Dominion Over My Soul: R2-Part 2 -Ursula
The oilien chose Mulder's apartment for his refuge. Why not? His host had been to this apartment many times and should the Mulder return, the oilien took a twisted pleasure in knowing he could occupy the FBI agent.
Alex thought the apartment hadn't changed a bit. Hell, he almost could call that dust bunny, which lay under that chest with the raised legs, by name. He'd fallen asleep on that couch one day when Mulder dragged him here on a Sunday to work on a case. He had noticed the dust as he sank lower into the worn leather just before he closed his eyes to rest them.
Being here brought back memories, Alex recalled a day before everything was ruined. They had been working on a case file and things felt so intimate. Alex hoped that Mulder would yawn and stretch, accidentally getting an arm around him then, they would have to kiss, wouldn't they? Ha, instead, they had read the file, going over and over the details as Alex took notes. At one point, Mulder had mumbled something about a shower and Alex had closed his eyes to rest them. Alex remembered waking with Mulder standing above him, damp and pretty from the shower. Alex had wanted to taste the droplet of water that had slowly caressed its way down Mulder's face. The eyes had been soft in that moment and Alex had hoped, but Mulder had just said, "Alex, I'm sorry. You're exhausted. We can work on this tomorrow. Go home."
So nothing had happened, nothing that could have changed the past and it didn’t matter that Alex had wanted someone, Mulder, Skinner, or Scully, to reach out to him and tell him how to get out of the mess he had been in with the smoker. In the end, Alex’s life was destroyed right along side of the three people that he most respected in the world. And he was here, back in Mulder’s apartment, the unwilling vehicle for a monster from outer space, just like a character in one of Mulder’s dumb science fiction movies..
Alex could feel the oilien's displeasure with him, with his body. His leg felt like fire where Scully had rammed the needle home. It was like a live coal at the site of the injection and tendrils of fire reached deeper and deeper into his body. Alex lurched up, driven by terrible waves of stomach cramps. He had pulled Mulder's blanket across him when the oilien let him sit down. Now a fold tangled with his legs and he tripped hitting his head. The oilien hissed inside his brain, sending another wave of agony. Alex screamed before the oilien took over and clamped down on his throat muscles.
Stumbling, dragging his leg like behind him like a rat dragging a trap, Alex lurched and fell several times then he crawled the rest of the way.
Oh, god, there was mold around the toilet tank...and that was all it took. His stomach tried to yield its lining as he retched and vomited, clinging to the stinking sides of that toilet bowl. With horrid fascination, Alex watched the vomit take on a grayish black hue. The oilien grabbed at a thick drool of the charcoal colored stuff, trying to force it back into Alex's mouth. The oilien ripped at his mind, trying to steal information from his brain. It wanted something to make the vomiting stop before its substance was expelled.
Alex watched his hands searching through the medicine cabinet. He was so tired and the oilien wasn't shielding him from the pain any more. Part of him was glad that it was suffering too.
Alex tried to wall away his mind, …loosing himself in a fantasy of a huge, white, soft bed in which he lay naked with Skinner and Scully. Yes, oh, yes, she was stroking him with her small, but strong hands, those smooth palms sliding over him, guiding him into her and behind him he felt Skinner touching him, his strong hands gripping Alex's hips, his huge hard cock sliding into him as he entered Dana. And they both were hungry for him, wanting him, devouring him with kisses and taking everything he had to give...he could hear her laugh, a pretty light laugh he heard from the office one day when he and Mulder had been partners. Skinner growling, but not angry with him, no, calling him, "Boy," but it was okay. Alex shivered with pleasure as he imagined that commanding voice saying, "You want, more, boy?"…
The oilien wrenched him from his blocking fantasy. Alex screamed as his mind caught fire with the alien's fury. Alex stared blearily at a jumble of prescriptions. He read labels, sleeping pills, stomach medicine, antibiotics, fuck, he didn't know what would help, but if the thing didn't leave him alone, the pain was going to drive him mad. He blindly reached for drugs, scattering bottles, all over the place. He struggled with the childproof lid on a golden plastic jar until his hand simply crushed it. He took a handful of pills, wanting to placate the creature. He choked on the pills and leaned over to drink handfuls of water from the sink. The Oilien shrieked in his head, sending wave upon wave of pain. Alex staggered out of the bathroom as the drugs he had taken took effect. He felt a tremor start in his leg and work its way up until his spine crackled with convulsive jerks. He fell in the doorway and ashamedly felt his bowels release a flood of stench. His guts twisted in an agonized knot and he hoped, god, he hoped, that this time the thing would really let him die.
