feel Krycek, on his skin, the places he had touched were blazing. Mulder scratched his arm violently, vainly attempting to free himself from the other man's branding. As Mulder stood brushing the inside of his mouth raw, he turned and pulled the shower curtain back. Pulling the head of the shower faucet out and setting the temperature, Mulder stepped out of his saturated boxers and into the cloud of steam. The water was far too hot, but Mulder let the pelting streams burn his skin. He wanted to be able to feel something other than Alex Krycek on his body. He let his forehead rest against the cool tile. Taking the toothbrush from his mouth, he spit and watched the blood slide toward the drain. Why, in god's name, had Alex Krycek ever been introduced into his life? What had possessed him, of all people, to tolerate being partnered with him? If he had just refused being assigned with Krycek-detail, he would not be in this position. Mulder silently turned his face into the stream of hot water and let it wash away the sweat and grime. It had all gone downhill from there. Scully was taken, his only real friend and companion he'd had at the Bureau, whisked away from his very grasp. Then, Krycek had stepped in.It had been so obvious--to everyone--that Krycek had been attracted to Mulder from the beginning, which certain didn't add to his shred of an already questionable reputation at work. In fact, it built his career and character in the wrong direction, one that Mulder cared no one to know about. Wherever Krycek went, in his wake he'd left a mess of unresolved problems and feelings. Mulder had fought so hard to keep the man at a distance, but Krycek had pushed right back. And then Mulder discovered his true allegiance; that bastard, he thought. They leave no one untouched, no one untainted. Mulder winced, remembering how Krycek had listened with such eager eyes, no crude remarks, no mocking insults, he had just... listened. Even *she* didn't always listen. Mulder's insides clenched, twisting themselves tighter and tighter until he was doubled-over, desperately gasping for air. It hurt so much. "Bastard," he said to himself. "Don't *ever* say that or think that again. You owe your existence to that woman." Mulder had never felt so absolutely filthy in his entire life. He didn't deserve her, he didn't deserve her loyalty, her patience, her wit, her tender heart. Mulder dropped his self-esteem to a new low as he sat cowering under the gush of hot water, as rivulets ran down the tile walls. Why am I doing this to her? Tentatively testing how his body was going to react he slowly stood up. The pain in his chest and the throbbing inside his skull was a steady reminder that he needed to focus. Running his hands over his face, he gave up on trying to hold back whatever emotion needed to be unleashed. These futile attempts at distraction were only postponing the inevitable. The first sob exploded from deep within his being. It raked his body so hard he put a hand against the wall to steady himself. And he let the tears come. His head dropped to his chest as everything that had been building and festering inside grew tired of the oppression. Mulder cried for countless different reasons, for countless different people, for catastrophes that never should have been. Scully. Mulder couldn't stop shaking. The water was boiling, the air in the bathroom could have been mistaken for a sauna, but he all of a sudden he was freezing. Huddled in one corner of the shower, he watched his hands shake uncontrollably. The water felt like ice, solidifying the blood in his very body. His teeth chattered as he reached to shut off the icy water. He pulled back the curtain, releasing a puff of dense steam that billowed into the small bathroom. Mulder pulled a soft towel from the nearby rack and threw it around his waist. Padding down the hallway, into his living room he suddenly noticed that things were still dark. Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, he muttered to himself. "Damn." At three AM on a Saturday morning he had no where to be, no one to see. Of course there was always work; piles of cases and other potential investigations that could lead to an X-File, but for now those seemed rather unappealing to Mulder. He walked over to the window and peered out through the slanted blinds. It was destined to be another dreary day in D.C. It had rained the night before, it was raining now, covering everything in a wet blanket of perpetual bleakness--matching the atmosphere to his mood. He watched the drops disturb the growing puddles that littered the roadway below. A car swept silently along the street, gushing over the flooding, leaf-blocked gutters, sending a spray onto the sidewalk. No one was out at this time of night. No one in their right mind was *awake* at this time of night. "I need to get out of here," Mulder thought, outloud. Turning, he went back to the bedroom, careful to avoid looking directly at the bed