The first sensation was wonderful, and as he relished it, the second suddenly resolved itself when he realised it was actually Mulder, just the very head of his penis still embedded in Krycek’s body as early morning sunlight illuminated the small bedroom.

Krycek smiled softly to himself, and started to squeeze. Just like milking a cow: squeeze down, squeeze down, squeeze down, squeeze down. Mulder snuffled into his shoulder, his snores interrupted. Squeeze down. The air was cool where Mulder had drooled a little on Krycek’s neck, but his breathing was warming up, drying that patch, with each squeeze.

There’d be time for mania, for revenge, for destroying enemies later, but right now, in the early morning dimness, Krycek was with someone who had been the main focus of his life for some years past. Krycek was quite amazed to be here. He had been so sure Mulder would have tried to kill him, or imprison him, as soon as he found out who he was. But instead, Mulder had quite happily resumed their relationship; different now, but still better than he had expected. Krycek had known about Mulder’s bisexuality – well, omnisexuality really – but was still stunned by the ease of this acceptance.

He was safe, relatively, comfortable, sleeping on a mattress. He had everything he needed right now, and Mulder was slowly coming to life, tiny undulations from sleepy hips pushing a very slowly filling shaft back into Krycek’s body. Right now Krycek didn’t care if his feelings were real, or the programming of some megalomaniac scientist. Right now it felt real, warm, good. So he squeezed again.

"Mmmmph" Mulder sighed, "Morning," he kissed the back of Krycek’s head.

Kisses. From hatred and violence, betrayal, deception, and pain: to kisses. Maybe there wasn’t love, or even friendship, but Krycek was quite happy to pretend. As Mulder’s hips started to move, as he sleepily came alive inside Krycek: Who needs reality!

Mulder pulled out, leaving Krycek bereft, then turned Krycek over onto his back. Krycek smirked and helped Mulder push his legs back towards his chest. Mulder eased forward, pushing against Krycek’s buttocks, paused, then let him fall down flat on the bed again.

While Krycek stared, open mouthed with disbelief, Mulder got up and grabbed his cell phone.

"Good morning, sir. Sorry to disturb you this early... yes, sir. That’s right. He’s back. He came back late last night. Sure. I’ll see you then." Mulder hung up and stared at Krycek for a moment, before turning away, "I’m gonna take a shower. Stay!"

Krycek swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed. What a disappointing start to the day. He scratched the stubble that had started... it took him six weeks now to get a three day growth, but perhaps he could cadge a shave. Ah, what the hell, and he followed Mulder into the bathroom.

He used the toilet, unconcerned about sharing the bathroom while Mulder couldn’t see him. The long thin body behind the shower curtain was barely visible through the rising steam, but Krycek could make out the movements as Mulder shampooed. Grabbing a razor and foam, Krycek took care of what little stubble his body produced nowadays. Have to cut down on the gender switching, he mused, running the razor under his chin, it’s really screwing up the hormones. Who knows what the long term effects might be on a human body? I could get stuck half way or something

He wondered if Mulder was going to be much longer, wandered over and pushed the curtain aside. Mulder had leaned forward, hands against the wall, letting the heat pound onto his bowed head and shoulders. Krycek stepped in behind him, kissing the nearest shoulder and waited to see if a rejection would follow. When none came, he slid his arms around Mulder’s waist, licking water from his back.

Mulder turned, putting one arm around Krycek in return, and pulling him close. Oh, nice, thought Krycek, very nice indeed. Hugs. This would be very easy to get used to. Mulder dipped his head, licking Krycek’s chest. He took the tiny pink nipples between his teeth, worrying the nub into an eager peak. "Alex, make breasts."

Does it turn you on that I can be both for you, Mulder? Alex thought, sliding easily into female form. Mulder took each breast in turn into his mouth, trying to engulf them entirely, his hands lifting Krycek’s buttocks, raising him up to his lips.

Mulder turned him towards the wall of the shower stall, pushing himself against Krycek’s back. He slipped a couple of fingers into Krycek, testing how relaxed and open the sphincter muscle still was. "Can you take it without lube?"

"Yeah. Take it easy though, you’re a bit big for that."

"Okay, be a man again, then."

His buttocks cupped and pulled apart in Mulder’s hands, Krycek complied, and couldn’t help groaning deeply as Mulder pushed forward. One steady shove, burying himself to the hilt. Krycek tried to brace himself as Mulder thrust, almost lifting him off the ground despite their being all but equal in height. The slow care of the night before was gone, and Mulder plunged again and again, trapping Krycek like a butterfly on a pin against the wall.