…Skinner’s Car…
Skinner drove wearily toward home. Dana was looking out the window, looking angrier by the moment. She had straightened her clothing and brushed her hair back into its smooth glory of red fire. Skinner said, "I'm sorry your mother's out of town, Dana. Are you sure that you wouldn't rather go to a friend's house?"
Dana said, "Right, and have to explain why I can't report a rape attempt? With my friends? They'd haul me down for an assessment on the spot. I can deal with this, Walter, and I would rather be with you. What's the problem? Can't you handle it? Yes, I feel horrible. I want to get in a shower and scrub every touch of that creature from my skin. I want to scream. I want to take my gun and shoot something, but whom should I blame? That wasn't Krycek. I felt sorry for him. I actually felt sorry for him..."
Scully looked away and pressed her fist against her mouth, her face mask-like, facial muscles tightly drawn, and her fair complexion gray with fatigue and stress. Skinner had never felt so powerless in his life, not even when he was dying of the nanobytes. He had been unable to protect Dana again. He clenched the steering wheel in his rage until Dana reached over to stroke his arm and said; "Don't take it out on the road, Walter. An accident is not what we need."
"I should have stopped him before he touched you." Skinner said. "Krycek had his fucking hands all over our lives since he walked in to door of the bureau."
"But that wasn't him." Dana said, "In a way, he's more violated than I was. Can you imagine how it feels to have that thing in you? Crawling around in your skull? Dictating your life?"
Thinking about the creatures in his blood stream, Skinner said, "I do know. And I hate it." As he approached his duplex, Skinner muttered, "What the hell?"
The place was swarming with police. Neighbors chattered, hovering vulture-like in the distance. A yellow crime scene tape already flickered in the mild breeze. An ambulance was pulled up on his meager lawn. Skinner gasped as he saw a body being loaded onto it. A young man was being softly restrained as he tried to follow the gurney. He recognized, Terry Cooper, his cleaning lady's oldest son, who sometimes drove her to her appointments. Terry was usually a cheerful young man, not quick-witted by any means, but a hard worker and adoring of his tiny energetic mother. As Terry spotted him, the scrawny man flew at him, fists pounding, spittle flying as he screamed, "It's your fault that she's dead! It's your fault."
Skinner winced as one of the wild blows of the sharp knuckled hands struck home against his cheek. He shouted, "Terry, Terry, calm down, Come on, tell me what happened."
The young man suddenly dissolved into tears and he said, "My mom...Babs is dead! I came to get her and I knocked. The door was open and she was all bloody. I did just like she said, I called 911 and then I tried to make her breath only I must have done it wrong because it didn't work and she's dead!"
Police officers arrived with that pointer at the game bird expression on their faces. Skinner quickly announced, "I'm assistant director Walter Skinner, of the FBI. That's my home." A ruddy faced and somewhat out of shape officer led Terry Cooper away, the young man wiped tears and his nose on his sleeve. His spindly legs wobbled as if he was about to faint. Skinner felt a paralyzing horror and guilt. Babs Cooper had been the mother of three and the twenty-year old son, Terry, was going to have a hard time caring for the two orphaned sisters. Babs' only crime was to take the cleaning job for him. Skinner knew it was Krycek, the alien, but he knew he couldn't start to explain this to the police. Mulder had already proved that people who ran around shouting about alien invasions landed in locked rooms on psychiatric wards.
As he showed his identification, another officer questioned Scully. Skinner waved his hand in her direction and said, "Special Agent Scully and I were discussing a case. We have been together most of the day."
The swarthy-faced officer grinned, showing yellow stained teeth. His thick red lips parted and he licked his thick lump of a tongue over them, leaving a shiny trail. He commented, "Yeah, I bet you really staff those cases hard with the redhead."
Skinner said, "What's your name, officer?"
"Paul Rudd." The man answered, his dark eyes glaring under his one bushy brow.
Skinner drew on his best AD voice; the one that junior agents claimed gave him his name. He said, "Officer Rudd, I will ignore the overtones of your last remark if it is the last of that nature. Should I hear one more statement that insinuates anything about my agent's or my own character or behavior, I will see to it that you never get a job as a night watchman of a dumpster!" Skinner watched, his body posturing a bullish challenge to the upstart calf.