and got dressed. His hair was wet, he hadn't shaved, but at least he was clean. Grabbing his car keys and wallet, he left the apartment. *** Mulder left Alexandria amidst a downpour. Glancing up toward the sky he scowled, glaring at the road's slick surface and uninviting appearance. The miles stretched on, the rain continued to fall and the windshield wipers continued to beat back and forth, back and forth. Inside the car was relatively quiet. The sound of Mulder's thumping heart reverberated throughout the confines of the intimately close space. In his sedated state Mulder scarcely noticed the different towns rolling by as he drove farther and farther from home. He didn't care where he was going, he didn't even particularly care how or when he got there, but he knew he needed to distance himself from... everything Pulling off the freeway, Mulder squinted, trying to read the road sign. "Washington D.C. next right," Mulder read. "I guess I'm going left." A gentle, winding road gradually took Mulder away as houses became more and more sparse. Civilization was left behind; a mere reflection on the interior mirror. There was bite in the chilly February air which indicated that winter had not yet left the east coast. As Mulder traveled further north, the cold air and surroundings were eerily remenicent of living death. Gray clouds cast a solemn backdrop for bare trees which stood alone. Leafless and aged, their gnarled branches and limbs stretched out to him as he sped by. The rain had reduced itself to little more than a dull drizzle, yet still was wet enough to be irritating. Mulder's head throbbed incessantly, despite the four aspirin he'd downed with the cup of coffee he'd had over an hour ago. His eyes burned. Scratchy and red, they stung from too many hours of staring down the same, monotonous highway. His entire body felt incredibly weak and suddenly Mulder had the overpowering urge to sleep. Weary and mentally exhausted he looked for any signs that indicated lodging was nearby. "Fairhaven Mountain Lodge, three quarters of a mile," Mulder read. As he turned down a rarely used road, a few hundred yards out the pavement disappeared entirely. The gravel, which was apparently meant to be its replacement, bounced Mulder violently as he tried to avoid the gaping pot holes which were filled with muddy rainwater. Tall, dense trees linedeither side of the road. Dark furs rocked as the bad weather pushed them to and fro, the thick boughs dangling over the roadway's edge. As Mulder imagined the multiple trails leading into the heart of these woods, he briefly wondered how many tourists Fairhaven Mountain Lodge was actually prone to receiving. If this secluded lodge was as rustic and as far removed from the highway as he thought, perhaps the place would be empty. "God, these must be nearly a hundred years old," he thought to himself, as the bumpy path continued to take him farther up the hillside. As he came to a sharp bend, peering out from a small opening a few miles up the road, he caught a glimpse of what appeared to a massive lodge. There was a great amount of smoke rising up from a large chimney, which came wafting down over the treetops. Pulling into the parking lot, he drove past several rows of empty spaces. Choosing the spot relatively close to the big, wooden doors, Mulder parked his car. Stepping out, he shivered as the mountain air burned his lungs, but he inhaled deeply anyway. Scanning the parking lot one more time, he noticed his car was the only one in sight. Mulder wasn't surprised at the lack of attendance; in the middle of February most people don't go on vacation and even if they do, they go somewhere warm. Shoving his hands deep in his pockets, Mulder pulled up the collar on his leather jacket and dipped his head to keep out of the wind's freezing grasp. As he walked toward the entrance a faint smile managed to creep onto his face. Redrum. Redrum. Redrum. Shutting the large wooden door behind him, he turned to feel the warmth and heat of a raging fire seep into his skin. With the lights dim, the flickering flames danced across Mulder's face. Several couches and a pile of sizable throw-pillows lay on top of one another suggesting that this spot was a favorite place for guests to rest. The entire interior of the lodge was very big with two wooden staircases, directly to the left and right of the hearth, leading up to another level of the lodge. Heavy beams and wooden logs supported the high ceiling which reached up several stories. The scent of pine and mossy, furtile earth came from somewhere deep within the lodge. Mulder looked for the registration office to check in. Taking a few steps forward, he stopped to stare down at the huge, white, bear-skin rug which lay out to greet him. Walking up to the front desk he looked around for anyone who worked at Fairhaven Lodge. "Excuse me," he said, rather loudly. He waited a few moments, but with no sign of a response, he repeated himself. "Excuse