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Dominion Over My Soul

r1-Tarlan-p4 (part 1/2)

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The derision followed him back down into the recesses of his mind where he cowered back into a dark corner. Memories flew at him from all directions often warped by the insanity barely kept at bay but better that than full participation in the black deeds of the alien who controlled his body. Despite this he had seen many things; been a part of many actions that sickened him to the soul but he had no option but to endure... and pray for release.

//How many years?//

The thought echoed around the silent cave he had built for himself. This was the only place in his mind and body that he could still call his own. Images were his answer.

November 1996. A campfire in the cold Tunguskan forest; the sudden realisation of what those peasants had meant when they said they would protect him. Fear turning to horror as the sharp knife was brought against his flesh. The sound of steel cutting through skin... hacking through bone. He had screamed until the pain had become too intolerable, his throat too raw... until shock had set in and then he could only watch in a strange detachment as the superheated knife cauterised the ragged stump of what remained of his left arm. Even now he could not dwell on the sight of his arm being handed away, hefted like a piece of dead raw meat. He shied away from the thought that asked 'what happened to his arm?' but it slithered after him, offering suggestions both mundane and macabre. If he still controlled his stomach then he knew the bile would have risen as his imagination played out a scenario of peasants sitting around the campfire, gnawing at his amputated limb; nibbling on those agile fingers that had danced with carnal delight over many a lover. With growing difficulty he forced the 'bad' thoughts aside, concentrating instead on the events that had unfolded.

Daylight had brought with it the camp guards. The next few days had passed in a dreamlike state. Different and yet familiar faces had passed above him, their eyes reflecting differing emotions from pity to intrigue to an unhealthy speculation of what they could do with the body of this near-catatonic man. They did not even bother to secure him with the chicken wire before pouring the black viscous fluid onto his face. He could only lay there in horror as the memories of a previous infection by the black oil came back to haunt him before all his thoughts were ransacked. He had dived back into the cave he had hewn in his own mind on that long flight out of Hong Kong to Washington DC.

Whether intentional or not the Tunguskan doctors had not vaccinated him before infection. Perhaps they had intended to study him, *not* knowing he had been a carrier before... or perhaps they had meant to test the vaccine on him *afterwards* as a way of measuring its true competence. Whatever the case they had believed the infection had not taken as they watched the leech-like worms flow back out of him almost as quickly as they entered; probably writing off this miracle to a former vaccination. Little did they know that remnants of that original oilien had remained dormant in his system. The new oilien had merely ejected that old mindless residue before wrapping itself around its human host. It had taken full advantage of his near-catatonia to send its tendrils burrowing into his brain; its own survival instincts driving it to dominate and, in stripping the thoughts and memories from its host, it had learnt of the imminent danger it was in should it reveal its presence to the Tunguskan scientists. And so it hid, slowly bringing the body back online, taking full control of every surface thought and every movement. At first it had tried to break through the final barrier Alex had placed to protect the shredded remains of himself but eventually it stopped caring. Perhaps it enjoyed having this helpless being at its mercy. Certainly the Oilien seemed to gain immense pleasure from his reactions to the cruelty it inflicted on those around it.

He... no, *it* had walked out of the Tunguskan camp with all the idiosyncracies of the original Alexei Krycek perversly intact, testing out its ability to deceive on poor Vassily Peskow. If the aging assassin had any inkling that the cold, congratulating man seated in his St Petersburg apartment sipping tea was not Comrade Krycek then he gave no show... and never would. The old man had

died in his sleep later that same night, helped along his journey by a small air bubble inserted into his veins by a well-placed hypo.

It had contacted its people, informing them of the actions of a splinter group of the Consortium. Alex grimaced internally as he remembered that first meeting with the Smoker when it revealed itself as being the one in control. It had realised very early on that the only thing CBG Spender was interested in saving was himself and if sacrificing the human race was a way to achieve this then Spender would not lose any sleep in doing so especially if it also brought him the much promised power. In fact, Spender had barely batted an eyelid, taking the revelation in his stride as he lit another of those damn Morley's. He and the Oilien had spent the rest of the meeting making plans on how they could flush out the traitors within the Consortium.