The man backed down and said, "I'm sorry, sir. Let me take your statement. It looks as if someone was searching the house when Mrs. Cooper interrupted. You'll have to go over it and tell us if anything has been taken."
Skinner's home bore evidence of a frantic and through search. In his bedroom, a drawer lay across the room from his dresser; a festoon of clothing trailed its progress. Many feet had trampled his possessions. His favorite bookcase, with his sacred first editions, was turned over. His chessboard, the one that had held his E-mail correspondence game with his old friend, Frank Black, had been thrown against the window. Even the refrigerator had been trashed, left open with foodstuffs spilling on the floor. The pervasive traces of fingerprint powder were everywhere.
Skinner grunted in dismay and shook his head. He said, "Well, this doesn't look like the work of a professional. He or they must have been in a rage or insane. What's the search status? Can I start to clean this or do they still need more time?"
A tall slim woman heard his question and walked over. She said, "Mr. Skinner, I'm Carla Dancer, the detective in charge of this case. My teams will be through in a few hours. I'll have someone clean up the kitchen at least before they leave. I'm sure Officer Rudd will see to that." She smiled evilly at the surly brute. She gestured toward the kitchen counter and said, "We need to talk." Skinner looked at his smashed coffee pot and ruefully stated, "It looks as if offering you coffee is not an option."
The woman nodded and said, "This looks as if some sort of mindless phenomena moved through here leaving a wreck behind. I heard what you said about this not looking like a professional job." Her cool gray eyes glanced about and she nodded. Skinner liked the intelligence and the force of personality reflected in her expression and manner.
Detective Dancer was a tall woman with her light brown hair twisted in a coronet of braids. She had a narrow, strong-featured face, not unattractive, but as clean a profile as a Roman cameo of a Vestal Virgin. Her neck was very long and graceful. She wore a light blue suit that revealed long, leanly developed legs as if she were the dancer her name suggested. Skinner made a mental note of her name. He would bet she was ambitious and she was the type he would recruit for the FBI academy in better times.
Dancer said, "In many ways, the search was professional. It was meticulous and imaginative. Ms. Scully mentioned that you were working on a case. Could this search and the subsequent homicide be a result of this investigation?"
Skinner said, " A short while ago, my secretary was assaulted on a stairway at the FBI building. Fortunately, she survived, but she didn't recall any significant details. I take it personally when my staff members aren't safe in our own office building. That was the case that Scully and I were discussing." Skinner thought that it was damn lucky that he was with Scully or he would most likely be downtown for this interrogation."
Dancer asked, "Is it likely that these events are connected?" She lifted her carefully sculptured brows in inquiry.
Skinner hated this. He hated obstructing justice, fogging over details. He sighed and answered, "We don't have any leads, but it seemed wise to go over the cases where I have been closely involved interest in recent history. I did have one case where Kim was also a focus, but the suspect is now deceased. I'll forward the case file so you can have a look. I really can't pin these events to anything else."
Dancer asked, "Could it have been something about the victim personally? Could your residence have been only involved possibly for the reason that Cooper was here?"
Skinner said, "It's possible although I did a background on Mrs. Cooper. She has a spotless record. Her only appearance in police files was as the victim of domestic violence. Her ex-husband is serving time for assault; currently he's doing time for attacking a guard during the first term that he served. She has had no contact with him for many years. Terry, her oldest, is a bit slow, but he works as a stock clerk and is a good employee and from everything that I have seen, he is a caring, responsible son as well. There is an eight-year old daughter and a thirteen-year old daughter. I'll be helping the family if they will let me. They don't have any extended family as far as Mrs. Cooper mentioned."
Scully had entered the kitchen, looking swiftly around at the disaster that surrounded them. She said, "Assistant Director Skinner? I had a call from my mother. She needs me to do something for her and I was wondering if you would be available to drive me as I left my car at home?"
Dancer said, "Certainly, you can go, Mr. Skinner. We'll secure the place when we leave. I'll review those case files and then we will have to talk again."
Skinner drove into a covered parking area and found a well-hidden spot. Skinner had purchased a bug chaser from an old friend who sold surveillance and anti-surveillance equipment. This device was a step up from what he sold from his web site. Skinner had been surprised at what a good living his old Vietnam buddy now made. Paranoia was big business. Skinner had a good reason for his fear though and this device was one of his few ways of fighting back.