me!" A black man's bald head, followed by a creased brow grown wrinkled with age, popped out from the doorway. "Be right with you," he said. Mulder heard some rumaging around behind the door, but with a loud grunt the man emerged smiling. "I'm Leroy. How can I help you?" The man wore a plaid flannel shirt beneath a pair of faded blue overalls, giving him the overall appearance of a retired logger. Mulder noted the fact that that was probably precisely what he'd been in his younger days. "Well, Leroy, I think I'd like a room," Mulder said. "A room? Really? You aren't just lost?" the man said, looking slightly taken aback. "No, I'm not lost. I've come from Washington D.C. and after driving for a few hours, I ran across Fairhaven Mountain Lodge. This lodge of yours seemed like the perfect place to crash," Mulder said, briefly explaining his situation. "We sure don't get many visitors this time of year," Leroy said. "Most people who stop by are asking for directions to the nearest Red Lion. I always head them in the wrong direction," Leroy said. After a quick pause, he broke out in a grin. "I'm kidding you, boy!" Mulder smiled at the old man's sense of unusual humor. "It's all right. I kind of hoped that the lodge wouldn't be very crowded. I left the city to-" "Think, right?" Leroy interrupted his thoughts. "Or, at least that's what you're telling yourself. Yeah, I kind of guessed on that one. Mind if I ask who you're running from?" Mulder blinked, unable to respond as quickly and suavely as he would have liked to this stranger's startlingly personal questions. Stumbling over his words, he said, "I-I'm not running from anyone." "No suitcase. No other company. So, I figured that unless you were meeting some cute red-head, you were probably alone." Leroy gave Mulder a scrutinizing look, but it lasted for only a second. "Okay, okay. It's none of my business anyway. But, like I said, we don't get many visitors this time of year... things can get a little slow." *** Mulder turned the key, and pushed the door open. He had no belongings with him, nothing that required being put away. He did have his overnight duffel bag in the trunk of his car which he kept for emergencies, in case he needed to leave town quickly on an investigation, but Mulder didn't particularly want to go down three flights of stairs and out into the cold to bring it inside. He'd do that later. The first thing he noticed was the four poster, canopy bed. Elevated several feet off the ground, the plush, down-comforter looked awfully inviting. Stopping only to a take a quick look at the view which was indeed a rather breathtaking landscape, Mulder crept onto the bed sinking into its softness. He slid out of his heavy boots, threw his jacket on an armchair nearby and pulled back the layers of bedding. Taking a handful of the heavy comforter, Mulder pulled the blankets up to his chin. He felt very... safe, hidden away from people who knew him. No one knew him here. But as Mulder relished in the warmth beneath the blankets, his mind drifted restlessly. Alex Krycek. As Mulder dared to open his mind and freely permit it to imagine the man's figure, his body, his face, those gorgeous green eyes, Mulder gasped at how much it hurt. It felt as if a great weight were pushing against him, squeezing his chest, robbing it of all oxygen. Biting down on his lip, Mulder thrust his face into the pillow. "I can't live like this," he thought, wincing at how much his heart longed to hold Alex, to remember how he felt to his touch. Mulder had tried, with such effort, to divorce himself from any feelings that he'd had toward this man who had been introduced to his life some five years ago, who, arguably, never truly left. "God, it is so wrong to... " Mulder couldn't finish the sentence outloud, but his mind spoke the rest. "... to love him. He is everything to me, when he should mean nothing. I should never have let him," Mulder trailed off, uncertain of how to finish the sentence. What, exactly, had he allowed Alex Krycek to do? "You're a damn fool, Mulder. He knows you better than you know yourself--more than you ever will, too. Everything he does you are incapable of foreseeing. He makes you paranoid, unnerved, perpetually apprehensive. He scares you, Mulder, what he can do scares the hell out of you. With his arrival comes the storm's full fury, in a raging torrent that causes an emotional upheaval. This torrid whirlwind of thrill, of intensity, gives you strength, Mulder. You crave it, despite what you insist on denying to yourself, he is necessary. You want him for a thousand different reasons, which are precisely what hold you back. "He-He killed my father. He took Scully away. He used *me*. He is a murdering assassin and," Mulder paused. "I am hopelessly infatuated with him. How can I possibly betray everyone I care for, everything I stand for, and abandon it all for this man who I threw out of my apartment not twelve hours ago?" Mulder stared at the