Double Indemnity
Round One
Mulder was the first to arrive. That was a definite and very surprising first.
He waded his way through the crowd to the bar and ordered a beer. Five pinches on his ass and three rather graphic propositions later, he managed to locate an empty table. Watching the couples on the dance floor, he sipped his beer and wondered, once again, why Krycek had chosen this particular bar for their weekly meetings.
Granted, Krycek had an evil sense of humor, and granted, Krycek's favorite pastime seemed to be fucking with Mulder's head, but -
A gay bar?
On Friday nights?
Every time Mulder tried to convince Krycek that they should meet elsewhere, his suggestion was met with flat refusal. This place - Trix - was perfect in Krycek's opinion: off the beaten track, always busy so that they blended into the crowd, and besides, who would ever think to look for them in a gay bar?
If Mulder hadn't caught that amused twinkle in Krycek's eyes every time some man groped him and/or propositioned him, Mulder might have believed Krycek's stated reasons.
But, he had. And, he didn't.
If not for the information Krycek regularly brought him - computer disks, Consortium documents, warnings of upcoming activities - Mulder would've told the Ratbastard to fuck off. The information was always good, though, so Mulder gritted his teeth and turned up every Friday to meet Krycek.
In a gay bar.
Not that he had a particular problem with homosexuals. No, that wasn't the problem at all. The problem was the opposite. He'd known for most of his life that he was attracted to men. After his father had caught him making out with Stevie Marshall when he was 15, he'd buried his desire for men deep within.
A shudder ran through Mulder as he remembered the lecture and beating his father had delivered on that occasion. And that awful visit to Stevie's parents. Jesus, he'd never been so embarrassed in his life. Determined to be 'normal' (as his father put it), Mulder had concentrated on girls after that, completely denying the truth of his sexuality.
It had gotten easier over the years. In fact, he hadn't even thought about men in *that* way. Until Krycek turned up. The entire time they'd been partners, Mulder had struggled against the attraction he felt for the younger man. Luckily, he'd managed to resist making any overtures, considering how things had turned out.
Then came the Great Weikamp Adventure. The Kiss. Alex handing over his gun. A week later, Krycek had returned. Had told Mulder that he'd long been involved with the resistance and offered a deal of sorts. He'd pass along any interesting information to Mulder in return for a cessation of hostilities.
Reluctantly, knowing he was making a huge mistake, Mulder had agreed. Although he often wanted to smack the grin off of Krycek's face - usually when some sweaty man had whispered an obscene proposition into his ear -Mulder controlled himself. The info Krycek handed over was always good, and Mulder had managed to interfere successfully with a number of Consortium operations.
Of course, Scully and Skinner tried again and again to pry the identity of his informant from him. Mulder just looked mysterious and changed the subject. They'd have had him committed to the nearest psych ward if they ever found out that Alex Krycek was his snitch. That he met the man every week. That somewhere along the way he'd found himself actually enjoying their weekly meetings.
Lost in thought, he didn't see Krycek arrive. When the man joined him at the table, setting a fresh beer in front of him, Mulder blinked in surprise and stared blankly at him.
"Mulder?" Krycek said, confused by Mulder's silence. "Yo! Earth to Mulder." He waved his hand in front of Mulder's face. "Anyone in there?"
Mulder blinked again and shook himself out of his reverie. "Krycek," he belatedly greeted.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine, Krycek."
Krycek frowned. "You're acting weird, even for you - and that's saying a lot. You get whacked upside the head or possessed or mind-wiped this week?"
"Not that I know of. What's with the concern? I was thinking, that's all."
"Uh huh." Sitting back in his chair, Krycek continued to study Mulder's face. "Scully and Skinner okay?"
"They're both fine."
"Your fish die again?"
"Alex, everything is just fine. Peachy. Not a problem in sight." Mulder ignored Krycek's skeptical expression, and lifted his beer, taking a deep swallow. He cleared his throat and got down to business. "What have you got for me?"
"Been quiet this week," Krycek said casually. "I don't have anything new."