"Uhh," Krycek used his hands to stop sensitive tissues being bruised against the tiles, as Mulder slammed into him again and again, rubbing repeatedly over his prostate: he was going to come again, too quickly. "Hnngg," he couldn’t help groaning as orgasm tore through him, spraying cream against the wall, watching it wash away immediately. He was still jerking slightly, with the final spasms as Mulder started whispering, ‘woman’ against his ear. It was hard, concentrating on making the change while this weak, but he did, his feet no longer able to touch the floor. It didn’t feel so good, the savage thrusts, not as a woman with no prostate, but Mulder’s hands came around, cupping his genitals, large fingers pushing vaginal lips aside, fingering and stroking the clitoris that still vibrated with the past climax.

Mulder didn’t change his rhythm at all, "Let’s see if you’re multi-orgasmic," he whispered, his fingers pushing inside. Krycek felt like he was being torn apart from both front and behind, he no longer braced himself against the wall, but tried to pull Mulder’s hands away, too rough on delicate tissues. But those hands demanded a response, and Krycek surprised himself as he came against them. It felt like Mulder’s dick up his ass pushed everything forward into Mulder’s hands, his breasts were pushed against the cold tile, and the hissing of the shower covered his groans and protests. And he wasn’t sure if he wanted to protest. He started to weep, softly, as he could feel it starting up again. The pounding seemed like it would never stop, and he could feel reality start to slip away. His ass was being rubbed raw, the relentless crush of flesh into flesh throwing him against the wall like a rag doll. Krycek just knew he was going to have some spectacular bruises where his hips were being ground against the tiles. He wanted to cry ‘enough’, but couldn’t find his voice. Finally he realised Mulder was coming, they both were: A string of grunts ‘Uh’ and Mulder brought them to another mutual climax.

"Gonna use up the hot water for the whole day this way," Mulder joked, as he pulled free with a pop. He turned the water off, gave Krycek’s ass a friendly slap, "Thanks," and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his hips before leaving the bathroom.

It’s not important, he told himself, dragging himself out of the shower stall. It doesn’t matter. It was easy to let the old programming slide back into place, the voices that whispered to him how wonderful Mulder was. How perfect Mulder was. Even recognising their false promise he pulled them around himself, more comforting than the warmth of any blanket. Like the lies of a faithless lover, the solace in the words cheered him, and he used Mulder’s damp towels, inhaling their scent, eyes closed with relish at the closeness to Mulder this gave.

Krycek found his jeans of the night before on the floor beside the bed and dragged them on, sans underwear. He didn’t have a shirt, the vest he’d worn at the club was a bit much for every day wear, so he helped himself to another of Mulder’s tee shirts. It bore the logo of some university neither of them had attended.

Smells from the kitchenette warranted investigation, and Krycek wandered out to find Mulder humming while he prepared his version of breakfast. "Need a hand?"

"No, it’s fine. This place is too small for two anyway. Help yourself to coffee or juice."

Krycek grabbed coffee, lots of milk, and dragged a chair from the main room into the doorway to watch Mulder working. He could have just stayed out there, but that was too far away.

"Alex?"

"Hmm?"

"What does it... can you tell what they’ve done to you? The brainwashing, what does it feel like?" Mulder asked without turning.

"You tell me."

"What?"

"You’ve been through it, probably just as often as I have. You tell me what it feels like."

"I haven’t. I haven’t had anything like this done to me." Mulder turned away, angry at Krycek’s lies.

Krycek shrugged, "Whatever." He buried his face in the steam rising from his coffee.

"Why would you say I’d been through this?"

"It doesn’t matter, forget it."

"Why would they want to do it anyway?" Mulder couldn’t leave it alone.

"To discredit you? How does that sound? To keep you going in the wrong directions. To make sure you keep chasing extreme possibilities, to make sure you don’t get too close to the truth. You’re so busy spouting off about ghosts and gargoyles you don’t sound sane enough to be a threat to them. Certainly to make sure you didn’t recognise me after our first meeting, so you’d accept me as Alex Krycek not as Michael O’Connor."

"I’d know. I’d know if someone did that to me." Mulder said confidently, as he dished food onto two plates.

"Of course. I sure did," Krycek said with bitter sarcasm.

"Why do you think they did that to me?" Mulder worried at it like a kid with a juicy scab.

"It’s part of my own programming. I have to know what is and isn’t true with you, so I can react accordingly. They told me most of what you are meant to be doing, so that I can adjust to your needs. Or at least that’s what I believe, but hey, that could be part of my own programming." Krycek tried to make light of it, wishing he’d never said anything. But he’d never lied by commission to Mulder, now he had to train himself not to lie by ommission.

"When did it start? When did they... when do you think they started doing this to me?"

"When you were a kid I guess. Something terrible happened to you, and they wanted to make you think it happened to someone else. So they created an imaginary sister in your mind, told you whatever it was happened to her, then told you she’d been taken away. Then you’d think the bad thing was taken away as well – it started off as a way of protecting you, I guess. Took them years to get you to believe it so unconditionally though, they had to keep doing it again and again. That’s why you’ve given several different versions of her abduction while under regression therapy – they kept changing the story on you. That way you wouldn’t..."