ceiling, hoping that the answer would come to him. "Because he is Alex." "You aren't going to be able to live with yourself, you understand that, right? You are sleeping with the enemy in every essence of the phrase. How can you be so absolutely sure that he won't simply up and desert you after having grown tired of it all? He is a lying bastard. He is what you've devoted your life to defending this country from, what you claim to insist you'll combat in protecting this society from the treacherous versions of mankind. You are willing to sacrifice all of this for him? *Can* you sacrifice all of this for him? He has killed many and may kill many more. You've had so many chances to stop him, to halt the flow of blood, the tears of sadness, all of which were his doing. He has ruined lives, Mulder. He has ruined yours. A year ago you were-" Mulder's mind darted to visions of a faith shattered. "He saved you. With a gesture as bold, yet ambiguous as that delicate kiss, he saved you. He saved you from falling away, out of sight, lost to the nothingness that snatches tortured souls." Shaking his head violently, twisting the blankets around his waist, Mulder thrashed on the bed. Fisting the thick comforter, he practically cried out in frustration and anger and resentment for the situation he had voluntarily chosen to enter. "Scully, Scully, Scully," he screamed, covering his face with his hands. "My partner and my best of friend, she is so, so precious," Mulder squeezed his eyes shut, blocking out her harsh words he would be forced to hear, if she were to discover Mulder's degree of betrayal. "She would never forgive me, she wouldn't be able to forgive me. I can't lose her, not again. She has to be a part of my life. I owe her so much. She has never faltered in her loyalty to me and to the X-Files. She turned her life around, throwing away such potential, so many opportunities to succeed, all for me. She did, and I owe her everything because of it. I shouldn't even be considering Alex Krycek. I know she cares for me, I've seen it in her eyes a hundred times before and in a way, I love her too. This would kill her. God, if she ever, ever found out... she'd leave me. I cannot survive without her." *** Darting upright, Mulder whipped his head around, unfamiliar with his surroundings. In the dark his pulse slowed realizing that this comfortable bed was the property of Fairhaven Lodge. Night had fallen while Mulder dozed. Taking a shaky breath, he attempted to disentangle himself from bedding that was strewn across the room. As he sat on the edge of the bed, he picked up a boot, but paused breifly before putting it on. His mind, if only for a split second, flashed to Krycek. He felt... oddly close. Shrugging his shoulders, Mulder dismissed the thought, and finished putting on his other shoe. "Now, I need to find food." Mulder looked around for the room key, picked it up off the bedside table and stuffed it in the pocket of his jeans. He had his hand on the door when he heard his cell phone ring from inside his jacket, which was laying on the armchair. He stared at it for a few moments as it continued to ring, unsure of what to do. "Son of a...," he muttered under his breath, ran over, pulled the small antenna up and hit TALK. "Mulder." "Mulder? Where have you been? I've been trying to reach you all morning." "I'm out of town, Scully," he said, hoping she'd be satisfied with that answer. She sounded irritated but not mad--not mad yet, anyway. "Why? Are you investigating a case?" "Well, it's not a case exactly... " "Mulder, what's going on? Are you all right?" "I'm fine. I just needed to leave D.C. for a few days. I'll be back on Monday. Can we talk about it then?" He could hear himself pleading and it made his stomach turn. Even though he'd attempted to keep his voice as neutral as possible, there was a definite cry of urgency despite his efforts. Mulder prayed she'd leave him alone for just one weekend. That she would trust him, just one more time. There was a long paused before she answered. "Mulder, whatever you're doing, wherever you are, that is up to you." "Scully, I'll give you a call before I leave and let you know I'm coming home." Again, it took her a long time to answer. Mulder could imagine the different thoughts running through her mind, as she tried to understand what could possibly be so important, that he couldn't tell her. "Since when has Mulder decided to leave me behind on his road trips? And why wasn't I given any warning of his absence? At least he's got his cell phone, he can be reached. He's alive." Mulder couldn't talk to her about this. Mulder couldn't take her with him. Mulder couldn't make himself explain his actions for it was she who had him so preoccupied. Well, she was at least part of the reason. "Scully?" "Yeah, Mulder. I'm here. I guess I'll talk with you then." He heard the familiar click as she hung up. Pulling the phone away from his ear, he looked at it, hoping that he