"Then why are we here?" Mulder asked in a testy voice. "You could have called and cancelled."
"And miss our weekly date?"
***
Somewhere, somewhere, somewhere, Anson knew he was out there, he could feel the connection calling to him. His brother, his twin, his completion.
Anson had always been the bad luck king. He was always in the wrong place at the right time. Now that had changed. It started with what happened at the court. That Doctor had come to see him, the smart-ass doctor that had tricked him at the hospital, asking those questions and making him remember the bad things.
Covering his ears, Anson sang as loudly as he could to block the man's words. The guard had been angry and he had reached for Anson's hands to drag them down.
"Listen to the man," the guard had said.
When Anson looked up, the guard had grown huge. He loomed over him. Cuffed to the heavy chair, Anson had not been able to run. He had bent, keening in fear, trying to fold up inside his skin. Eventually, he had found a hiding place in the cool darkness of his skull. He curled up there and went to sleep as he had done when Mom brought home the bad men.
That might not sound like good luck, but when Anson woke up, he was in a hospital. A pair of orderlies had just finished giving him a bath. Anson could still smell the harsh soap and feel the chill on his skin. He didn't open his eyes, just stayed still, afraid of what might happen.
Suddenly bedlam erupted outside. Anson heard screaming and shouting. The two orderlies ran from the room. One of them looked behind him and said, "What about the stiff?"
"He's been catatonic for a year. You think he's going wake up and start running around now? Come on," the other man said.
"Fire, fire," someone was yelling. Anson dressed and hid under the bed.
Later, Anson saw shoes. Someone said, "Where did he go?"
"Someone got him already," a man said, coughing.
Waiting until he heard the door shut, Anson took a deep breath, wet a towel and crouched by the door. It didn't feel hot. Anson slowly opened it and smoke roiled into the room.
The corridor was filled with smoke. Anson wasn't afraid. His father, his real father, always said keep low, cover your mouth and nose if you can, and keep your head.
Combat crawling, Anson heard someone crying. He found a nurse trapped under an overturned desk. His muscles ached from long disuse, but his body was still strong. He pushed the desk away and dragged the woman out of the building.
A little later, the nurse pressed keys in his hand, "Take the red Suburu, license plate RVK 347. It's in the east employee's parking lot." She smiled at him and said, "My name is Gwen. I don't believe what they said about you. You wouldn't have saved me if you were capable of killing."
OooOooO
Gwen was an angel, a brown faced, brown-eyed angel. Anson had kissed her cheek, squeezed her hand, and then the stretcher crew took her away, never even looking twice at Anson.
Anson drove the car to a train station, locked the keys inside, and hitched a ride to the bus station. He had blacked out for a night and when he came back to himself, he had five hundred dollars in his pockets. He felt stiff and sore in places, but he couldn't find blood on himself. It was best just not to think about it. Maybe angel Gwen gave him the money.
OooOooO
Anson's inner compass led him steadily southward. He slept fitfully on the bus. Occasionally, when he woke, he had more money in his pockets and that same aching in his body. He picked up papers discarded in the bus stations and checked, but however he was getting money, it wasn't newsworthy. Anson grimaced as he encountered empty foil packets that had held condoms. Flat packets of lube also turned up. He wouldn't think about it.
Waking again, Anson looked out the window and saw that the bus was passing through Baltimore. It was a foggy dark morning. For a moment, Anson thought his twin was keeping pace with the bus, staring wistfully at him. He realized swiftly that it was his own reflection. Anyone could have made that mistake, he thought. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't.
OooOooO
Dreaming, it was the golden time. The good time. Papa was singing as he prepared for work. Mama's voice slightly raised commented, "Tony, you said you would think about a different job."
Papa's voice chuckled as he said, "I'm thinking, I'm thinking, Elizabeth. I'm thinking that I'm a fireman and that's who you married."
Anson turned contentedly, rooting around until he found his brother's hand and brought it to his mouth to suck Alex's thumb. Mama cried for a while after Papa left.