Scully said, "I don't know. I just had a call from someone who sounded as if they were using a voice distortion program. They just said that they knew Mulder and that he had sent some evidence to my apartment. I think we better have a look...I'm sure the alien is long gone by now."
Skinner nodded, but he said, "We'll still be very cautious when we approach, Scully."
Dana nodded and said, "Very. Do you think Krycek was the one that killed poor Mrs. Cooper? I feel so sorry for Terry. I talked to him a little and he is calming down. He is overwhelmed with all the responsibilities. I said we would help him with the arrangements and expensed and he was very relieved."
Skinner sighed and said, "As far as I am concerned, those little girls will be one of my responsibilities until they are grown. It's my fault they will grow up without a mother."
Scully shook her head and said, "You had no way of knowing. The oilien is out of control. I have a feeling that something is causing it to behave in an erratic fashion. If the other aliens were as rash as this one, I don't think they could have kept their plans secret for this long. This might be something we can exploit, a weakness." She looked at him and the glitter of fierce determination in her eyes struck a note in Skinner's soul. Scully was one hell of a woman.
...Mulder’s Apartment…
The oilien looked up at a wrong specimen of human male. When his kind took over, they would eliminate all unattractive members of the species. They would choose the best bodies and minds to breed as cattle. Bodies like the Alex body, the Mulder body and the other attractive bright humans would be chosen and the rest would be eliminated.
This one had shed much of his scrofulous looking dingy hair, leaving just a fringe at the back of his head. He had thick glasses, dirty and scratched. His pale eyes were small and close together. His nose was too big and his face was all unaesthetic angles. However, he smelled healthy beneath the ripe human odors that seemed so redolent on this specimen. The oilien had enough of the beautiful Alex's body if it was going to be so sickly. Normally, his kind wouldn't fear a dying host; they could exist outside the body for eons. However, this body was poisoning him.
"Fucking weird," the creature marveled. "Now, what are you doing on Mulder's bathroom floor? Alex, fucking, Krycek! Damn, what a smell!"
When the human leaned down to search him, the oilien reached out with the last of his strength and forced the garlic tasting mouth to his. The man immediately tried to break lose, spluttering curses, and shoving at Krycek's body. Survive! Surviving was all that mattered. The oilien sensed the clean blood stream of this body and he forced his mass out of Alex and into the broad, frog like mouth of this intruder. He quickly fought the sharply focused intelligence inside that unseemly skull for dominance. He wrapped filaments of his being around the rebellious nervous system as the body kicked and pummeled his former host in futile efforts to get away. His primitive sensors signaled safety, completion. The oilien sank back on his new vehicle's heels.
The oilien quickly catalogued the body that he wore and ravaged through the memory. Hmm, this body was not young, but it was stronger then it looked and the mind, it was packed with information and there were many skills from breaking and entering to vast amounts of technical information about the primitive computer systems that humans used. Curiously, the oilien explored the part of the mind that was preoccupied with sex. This creature had not had partnered sex for a long time unless the odd images of watching others of its species engage in sex on audio visual delivery systems counted.
Perhaps, he would indulge in his own curiosity and take care of that physical need before he pursued turning the Alex body over to the red haired doctor for repairs. The oilien had learned that the human body worked better when its needs were satisfied and non-reproductive sex was one of those needs.
Grunting with effort, the Frohike body pulled the oilien's former host over the bathtub. His host stirred feebly and when his eyes focused on the oilien's new host, he gasped and said, "Oh God, Frohike, I am so sorry."
The oilien slapped Alex's face and grunted, "Shut up. You are still mine, Alex and I am going to prove that I don't need to ride you to have you."
The oilien sprayed the filth off Alex's body with jets from a hand held shower. After the worst was gone, he lavished the body with liquid shower soap, cleaning the skin until it gleamed and shone. His former host continued to jerk and shiver as the water sprayed away his dirt. The oilien noted from this new body's response that Alex was, as he thought, an exceptional specimen of his gender. The alien played with the lust that his new host felt, building it until his new body was afire with urgency.