might possibly will her to understand what he was feeling, how he couldn't force himself to choose. Sighing, he dropped the phone on the chair and turned toward the door. Pulling open the door, he saw a surprise which he had neither called for or expected. Squatting down, a single red rose lay across the threshold. Mulder stared at the flower. It rested on the carpet just outside his room, peaceful and alone--obviously freshly cut. Scanning the hallway Mulder saw no one in either direction, nor anything that might indicate who had left the gift. Surprised, but not yet unnerved, Mulder picked up the rose. Taking a deep whiff of it's intoxicating scent, Mulder fingered the flower, lightly grazing its delicate petals. Each individual petal seemed silky to the touch and soft against his skin. The richness of such a deep, luxurious shade of red fascinated Mulder. As he turned the rose over in his hand, he noticed the long, slender green stem which extended- "Dammit!" A small, but rather deep cut on the thick pad of Mulder's right thumb was suddenly bleeding. It beeded upon his skin and around the open wound, flowing until it ran down the palm of his hand. Because he had neglected to notice the small thorns, he'd pricked his finger in the process of examining the flower. Mulder stood up, sucking on his finger. Suddenly, he reached for the door frame. Something was wrong. He felt light-headed and... things were beginning to spin. The flower fell from his hand, bouncing once against the carpeted floor. The number of roses doubled, then tripled as his hand shot out for something, anything to grab at before collapsing. Stumbling backwards into the room, Mulder tired to cry out but his throat was on fire. Gasping, Mulder frantically searched for anything to alert someone... his cell phone. But at that moment his knees buckled, giving way, sending him to the floor. He could see the phone resting on the chair, just out of reach. Incapacitated, Mulder fell onto his back struggling with his coordination. His chest was heaving. The room was turn wildly around him as Mulder lay on the floor at the center of this madness. Then, just before his eyes closed, Mulder thought he heard the door shut. Eyes fixated towards the ceiling, a shadow passed over his face. *** His face felt cool. It was dark. There was a breeze coming from somewhere, and his whole body tingled. He was drugged, he knew that much... By the way his muscles felt, by the way he couldn't turn his head to look around, he felt the loss of control. His whole body was sweating, as if suffering from a viral infection or illness, an obvious reaction due to the drug. He felt the softness of leather beneath him. His mind struggled to grasp its surroundings. He must... he must be back at his apartment, but how? Someone lifted the cool cloth from his forehead. As Mulder's eyes came into focus, he was surprisingly *unsurprised* by the face which hovered just inches from his own. His breath blew against Mulder's face, cooling his feverish skin. "You weren't suppose to wake up *before* I kissed you," Krycek said. In Mulder's stupor the words meant nothing as his brain fought to regain control of his senses. It was Krycek all right, the rat bastard. He'd drugged him for who knows what purpose. "Mulder, did you hear me?" Mulder nodded. There was a brief pause before Krycek responded. "I don't know about you, but I didn't go all the way up there to bring you back only to be disappointed," and with that, Krycek's mouth swooped down to place a passionate, if not brief kiss against Mulder's lips. Mulder's mind screamed in ecstasy. The kiss felt like returning to a place which he had visited long ago. Frustrated and annoyed by the lack of authority he had over his own body, Mulder could do little more that make small, sighing noises into Krycek's mouth. Mulder felt trapped; his very alert mind in a lethargic, sluggish body which refused to do as it was told. "So you *did* miss me. Well, Mulder, I've got to hand it to you. I honestly didn't think you'd fall for it," Krycek said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He reached over and turned on the bedside lamp. Taking the washcloth from Mulder's forehead, he put in an a pan of ice water. Ringing it out he folded it carefully and placed back against Mulder's forehead. Mulder struggled to obtain a somewhat meager sitting position. Noticing his efforts, he put a pillow behind his head and waited for Mulder to speak. "W-what do you mean I 'fell for it'? Fell for what?" His voice was dry and his throat was parched. Krycek hand him a glass of water. Watching Mulder take a sip, he said, "It was so unbelievably easy. I had no idea that Walt Disney had such criminal intentions when writing his stories," Krycek said, looking at Mulder fondly. "Krycek, you're making no sense. It's probably that all shit you put in me, but I'm not following a damn word you're saying," Mulder said, irritably. "It's all right. I don't expect