The blow rocked Krycek’s head back, he crashed to the floor, the coffee mug shattering and hurling coffee across the linoleum onto the carpet.

"You lying sack of shit, Krycek!" Mulder loomed overhead, and Krycek braced himself for another blow, but Mulder just stood, his body shaking with anger.

"Why the hell would you say something like that, what do you have to gain saying Samantha isn’t real?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Ignore me. I don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m so screwed up in the head I don’t know what’s real anymore, what would I know about your sister."

Mulder turned away in disgust, bracing his hands against the wall. His head hurt, he felt dizzy and nauseous. Krycek came up behind him, placed gentle fingers against the back of his neck, "Relax. Don’t fight it, don’t think about it. Just think about your memories of her and the disorientation will pass."

Mulder nodded, thinking about his little sister, concentrating. He could remember everything about her; the way she looked, the way she smelt, he could remember her abduction... slowly the pain and dizziness faded.

Krycek hooked the chair upright again, and led Mulder over to sit down, his head on his hands. Krycek grabbed a cloth and mopped up the mess on the floor.

"How can you be so casual?" Mulder asked, his voice strained.

"You get used to it. I’ve been trying to deprogramme myself on and off, sometimes it’s pretty confusing, and sometimes I know I’m seeing two realities at the same time, but... yeah, you get used to it." He dropped the cloth into the sink, grabbed plate and fork, and started to shovel in eggs and bacon.

"I made waffles," Mulder pointed to the pile on the counter, his voice whispery, and Krycek helped himself to those as well, before piling a plate and passing it to Mulder, who seemed to have lost his appetite, picking desultorily at his eggs. "Here," Mulder dropped his bacon back onto Krycek’s plate. "I don’t eat this."

"Yeah, I know, just testing." Krycek smiled widely – to Mulder’s bemusement – he was happy to think Mulder had done something specially for him. He leaned over to place a greasy kiss on Mulder’s cheek. Then another. Then he placed his plate on the floor, and his hands on Mulder’s knees.

"No, not now," Mulder smiled and caressed Krycek’s face, standing up. "Skinner and Scully’ll be here soon."

Skinner and Mulder had their heads down, preparing their case. Krycek answered them in a desultory manner when directly addressed, but otherwise tried to ignore them, flipping without interest through some magazine on the care of aquarium fish. Plotting against his former employees, although presently his dearest wish, was giving him a throbbing headache.

And Scully hadn’t stopped staring at him. He didn’t know if she wanted to grill him for answers, or put a bullet between his eyes for his part in her sister’s death. He wanted to tell her he hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger, but that sounded weak even to his own ears. He had his own guilt to carry over that, over his involvement in the killing of an innocent woman, and didn’t need Scully’s accusations added to his nightmares. He wondered fleetingly if he could convince Mulder that Scully wasn’t needed on this case, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to make Mulder realise the threat she represented. She was a danger to Mulder, and he hated her for it. She was a threat to their relationship, she could tear them apart, as long as she had Mulder’s precious trust. He could feel the rage bubbling up from inside, the desire to put his hands around her throat, feel that soft white flesh cave as he crushed her windpipe. Plunge his hands into her body, fingers ripping at her living organs, taking her life and her liver. He wanted to watch her die, see a fine drool of blood leave her full lips as her beautiful eyes clouded over in death...

He tossed down the magazine and went to the fridge to pour himself some juice, thinking of anything but Scully. If Mulder ever found out what he wanted to do to Scully, Mulder would be the one to put the bullet between Krycek’s eyes. He repeated a variation of his own mantra, It doesn’t matter, she’s not a danger to Mulder, this isn’t important, until the red faded from his vision. He used the words to focus his mind away from the words of the others, when he could no longer get with their programme. Sometimes it worked... often it didn’t.

"At no time is he to be left alone, I don’t want any more escape attempts." Skinner held up his hand to forestall any protests from Mulder. "I don’t care if he stays with you voluntarily, I don’t trust him. At no time is he to be left unattended, which means you or someone else will have to be awake and guarding him 24 hours a day. I also don’t want him left alone with Scully, or you to be sleeping while she guards him." Krycek finally turned to look at Skinner, wondering if he’d realised, "I’ll assign two other agents..."

"No," Mulder protested loudly, jumping to his feet. "We can’t trust anyone. And even if we could, they could get to anyone you chose."

"Then what do you suggest, Agent Mulder?"

Mulder, took a deep breath. "I have a few friends, people I can trust. They are not trained agents, but as a group they can spell myself and Scully in guarding Krycek."

Skinner nodded, "I’ll want to meet them first."

Krycek mentally agreed. So do I.