The complex plans had taken Alex back to Tunguska where the Oilien had played his role of a disgruntled exiled American to the hilt, striking on the plan to use the unfortunate survivor of a Rebel Alien attack as a means to re-infiltrate the American Consortium. The decision to take the Russian vaccine to America had been an afterthought but one that had paid off for the Oilien. Alex remembered the blows his hands had inflicted on the young boy, appalled by the callous disregard this creature possessing his body had for mere humans as it ordered the boy infected and all orifices sewn shut. It was one of the few times that the Oilien had allowed him a modicum of control even if it was only to interact with the mindless remains of a blinded, muted boy but he had tried to show as much compassion as he could... washing the boy's face, cleaning him, squeezing water onto the dried, cracked lips in the hope that some of the moisture would quench the raging thirst the boy must have been experiencing.

//Dmitri? Yes. That was his name. I wonder what happened to him?//

The Oilien's rage at finding the boy missing was short-lived. Alex wondered whether Marita Covarrubias realised what she had fucked onboard the Uroff-Koltoff... and what the Oilien had planned for her should their paths ever cross again. Yes, it had shared those thoughts with him, its vivid imagination using the time spent handcuffed in the darkened storage room to show him scenario after scenario of torture and mutilation. It would make her pay for her treachery. Alex had felt sympathy for her... and for himself, knowing that he would be forced to watch. As it was, it was fortunate that the Oilien had made that last minute decision to take the Russian vaccine; it bought the Oilien a place under the Englishman's protective wing and gave it the first name on the list of traitors within the Consortium.

At the time Alex had wondered why the Alien had allowed his body to be restrained; it could have freed itself with ease, some how being able to command far greater feats of strength out his body than Alex had felt possible. No. It was the presence of the Englishman that kept it shackled as the Oilien hid itself under the façade of Alexei Krycek, the human ex-Consortium agent, waiting like a spider on a web of deceit.

Even Alex had to admit that the next actions of his unwanted hitchhiker had been flawless. Poor Fox Mulder. Looking for aliens everywhere and missing the one right in front of his face...again. Oh, how it had loved playing with Mulder, spouting almost poetically about life and death, kissing him and calling him 'friend'. Resist or serve.

A small part of Alex began to sob. Resistance was futile, its oily thoughts slithered through his mind, re-ordering his synapses to make it difficult for him to regain control of his body even if the opportunity should arise. Oh yes. The creature would toy with him from time to time, allow him to speak, allow his arm to flail like a newborn's; jerky and barely co-ordinated. The illusion of regaining his body giving him momentary hope before the other savagely pushed him aside, sending him back into a pit of despair.

His memories crept forward.

Bringing back its 'ally' from the snowy wastes of Canada had been an interesting assignment and one of the rare times that the Oilien relaxed enough to allow Alex peace of mind. Spender had been unsure of who or what was in control of the body poised on the high ground above him. Enemy or ally... or both? It had given the Oilien a little thrill to see the usually unflappable Smoker almost soiling his pants but Spender's death was not part of its agenda.

The next part of the horror story caused Alex the most despair. Watching as the Oilien used his body to cause so much pain to AD Skinner was more than he could bear. His soul had cried out at the abuse, his pleading that the man might come in useful seemed to have fallen upon deaf ears but, in the end, the Oilien had decided to kill the designer of the nanotechnlogy and let Skinner live. For the first time in years there was hope. Skinner was an exceptional person; strong and resourceful. Surely he would find some way to end both their suffering but the months rolled by with no end in sight. Every now and then the Oilien would cross paths with the AD and Alex would weep at the subservience the proud man was forced to give, knowing Skinner saw Alex Krycek, ratboy, rather than the controlling alien.

