Chapter 6
"Mulder! Mulder! Are you in there? The door's bolted!"
Scully's voice was calling his name and there was a pounding at the
door. Mulder rubbed his eyes blearily and sat up, muscles protesting.
He was alone on the couch, a blanket thrown over him, and his mind
was filled with confused impressions.
"Mulder! I'm calling the police! If you can hear me, just hang on!"
Scully's voice was urgent and with an effort he pulled himself
together, staggering across the room to fumble with the locks.
Scully's eyes widened in shock when she saw him, and he realized,
belatedly, that he was naked. He slammed the door shut again, grabbed
the blanket off the couch and wrapped it about him. She looked at him
strangely as he let her in.
"What's going on, Mulder? Are you all right? You missed our meeting
last night and you look like - are you sure you're OK?"
All he could do was nod and she continued, voice tense. "There's
something strange going on. I could swear our office had been
searched when I came in today, and the Director spent all day
yesterday in a meeting with some people no one knows. Even Mrs.
Josephson seemed rattled. I got a bunch of calls for you, and when
you didn't show up, and didn't answer your phone last night, I was
worried, so I thought I would come by and see if you were all right."
Mulder's head spun with all the information, and Scully must have
seen that he wasn't taking it in. "Why don't you go shower," she
said. "I'll make coffee." She eyed him again. "How many cups should
I
be making?" Mulder didn't answer and swung away from her, hoping she
couldn't see his pained blush.
Still disoriented, he wandered into the bathroom, dropping the
blanket on the floor in the hallway. When he looked in the mirror,
he
understood both her question and her shock. The side of his face was
red and puffy where Krycek had hit him, and his lips looked bruised.
The side of his neck bore a dark purple weal where Krycek had sucked
on it, toothmarks clearly visible at its edges. The nipple he had
bitten was also purple and swollen and there were long scratches
across his chest he couldn't even remember feeling.
Absently he rubbed his swollen nipple and an echo of the night's
activities ran through his body, making his cock twitch. He nearly
jumped out of his skin when a voice behind him whispered "Not that
I
wouldn't *like* to watch but the lady said shower, not jerk off!"
Krycek was standing naked in the shower-stall. Filtered sunlight came
through the frosted glass of the bathroom window, highlighting motes
of dust in the air and softly illuminating his body, its taut muscles
and clean lines, his unmistakable maleness. It all seemed much more
real here in the warm light of day than it had in the shadows of his
apartment last night.
Looking at him Mulder felt shock and dismay again, dismay at what he
had done. Krycek's lip was split and swollen, one cheekbone abraded,
and the dark marks of Mulder's choking fingers were clearly visible
on his throat and shoulder. His arm was still off and the scar tissue
on his stump looked raw and defenceless. Mulder swallowed nervously.
Krycek turned on the shower and reached out to tug him in, hands
lingering slightly on Mulder's flesh. He spoke softly, hoping the
shower would cover the sound of his voice.
"You can't tell her I'm here - you can't tell her anything yet. It's
too risky." Mulder's back stiffened and he shook his head.
"She's my partner. We've worked together for too long for me to keep
secrets from her."
Krycek laughed. "You've been keeping secrets all along, Agent Mulder.
More secrets than you know."
Mulder was still staring at him, at the damage to his face and neck.
"I hurt you."
"I let you," replied Krycek, running his thumb over Mulder's bruised
nipple, "We both needed to know how far you'd go."
Mulder brushed his hand away and shook his head, kept shaking it as
he moved as far away from Krycek as the shower permitted. How could
he be having this conversation with this man? He could feel Krycek's
nearness like a slow hot wind on his skin, making him tingle, and he
struggled to put his thoughts into words.
"No! - you - I - you were right. What you said about me, and I didn't
even know it myself. Control, power, I wanted that, I wanted -" It
felt strange to be saying these things out loud, but he didn't seem
to be able to lie to this man, truth rising unstoppable to his lips.
"I want - this."