"I’ll arrange it tonight."

Now hang on, Krycek sat up to protest...

Mulder interrupted, "I’ll take care of that as well, sir," and glared at Krycek to be quiet.

Skinner packed his briefcase, preparatory to leaving, "I’ll see you in the morning, both of you stay here tonight. You’ll be safe from outside threats until they find out he’s alive. Just don’t leave him alone at any time. I’ll see about arranging an alternative residence for the entire group once I have arranged for this to go before the court."

"Yes, sir. Goodnight, sir."

"Goodnight, sir." Scully echoed, her eyes still not leaving Krycek.

Bitch, thought Krycek, put your eyes out with my thumbs.

Mulder ran his hands through his hair, "Scully, do you want to take the bed? Let me change the sheets and you can take the first watch."

She nodded, "I haven’t brought anything with me. So I’m going to find an all night drug store, I’ll be back by the time you’ve cleaned up."

Krycek was impressed she didn’t ask why Mulder needed to clean up and change the sheets. Seems she’d already worked that out herself. Smart lady. He set about removing the remains of the meal they’d had delivered, wondering if he could seduce Mulder again with her in the next room. Already they were going against Skinner’s express orders, with only one person guarding him. So confident he wasn’t going to try to escape. He started washing up, hunting around for gloves and washing liquid. I could be out that front door and down the street before you even noticed I was gone, Mulder, track her down, push her under a bus, he thought, scrubbing pizza cheese off plates. He hummed under his breath, it was so much more comfortable when she wasn’t here. Couldn’t Mulder see that?

The sound of channels changing in the other room let Krycek know Mulder was settling himself on the sofa for the rest of the night. Krycek left the dishes to dry and went to sit by Mulder’s feet, his head against the nearest thigh. Instead of pushing him away, Mulder’s hand rested lightly on his hair. You’re going to let her see us like this, or will you jump away when she gets back?

She let herself back in. Didn’t you even lock the door, Mulder? And Mulder didn’t move, just waved to her amiably as she went into the bedroom. The sound of the shower impinged vaguely on Krycek’s consciousness, as he dozed against Mulder’s legs. He wasn’t an insomniac like Mulder, and wasn’t used to going a night with so little sleep. This is all just so very revoltingly domestic, he mentally yawned, listening to the sounds of Scully preparing for sleep, the bed dipping, the squeak of the mattress as she got comfortable, then silence from the other room.

He heard the creak of the sofa, then Mulder was leaning down, brushing his lips across Krycek’s forehead, softly between his eyes and across the bridge of his nose, tracing the frown line with the tip of his tongue. Krycek tipped his head back, searching for Mulder’s lips, but Mulder was getting off the sofa, stripping off his shirt, heeling off his shoes, undoing his fly and letting his slacks fall to the ground.

Krycek, suddenly wide awake, grabbed Mulder’s hips, burying his face in Mulder’s groin, delighting in the rich scent of him. He didn’t bother trying to initiate intimate foreplay. He inhaled Mulder’s balls, getting the entire scrotum into his mouth, and bobbling them around with his tongue. He pulled and tugged, like a dog with a fresh bone, loving the sounds of Mulder trying to muffle his pleasure with one fist crammed into his mouth. Krycek sucked and slurped, tenderising Mulder’s testicles to tapioca. Mulder couldn’t help groaning, sounding like some caricature of a cheap fuck-flick.

Are you asleep, Scully? Can you hear him? Are you lying there listening to what I’m doing to your Mulder? Krycek smiled around his mouthful, delighting in the smell and the taste. He wondered if she fantasised about Mulder, girlie dreams of marriage and home and family. Probably not, it was hard to imagine Dana Scully day dreaming at all. He massaged Mulder’s buttocks, pulling him closer, It’s too late now anyway, he thought. Now he’s mine, or almost at any rate, and I won’t give up what I have without a fight.

Mulder’s thumb dug into Krycek’s jaw, forcing it open, and Mulder pulled his balls free. He held Krycek there, his mouth wide open, while he took his penis in his hand and rubbed the head over Krycek’s face. He left trails of precum over Krycek’s lips, while Krycek’s tongue tried to taste, flicking quick and pink to investigate whatever came in range. Mulder drooled his cock-head across Krycek’s face, the scorching head kissed Krycek’s eyes closed, and the young man groaned, held on his knees, in thrall of the man he dare not yet call his lover.

Krycek moaned happily as Mulder put the head of his cock into his open mouth, and he tongued the slit enthusiastically, I’m going to drool if you don’t take your thumb out and let me close my mouth, he thought, but he didn’t care. He dropped his hands, rubbing himself through his jeans, as Mulder slowly fed Krycek his cock.

Krycek used his tongue to push the head against the roof of his mouth, letting Mulder feel just a little scrape of teeth, using the rough ridged palate to create even more stimulation.