you to understand, anyway. You're mind isn't exactly working at its full capacity." The look on Mulder's bewildered face was priceless. Unable to repress the grin he felt creep on to his face, he fingered Mulder's ruffled hair lightly. He blinked several times allowing Krycek to take his hand and cup it against Krycek's cheek. His skin was smooth, soft, supple. It felt like... Alex. "I'm sorry I had to do what I did, but we needed to talk. I... needed to talk with you," he said, becoming serious. "It was very innovative, I'll admit. But a rose? Krycek, since when did you become so sentimental?" Krycek was surprised that Mulder was taking the news so well, he was more than surprised. No angry remarks, not punches were thrown. In fact, Mulder seemed to less than shocked that Krycek has committed such an extravagant crime. Mulder's fingers rubbed Krycek's face with a tenderness and sincerity that brought a wan smile to the other man's face. In that single gesture more emotion had been conveyed than any action could have captured. But with a look of tortured regret, Krycek removed Mulder's hand. "What? What's the matter?" Mulder was truly puzzled. Sitting up he brought himself closer to the other man. "Have you decided?" "Have I decided what?" Mulder asked, still unclear at to what Krycek was referring. "Mulder, you left to choose." Krycek's eyes looked deadly serious. Mulder suddenly jerked his hand out of Krycek's hold. "Mulder, I-" "No. Alex, don't." It was a command. Mulder shot a bitter look in Krycek's direction shaking the man to his very core. "I suppose this means that you haven't," he said with an unsteady sigh. "Alex, what am I suppose to do? You make is sounds as if I'm picking a flavor of ice cream! We're talking about my future, about *your* future-" "Yes, we're talking about the future. With you. With you, Mulder. We're talking about my future with you!" Krycek stood up, and walked over to the open window. "What if I've decided that I'm not going to let you out of my life as easily as you'd hoped, huh? I don't care what or how you feel about me, but will not sit idle and watch you walk out of my life. Not without a fight and not without at least a goddamn discussion first. Did it even occur to you that I have some say in this matter?" "Oh, right, and while we're at it, let me call Scully up here and the three of us can talk about it!" "Dammit, Mulder, will you be serious!?" "I *am* serious, Krycek, deadly serious! She's as much a part of this problem as you are! What do you want me to do? Flip a coin? It's not exactly that easy, Alex. If it were... if it were we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation! I can't just abandon her, I can't! I refuse to let her go," Mulder said. Standing up now, his head was pounding but his heart was pounding just as loudly. Krycek turned to face him, his eyes were hard and glittered with tears in the lamp light. "So, you've decided then. She wins. Just like that." This man has evolved before his very eyes. Alex Krycek. They began their relationship on such different terms, two distinctly different people, two different lives, joined together by some unseen force... A rare encounter twice, maybe three times a year, and that was all he saw of him. Unfortunately that usually consisted of a harsh beating, brought on by frustration and anguish he'd been forced to suffer through his absence. Perhaps it was not the kindest way to say 'hello', but it was their own. This was a man who'd had opportunities to kill him a hundred times over, but had, for some strange reason, refrained from ever pulling the trigger. There had been a subconscious attraction from day one, an attraction that perhaps neither fully understood until a year ago. That had been the ultimate turning point, well, the turning point for Mulder. Then, like a lightening strike, the veil had been lifted from his eyes, revealing a version of Alex Krycek more abstract than he had ever known. From that point on Mulder had been forced to recognize the mixed emotions he'd been feeling towards this man. A man. Maybe that was one of the hardest aspects of this entire situation that Mulder was struggling to resolve. It had never been a question for Mulder, his attraction to women and their attraction towards him, but from his few relationships with them he'd never experienced unconditional love before. Actually, truth be known, he'd never experiencing *anything* unconditionally before. But that was before Scully had been introduced to his life, and before Krycek. She'd brought something with her arrival that had been absolutely foreign to Mulder prior to his new partner. It had terrified him and made him happier than he'd ever been in his entire life, all at the same time. She'd brought a trust that she instilled in his very being, something that said she supported his work, his life and his spirit. That uplifting was something that he had needed--deserpately. For he was oblivious to the