Dominion Over My Soul R-1, Ursula, P-2

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Krycek collapsed in the garage. Terror and his alien rider had sustained him so far, but now he was dizzy from loss of blood and from pain. The oilien surged in his brain and his body, repairing the worst of the damage, but he was badly hurt. He smelled oil everywhere as if he was drowning in it. He wanted to scream, reminded of the first time, of having that horrible taste in his mouth, his throat filling with viscous stuff; his paralyzed nervous system unable to respond with the scream that sounded in his brain. Alex whimpered; the sound seemed so loud in the empty garage. The parasitic alien was busy keeping him alive and had no capacity left to stop the horrible pain or clamp down on his spiraling out of control fear. Alex fought himself. He needed to control this or he would be caught. One thing that the alien and he agreed upon was that they did not want that. Alex could not imagine what it would do to him to be confined with no hope of release. He knew he would lose the remnants of his sanity.

Alex had to hide. He used the car nearest to lever himself to his feet. He rested against it, his panting a harsh sound in the almost empty garage. This door was locked. He saw another one with the rubble of fast food containers on the dash. His vision telescoped to a narrow focus. It fixed on a package. It was a rolled up bag of sunflower seeds. Mulder, it was Mulder's car, Alex remembered his former partner seldom locked his car doors because his car keys were frequently lost in the debris that littered his car seats. Alex staggered the distance and caught the door handle, almost fainting. An angry interior jolt from the oilien kept him from falling. Alex yanked open the door and crawled in the seat. He searched by feel, blinded by pain and the overwhelming messages from the alien. No keys this time, Alex couldn't get up. He curled around his pain and let the blackness take him.

The next thing that he knew, someone was shaking him. He opened his eyes to the outraged face of Agent Mulder who pointed his gun at Alex as he screamed, "You bastard, you fucking bastard, did you attack Kim? Are you the one blackmailing Skinner?" Spittle from the vehemence of Mulder's tirade hit Alex's face. Alex felt his head shaking like a rag dolls. Why did Mulder always have to be so angry? It hadn't always been this way, had it?

Alex found a small moan of a voice, "Please stop. Don't hurt me. Mulder, you don't understand."

Mulder slapped him. Alex fought the alien for control. Don't incinerate him, Alex pleaded with the thing. His mind that had once been so clever searched for something to offer the creature. "He can get us out." Alex told it.

Alex must have spoken out loud because Mulder stopped man-handing him. The agent stared at Alex and asked, "Who are you talking to?"

"Mulder, the oil, the aliens," Alex got out before the creature stirred to it's own defense.

Mulder still held onto him, but the grip was more supportive now. The handsome face with it's crooked nose and soft mouth frowned. The hazel eyes were puzzled. "Krycek, what are you doing here?" Mulder held onto him with one hand as the other fumbled for something. His gun? No, it was his mobile phone.

Together for once in their instincts, the oilien and Alex lashed out, grabbing Mulder by the neck. His lips pressed forcibly to Mulder's mouth, opening Mulder's lips, kissing him. Alex almost remembered something about this, something from another time, but this was not an exchange of affection or an expression of lust. He felt Mulder's body freeze as the oilien forced itself out of Alex's mouth in nauseating waves. Alex choked as it crawled out of him, feeling relief and fear equally. Was he beyond repair and was the alien jumping ship? Alex couldn't stop this from happening. He watched the blackness roll up in Mulder's eyes. Alex fell back empty, discarded for now.

Mulder's arms and legs jerked spasmodically for a moment and he drooled black saliva. When he stood up, his face was even more blank then usual. He moved in a jerky fashion then, as the oilien gained skill, he was preternaturally graceful. Mulder opened the trunk of the car. He reached for Alex, lifting him up. It hurt as if parts of him were jarred loose inside. Alex bit his lip, tasting more dregs of oil left there. Mulder carried Alex to the back of the car, setting him down. He arranged Alex's body to curl into the space, ignoring the half smothered cries of agony. Alex screamed or tried to scream but no sound emerged from his oil burned throat. Mulder shut the lid leaving Alex alone in the cool darkness, only the dregs of his rider for company. Self-preservation kept him quiet, but he stuffed his leather glove in his mouth, biting down hard to keep the mewling sounds of panic from escaping.

From the trunk, Alex heard Mulder's toneless voice berating a guard. The man wanted to search the car but Mulder screamed, "I'm a trained agent. Who the hell do you think that you are? Wouldn't I know if someone had hidden in my car? If I'm late for my flight, I will make your life hell, I promise." The guard gave into the tantrum-throwing FBI agent's demands and let his car pass without searching it.