He reached out and ran a hand over Krycek's chest, and saw with
satisfaction that the other man's cock stiffened. Krycek felt it too,
then; he wasn't just playing with him.
Krycek breathed deeply and looked at him, eyes unusually serious.
"You weren't entirely wrong yourself, Mulder. I'm no saint, and you
know I'll take whatever advantage I can get out of this. But even I
draw the line sometimes, and what's going on has to stop. I need your
damn truth fixation this time, and you need me." He showed his teeth
briefly in a predatory smile "You need my gift for getting things
done."
Their bodies were almost touching now and Mulder closed the last gap
between them. Foolish it might be to trust Krycek even this far, but
right now he didn't care. He felt alive again in a way he hadn't for
at least a year, maybe even longer . . .
Krycek ran his hand over Mulder's hip. Mulder's skin had a faint nap
to it like fine suede, a texture that caught softly at his palm as
he
stroked him, as he grasped the muscular curve of his ass. Mulder's
leaned his weight against him until it pressed them both back against
the wall. Krycek slid a leg between his thighs, pressed his lips
against his neck, and Mulder felt himself falling again.
Scully's presence in the other room was forgotten and the water
poured disregarded over their bodies as they rubbed against each
other. Mulder, hesitation gone, felt his head spin at the mere
presence of the other man. He closed his eyes and soaked in the feel
of Krycek's sleek torso, the shift and play of the muscles in his
back, the faint warm smell that rose from his skin even now - and his
cock, the excitement of it pressing into his body, his own sliding
against Krycek's corded stomach. It didn't take much to bring them
both to the finish, a cry ripped from Mulder as he came, astonished
at the intensity of his pleasure, at how right this felt in spite of
everything. He leaned against Krycek for a moment longer, feeling the
water washing them clean again.
Then suddenly the door burst open and Scully stood there, gun in her
hand. "Mul-" she broke off, staring at them. "I thought," she finally
said, stiffly, "that I heard you shout. I thought you were in
trouble."
Mulder could feel the blood burning in his face and even Krycek
looked abashed. She still held the gun, trained on them both now, and
Mulder moved cautiously as he turned off the shower and reached for
towels, handing one to Krycek as well.
"Someone," she continued, practically spitting the words at them "had
better tell me what the hell is going on. Didn't this man try to kill
you, Mulder? Or was that just a little lover's spat?"
Mulder winced, but Krycek stepped in smoothly, wrapping the towel
around his waist and gesturing for Scully to hand Mulder the robe on
the back of the door. " No," he said in that quiet voice that forced
them both to listen closely. "I really did try to kill him. But if
he
doesn't have a problem with that," he reached around the front of
Mulder's body and ostentatiously tightened his dressing gown cord for
him, "Why should you?"
Mulder felt his long-time partner's eyes on him in shocked betrayal,
and couldn't meet her gaze. Of all the things he had sprung on her
over the years...
"I wasn't going to bring you in on things yet," Krycek was speaking
to Scully now, "but we don't have much choice now, do we?" Looking
to
her for permission, he stepped out of the shower while Mulder
rearranged his robe. "I have something you both should see."
She followed them both into the living room, the gun still pointed at
them. Krycek's jacket was on the floor, and, moving slowly and
keeping his hands in full sight, he went to it and pulled from the
lining a stiff cardboard file containing a CD-ROM, which he handed
to
Mulder.
"Load that into the computer." Mulder sat himself at the desk and
opened the CD-Rom, wondering what was on it to have driven Krycek to
seek his help.
"First off," said Krycek, sitting down beside him and taking the
mouse form his hand, "the aliens. You've seen these already, Mulder."
The photos from the train appeared on the screen and Scully's lip
curled sceptically as he explained once more. "These photos are the
real thing, Mulder. What I told you on the train was the truth, but
there's more."