Mulder’s hands crept around the back of his head, trying to guide him, and Krycek started to twist his head a little, sucking down one inch at a time. Tiny little acid drops of precum sizzled against his tongue, sweeter than any candy. He used his tongue over every inch he could reach, licking over the large vein underneath, slurping like it was an all day sucker. Mulder’s cock slid further back into his throat, and Krycek started to swallow, helping it deeper, using the muscles in his throat to squeeze down on the head of the cock. Gonna eat you alive, Mulder, he fantasised, lunging down the final inch ‘til his nose was buried in Mulder’s pubic hair, and started to bob frantically, trying to absorb this man into his own body.

Then Mulder grabbed his jaw again, pulling free in one sharp motion. Krycek couldn’t help a small sound of disappointment, and looked up to see if he’d done something wrong, but Mulder was looking down at him, smiling softly, his eyes on fire with lust.

"Take your clothes off."

Krycek hastened to comply, Mulder’s attempts to get his shirt off slowing things down a little, but Krycek was naked and kneeling at Mulder’s feet again in seconds. He made to try and grab Mulder again, but Mulder put a hand against his forehead, "Hang on a minute." He went into the kitchenette and grabbed a bottle of cooking oil before returning "Remind me to pick up some KY or something soon," he grinned before kneeling in front of Krycek.

A hand on Krycek’s chest encouraged him to lie back, "Er, Mulder, I’m kinda sore there from this morning, how about..."

"It’s okay, Alex, I’ll be a lot gentler this time." He poured the oil into his palm, coated himself, then slipped oily fingers into Alex’s body.

Alex winced at the invasion of tender flesh, but relaxed onto the carpet, grabbing his thighs to hold himself open to Mulder, pulling his legs back towards his chest. He stared at the ceiling, trying to distract himself from the sensations of Mulder opening him up, but couldn’t restrain his voice when those long fingers found his prostate.

"Uhhaaah." Those were talented fingers.

"Shhh," Mulder hissed, "Don’t make it so obvious."

"Hmm-mmm," Krycek tried to nod his understanding, but Mulder was deliberately rubbing over and over that most sensitive place inside Krycek and intelligent conversation was not high on his agenda.

"Not too sore?" Mulder said knowingly.

Krycek smiled up at Mulder, balanced on his shoulders, pushing his hips up high over his head with his hands braced on his lumber so that as Mulder made to enter, he had to get up onto his toes.

Mulder let gravity and the weight of his body push down into Krycek’s ass, Krycek screwing his hips up to take him in.

Krycek rocked up and back, ‘til his toes touched the carpet above his head, Mulder loomed overhead, his hands either side of Krycek’s head as he tried to brace himself. His back was going to kill him tomorrow, but this position gave him a full view of Mulder’s cock disappearing into his body. He could see the shaft slowly being pushed in, and as Mulder withdrew a little, a tiny fringe of red as his insides tried to follow Mulder out. He bit his lip at the sight of his asshole stretched and reddening to accommodate Mulder’s not inconsiderable bulk.

"Hmmphffff".

"Shush." Up on toes and finger tips, Mulder sped up his thrusts.

"Mulder!"

"Shussh!!!"

"Aaahhh, Mulder! Yes!"

"Quiet!" Mulder almost shouted himself, but couldn’t stop his movements, and didn’t have enough balance to put a hand over Krycek’s mouth.

Krycek laughed out loud at Mulder’s predicament, and started squeezing his internal muscles, milking Mulder for all he was worth. He matched the motions with his expressions, staring up at Mulder lustfully, making kissy motions with his mouth and calling out filthy nothings.

Mulder screwed his eyes shut, biting his tongue on his own vocalisations, but as Krycek clamped down, squeezing so hard Mulder thought it would strip the skin right off his cock, he heard his own voice, crying like something was breaking inside him.

"Aaaaiiii..."

"Yeah, Mulder. Yes! Fuck me!" Krycek shouted, eyes wide open, hollering in delight as Mulder lost all control, pounding into him, slapping into him until Krycek’s buttocks were turning pink, making it difficult for Krycek to hold position, grinding his shoulders into the carpet, and Krycek whooped as Mulder’s cum started, shooting load after load into his guts.

Mulder toppled, unable to maintain the awkward position as he came, sliding sideways and shooting the final shots of cum across the insides of Krycek’s thighs.

"You bastard," Mulder said, without venom, gasping for air, "You did that deliberately."

Krycek smiled widely, arching his back to ease the stiffness, as he let his legs drop back towards the floor, wrapping them around Mulder’s waist.

"Now, I suppose you want me to do something about that," Mulder said casually, batting Krycek’s stiff cock around with one nonchalant hand.

"If it’s not too much trouble," Krycek spread his thighs in invitation.