Alex went out for a while after that. He felt a little better when he woke. His nose told him that he was home. He could smell the cleaning things that he used, the faint trace of the tea that he had spilled this morning, and the slightly musty odor he could not get out of this hovel no matter how he tried. The lump from the loose spring in his couch told him where he lay. The minor discomfort was a distraction from the larger array of misery. Alex felt safe to open his eyes and saw Mulder, hovering over him. Mulder still looked blank and Alex could see little of the agent's personally in the flat expression so incongruous with the lovely hazel eyes. Alex realized that he wasn't dead unless hell was this cheap apartment and Satan wore Mulder's face. Alex moved away from the bump, costing himself a cry of pain. He shivered in the cold; it was always cold in this place and Mulder had undressed him to the waist.

Mulder sat on the rickety kitchen chair, his jacket over the back and his sleeves rolled up. He wore a pair of the surgical gloves that Alex bought by the gross. There was Alex's biggest pot, sitting on the sturdy, smooth-worn stool that Alex had bought from a junk store. The pot was a copper-clad monster he had purchased from a cooking store one day when he had decided he should learn to cook. He had never really used it and now, Mulder had filled it with water. Alex could see the steam rising from the pot into the chill air. Mulder had a washcloth, the big bottle of antiseptic soap, and Alex's well-filled first aid kit. Shit, this was going to hurt.

Alex looked to see if Mulder's panicked soul peeked out through the alien sheen. He wasn't sure. Hell, Mulder was so weird that he might like having an alien crawling around inside of him. Still, in case his former partner might hear, Alex said, "Mulder, I'm sorry it took you."

Mulder said nothing in response. He braced Alex with his hand and washed his wounds with impersonal care. Alex groaned and gasped as the harsh antiseptics slopped into his raw flesh. He passed out for a while and woke with Mulder staring at him. Then, Alex's former partner leaned closer, pressed his mouth in that obscene travesty of a kiss and the oilien oozed back into him. Mulder slumped for a moment and then stumbled away from him, jerked like a puppet through the door. Alex could feel the alien again speeding his metabolism, forcing it into overdrive as it sought to repair its vehicle. His foot kicked out in protest, overturning the stool and sending the pot clattering. Alex heard the tenant below, thumping on the ceiling and yelling, "Enough up there."

Alex closed his eyes in exhaustion. He was going to have to move out of this rat hole. That or kill the guy who lived below him, maybe both. In the meantime, Alex let the oilien take the fore front of his mind. It didn't experience pain or at least not as Alex felt it. Let it cope with it's own consequences for once. Alex was so tired, so very tired.


Walter Skinner growled at the lab tech, "What do you mean the sample was contaminated? I know it was brought straight here in a sterile container."

The tech, a nervous thin man with big buckteeth and pock marked cheeks, said, "I know, sir, but there is oil in the blood and some trace elements."

"What?" inquired a familiar smooth voice.

"Agent Scully, what are you doing here?" Skinner snapped.

Scully said, "I heard about Kim and I came back. I thought I might help. Can I see that report?" She almost grabbed it from the cowed technician. Scully wore protective glasses, a paper cap, disposable gown and gloves. Her mouth tightened and she said, "I've seen this before."

Skinner was fascinated as he saw the woman, he had seen in a few treasured moments as a passionate creature who was lost in their mutual pleasure, transformed into a creature of pure intellect. A tiny curl of her red hair was emerging from her tightly fitting sterile cap. Skinner didn't know if the twitch he suppressed in his fingers was the urge to tuck it in for her or to tumble the rest of that auburn blaze around her serious face.

Scully grimaced and said, "Remember when Cardinale shot you? There were the burn victims that appeared to have been exposed to radioactivity. Several of them had contaminates in their blood like this." She walked over to the monitor on the desk and thumped it. "I found some similar traces in the tissues from that nursing home with the mysterious deaths. You remember? When Mulder was in Russia?"

How could Skinner forget? He had felt so helpless and so furious at Mulder for running off with Krycek the way that he had, leaving Scully and he to deal with the consequences of his actions as always. The sight of Scully in that jail cell had made him want badly to do something as asinine as Mulder's impulsive actions. Something dramatic like breaking Scully out of jail and fleeing to...

"Sir?" Scully's voice dragged him back to reality. Scully pushed at her protective lenses. "Are you all right?"

Skinner said, "Just thinking."