"Second - " the grainy photos were replaced by a face that was too
familiar to Mulder "Dr. Joseph Himmelman. Now, on paper the
distinguished Dr. Himmelman looks like a good guy, a philanthropist,
volunteering his usually expensive time at a number of charity
hospitals around the country, working with children who had genetic
defects." He showed a news-clipping of the Doctor awkwardly holding
a
baby whose shrunken body and enlarged head spoke clearly of illness.
"Of course, as Mulder came far too close to finding out, the reality
was a little more grisly. He was a eugenics freak, and was carrying
out some brilliantly conceived but rather nasty experimental
procedures on the children of parents too young, too poor, too shell-
shocked, or simply too indifferent to realize that anything strange
was going on."
Mulder remembered the field of tiny graves he had seen, the frail and
twisted skeletons. "He went too far eventually and was on the brink
of a truly massive court-case when someone stepped in, hushed it up,
paid everyone off, erased all records, and swept the eminent Dr.
Himmelman off into . . ."
A familiar building appeared before them. "the agency's research
division." Mulder stared. He had known there was some kind of
connection, that much had been obvious, but the thought that the man
he'd been seeking had been so close all this time made his guts roil
with frustration and anger.
"Once he came to R.Div he was paired up with -" Krycek opened a new
window, called up another photo.
"Dr. Degan!" exclaimed Mulder, shaken. Matthew's father. How much did
Krycek know?
"An A+ for young Master Mulder," applauded Krycek. His eyes glittered
and his manner grew more intense, more manic the more he told them.
Mulder got the feeling that his former partner hadn't really talked
to anyone for a very long time. "Yes, Dr. Arthur Degan,
the
agency's own genetics wunderkind, right Scully?"
She nodded, her attention caught now too. "He did some very original
work with livestock breeds."
"And who recruited them both to the agency?" Krycek suddenly
faltered, pose of showmanship dropping, and looked at Mulder with
careful eyes.
"Dr. Bill Mulder. He brought them both in, and once Himmelman came on
board he pulled Degan off his other projects and had them both
working under his direct supervision."
"But I don't understand!" said Mulder, voice tight. "At the ski
lodge, you told my father that Himmelman wanted him dead. If he was
at the agency all along, if he was working *with* my father, why did
he want him killed? If he was at the agency all along, why did they
send me - how could they let me-" He thought of the misery of the
last year, the wasted effort. The answer was too obvious - his own
employers had wanted him safely occupied and out of the way.
He bit back the emotions that rose in him, felt Krycek's hand rest
briefly on his shoulder. Wresting his voice back under control he
added "And anyway, what's the connection with your aliens?"
"I can't tell you exactly. Not even I could get into those records.
But the scientists who were sent to the first landing site were the
only other team to report to your father directly, and all their
project files were transferred to Degan and Himmelman's project. And
there's another thing - I found these while I was hunting for Dr.
Degan's files. He disappeared a number of years ago and they were not
easy to track down."
He opened a new file. It contained a series of contingency plans,
sets of logistics. There were plans for the enforced transportation
of large numbers of people. There were locations, layouts and supply
lists for emergency medical facilities, massive pre-fab structures
to
be erected in isolated parts of the country. Strategies for the
requisition and regulated distribution of food, clean water, and fuel
were detailed, along with campaigns to confiscate certain croplands
and power sources. Communication networks, it was clear, were already
in place, and there were veiled references to caches of weapons and
large forces of personnel who could be deployed. The final piece was
a blueprint for some kind of structure in the desert, a building
whose design was bizarre and whose function was unclear.
As plan after plan scrolled down the screen a sick feeling grew in
Mulder's stomach. For a covert operation, the scale of this was vast
and ominous, it's goal unclear. There was something missing, too,
something important. Detailed plans, but no description of a central
event, a main catalyst. Mulder scrolled through them again. "What is
this? Are they reacting to a disaster or planning to cause one? It
doesn't make sense"
"The medical installations" Scully suddenly said. "There's something
odd about them. Their locations make no sense - supplies would have
to be airlifted in. And their capacities are incredibly vast. They
look more like quarantine facilities than battlefield installations.