The bad man came to visit. He always poked and prodded at the twins. He terrified Anson who hid from him, but Alex was bolder and was willing to accept candy from stinky man. The man always smelled horrible from cigarettes. Papa hated smoking and yelled at Mom for letting her father smoke in the house.
After the bad man left, Mama took a nap. Anson didn't care as long as Alex and he had milk in the tommy-tippee cups and animal crackers to eat in front of the morning cartoons.
Mama was nice sometimes, but sometimes she was mean. Anson was happiest when Papa was home. Papa didn't always sleep at the house and when he slept at the station, Mama was always upset. She would spank Anson and slap Alex until Anson's brother would say, "You stop. I tell Papa."
Mama would get mad, but she would stop. Once when Mama was spanking Anson for breaking the jam jar, Alex punched and kicked her, saying, "You not hit brother."
Mama had slapped Alex so hard that his nose bled, but Alex still glared at her. Mama locked Alex in the closet. Anson asked her to put him in the closet too because that was the one thing that scared Alex, but she wouldn't.
After Papa came home a long time later, he was angry. He sent Mama away to the hospital for two weeks. That was the best time that Anson could remember. Papa was home for most of it and when he was not, a big soft fleshed Black woman baby-sat he and Alex. Anson and Alex even went to the fire station to visit with Papa. Anson remembered one of the firemen put his helmet on his head and asked if he was going to be a brave fireman just like Papa. Of course, Anson said, yes. Alex said that he was going to be a policeman. He was impressed by the one that found the twins when they wandered out of the house and were lost. The firemen laughed and said that being a policeman was good too.
Anson cried when Mama came home. She was better for a long time, but then the terrible day came when a fireman came to the door. Anson ran to see him, but just then Mama screamed for the longest time.
It took a long time before Anson realized that Papa wasn't coming home.
That was bad, but then the man who smoked too much came and took Alex. Mama tried to send Anson too, but the man said, "No, Elizabeth, Anson is too much like you. I can make something of Alex."
And Alex was gone. Anson never saw his twin, the center of his life, again, but he could feel him sometimes.
If Alex had not been taken, he would have known how to handle the man Mama brought home, the man who touched Anson in bad ways when Mama wasn't looking. He wouldn't have to take Papa's gun and make them go away.
After the hospital, the urge to find Alex was stronger than ever. Anson could feel where he was. He followed the bond to find Alex. He knew that once he was back with his brother that the clouds would lift and he would soon become a fireman just as was supposed to happen.
OooOooO
Washington DC was bigger than Los Angeles. Anson tried to follow the bus route toward the beacon in his soul, but the buses would start out in the correct direction and then turn in a different direction all together.
"Krycek!" someone yelled.
Anson turned and saw a large balding man charging at him. He frowned and then noticed the other man.
It was the bad man who had taken Alex. Anson felt the hot, scarlet rage well up, like hate bleeding from him.
"Alex, what are you doing here?" the smoking man asked.
Anson said nothing, sneering at the stinking, gray-faced creature.
When the man grabbed him and shook him, Anson drew the knife he had found in his jacket. The short blade dug into the gray-faced man again and again. Blood was everywhere. The other man didn't try to stop him until the old man fell to the sidewalk. Anson could hear a strange whistling sound. He could see bubbles in the red gushing from the man's chest.
Panicked, Anson wailed as the balding man made a grab for him. He fled, long legs taking him to safety. He let the darkness take over, knowing his instincts would find him a place to hide. He would have to look for Alex later.
OooOooO
Trix Bar
Hearing Krycek almost echoing his earlier thoughts, and caught mid-sip, Mulder choked, then spluttered. "Weekly date?"
Krycek tried hard not to show the amusement he felt at so easily ruffling Mulder's composure, and buried his smile in his beer. After talking a healthy swallow, he said, "Yeah. Our date reassures me that you are still alive and kicking, and reassures you, I hope, that I'm still alive and digging for information to pass on to you."