‘Rewards,’ he whispered, to the horrified intelligence that gibbered in his head. ‘This body to start with, this body to lay under you and to satisfy you and in the future,’ the alien found Frohike's images of the female doctor and fed them back. ‘Yes, you will have her, naked, wanton, moaning for your sex.’ He pictured the female, as she had been on that table, helpless and smelling of her previous arousal for the large dominant human male. His host reacted with horror. These creatures were so confusing, the oilien thought. Offer them what they clearly want and it is never enough. This whole thing about mating for non-reproductive reasons was very odd; yet, the oilien was beginning to understand. He focused his new host on his old one and was pleased to read that the Frohike was not squeamish about consent when it came to Alex's body. Apparently, Alex was hated enough that it didn't matter what he thought about the matter.
The oilien laid Alex on the bed as he disrobed his new body. This was an odd shape. The chest was deep and very hairy. The stomach was slack, but the arms and legs were powerful although the lower limbs were short and bowed. The male organ was impressive. It stood hugely from an enormous bush of dun colored hair, it was much larger then Alex's penis; possibly bigger then Skinner's cock which was Alex's measure of impressive male organs.
The oilien climbed on the bed, lying atop Alex's body. He stared into the eyes, which were a soft green with blue and brown highlights. He laughed and said, "Mine, Alex, you will always be mine." He tasted his own substance in the mouth and it delighted him. He sensed Alex's fear and almost responded by pushing his substance back into the mouth until he detected the poison still working in the body. No, he would wait until the doctor had cured his preferred host and then he would take him back. In the meantime, he slavered over the salty-sweet skin of his trembling vassal, nipping his way down, noting the familiar chemical odors of the flesh. As he came to the vestigial nipples, he tasted them, wondering why these mammals attached such great interest to what was mostly a useless body part. Perhaps, he would alter males to give milk like the females so at least this suckling instinct would have a use.
Alex was lying rigid, his hands clutching the covers and his face turned away from the new host. Spitefully, the oilien bit hard enough to draw blood, taking pleasure in the scream of pain. He bit again and then moved up to insert his host's large organ in Alex's whimpering mouth. He pushed it in and out, noting that he took greater pleasure in this activity with Alex than he had with the blond woman aboard that ship.
The oilien pulled his host's penis out of Alex's mouth and urgently positioned Alex to penetrate his anus. Alex said weakly, "No, wait! Not like that: you don't just do it like that! You have to use something and wear a condom. Please, just wait. Look, ask Frohike, he'll tell you what to do."
The oilien noted with amusement his host was feeling guilty now and frantically was trying to quell his arousal. The oilien replied to Alex's request by jerking the man's hips up and pushing his substantial penis inside the orifice. It was surprised at the sensations now that he did this with his consciousness in the forefront of his host's nerve center. Alex screamed and struggled under him. The oilien noted that this enhanced his sensations. This was very enjoyable. He pushed in and out, noting that some of his own oily substance remained despite the bath and mingled with the blood from the rips he made in Alex's flesh. Alex begged in a high pitched voice, "Stop, please, stop."
Of course, the alien had no intention of stopping. He engaged his receptors firmly into the pleasure centers of his host and rode the orgasm that resulted from his thrusts. He pulled out, letting some of his host's semen mark the pale flesh of his vassal. He rolled off the bed and stood over Alex, noting the blood on his thighs and the helpless little sounds he made as he lay shivering on the bed. He enjoyed the way Alex's fingers clenched and unclenched on the bed, digging in to the bedding as if trying to find a refuge. He should have thought of this long ago. His original host had displeased him with his rebellions and his stubborn refusal to go mad as happened to many of the humans after his kind rode them. Although he would like to do this act again with Alex, for now, he would let the woman doctor attend him. She had made the oilien's toy nonfunctional and she had better undo it.
The woman's phone number was in this new host's brain. The oilien left Alex moaning on the bed and went to the living room to pick up a phone. He wanted to keep his new host's identity a secret so he used a distorted voice that she would not recognize. The doctor answered after many rings and asked, "Mulder? Is that you?"
The alien used his unnaturally created voice and said, "Scully, this is a friend of Mulder's. I am going to drop an important package at your apartment. I suggest that you be there to receive it."