Their stock doesn't make any sense either - anticonvulsants,
electrolyte mixture, immune *suppressants*, of all things, but hardly
enough antibiotics for a hospital half the size. They couldn't be
planning some kind of biological strike, could they?"
Mulder enlarged the physical plans of the structures on the screen.
"Those are pretty intense security measure for a hospital" he
commented. "And what are these spaces for?"
"Incinerators" said Scully distractedly, then went pale. They were
all silent for a moment, and then Krycek spoke. "Not incinerators.
Crematoria. They're for the disposal of the bodies."
They were quiet for a few seconds, then Mulder shifted, looked at the
strange blueprint again.
"What's this thing at the end?"
Krycek smiled. "Proof that the aliens are involved? There are some
structural similarities to the original craft. Maybe the aliens are
carrying some kind of biological weaponry."
"And why does it look like the Agency - if these are Agency plans -
has been working *towards* this event? There are no defensive or even
precautionary plans!" Mulder scrubbed his palms on his thighs in
anxious frustration.
Krycek looked grim. 'You shouldn't trust the Agency, Mulder - it may
not officially be behind this, but there are men at the highest
levels involved, and they weren't even touched by the purge last
year."
Mulder rested his head in his hands for a moment, feeling a headache
clamp down behind his eyes. "What are *we* supposed to do about this?
Krycek gently tugged at Mulder's hair. Out of the corner of his eye,
Mulder saw Scully flush and turn away.
"That's your department, Mulder. The truth. We have to figure out
exactly what their plans are, expose them so that people don't just
blindly follow orders from the Agency and assume they're for their
protection. I don't think their plan would work without surprise and
cooperation, and we've got to make sure they get neither."
Mulder leaned back in towards the computer screen. "All right. Let's
take a closer look at these."
*
*
*
Scully left half an hour later, much subdued, still not looking
Mulder in the eye. Mulder collapsed back onto the couch, trying to
loosen his tense neck muscles and watching Krycek. He had shed the
towel as soon as Scully had left, and now prowled the small apartment
unselfconsciously naked, at ease in his own body in a way Mulder
never had been.
He seemed energized rather than exhausted by the prospects that faced
them. Restless, he was curiously examining his surroundings, taking
in the sagging bookshelves and otherwise blank walls, the stacked
banks of the complicated computer and video set-up, the heaps of
dusty paper and clothing everywhere.
Mulder looked at his apartment with new eyes, and realized that it
looked like nothing so much as some kind of strangely impersonal
nest, a cocoon that excluded any sign of a life apart from work.
Krycek kicked the foldout couch in disgust. "When was the last time
you actually folded this out into a bed?" he asked, as dust-bunnies
swirled from beneath it.
Mulder thought back. He couldn't even remember. "I've never had much
in the way of company." He shrugged.
Krycek laughed, standing at the window and looking out at the thin
slice of street that was his view. Then his laugh was cut off and he
turned to Mulder, suddenly tense. "Get dressed. Is there another way
out of here?" Reacting to the urgency in his voice, Mulder came to
the window and saw one of the familiar black cars of the agency
rolling around the corner. "There's another that moved to the end of
the street" snapped Krycek, pulling on his pants. "We have to get out
of here."
"They're after you?" asked Mulder.
Krycek shot him a glance. "No - they're after *you* - you didn't
really think the men behind this would just give up after the ski
lodge, did you? They've been biding their time. As of this moment
you're as much an outlaw as I am - the Director was scheduled to be
visited by men bearing 'proof' that you're a traitor, proof that
would authorise them to take you in for interrogation. I just didn't
think they'd act this soon."
A wave of fear and anger swept through Mulder, but he kept his tone
businesslike. "What now?"
Krycek just smiled. "Don't worry," he said, pulling Mulder to him and
kissing him hard, almost exultantly. "This is my world you're in now.
I know what to do".
=====================================
Continue to next chapter.