Mulder took a deep breath and thought about it for a minute, then nodded. "Yeah, I guess so, but do we really *have* to meet here?"
Krycek let his amusement show in a wry smile. "Well, a weekly visit to your apartment is out, ditto for my apartment, and meeting in a room in an hotel is, also, not a good idea. Coffee bars are, generally, too small and it's too easy to overhear conversations. In here, no-one could predict at which table we would sit, if they were to try directional listening they would be overpowered by the music. The bar's owners take a very dim view of anyone snooping around, or drugs of any kind... no place is completely safe, but this is a close to it as we are likely to get."
Mulder stared at the reflections in the bar mirror for a couple of minutes, considering Krycek's words, then said, "If you put it like that then I guess I'd have to agree."
Krycek smiled and picked up his beer. Then, halfway to his mouth he put it down again hurriedly, his hand shaking so badly that the beer slopped all over the table,.
"What's the matter?" Mulder asked.
Krycek's breathing rate increased rapidly, has face went white, and beads of moisture were breaking out on his forehead. He lifted his head and Mulder could see that the pupils were completely dilated.
Mulder looked around but could see no sign of any threat, so he tentatively stretched out his hand and touched the one still lying, shaking, on the table...
"Krycek? ...What's wrong? ...Alex? Talk to me..."
His body still trembling, colour came back Krycek's face and he made an effort to control his breathing. Finally he shook his head, then slowly replied, "God, that was weird... I felt... I felt as if I were in two places at the same time.... I was here, talking to you... but I seemed to be out in the street... running from something... someone."
Mulder's interest was piqued immediately. "Has this ever happened to you before?" he questioned.
"No, I don't think so," Krycek replied, somewhat uncertainly. Mulder raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged uneasily. "When I was at grade school, I sometimes had phantom pains that no-one could explain. It was as if someone had hit me... but after I went into hospital to have my appendix removed it didn't happen any more," he finally admitted.
"What did your parents have to say?"
Krycek shrugged again. "I don't remember them. I lived in at a boarding school."
"Any brothers or sisters?"
"No. What's with all the questions, Mulder. I'm not one of your X-Files."
Mulder relented slightly. "Let's get you another drink." He went up to the bar and bought them both a snifter of brandy, reckoning that Krycek wouldn't drink alone.
Alex did indeed raise his eyebrows as the brandy was put in front of him, but since he did still feel rather shaken by the experience, he gratefully sipped at the amber liquid.
-oo0oo-
Skinner soon lost sight of the fleeing figure, and, breathing heavily, he returned to where Spender was lying on the pavement, a squad car in attendance and surrounded by a small crowd of people. Showing his badge he pushed his way through and found that a young man was trying to staunch the flow of blood, while another was telling a cop that he had called an ambulance.
Skinner approached the cop by the squad car, showed his badge and introduced himself. "I saw the incident Sergeant, and I can describe the assailant. He's six foot one, broad shouldered and stockily built, with green eyes and dark hair. He's an ex-FBI agent and, when I knew him, he went by the name of Alex Krycek. My office will supply you with his file. If you need any more information, I can be contacted here." He handed over one of his business cards.
While the cop relayed the description, the ambulance came, scooped up Spender then sped back the way it had come, its siren wailing through the night.
Having set the man-hunt for Krycek under way, he dialled Mulder's number, and left a message on the answer machine. Then, on the off-chance that Mulder actually had his cell phone with him, he dialled that number and was surprised that it was answered on the fourth ring.
"Mulder."
"Agent Mulder. Can you come downtown, I have some news for you."
"I... um... I'm meeting with my informant, Sir. So I can't get away immediately. Couldn't you tell me what it's about now, to save time."
"You're meeting with him at this moment?"
"Yes, Sir. Right now."
Skinner considered the request, Mulder's informant had given them some very good information, and he didn't want the source to become alienated by being given the brush off. "In that case," he said, "I'll see you in the office in the morning. But before then, I wanted to advise you that I have put out an APB on Alex Krycek, for attempted murder.