Eventually it had discovered that most of the Consortium were working against its people. They had all played a part in stalling the hybrid program... and in creating a vaccine that would force the Colonist from its host, killing it in the process. Spender had warned it of the Rebel alien in their midst and Alex remembered the pleasure it had gained when sliding the plam into the back of the Rebel's neck. Poor Jeffrey Spender, so thankful that 'Alex' had saved his miserable life... so willing to bend over and let 'Alex' take his reward but the Oilien's pleasure had been short-lived.

Alex wondered at the ease by which it had manipulated events to cause the massacre at El Rico airbase, using the Rebels to do its dirty work. However, its plans backfired. The Rebels reached the alien foetus before it and even the sight of Marita Covarrubias did nothing to dispel the agitation and fear it had felt as it walked back along those hospital corridors empty-handed fearing that the Rebels were going to win.

Having been terrified that the Oilien would take out its anger on the hapless Marita as it had vowed all those months before, Alex could only sob in relief as it walked away, leaving her to her fate.

//Where are you now, Marita? Did Jeffrey Spender get you out of there?//

Somehow that Smoking bastard had managed to escape the fate of the others and quickly took hold of the reins of power while everyone else was running around like headless chickens. Alex had been forced to view many a meeting as that slimy bastard organised the enslavement of his own race... and yet, he had sent those men to kill *it*. Total incineration of the body, wanting no trace of the Oilien left for regeneration. But, if he wanted to kill it then why not use the vaccine? Surely *he* could get hold of the vaccine? Hope flared.

//Oh God, I don't know what I want. I-I want to live... but not like *this*... please, not like *this*.//

Alex knew why the Smoker had no intention of saving Alexei Krycek. Had he not already ordered his execution all those years ago? Cardinale had botched it, his sick fascination with seeing his ex-partner blown sky-high kicking off all the siren's in Krycek's head, barely giving him time to flee. The phone call from the airport had been one of the highlights of his dealings with the Smoker.

//I'll make you famous... The Smoker. It said it was going to have a little talk with Spender.//

Strangely enough, Alex felt some sympathy for that man, after all he *had* sent his people on an assignment to kill him. If they had not been so fucking stupid. If they had not stopped to admire themselves and just got on with the job then...

//Then what? *Could* they have killed me? Would the Oilien have let me die?//

Alex smiled inwardly. That incident in the stairwell had proved he could be damaged. What would have happened if Mulder hadn't been there to host the parasite? Would his body have died from its wounds before the alien could accelerate the repairs? Would he have been freed from this prison? His thoughts turned back to the AD. Somehow he knew that Walter Skinner was his only hope.

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From his vantage point Walter Skinner could see the light was on behind the bedroom curtain. Dana Scully was home. He took a deep breath and glanced up and down the street before committing himself to the course of action he had decided upon. A few minutes later he was knocking on her door.

"Who's there?"

"Walter."

Silence... and then the sound of a bolt and a chain being moved. The door opened and once more, Walter Skinner felt the remnants of old passion flare as he looked upon the elfin face with its big, cerulean blue eyes and softly pouting lips. Her beautiful red hair tumbled carelessly about her neck, no longer immaculate, the ends damp. The soft ivory of her bathrobe accentuated the rose red of her heated cheeks against her creamy skin. For a moment he was captivated once more by her beauty and ardently wished the relationship they had shared had survived but he knew, even without Alex Krycek's invasion into his life, that they had given all they had and found it wanting for more. Behind her he could see a thin cloud of steam from the open bathroom door. Obviously she had just taken a bath.

"This better be good, Walter."

She pulled back the door, the invitation to enter unmistakable and he passed by her closely, breathing in the scent of jasmine rising from her warm, still damp flesh. He was surprised she let him in at all after standing her up earlier.