Mulder bobbed down, sucking on the head of Krycek’s penis before letting it go again, "Well, I haven’t got anything else planned." He bent his head and licked at the stream of white where his own cum decorated Krycek’s skin.

"Good to hear it," Krycek sighed, put one hand up behind his head, hoping to take this round a little easier.

Mulder took another suck on Krycek’s cock, keeping it wet and hot, before tracing down its length, finding every tiny white spot and lapping it up. Krycek gave up on his back, and pulled one leg back to his chest again, as Mulder’s tongue slipped over and round his balls, finding and then sucking Krycek’s perineum. Up to his balls, then down again, biting the sensitive flesh, slurping and kissing. Krycek grabbed his own cock, wet with spit and pre-cum, jerking himself while Mulder’s tongue explored, the tip touring around this most intimate of places.

That demanding tongue dipped lower, Krycek’s fist sped up. He’d been rimmed before... once… before sex...

"Oh God, oh Christ, you’re felching me!" He yelped. It was just a touch, but Krycek was so surprised Mulder would make the intimacy when no one else had ever done that before he came uncontrollably, shooting ropy cum across his stomach and chest. "Oh..."

Mulder stared down at him, self-satisfied, "I am also full of surprises." He got to his feet, grabbed Krycek’s arm and hauled him upright, before dumping him on the sofa. He pulled a blanket out from under the sofa before laying down on top of Krycek and covering them both. Settling with his head on Krycek’s shoulder, feeling the trembling still going through the younger man’s body, he grinned. This may not have been what Skinner had in mind, but there was no way Krycek would be getting away without his knowing about it.

Scully stood in the doorway, brushing her hair into place. Mulder had knocked on the door, waking her, letting her know he needed to go out and start making arrangements. He’d been somewhat shamefaced but had offered no explanation or apology for his performance of the night before. If not embarrassed about having such loud sex outside the door, the least he could do would be to look ashamed of doing it with Krycek!

She felt the comforting weight of her gun. Despite Mulder’s assurances Krycek was no danger, she’d seen the coldness, the close way his eyes followed her. She watched him now, wondering why Mulder found this man so fascinating. She could understand that he would love to put Krycek under a magnifying glass, pore over every secret and every hidden treasure, draw every one of Krycek’s ‘unique gifts’ out into the light of day; to be studied, dissected, reported, added to Mulder’s filing case of weirdness.

Hearing Mulder talk of Krycek’s new ‘abilities’ had been no more stunning than anything else she had had to deal with since joining the X Files, but she couldn’t help feel a small tinge of revulsion, thinking how close she came herself to being inflicted with this strange ability. But would it be an affliction, or a gift? she wondered. If she could change into a man at will... She had to wonder, and she wondered if she could. If perhaps she also had this locked into her DNA now. She could feel the urge to get this man under a microscope herself.

He looked perfectly normal, quite harmless, fast asleep, belly up, totally non-threatening. He’d thrown the blanket off earlier, and both his hands were now drawn into loose fists by his head. His posture was exposed and defenceless, it was hard to believe this man had the potential for so much evil.

And the potential for so much delight, judging by the sounds she’d heard last night, and then again in the early hours of this morning. She remembered pulling the pillows over her head, trying to shut out Mulder’s voice, but it was hard not to laugh hearing him lose his cool like that, even though she’d been surprised at his total lack of shame. She catalogued the bruises on Krycek’s body, caused by compression mostly, she decided, those across hip bones and knees. Others looked definitely like finger marks, or possibly bites... Mulder was obviously involved in a very passionate affair with this man, something which belied the dispassionate way he spoke about Krycek and their relationship. This confession to her about his having been involved with Sandy, and Sandy’s chrysalis transformation had been... uncomfortable... but certainly hadn’t prepared her for the screaming match she’d been blessed to listen to last night. Still, she remembered how she had felt when Brother Andrew had touched her, and guessed despite Mulder’s objections to the contrary, Krycek was probably producing some of those pheromones himself. If he was, it would have to be in much smaller quantities, or Mulder would be dead, or at the very least in hospital with cardiac arrest. There was no way Mulder would sleep with Krycek otherwise, she thought. Although that didn’t explain why Mulder kept coming back for more...

Jealousy bubbled, and she let it. This man had more potential to come between them than any of the men and women Mulder had flirted with, or had flirted with him, in the years they had been partners. Her jealousy was irrational, she knew, her partnership with Mulder would always be strong, nothing would lessen its importance to either of them, but she indulged anyway.

 "Mulder?" Krycek called out without opening his eyes, feeling the absence of the heavy body that had fallen asleep on him.

"He had to run a few errands," that was Scully’s voice, and Krycek sat up hurriedly, grabbing the blanket from where it had fallen on the floor to cover himself. How long had she been sitting at the desk while he’d been sleeping naked?