"Attempted murder!" Mulder glanced at Krycek sitting unconcernedly opposite him. "When was this, and who was the intended victim?"
"It happened about fifteen to twenty minutes ago, the intended victim was Spender."
"Are the witnesses sure it was him?"
"I'm sure, Mulder. It happened only yards from me, it was definitely Alex Krycek."
"I've got to go, Sir. I'll see you in the morning."
Mulder ended the call, and turned his full attention to his companion.
"Alex," he said, "We have a very serious situation...."
Immediately alert, Alex sat up straight and said warily, "What?"
"Someone tried to murder Spender and you're the main suspect." As he spoke, Mulder started to gather his things and put his coat on.
Krycek followed suit. "I didn't try to kill that old bastard, you gotta' believe me Mulder."
"I know," Mulder said, "We'll talk about it elsewhere, right now there's an APB out on you, we have to go."
Alex nodded in agreement. "Is your car here?" He asked the agent.
"Yes."
"Good, meet me out back, I know were we can go."
The men parted then, Alex going to the left and Mulder to the right.
-oo0oo-
Minutes later, Mulder drove up the darkened ally behind Trix. He could see that here, there were many men doing many illicit things in the semi-darkness. He tried not to look at them too closely; near the back door, a familiar figure stood. Leaning against the bricks of the old building with one foot up, Alex presented a very pleasing silhouette. Mulder tried not to think these thoughts about his traitorous, former partner, but they bubbled forth anyway; like an underground spring welling towards the earth's surface. He pulled over and Alex opened the door and hopped in.
"Dark or not, it's pretty public back here Krycek, aren't you worried you'll be recognized?" He checked his mirror then pulled away.
"Turn left at the street and keep going." Alex turned around in the seat and watched out the back window, just in case. "Nah... no one will have seen me, I looked like just another trick and you were my john in a dark coloured sedan. No one will remember more than that."
If nothing else, Krycek was confident in that dirty little fact.
Mulder turned and eyed the dark haired man sharply; wondering. But he did not comment on how Krycek knew so much about the world's oldest trade. Instead he said, "Did you have to leave your car behind?"
"Yes. But it doesn't matter, except that I'm out fifteen hundred bucks. I liked that piece of shit."
"We better go back for it, if it's found abandoned...."
"Don't worry, it was meant to be a throw away. I guess I'm lucky I got four good years out of it."
Even in the darkness, Alex could see that Mulder was puzzled, so he explained. "The car I took to the club has nothing in it. No insurance papers, no serial number, no prints... no nothing. I wipe it down if I drive it and I don't wear gloves. Tonight I had some on, and a toque for that matter." Alex pulled the items out of his pocket, to show the agent that he did wear the gloves and toque. "I parked four blocks from the club, by tomorrow morning, the tow truck will discover it and take it away.
Mulder nodded. "Wow, are you always so prepared?" he wondered out loud.
"With the people that I deal with? Wouldn't you be?" Alex replied comfortably.
"I guess so..." Started Mulder, but he was cut off.
"Turn left at Adams road and follow it to the end."
"To the old warehouse district?"
Alex nodded, "Yep."
After that, the two fell into silence, but it was not entirely uncomfortable, or unwelcome. Each man had his own thoughts to think about. Alex wondered what doctored evidence had been offered up that pinned him as the guilty party. No way was he going down for this, he always figured the consortium or the resistance aliens would kill him. Now it looked like he was going to go the way of Louis Cardinale instead; a nice tidy noose in a jail cell, or maybe they had something different in mind for him, like a shank to the right kidney in the shower.
As for Mulder, he kept wondering how it was that Alex was the suspect. This time, the little rat was innocent; he couldn't possibly have committed the crime. But there was that strange incident with Alex back at the bar. Mulder was determined to investigate Krycek's claims of feeling like he was in two places at once.
-oo0oo-
Mulder followed Alex's instructions and before he knew it, he had been guided to a fairly dark, almost abandoned factory district. He drove between two buildings, and cut through to the back ally way of buildings. Alex pushed a button on his key fob and a single garage door started to open.