//How long did you wait for me, Dana?//

It seemed a little strange to be back in this apartment; a place he had come to know so well from the many times he had stayed overnight, wrapped in her warm embrace. Skinner sank onto the comfortable couch and grimaced slightly as she placed a shot of scotch in front of him. It seemed old habits died hard for her as well. She settled into the chair opposite, tucking her small feet beneath her... waiting for him to explain his presence.

"I'm being blackmailed."

She nodded her head slowly, she had, after all, had a heated conversation with Fox Mulder over the very same subject.

"What has he got on you?"

"What?"

"Mulder showed me a photo of a long-haired man. Told me he believed that man was blackmailing you. As... bitchy as he can get, he's quite often right."

"Annoying prick..."

Scully smiled, recognising the respect for Fox Mulder underlying his words.

"So?"

"He has a device that can turn on those nanocytes... has used it several times to *convince* me to play ball but..."

"Bastard..."

"But that's not what I came to see you about... well, not entirely."

"Who is he?"

Skinner sighed. She had shifted forward, her eyes holding his intently. Dana Scully was like Fox Mulder in many ways...tenacious, but at least he knew that she would carry on listening to him *after* he revealed the blackmailer's name. Fox Mulder, on the other hand, would be too caught up in his own grievances to listen any further.

"Alex Krycek."

The concern on her face for Walter Skinner disappeared to be replaced by a hardness that marred her pretty features. Although Krycek had not fired the shot that killed Melissa, she still blamed him in part just for being there. She opened her mouth to say something but Skinner spoke quickly.

"There's more." He waited while she sat back, her hand bringing a tumbler of scotch to her own cherry-ripe lips. "Although the body is Alex Krycek, the mind isn't."

Confusion crossed her face followed swiftly by understanding. Since the incident in Antarctica she had become a little less disbelieving of the theories Mulder spouted almost religiously.

"The Black Oil... Mulder said it was a living entity. The blood sample from the attack on Kim showed traces of oil. Perhaps we ought to contact Mulder..."

"No. Even if I hadn't placed him on the plane myself, we couldn't use him. Krycek ordered him out of the way." Skinner halted. Not certain how he should proceed. "It revealed itself to me. Told me Alex Krycek is still in there... cowering and frightened."

Scully's eyes widened, suddenly understanding what had driven Skinner to her door and felt her own compassion rise in response. As much as both of them had heavy grievances against Krycek, neither of them could stand idly by while another human being suffered - even if that man was Alexei Krycek, super-rat. Another thought struck her. How long had this creature been controlling him? Krycek might even be innocent of all the nefarious deeds attributed to him over the past few years. Was it in control when Melissa was killed?

"Oh my God."

"Dana?"

She turned wide eyes to capture his brown, her face showing a mixture or horror and confusion.

"He.. *it* wants Mulder in Springfield. No. Hear me out." She raised a hand to forestall any interruption. "Reverse psychology... the harder the attempt to keep Mulder away, the more convinced he will be that there is something going on... and the more likely he will disobey orders and... Is this an attempt to get Mulder fired from the Bureau?"

Skinner mulled over this. Deep down, he had a gut-feeling that Dana was right. It was all too easy and using the nanocytes against him a little too much like overkill. He nodded his head slowly, eyes closed in resignation and then dragged one hand over his balding head, his fingers grasping the short strands at the nape of his neck momentarily as he allowed the tirednes and frustration to drain away. So simple. The Consortium leaders were dead, burnt to a crisp; many of their secrets dying with them. Jeffrey Spender was dead. Only Cancer man and Fox Mulder remained to thwart plans for the colonisation of Earth. Without the Bureau behind him, Mulder would be left with little clout although Skinner could not believe a little thing like that would stop the man. There had to be more to the alien's plan than just getting Mulder fired. The Colonists needed to discredit him; needed to ensure nobody would believe him. Once accomplished that left just Spender Snr and the Rebel aliens.

'I have a little unfinished business with a certain smoky bastard.'