"I thought you weren’t supposed to be left alone with me?" he challenged.

In answer she lifted the gun from where it was laying on the desk in front of her, letting him see the safety was off, letting him know that she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot, valuable witness or not.

He gathered the blanket, and what little dignity he could, around himself, and took off for the bathroom.

"Krycek," she followed.

"What?" he snapped, trying to shut the door in her face.

"Uh uh, this is how you got out last time. Leave the door open."

He glared daggers at her, it would be so easy to snap her neck. He turned, dropped the blanket, telling himself she was a doctor anyway, and stepped into the shower, jerking the curtain shut after him. There was no way he was going to piss in front of her, so he waited ‘til the water was hot, then aimed for the plug hole.

The shower brightened his spirits somewhat, although he was peeved to find her still standing in the doorway watching when he finished. She waited while he dressed then followed him back into the main room, her gun held loosely, but ready, all the time. She took cuffs from her jacket pocket, "Back on the sofa, Krycek," she ordered.

"There’s no need to cuff me," he said, sitting where he was directed. He could feel a faint tinge of horror, he’d allowed it from Mulder, and it had given him night terrors. Since being locked in that silo, he’d found himself sweating at the thought of any confinement from which he couldn’t free himself.

"Nevertheless, I have my orders. I’d feel safer if you were cuffed anyway." She cuffed one of the bracelets on the arm of the sofa, and reached for Krycek’s right wrist.

He coughed slightly, "Melissa," and the fight went right out of him.

Scully put her small hands against his thighs, pushing at him, and he stood up, letting her stand. She grabbed her gun back, still trembling with rage and fear. She smoothed her clothes back into place, and he had to admire her. She was tough, didn’t let it phase her.

"Sit down," her voice was a little more shrill than usual.

"No cuffs," he stated firmly.

She nodded uneasily and went back to her desk, her gun ready, safety off.

Boundaries established.

They both sat quietly for a while, she went through the papers on Mulder’s desk, he stared into space for a while. Eventually, "Do you mind if I watch TV?" he asked deferentially, knowing he had to let her feel in control of the situation again, let her get her sense of security and power back.

After she nodded her consent, he collected the remote and proceeded to flick channels in a desultory manner. He settled on Barney "Two and two is four," ‘til he thought Scully would throw something; switched to some talk show, "Elvis kidnapped me and I had an alien’s baby" or something or other he was sure Mulder would love to investigate. She rustled papers quietly, and Krycek was somewhat surprised she wasn’t more shaken. Didn’t she understand how close to death she’d come?

"Does Mulder have any videos that aren’t porn?" he asked, scanning the shelves.

"Not to my knowledge, no," he could hear the smile in her voice, "Unless you’re interested in footage of news programmes?"

"No, not really." Sesame Street came on, and he settled on that, maybe he’d get to see Gonzo and the morning wouldn’t be a total write-off.

"Krycek?" she had waited a while, and he’d wondered how long it would be until her curiosity over came her shock.

He looked up at her.

"You brought me out, didn’t you."

He looked away again, fidgeting slightly.

"When I was... wherever I was... When I was abducted… I remember some faces." She pointed to the floor, not seeing it, frowning as she tried to remember another time she’d been lying down, helpless, looking up into a man’s face. "I remember your face."

Krycek shook his head again, rubbed a hand over his hair, nervously.

"You brought me out of there. You did, I remember it was you!" Her voice gained strength as the memory returned.

Krycek stumbled around in his own mind, looking for a credible truth, "I brought you back to him." That was true, he had. He’d thought she was going to die. They said there was no chance she’d survive with the retro-virus rampant in her system, so there had been nothing left to lose. Bring her back to Mulder, maybe get some gratitude, and she’d be out of the picture anyway. Perfect: except they’d caught him doing it.

She sat down again with a thump, "Then you know what happened to me?"

So much for gratitude, "No."

"But if you were there..."

"They knew it was me that brought you back. I was suitably punished. They removed more of my memories, so I don’t really know what happened."

"But you know something."

Oh, leave it alone! "Same old stuff, I suppose." He wished Mulder would show up, distract her, but if she told Mulder, and they both started in on him... "You don’t want to know, Scully. There are things you are better off not knowing."

She would have continued her interrogation, but filed it away for later reference when they were disturbed.

Let her go on thinking I deliberately saved her life, Krycek mused, that all works to my advantage.

Scully drew her gun as the entrance buzzer went off, and she let Skinner in, keeping her gun ready ‘til he was in the room with them.

"Where’s Mulder?"

"Getting reinforcements."

"Hmm, we have a court date. You have two days to prepare for preliminaries."

"Two days? Respectfully, sir, that’s not enough time... we need weeks."

"I’m aware of that. But I want to get to court before out main witness is killed," Skinner gestured at Krycek.