fact that he'd been floundering, on the verge of utter submersion, until she arrived. She changed everything, she forced him to change everything. Resistance he tried, but soon learned that as much as her unexpected and, at first, unwanted appearance in the X-Files disrupted his life, he wanted her to stay. No one had ever fought for anything with Mulder's name on it, so, he had learned to take on the world alone. To have someone by his side, so absolutely faithful to him and to his work put Mulder in a position he'd never been in before. Unsure of how to react, whether to embrace this person or reject her, he did both. It took time, god knows it took time, but she proved her alliegence--not to him, but to the truth--and above all else that was one thing that Mulder held sacred. Thus she was slowly welcomed into his dark life, and she chose to stay. She chose to stay. Despite everything; his paranoia, his unflappable belief that everything possibly imaginable truly existed, his knack for abandoning all work at a moment's notice to redirect his attention and passion and pursuit for the truth down different avenues. He had to be hell to work with, but she chose to stay. For the first time in his life he'd been exposed to a form of unconditional love, a devotion that went beyond just seeing eye to eye, because they didn't. They never had. It was rare that they could agree on anything but somehow that constant battle, that fierceness, that determination and conflict, spurred their relationship ever forward. Overall, that mental sparring propelled them even closer and got them to the point they're at today; more tightly bound, fighting for a common goal. At times it seemed difficult to determine where she ended and he began. After six years together they are now inseparable. It is what happens when something as powerful and intense intervenes between two people. Now dependent on one another, not necessarily because they have to be, but because they want to be, they are truly inseparable. His heart ached at the mere thought of her, alone and wondering, while he stood staring at this-this *gorgeous* man, ready to beat it into his head that she is not the person he wants. "I gather from that pregnant pause, my assumptions are correct," Krycek said, through clenched teeth. "Well, guess what Mulder? I'm not going to waste my time on you anymore. If Scully is who you cannot live without, then I can do nothing more to try and change that. It's been nice knowing you, I'm sure we'll meet again--you bastard." Grabbing his coat from the back of the armchair, Krycek turned around to face him, to show Mulder the tears, the hurt, and bear his soul to this man on last time. "Dammit Mulder! I loved you! I will always love you! You and I, we were brought together for a reason, a reason other than the obvious. I-I can't explain it but from the day I first saw you, I was in love with you. "I knew everything I thought there was to know about you, about your history. You'd been my research project for over a year before we actually met. But when I walked into that office... Mulder, last year was an epiphany--for both of us. I don't care if you're in denial, it doesn't matter anymore, but it was for me. I had the truth thrust in my face and I could either accept it or turn and walk away. We *both* chose to accept it, Mulder, both of us and now we're faced with another decision. You know what I want, how can you not?" The tears were flowing freely now and Alex didn't try to resist. Mulder was so stunned by this outburst that he couldn't breath, he couldn't get the words out he so desperately wanted to say. "Look me in the eye, Mulder, and tell me what you see? Tell me!!" he demanded. Dropping his jacket, Krycek took a step towards the frozen man and grabbed his shoulder, hard. Pushing his face next to Mulder's, he said, "Tell me what you see, Mulder! Is this something that repulses you? As much as you feel for Scully, I feel for you more. I can't walk away from you, Mulder! What happened a year ago was a release, a release of repressed desires and denied feelings that we forced ourselves to bury. Before last year we locked ourselves away from one another only to emerge in violence. I'm so tired of fighting this, Mulder. I don't want to fight it anymore, I don't want to fight," Krycek voice was full of passion, but at the same time, a heavy resignment to the truth. "Can you remember how it felt, Mulder? Did what we said really mean so little, that after only a year's passing you can turn your back and walk away? We hadn't even had a chance to be together, alone, and understand and savor this new relationship we've entered. I can't just let you go, Mulder. I can't. I don't care if letting you desert this, desert me, is the noble thing to do. I don't care about anything anymore, I care about what I know is right, what I know was meant to be... I want..." Krycek's speech broke as a sob ripped from his chest. "I want you to love