"Turn left here," Alex leaned over, really close to Mulder, and pointed in the direction he had stated. Ultra aware of his former partners proximity, Mulder tried to concentrate where the man had pointed to. There, Mulder could just make out the darkened entrance, he swung left and pulled in; the door started to close automatically.
"Wait until the door shuts." Alex said, his body hidden by the dark.
With in seconds, the door closed and locked automatically, a dim light came to life when the heavy duty lock clicked over.
Alex opened his car door and stepped out; Mulder did the same.
Instead of going through the only door, which was heavily padlocked, Alex led Mulder to a large air vent on the far wall of the cement building and undid the chains that secured it. He turned to his former partner and explained. "This whole area used to be a bootlegger's paradise. There are underground tunnels below all of these buildings. I doubt that any one even remembers anymore."
He pulled back the large, re-bar covered grating, like it was a door and motioned the older man through.
Mulder climbed down a steel ladder about ten feet, then dropped a couple of feet to the ground. He looked around, amazed. There were tunnels everywhere, and it seemed, that where he was standing, was the hub for them all. Fox heard a noise and looked up. He watched Krycek's descent, noting that the man's beautifully rounded ass went extremely well with the tight blue jeans he was wearing; like butter and bread.
The agent smiled at that, and wondered briefly if his former partner knew of his bi-sexuality. Probably, shrugged the agent, why else would Spender had sent in such a pretty boy.
Agent Alex Krycek was placed next to Fox Mulder because Dana Scully, couldn't do the job, so to speak.
Krycek jumped down and landed next to Mulder, who was still staring up, unseeing of anything now, but merely lost in his private thoughts.
"What is it?" Alex asked, following Mulder's eyes to where they rested on an upper rung of the ladder.
"Nothing," lied Fox. He gave Krycek, barely visible in the dull lighting, a puzzled look. "Where to now?"
"Follow me, my place is actually down the block a few warehouses." He waited for Mulder to fall in next to him and then led the way.
"You don't leave anything to chance, do you?" Commented the agent as they walked.
"Not in my line of work," Alex said. "If I don't watch my ass, who will?"
'Me.' Mulder commented mentally.
-oo0oo-
Finally, after going through several more elaborate, hidden and entrances, Alex led Mulder to his real front door. It was large and steel, and as Fox looked around the upstairs entrance, he noted several motion sensors and three camera's. Alex wasn't kidding, he took his personal security very seriously.
Once secured inside Alex turned to Mulder and said, "This is my real home. Not the scuzzy little place down on Gilmour."
Mulder took a second to take in the large loft. The place took up the entire top floor of a long since abandoned warehouse. Judging by the décor, the former agent's taste could be described as minimal. The wide open space was done in simple, light coloured wood furniture and wooden accents, with several large area rugs covering the bare hardwood floors. The kitchen was done in unpolished stainless steel and was completely clean. Mulder frowned, how come he lived in such a dive and Krycek had a place like this? Krycek's bed, European in design, sat near a fall wall and the Russian had used Chinese blinds to separate his sleeping quarters from the rest of the area. A free standing shower, encircled by a round maze of thick glass bricks, a toilet and a matching pedestal sink made up the bathroom area, which was situated in the farthest corner of the living space. Away from everything else.
Strategically placed pot lights brightened the place and in the part of the apartment that had a couch and chair, there was a gas fireplace against another wall.
"I know what you're thinking," Alex interrupted Mulder's mental tour of the large loft.
"What is it that I'm thinking?"
"How come a worm like me can have such a great place?"
"Well, the word worm didn't come into play. But yeah, I'm curious Krycek, how is it that you live here?" Alex took Mulder's coat and hung them up, then he put their shoes away too.
He padded over to the kitchen and started to make a pot of coffee. As he did so, he told Mulder the story of how he came about finding his current living quarters.