‘Why look at this!’ The alien was amused. Alex had managed to pull on some clothing and was trying to crawl away to the door. The alien put a tennis shoed foot over Alex's head and briefly considered crushing his skull, but again, Alex was a never-ending source of amusement. He would only regret the small indulgence later. The oilien leaned down and pulled Alex to his feet. He whispered, "My little earthly bug, you don't want to make me angry. You may not like your nice new arm as much as the original, but I assure you, you will feel it if I cut it off again. Now, are you going to be a good boy?" The alien waggled Alex's chin just as he had seen the smoker do before he realized that Alex was no longer the boy he had threatened and manipulated into disgrace.
Alex whispered, "Yeah, yes, oh please..."
The oilien regretted that it did not currently have the resources to investigate his former host's contamination personally, but the consortium had lost many scientists to mishaps, arrests, and really lacked the resources to find a cure for the interaction of the serum with Alex's body. He would allow Scully and Skinner to care for his slave and then, when they found a way to cure him; he would take him back, hopefully with the antidote to the vaccine incubating in his body.
…Shortly after the oilien’s telephone call…
Upon their return to Scully's apartment, Skinner went in first, using the crab-like movements of any law enforcement under fire. He wished that he was wearing armor, but made due with his Vietnam-honed survival techniques. He had made it out of there with his sanity and most of his body intact and damned if he was going to die in anyone's kitchen.
The signs of the earlier struggle were untouched. He winced as a loud snap told that he had stepped on the remains of the syringe. Nothing happened as a result so he crept forward, minimizing the opportunities to shoot by hugging the walls and using corners.
He ducked his head in and out so he could get a quick look in the living room. He saw Krycek huddled on the floor, softly moaning and waited to see if the man would move or if someone else waited in ambush.
Krycek continued to softly utter his barely audible sighs of pain. His body quivered with little contractions of pain, drawing his long legs up against his torso until he was nearly in a fetal position. Skinner yelled, "Krycek, throw down your gun."
The man's voice quavered as he replied, "Skinner? Sir, I'm not armed and it's gone. It's not in me anymore."
Skinner cautiously edged out, ready to duck for cover at any movement or sound. There was nothing but the fretful, almost panting breaths from the man on the floor. He walked over and kicked Krycek into a splayed position. He noted bruises on the man's face as he searched for a weapon and found none. He grabbed his handcuffs and secured Krycek to a leg of the heaviest piece of furniture in the room ... an antique sideboard with a China cabinet attached. Checking rapidly, Skinner made sure that there was no one else there.
Scully entered at his shout of "Clear" She looked shaken at the sight of Krycek then walked over and held her gun to his head.
"Tell me one reason why I shouldn't see if you can die with your host." Scully asked coldly.
Skinner saw Krycek wince and he opened his eyes widely, making him look childlike and innocent. He turned his face away and said, "It's okay, just do it." The dusky eyelids fluttered closed and his face was still as a painting, as beautiful as a Raphael angel. Skinner felt again that stirring of lust, the tantalization he always felt when Krycek was near. He grunted and said, "Scully, I think he's telling the truth. The oilien has reacted with extreme aggression each time it was even mildly threatened. I think this is Krycek, the real one..."
Scully slowly holstered her gun. Krycek gasped and his body went through a series of intense clonic seizures, ending in a jackknife that shook the heavy furniture and dislodged one of Scully's China cups. When the attack ended, Krycek seemed barely able to breath, his face had the pale look of someone in shock and sweat erupted from his pores. Scully ruefully picked up the broken pieces of her delicate cup, and said, "Walter, put him on my bed."
.
Skinner picked Krycek up in a fireman's carry and grunting, brought him to Scully's bed. Scully rescued her handmade quilt and laid it aside. She said, "Let's get him undressed so I can examine him."
Skinner concurred, quelling his guilty enjoyment of the idea. The ill-fitting sweat clothing was all that Krycek wore. His body was covered with bruises and Skinner observed deep, crooked patterned bites around one of the man's nipples. This didn't look like love bites; one looked as if it had bled it was so savage. With a whimper, Alex drew up his legs, blatantly offering himself to Skinner. "Please, sir, please, don't hurt me. I'll be good. I'll do whatever you want, sir."
Skinner felt his aroused response with horror and moved to jerk Krycek's legs down from their obscenely offering position. Scully laid a hand on his arm and said, "Wait, Walter."
Scully said, "Krycek, Alex, I want you to help us now. I want to examine you. You're bleeding. What happened? Can you tell us what happened?"