Scully nodded and walked over to the nervous lab man. The man could not take his eyes from her, his white lashed eyelids blinked constantly as he gazed at Scully. Skinner glanced at the man's face; he remembered hearing the man report at a section meeting. He had thought the shy, pale man would faint before finishing his presentation. The man had a long throat as scrawny as the neck of a plucked chicken. His Adam's apple was as big as a goose's egg and it bobbed as he swallowed. Dobyns, that was his name. Skinner concluded the man was as smitten as poor Pendrell had been; he could wish the man luck. Scully's favors were not easily gained. She preferred men as strong as she was and, of those, there were few. Skinner wished that he still could feel that he was the one, but he couldn't. Krycek had him twisting by the balls.

Scully asked, "Sir, are you sure that you're all right? You look odd."

Skinner nodded and said, "Just worried about Ms. Smithers."

Scully wasn't easy to fool, certainly not after years of coping with Mulder, who wouldn't tell you honestly if he brushed his teeth in the morning. Skinner could see the wheels turning in behind the picture perfect make-up. He knew he had to be careful. He couldn't let that bastard Krycek to her again.

Skinner said, "I feel responsible. Of all places, she should have been safe here."

His guilt, honestly generated if not exactly for the reason that he had stated, worked. Scully patted his arm and said, "You can't control everything, Sir."

Scully moved back on track and asked Dobyns, "Is the blood matched yet?"

The man was stricken dumb for an embarrassingly long moment. Scully frowned at him, perplexed. One thing that Skinner loved about Scully, she never seemed to know the effect she had on people. "Dobyns?"

"What? Oh, yeah, the lab tests. I put them on rush. We should know soon, if this guy's blood is on file, we'd be able to tell you what color of socks he was wearing."

Scully's brow rose, a much prettier echo of Mr. Spock's, as she replied, "Why would we want to know that?"

The lab tech blushed and he said, "Uh, I was exaggerating."

Scully laughed and said, "Relax, I knew that."

Skinner said, "So in the mean time, Agent Scully, you need some rest and so do I."

Scully's lips twitched in a Mulder like expression, but she left it alone, not as brash as her partner. Still, she said, "I need to talk to you first." She looked at Dobyns and said, "Alone."

The lab-man stammered, "Sure, my place is your place. I'll go hurry that computer run."

Scully moved away from the computer, ridding herself of the lab gear. She shook her hair free as she pulled off the cap. Lovely, that sight was always something Skinner enjoyed as if the scientist was releasing the woman.
Scully balled up the lab coat and threw it in a bin. She seemed restless which was a sure sign that her sharp mind had observed more then she could consciously process immediately. That worried Skinner. Scully, in her own way, could be as obsessive as Mulder and, she was astute. If she had one clue that Krycek was involved she would pursue it. Skinner wondered if he should somehow stop this before they matched the blood sample to Krycek?

Scully said, "Sir, I know that something is wrong. Why can't you tell me?"

Skinner pinched the bridge of his nose. He had a headache again, perhaps an aftereffect of Krycek's torture. He wanted to make sure the building was secure and then, take care of the blood sample before Krycek found out about it. There had been a lot of blood. Skinner wished he thought that the slime was dead, but he couldn't believe it. The rat always came back. Skinner sent a wish that Krycek was holed up somewhere, hopefully, in pain as bad as he had inflicted on him.

Skinner said, "Don't act like Mulder, Scully. If we are friends, respect me. Believe that if there was something I could tell you, that I would. About meeting you for dinner, you understand that after what happened to Kim, I can't leave until I'm satisfied that every effort has been made to find the man who attacked her." With a swift glance around to make sure that no one saw; Skinner brushed Scully's cheek gently, hoping he could convey everything he felt in this touch.

Scully took his hand as it left her face. She squeezed his fingers, her small hand surprisingly strong around his massive one. She said, "All right, just know, if you need my help in any way, I'm here."

Skinner said, "I know. I appreciate it. I really do. Be careful, even more careful than usual. I wish I could put some security around you as I ordered for Ms. Smithers."

Skinner watched her leave. Mulder was an idiot not to pursue her. Skinner always felt that Scully had turned to him because her beloved partner was so single minded that he could not see her as a woman, who was as kind as she was beautiful and who was so very human, not a goddess who wanted to stand on some pedestal. Skinner had seen that and he had touched, oh God, how they had touched until Krycek came to play puppet master. He wouldn't risk Scully to him, that arch-demon who tormented even his deepest thoughts.

Skinner reprimanded himself. He had things to do and thoughts of Scully and Krycek could not interfere. That pairing of ideas froze him briefly. What was it about the two that made the thought seem natural? Skinner didn't want to explore that thought.

Skinner checked with security. They had found nothing in the building. Skinner asked, "Did you search every car as I ordered?"