me, and want me as much as I want you." His breathing was fast and irregular, coming in heaving gasps as his body shook with emotion. "Mulder... " "Oh, Alex." At hearing the sound of Mulder's voice, he fell into Mulder's outstretched arms. *** The knock on the apartment door, startled them both. The sound of keys being inserted in the lock caused Krycek to fly from Mulder's arms. His face wore a look of sad apology and in one swift movement, he'd grabbed his jacket, dropped a hurried kiss on Mulder's cheek and disappeared into the darkness. "Mulder? Mulder are you home?" "Why are you sitting here in the dark? Is everything all right?" "Yeah, I'm fine." "How was your trip?" she said. Her tone implied that she was not referring to the vacation aspect of leaving Washington. "It was... not as restful as I'd hoped, but I enjoyed the time away." Scully had been standing in the doorway of his living room listening to him speak. Looking down at her hands for a momentarily, she was quiet. "Well, Mulder, I hope that whatever you needed to face has passed... but if not, you know that you can always come to me to talk about it." "I know, Scully, and I appreciate the gesture," he said, looking at her. She nodded, understanding that she'd come to say what she'd wanted him to hear. Turning toward the door she gave a small wave and said, "I'll see you tomorrow." At the click of the look, Mulder leapt from the couch and headed into his bedroom, not daring to call his name aloud. Glancing swiftly about the room and seeing no one, he frowned. He moved to the bathroom and flicking the light switch, Mulder found the room empty. He briskly walked down the hall and upon entering the kitchen he found nothing there as well. Mulder took a few, slow staggering steps back into his living room. "He did it again," he thought to himself. "I can't believe it. He did it again." Collapsing on to the couch, Mulder let his head fall to his hands. "Why didn't you stay? Why didn't-" "Fooled you, didn't I?" came a voice from the shadows. "Mulder's eyes flew open as Krycek's form stepped forward. "You didn't... I don't understand. Where did you go?" "Oh, no, a good thief never reveals his secrets. It's a tool of the trade. They're survival skills, Mulder, what would I do if you knew my secrets?" he said, with a grin. "You could stop running." The smile on Krycek's face dissolved in an instant. "Alex, I want you to stay. Just now, when I thought that you might have gone--for good this time--that feeling, I don't ever want to feel like that again. That... that emptiness. I couldn't live like that. Before I thought I couldn't live with you, but now... now I realize that I can't live without you." The words hit Krycek in such magnitude that his hand shot out to grab hold of the couch to steady himself. Sliding down to sit next to Mulder he searched his face for something... fear, regret, anything that might show doubt. But Mulder's eyes shone with a certainty and sincerity he'd never experienced before. Utterly confident with his decision he smiled. Suddenly as wave of embarrassment washed over Mulder, he dipped his head slightly. "Alex, you haven't said anything." "Mulder," was all he managed to croak out. A smile teased upon Mulder's lips. Lifting Mulder's chin Krycek looked deep into his eyes, saying everything that had yet to be spoken, everything they'd been too frighten to say. "I do love you, you know that, right?" But now it meant something different. It was no longer a question awaiting an answer. Mulder mouthed the words, "I know." Krycek eased his hand behind his neck, but let it rest there. "And... Scully?" he said. Mulder sighed and closed his eyes as his mind gave one final protest. "She'll have to be told... eventually, she has a right to know. I love her, I honestly do, even despite everything that's happened between us. But that love,... " he trailed off. Krycek understood. Without hesitation, Alex drew his lips to Mulder's. As they met, Mulder's hands went to either side of Krycek's face, pulling him closer. Mulder slipped his tongue inside his mouth, pushing deep into its cavernous warmth. Krycek's hand ran down Mulder's chest. Gently easing him backwards, he stretched Mulder across the length of the couch. Never breaking the kiss, Mulder's arms went to encircle Krycek's waist as he lay atop him, in a strong embrace. Pulling back for a moment, Krycek looked into Mulder's face. "Do you think we're gonna make it?" Mulder sighed, "I don't know, but I want to try." "Me too, lover." Dropping a kiss on Mulder's forehead, he sat up. Extending a hand, Mulder looked puzzled. "C'mon, Mulder. Follow me." Taking his hand, he pulled Mulder up with him. "We're going to my bedroom... " Alex chuckled, "Did you deduce that with your wonderous profiling abilities?" "Oh, shut up." "C'mon. I'll show you just how sorry I am for ending your weekend vacation early." *** Finis. Send comments (good or bad) to: MKslasher@aol.com. Flames accepted.