Alex looked at her and said, "Yeah, it's blurry, but I was sick, very sick and the oilien was sick too. We went to Mulder's apartment to hide and I got worse. It wanted me to take medicine to stop the vomiting. I just grabbed a bunch of stuff from his pills and swallowed them. Someone came there, wasn't Mulder...don't think it was Mulder. The oilien won't let me remember who it was, but they leaned down to see what was wrong and he took them. Then, he, it...put me on Mulder's bed and used me. He didn't do it right; didn't get me ready like you're supposed to do. He was big and the oilien made him so strong. I don't know why he hurt me. I couldn't stop him, not from using my body and not from anything. He's too strong."
Krycek fretfully moved on the bed. Scully said softly, "I need to look at you. Is that all right?"
Skinner had to stop for a moment, admiring her, for her beauty and her tenderness. She was a marvelous woman to be willing to help a man who had brought her nothing, but misery. Scully pushed her hair behind her ears. Skinner went to find one of her hair elastics, remembering where she kept them on her dresser. He paused to draw in the combination of scents in the room, thinking he was a fool to ever let her go.
Scully looked up from her work as he drew her hair lovingly together and gathered it in the green velvet covered circle. His fingers brushed the nape of her neck and she smiled slightly before the doctor drowned out the lover.
Crisply, Scully said, "Help me exam him, Walter. Just support his leg so I can look at, uh, the injuries."
Skinner had seen worse by far although this and Scully’s near rape brought back memories of things best forgotten; the horrors of war and the horrors he had seen on this job. He said, "It doesn’t look too bad."
Scully concurred, saying, "There's a couple of small tears, but I don't think he needs stitches."
Krycek seized again, not as bad as the one in the dining area, but still frightening to Skinner, who never flinched at the sight of an injury, but who felt uneasy at illness. Scully brought a good-sized medical kit out of hiding. She smiled at Skinner's look and said, "Would you go in the field with Mulder without a medical kit?"
Skinner commented, "A straight jacket and a tank would cross my mind as standard equipment for Mulder situations."
Scully stuck a thermometer in Krycek's mouth and sat on the bed. Krycek was shivering and Skinner drew a blanket up across him. Krycek looked at him with surprise. Skinner said, "I'm not the devil, boy, not even for you."
Krycek reached out with his free hand and captured Skinner's hand, holding it for a moment. Skinner wanted to jerk it away and then he didn't. The way Krycek was looking at him...well, he had wanted to see that expression a long time ago before their roles in life had taken their convoluted ways.
Scully ended by taking a large blood sample. She said, "Damn, if I had the blood sample from before, I could compare them."
Skinner winced, thought, and then said, "Scully, I have a blood sample. I was the one who took the evidence. Don't look at me that way. I was trying to keep you out of it. The alien was threatening me."
Those clear blue eyes melted him down into a puddle of regret. Skinner said, "Scully, you know that it's never just a clear decision. I told you. I make compromises to keep us alive. Don't ask me to second-guess myself. I did it, and right or wrong, it's done. You want a hero, go back and time and catch the eighteen year old on his first tour of duty in 'nam. The man who left there learned to keep his fellow soldiers and himself alive. I won't regret that."
Scully nodded. Skinner knew she knew about compromises too although she would never bend as far as he did. Dana Scully was a better "man" than he was in many ways. Her father would have been proud.
Scully said, "Go get the sample and I'll take it to a lab ... not the FBI."
Skinner said, "You go. I don't trust Krycek alone with you. He still might be fooling us."
Moments after Scully left, Krycek was hit by the worst seizure yet. Skinner knew better than to try and restrain him. He moved objects away from the bed and stood by. When the tremors stopped, Krycek grew slack upon the bed. He didn't seem to be breathing. Skinner hurried to check him, fingers searching for the pulse on the side of his neck and feeling a rapid faint faltering beat. He bent, his huge head on the naked chest. There were no breath sounds. He shook him lightly and yelled, "Krycek, damn it! Stop this shit! You're too mean to die on me."
Skinner automatically swept the mouth side to side to clear, tilted back the handsome jaw and closed his mouth over Krycek's. He watched, steadied by the instant rise of the chest. He was briefly conscious of the irony. All the times he had wanted to kiss Krycek, from the first moment he saw him, young and gangly in his awkward suit to now, he had never imagined that his kiss would be this desperate kiss of life....
Eli_Anne's next.