One of the team blushed and admitted, "Uh, Agent Mulder was leaving and he said that he was going to miss his flight. He was pretty irate so I just waved him on."

Skinner noted the man's name, Ted Myers, and said, "Agent Meyers, when I say search every vehicle; I mean, search every vehicle. Consider yourself on report." He waited for this to register on the beefy face. The man nodded and looked at his scuffed shoes until Skinner had moved on.

Skinner sat in his office, working on paperwork, until he was sure that everyone had gone home. Even the most ardent blue flamer had gone home when he made the final check of the halls. He disabled the security system, looping the tape so his intrusion would go unnoticed. Skinner used gloves to retrieve the information. His earlier visit meant he didn't have to worry about other evidence.

The blood samples had been carefully labeled. He took them and placed them in padded containers. He would have to destroy the larger samples, but the prepared slides would keep. He looked at one curiously, wondering about the contamination. What had happened to Krycek? He hated to stop the laboratory tests. What if there was something he could use against Krycek as Krycek used the nanotechnology against him.

Skinner searched the lab carefully, making sure that no one had made a back-up disc. He knew Scully had not had time to do so and, apparently, Dobyns was not paranoid. After tomorrow when he discovered that someone had erased all the information about the blood sample and the inquiry for a match, he might learn not to be so trustful. Skinner skimmed rapidly through the directories, checking for any related files. When he was satisfied that he had every possible entry identified, Skinner saved the information to disc. He pocketed the information with a wry smile. Perhaps, there would come a day when two could play Krycek's nasty game. After depositing all the blood samples except the two slides in a hospital dumpster, Skinner stopped at a postal box that he rented in an unlikely part of town. This twenty-four hour drop always smelled rank as if someone had pissed in a corner and it had never been cleaned. However, even Krycek would not suspect Skinner of this subterfuge. Skinner looked forward to a day when he could rat out the rat. Even if he went down with Krycek, it might be worth it.

Skinner went home. It was no longer the Crystal City address. He had moved right after Krycek had thrown the courier off the balcony. He hadn't been evicted. It was more like a pointed suggestion from the management. It was all right. He had found this duplex and liked it. It was private and, with the other side currently unoccupied, it was even more so. The furnishings were bland. He had walked into a moderately upscale design store, looked at one or two floor settings and had chosen the less frilly of the two. He didn't care what the snot of a store clerk had thought. He wanted a place that was reasonably comfortable and in which, he could meet his few friends without concern about it's appearance. Skinner straightened a patterned cushion and folded a newspaper. The cleaning women hadn't been in today, but she would be here tomorrow. Skinner never let it get too untidy between her efforts. He liked his life in order and at least he could control this little piece of his existence to his satisfaction.

Skinner went into the shower, again thinking about the man who had wrested almost total control from his life. Krycek, he thought with distaste, remembering that night.

After Mulder had left, he had gone back out on the balcony, staring down at Krycek who had refused to meet his eyes as he slumped, his lips blue with cold, as he sat shivering on the balcony. Skinner had wrenched the man to his feet and he had fully intended to exact a full measure of revenge. Krycek had struggled when he had seen Skinner's expression. Skinner had pinned him with his body weight, pressing him back into the rail. He remembered the writhing and then the slow, hot response of his body, the leap of his cock as he thought that the wayward double agent was entirely in his power. Krycek's eyes, his lovely green eyes, had widened as Skinner's erection bobbed against his concave stomach. Skinner had looked into eyes that conveyed trepidation, loathing, and resignation. His conscience snapped down hard. He had dropped Krycek and backed away from him as if he had the plague. Skinner had not seen the man again until the agent showed up with the palm pilot and a threat.

Skinner hadn't even realized that he had been stroking his cock until a leap of pleasure nearly sent him to his knees. He looked down at his erection with self-disgust, closed his eyes and gave in to the thought of raping Krycek, of making the man take every inch of his cock. He concentrated on how that body would struggle under his, and then the sweet moment as Krycek would realize that he was as defenseless as he had made Skinner so many times. Skinner squeezed his fist tightly over his throbbing flesh for a moment, fisting himself almost to the point of discomfort. That was how tight he imagined Krycek would be. He stroked quickly with one hand as the other turned the setting of the shower to a pulse of warmth. Krycek's inner self would be so hot. He braced himself back, filling his mind with his favorite fantasy of revenge. His voice rumbled in the loneliness of his apartment, telling his invisible victim, "Take it, just take it" Skinner came with a force that left him weak-kneed, leaning against the shower wall for support. He stayed there until the water pelted him with stingingly cold jets, a punishment for his thoughts.