Those were the alien's exact words and Skinner wondered whether Spender would survive the night. As to the Rebel aliens, it was suddenly clear what role Krycek had intended Walter Skinner to play in this 'game'. The creature planned to use him to bring the Rebels out into the open where they would be attacked and destroyed. Once accomplished, all the obstacles in the way of Colonisation would have been removed and the Earth would be defenceless.

"Dana, we have to kill the alien inside Krycek."

"I know."

"But I don't want to kill Krycek himself, unless there's no choice."

Her soft voice became a whisper.

"I know. What can I do to help?"

"I don't know. All I do know is Mulder's reports have always been... incomplete. Fill in the gaps for me, Dana. Forget what you believe and tell me what Fox Mulder believes."

"As I said, he believes the black oil is a carrier for an alien entity. He also believes there is a vaccine. Apparently, he used this vaccine on me in the Antarctic. He believes the vaccine kills the alien parasite."

"Then we need to get hold of this vaccine... and I know of only one starting point. CBG Spender."

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The Oilien flexed the left arm, pleased with himself for his new creation even as he wondered why he had never considered creating a replacement for the amputated limb before. Of course, there were many who knew of the amputation so turning up whole might have shed unwanted suspicion upon 'him'. Now it did not matter. All his contacts knew what he was... even AD Skinner.

AD Skinner. Such warm, delicious feelings coursed through Krycek's body at the very mention of this man. The alien allowed the body to flow with the sensations, felt the flutters in his stomach and the light-headedness as blood rushed downwards bringing him uncomfortably erect in the tight black jeans. He rubbed his right hand over the solid bulge while the fingers of his left skimmed across his chest, pinching the nipple until it tented through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. His hips circled and writhed with the additional stimuli as clever fingers pulled open the fly, releasing him from imprisonment. The rosy head sprung free and he wrapped his hand about it as visions of Walter Skinner danced through his head. He was pulling down the suit pants and briefs, pushing Skinner over his desk in that immaculate Bureau office. His fingers caressed the muscular asscheeks, pulling them apart to reveal even tighter muscle. One wetted finger slid home and the body before him thrashed and groaned for more. Krycek imagined the heat of that hot channel gripping his engorged flesh, his own fist closing tightly against his straining erection in mockery of that dream. He lost himself in the vision of Skinner's tight ass, while his hand pumped rapidly, his other hand tweaking and pulling on the nipple, the pain adding its own dimension of pleasure. When he came the shock wave radiated through his body and through his mind, rolling Alex upon a sea of pleasure with him. He howled as the wave crashed back upon him from the mind of his captured host, dragging a second dry, painful climax from the overstimulated and spent body.

Once he had regained control of himself he wiped the splatterings of semen away with a satisfied smile. Oh yes, it felt good to be whole.

"I really should have done this before... Hmm?"

The Oilien laughed at the shocked and trembling creature that had gone back into its hiding place in the deep recesses of their mind. He had never expected such passion from his host; had never experienced so strong a desire from him before. Not with Jeffrey Spender and certainly not with Marita and yet the unexpected response to his lustful fantasy of Walter Skinner had burned so brightly. Was it possible that Alex Krycek harbored his own fantasies about the authoritative, muscular figure.

The Oilien sneered wondering whether he should take this opportunity to cut a little piece more from that human soul. It almost seemed a pity that once this body had undergone hybridisation there would be no need to retain that pathetic

excuse for a human. He would exorcise the demon once and for all. The alien frowned. He had expected a thread of fear to spin its way up from the depths but instead there had been momentary hope. Could the creature finally be wishing for an end? Perhaps he should entice Alex out and give him his wish.

"No. Once my task is done then I will release you. Until then you provide such exquisite entertainment. Hmmm? Did I catch a name earlier... Marita? So you wonder what happened to that bitch. Perhaps we ought to find out once I've seen to our smoking 'friend'."