How comforting, Krycek thought ruefully.

"Also, I’m sure they’ll use as many tricks as possible to avoid going to court. I want to catch them as much by surprise as possible. The subpoenas are already being delivered." Skinner started to tick the facts off against his fingers, "A judge has been removed from his usual case load, and we have been appointed a special prosecutor. Because of the high level involved, our preliminary hearing will be on Friday. You have two days to prepare a strong enough case that we can take further." He paused, studying her closely. "After this preliminary hearing, I expect to be in court in a matter of weeks. Scully, take an hour to go and collect some things. We’ll be making a move as soon as Mulder gets back."

She nodded, grabbed her keys and took off for her own apartment. She had a lot to think about now, and the drive there and back would give her a few moments alone to get her head back in order.

Skinner turned, really looking at Krycek for the first time. Krycek didn’t bother trying to find a smile.

"I gave orders that you were to be cuffed," he said, and pulled out a set of his own.

Krycek held out a conciliatory hand, "That’s not necessary. I have no intentions of trying to escape."

"I don’t care." Skinner pushed him back and cuffed him to the arm of couch, as Scully had intended to do.

Krycek could feel his panic start, but banked it down, tugging fretfully at the cuffs. He reassured himself that they were loose enough, he just had to change gender again to be free should he need to.

Skinner turned to walk away from him.

Krycek stood up, grabbed Skinner’s arm, bringing him to a halt.

"Do you know you’re touching me?" Skinner turned, menace heavy in his tone.

"Yes." Krycek had been menaced by the best.

Skinner grabbed his wrist, forcing him away, throwing off Krycek’s touch with contempt. "Touch me again and I’ll..."

"You’ll what? Beat me to a pulp? Go ahead, you owe me. I can’t get away while cuffed to the couch. I won’t tell, I won’t call out. Do whatever you feel you need to do to make it even between us."

"Even? After what you did? You’re crazy."

"You’ve read the files, you’ve seen I’m not responsible for my actions..."

"Yes, I’ve seen what they were using you for. And none of it had anything to do with what went on between you and me. You set me up, found every vulnerability and used every trick you knew to get close to me. None of that was part of your ‘programming’. You might have been ‘following orders’ to seduce me, but you made your choice to follow those orders of your own free will," the bitterness lent acid to Skinner’s voice, "I have to admit you did a beautiful job on me, I didn’t suspect anything until you told me yourself. You had to have done this before, how many other men before me had you brought down? How many men fell in love with you then found out you were a fraud?"

"A couple..." Krycek hedged, Skinner had really called his bluff on this one.

"Why didn’t you go through with it this time?"

"You were different..." Krycek tried wheedling.

"You’re so full of shit, Krycek. You might have Mulder fooled, but you’re not going to do this to me again".

Krycek pulled himself to his full height, pathos was getting him nowhere with this man anymore, maybe a noble savage persona would work better.

"Sir, if we are going to work together, we need to establish some kind of working relationship."

"Last time we ‘established a relationship’ you stabbed me in the back, Krycek. You betrayed me."

"Yeah, well. I betrayed everybody, get over it."

Skinner turned away in disgust.

"And it works both way, Skinner. I never gave them the photos of us."

"You took them in the first place, Krycek. You set me up."

Krycek stretched towards him as much as the cuffs would allow.

"But I never turned you in. I could have. How long do you think you’d have stayed in the FBI if I had given them what they wanted?"

"So you had a rare attack of conscience, that’s not my problem."

"Would it have been so difficult? Would it have been so impossible to forgive me?" Krycek’s voice became strained as he tried to control his own anger. He knew Skinner felt Krycek had no right to act the wounded party, but how could he make this man realise how much his rejection had hurt? All of Krycek’s silly fantasies of forgiveness and forever killed in stone cold eyes.

Skinner turned away, his face flaming with anger and humiliation.

"Wally..."

Skinner grabbed him by the throat, pushing him against the wall. "Don’t you call me that, you don’t have the right. Not any more."

Krycek smirked, slow and sly, his eyes cold, "How about... Daddy?"

Skinner pulled back, and Krycek thought he would be released, but the fist came forward with all the force of a large angry man, straight into his solar plexus, dropping him to the floor as the wind left his lungs and the strength left his legs. He wrapped his free arm around his middle, gasping for air, his forehead touching the ground at Skinner’s feet. The pain blossomed out from the impact sight all the way to his knees, elbows and the top of his head. Jeez, that man can hit! And Krycek would have laughed at his own stupidity if he’d been even able to draw a decent breath.

Skinner turned away and sat down, pushing his glasses up as he rubbed his face. That was low, Walter Skinner, he chastised himself, Punching a cuffed and helpless man... but if anyone deserved it, it was Krycek. "You okay?" he asked tiredly of the gasping man trying to pull himself upright.