"I stumbled on this place by accident. A few years ago, Spender planted a bomb in a car I was a passenger in, in an attempt to try and kill me. I took off running before it blew up and this is where I ended up. It seemed like a great place to lay low so I staked out this entire street for a week, just trying to get the feel of who was coming and going. I stumbled across the tunnels by accident; while I was exploring the area during the first week. Most of the buildings are held by a property company, they're hanging onto the land for re-sale... you know how it is, so that in ten years or so, they can build nice little condo's for all those up and coming Generation-exers. In the mean time, the buildings are used mostly for storage for the holding company. Three years ago, an anonymous buyer, representing a British business man, bought this place." Krycek winked and then shot Mulder a knowing grin.
That British business-man was now dead and along with him, the knowledge of the Russian's lair. Mulder knew that much himself.
Alex pushed the start button on his coffee maker and walked to where his former partner stood. "I didn't try to kill Spender." He said, looking the hazel-eyed man in the eyes directly. "I swear it Mulder, I'm not lying."
"I know." Replied Mulder, staring back just as intently. There was about three feet of space between them, and the agent took a step forward, closing the distance considerably.
"How do you know?" Alex stayed where he was, his breath, coming out just a bit quicker and slightly heavier.
"Because at the time of the attempt on Cancerman's life, you were with me. But Skinner swears it was you who stabbed him." Fox studied Krycek, watched closely as the Russians tongue peeked out to wet his lips.
"What was Skinner doing with Spender?" Alex asked, suspicious of his two former bosses.
"I don't know...." Replied Mulder softly.
Krycek's question started to sink in, what *was* A.D Skinner doing with such a snake? Hmmm... he'd have to find the answer to that one. And as that question left his mind an other thought came to him. All along Alex had denied killing his father and Melissa Scully. Forensics proved that it was Louis Cardinale who had killed Scully's sister. The Nicaraguan traitor had implicated Krycek in the crime, but there was no proof other than the desperate last words of a known killer; and that of his A.D.
Krycek was innocent, maybe of all the dirty deeds he'd been accused of... Alex was innocent. That knowledge completely changed things for the agent. Buoyed by the newly learned information, Mulder continued to watch his dark haired companion for a few seconds more and then he let his true feelings take him over.
"You weren't lying to me before," He said softly. "After all of these years of saying so, it's really true, you're innocent..."
Unable to curb his own actions, Mulder reached up with both hands and grabbed Alex roughly by the back of his head. The Russians dark hair felt soft entwined around his fingers. Mulder pulled the slightly shorter man forward and kissed him roughly.
A split second decision on Krycek's part and then, the raw kiss was returned. Alex parted his lips and invited his former partner's tongue inside. Mulder accepted the invitation, and slowly walked the man backwards until Alex's ass bumped into the breakfast island that separated the kitchen from the living area.
The soft jolt brought Alex to his senses, if only for a few seconds. "Mulder... I didn't kill your dad or Scully's sister, but I'm not so pure..."
"Shut up." Ordered Mulder huskily, his erection met with, and greeted Krycek's own hard cock. "Don't ruin the moment, we'll think about all that shit later." And then he leaned back in to reclaim Alex's soft mouth, this time, he wasn't as demanding as he was a few seconds ago. Mulder couldn't think of anything else at that moment but making love to the sexy green-eyed man; it was something he had wanted to do from the moment he had laid eyes on the younger agent.
For his part, Alex easily gave in to Mulder's persistent kisses. He'd worry about being set up for attempted murder later, right now, all he wanted to think about was Fox Mulder and making love. It had been a long time since someone had wanted him in such a raw and genuine way... and Alex was determined to enjoy every second of their love-making. In his business, one never knew what was going to happen next.
Not breaking their kiss, Mulder's hands released their tight grip on Alex's hair and he drew his fingers slowly down the Russian's bare arms. Smiling inwardly when goose-bumps sprang forth to pepper the heavily muscled limbs. He reached the hem of Alex's T-shirt and pulled it out from Alex's jeans. His fingers snaked under the clean cotton garment and continued their voyage of exploration upwards. Mulder gently caressed Alex's nipples and the Russian sighed....
****