He laughed sadistically, green eyes blazing with an inner light of insanity. In some ways it would be a shame to see Colonisation begin. He enjoyed manipulating these humans, ensnaring them in a web of lies so fine and intricate that they would never realise the trap was closing until it was far too late. Even the Smoker was unaware of the plans within plans and yet much of it was simplicity itself. Poor Spender, believing himself to be in control, unaware of the constant stream of lies being fed to him as a way to ensure that nothing would stand in the way of Colonisation. Of course, by the time he did understand the role he had played the information would be of little use to him. The Oilien had been looking forward to the day when he would see that seamed face frozen in horror as the world he thought he was building for himself crashed around him. It was almost a shame that day would never come. The Smoker had become a nusiance and was no longer necessary to his plans. There were other humans in the wings waiting for a chance to fill the Smoker's shoes who would be far easier to manipulate. He would remove Spender today. He moved out of the darkly shadowed corner of the lobby and reached for the button that would call the elevator.

Alex Krycek read all of this in the alien mind. He was not shocked by how open the creature had become recently. It had become quite disdainful of his presence, often ignoring him completely and had it not just told him that he would be kept alive until the alien bored of him. A new thought entered. He had been careless. It had been able to capture some of his thoughts. He would have to be more careful in future.

//What for? What hope have I? No-one can save me.//

The alien sneered as he caught the wail of self-pity and despair.

"So pathetic. Never mind, Alex. I'm sure we can take your mind off those pitiful thoughts."

Two of the Smoker's goons stepped forward as he came out of the elevator. He stared at them, smiled as they raised weapons. A flash of light filled the corridor, radiating in all directions from the leather jacket and jeans-clad body. Krycek walked passed the fallen bodies, intently staring at each of the badly burned victims, drinking in the sight of their radiation-ravaged features and wallowing in the exclamation of horror that stabbed out of the darkness from his captured host.

He knocked at the door, ruthlessly ignoring the whimpers that came from within. No answer. Krycek drew out the glock from the waistband of his jeans and shot out the lock. A swift, brutal kick and the door slammed inwards. Krycek snarled in anger as he walked into the empty apartment. The man had been there recently, the air was filled with the scent of those smelly carcinogenic sticks he was so fond of and there a lit one resting in the ashtray by the easychair. Ahead of him he could feel the cool breeze from an open window. He raced forward and leant out, glancing in all directions but there was no sign of the Smoker. Climbing through the window he made his way down the fire escape. The metal stairs clanged with each footstep. He jumped the final six feet, landing easily like a cat and looked up and down the alleyway. With a hiss of anger, he slapped the gun against his thigh and stormed out towards the street. The old man was not that fast. He had used the fire escape long before Krycek had stepped into the corridor outside the apartment. Someone must have warned him... and the only person who knew where he was going was Walter Sergei Skinner.

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CBG Spender took a deep drag of his cigarette, eyes narrowing as the nicotine passed out of his lungs and into his bloodstream, racing to his brain to give him the heady sensation that calmed his nerves. His fingers had stopped shaking, not that the two other occupants of the car had noticed in the first place as he had managed to keep his features looking as calm and controlled as usual.

In the front seat, AD Skinner fumed as a plume of blue-tinged smoke drifted across from the back seat, the stench of cigarette smoke filling the car. He wound down the window to let in some fresh air.

"And what do you expect in return for your... good deed."

Dana Scully turned in her seat to face him, her face hard and uncompromising.

"Two things. First, a vial of the vaccine. Second. You're to leave Alex Krycek to us."

The Smoker smiled, his nicotine-stained teeth barely visible in the dimness of the car interior.

"I assume the two are connected?" He smiled when he gained no response from either and took another drag. "If this is some misguided notion to save Alex Krycek then I must remind you..."

"We don't need reminding."

"I'll have the vaccine delivered to Miss Scully in two hours. I'll give you one day for the rest. After that..."

The Smoker smiled and let the door, closing the door softly behind him. They watched until his shape was swallowed by the darkness.

Skinner tightened his lips together. Would they be able to track and capture the elusive Alex Krycek in a single day? He hoped so.

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Over to you Tara!!